My Berlin Summer Ch. 09

M. Arnaud approached me, casually swinging a long, heavy whip. He held it to my lips, where I frantically licked and kissed it. I hoped he would not be too harsh with me.

Then, as he looked into my eyes, he drew back the whip and cracked it across my stomach, lighting up my body with pain. Before I finished letting out my first scream, the second blow landed across my thighs. Three more blows fell, leaving me sobbing and begging for mercy. He paused.

"Seven times in the last two months, you have been escorted outside the city to serve a particular client," he said. "Is this true?"

"Yes, master," I said wildly, not sure where this was leading.

"And did you serve him perfectly, giving everything he demanded of you?"

"Yes, master," I said. Had I not been sufficiently pleasing?

"Did he ever tell you who he is, or what position he holds?"

"No, master," I said. "I am only a slave. I served only to give him pleasure, as a slave girl can."

"Did you tell anyone else about your trips to serve this man?"

I was terrified, but I sensed that if I wanted to live, I would have to conceal the truth. "No, master," I said.

He drew back the whip and I closed my eyes in anticipation of the coming blow. The whip cut into my body five more times, across my back and thighs as well as my belly and breasts.

"Are you sure you do not know who he is?" he insisted.

"Yes, master," I said. As difficult as it is for a naked slave girl to lie to her master, I forced myself to do so.

"And you have not told anyone anything about him? Not even one of your other clients?"

"No, master," I said. Did he already know the truth? Had my contact somehow been discovered? Was it all a set-up from the beginning?

Five more times was I beaten, and then five more times again. Finally my wrists were released from their chains, and I fell to the floor in a sobbing, trembling heap. I dragged my body over to M. Arnaud's feet and kissed them desperately, hoping through this overt act of submission to pacify him. I prayed he would take out his anger at me by kicking my legs apart and claiming my body. I would do anything to avoid being whipped again.

"Needless to say, I don't believe you," he said. I continued to lick his feet. "I should have you beaten to death for lying to me. I clearly cannot keep you here." My body shuddered. "But business before pleasure, as they say," he continued. "I have a received numerous offers for you, all at a considerable premium to the price I paid for you, and it would be a shame to destroy such a valuable asset. It's not often that we find such a perfectly obedient, willing slave slut as you. I've decided to sell you. Your new master has been apprised of your suspected duplicity, and will no doubt take measures to render you harmless." I dared not desist in performing obeisance to my master. "You will, of course, remain an utter, helpless, complete sex slave - something for which you are uniquely talented."

I would learn - much later - what had happened. M. Roget, as it turned out, was the current Minister of the Interior in the French government, and his patronage had helped ensure the continued, undisturbed operations not only of the club where I served but also of a reasonable portion of the trade in high-end sex slaves. On learning of his involvement with the club, the investigators who had "hired" me pressured him into relaxing his protection, and providing information, under threat of exposing his involvement in the business. This had come to the attention of M. Arnaud, who had concluded that I, being M. Roget's latest preferred slave, was the most likely source of a leak. I still do not know if he had any other information to go on.

At the time, my emotions were in a tumult. On the one hand, I was grateful to still be alive, having apparently come so close to dying a painful death as a slave girl. On the other hand, the freedom I had already begun planning for had now receded beyond the sphere of reasonable likelihood. Once in the secure possession of a new master, I could no longer hope to be freed by the parties whom I had been secretly aiding with my information. I would go to my new master a naked, powerless slave girl, and that was likely how I would live out my useful life - on my back, belly, or knees, begging for the privilege of serving men with my body. Slavery was no longer an adventure, it was now my unavoidable fate. I had sensed already that my personality was changing, that I found myself thinking more and more often of myself solely in terms of my ability to please masters, and to do so with no thought for my own pleasure or satisfaction. Without the hope of freedom to cling to, I expected that transformation would only accelerate. Soon I would be nothing more than the passive sex toy that Cristina had told me lay in my future, a pretty, compliant plaything that men and women might use as they pleased, a slave girl equally contented so long as she was being used for what she was worth.

That is all you are, Jenny, a sex slave, and that is all you will ever be, I told myself.