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From: danawilliams7979@yahoo.com (DW)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 10 Jan 2002 19:15:06 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} My Berlin Summer, Chapter 4 (MF/F, bd, nc, slavery)
Date: Thu, 10 Jan 2002 17:10:05 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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This is the fourth chapter in a story about an American college
student who gets in over her head during a summer abroad.  The basic
themes are slavery, domination, humiliation, etc., with relatively
less sex than most such stories.  The influences will be obvious to
many.

Several readers have asked where they can find additional chapters of
this story or any other stories I have written.  Earlier chapters were
posted to alt.sex.stories, alt.sex.stories.bondage, and
alt.sex.stores.moderated.  And this is really the first story that I
have distributed in any form, so there is nothing else out there.

Feedback is always welcome at danawilliams7979@yahoo.com.  I greatly
appreciate the messages I have received from readers; nothing is quite
so inspiring (and therefore likely to get me to continue writing) as
praise.  My apologies to those whose expectations for the story's
development will not be met.

Please feel free to save and distribute copies as you wish, so long as
you maintain proper attribution.  You don't need my permission to
archive the story on a Web site, but please do let me know if you do
so.

***

My Berlin Summer
by Dana Williams

Chapter 4:  The Mansion
That night, Cristina took me home, escorted me to my apartment, and
bid me good-night.  Rejected once again in my attempt to offer my body
for use, I cried myself to sleep - but only after bringing myself to
helpless, overwhelming orgasm, imagining that the dinner party had
ended instead with my repeated rape by each of the masters present.

The next few days passed uneventfully, although I could think of
little other than my new experiences in slavery.  I was too frightened
to call Cristina, sure that our relationship had changed and that she
could now only accept me as an utter, abject slut and slave.  I had
taken to wearing the collar Cristina had left me whenever I was alone
at home, and even sleeping in it, the leash tied around the headboard
of my bed, my body otherwise nude under the covers.

It was on such a night, when I had even managed to tie my wrists and
ankles together, in a symbol of my inner bondage, that everything
would change, from the semi-innocent games of an American college
student to my new, very real life.

I awoke with a start, feeling a heavy cloth pressed over my mouth, a
knife blade at my throat.  I looked up at the intruder, my eyes wild
with fear.  "Are you going to cry out?" he asked.  I shook my head. 
The hand over my mouth relaxed.

I looked around as best as I could and saw three black-clad figures
towering above my bed.  My first thought was one of intense
embarrassment - not just at being nude before three strangers, but
even more to have my self-imposed bondage discovered.  My second
thought was one of fear.  An attacker could not have asked for more
than a girl who had even gone to the trouble of tying herself up, who
so clearly was begging to be used like the slut and slave she was. 
Now, it was clear, I would pay the inevitable price for my careless
attempts to live out my fantasies.  This time Cristina was not here to
protect me, there were no elaborate parlor games to hide behind.  This
time there was just my naked body to placate the desires of three
unknown men.

I hoped they would not be too rough with me.

"What do you want with me?" I whispered, fearing to be struck.

"We are here to fulfill your deepest desires," said the man who had
awoken me.  The other men laughed softly.  He began to unwind my leash
from the headboard.

"What are you going to do to me?  Are you going to rape me?" I asked.

"Is that your deepest desire?" he asked in response.  I remained
silent.  "Yes, we may rape you," he continued, "but that is not really
why we are here."

"Why, then?"

"We are here to take you away from your life up to now and give
another one, one more suitable to the type of girl you are.  One that
will remove the disguises and pretensions that you have adopted, and
will reveal you for what you really are, and put you to good use."

"I don't understand," I said, fearfully.  "What are you talking
about?"

In answer, he jerked on my leash, pulling me off the bed and onto the
floor.  I gasped in pain.  "Kneel," he ordered.  I struggled to obey,
my wrists and ankles still bound, and knelt before him.  After a
moment's hesitation, I opened my knees, displaying my now-shaven
intimacies to his view.  Almost instinctively, I thrust out my breasts
for him.  He looked down at me, smiling.  "I think you understand
quite well," he said.  "You are clearly a slave, a girl who exists to
serve men in any way they desire, and particularly through the use of
your body.  Look at how naturally, how readily, with so little
training, you display your body before a man.  Look at the collar you
locked around your own neck and the knots you tied around your hands
and feet.  We are only making official what has always been true about
you, you little slut."

I was beginning to understand what might be happening.  "Making
official?  What does that mean?"

"Until now, you have played at being a slave.  Well, those days are
over for you now.  Now that you are in our possession, you are a
slave, in absolute fact.  This is not a role that you can put on and
take off as your fancy dictates.  It is what you are.  From now on,
you exist to serve your masters, absolutely and perfectly.  Your will,
your desires, mean nothing.  From now on, your life will be one of
perfect obedience and unremitting degradation."

I shuddered in fear.  It all seemed so crazy, but yet it might be
real.  "Please don't do this to me," I begged.  "I have so much else
to live for.  Isn't there something else I can offer you?  Don't you
want to rape me, to use my body any way you like?  I'll serve you any
way you want, as often as you want, for as long as you want," I
pleaded.  "But don't make me a slave."

"You have nothing to bargain with, slave," he answered.  "I can use
you any way I want, as many times as I want, and still make you a
slave.  That's what being a slave is all about."  I knew he was right.
 That was what I had to look forward to, I began to realize -
constant, repeated abuse of my most private charms, with no control
over what men and women would make use of me.  I knew there could be
cooking, and cleaning, and stripping myself naked, posing seductively,
kneeling, and licking my master's feet, but the true essence of a
slave girl's life would be to provide the full range of exquisite,
intimate, sexual services that could be commanded of her, performing
all of them immediately and willingly.  While my previous experiments
with Cristina had always brought me intense psychological excitement,
this time I only felt dread at the future of submission and
humiliation that lay in store for me - and might begin at any moment.

"So I really exist solely to please men with my body," I said to
myself as much as anyone.  I looked up at my captor.  "When do I
begin?  Are you going to teach me my slavery now?"

"Not just yet, my eager little slut," he answered.  "First we have to
get you out of here."

One of the other men pushed me to the floor and turned me to my back. 
He took a knife and cut the bonds joining my ankles.  Then the third
man pushed a small ball gag into my mouth and buckled the straps tight
in back.  They lifted me to my feet and wrapped a long trench coat
around my nude body.  The first man said, "You're going to walk down
the stairs and into the car parked in front of the building.  If you
make any sudden moves, you'll pay for them later.  Do you understand?"
 I nodded my head quickly.  I looked around my apartment, taking one
last glance at the life I was leaving behind, the life in which I had
a bright future ahead of me.  Instead, I would be a helpless
plaything, a sexual toy that men and women would make use of and
discard.  Tears ran down my cheeks freely as I imagined what my life
would be like now - the services I would have to perform, the people I
would have to obey, the humiliations I would have to suffer.  Then one
of the men led the way down the stairs and my captor pushed me down
behind him.

We reached the street without incident and I was pushed into a waiting
limousine.  Once inside, I was stripped naked and once again made to
kneel as a slave.  With the lights on, I could see the leader of the
three men was tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair and sharp,
angular features.  His colleagues also towered above me.  I had never
before felt so small, and soft, and vulnerable, as I did, kneeling
naked and bound in their presence.

"I will explain a few things to you now," he began.  "If you learn
them, swiftly, you will increase your chances of surviving."  I
swallowed, hard.  "You are a slave.  That is all you are.  You exist
to serve your masters, instantly and fully.  You have no rights, no
will, no desires.  Your sole purpose is to give pleasure to your
masters.  Being what you are, your best chance of doing that is with
your body, and I advise you to make use of it as best you can.

"You must address all free men and women as master or mistress.  You
will not speak unless spoken to.  If not otherwise instructed, you
will kneel in their presence.  You may never close your knees or
otherwise deny access to any part of your body.  You must remain
continually, total open to any use that your masters can imagine.  If
you fail to obey, you will be beaten, or worse.  You can be used in
any way by any person at any time, and you must serve all of them
willingly and eagerly.  Do you understand?"

My head swam.  This was far more terrifying than any fantasy I had
ever had.  I imagined the repeated, cruel abuses that I could suffer
in this new life, being forced to serve masters in ways I had never
imagined, or simply being raped by tens or hundreds of men in
uninterrupted succession.  "Yes, master," I whispered.  "I understand.
 I will obey."

"Very well.  Now I will be the first to introduce you to your new
condition."

"Yes, master," I said meekly, now knowing I was only moments away from
my first slave rape.  My body was beginning to lubricate itself in
self-defense.  "How may I serve you?"

"Turn away from me," he ordered.  I obeyed, still kneeling.  "Put your
head to the floor.  Put your hands behind your head."  I was now fully
open and exposed to him, my bound hands powerless to protect me from
his impending assault.  He made me wait what seemed like hours as I
trembled naked on the floor of the limousine, awaiting my ravishment. 
Then suddenly he entered me and I gasped in shock.  He made use of me
rapidly, casually, brutally, demonstrating that I was but passive
flesh available for his convenience, and then withdrew.  He had
aroused me with his usage of me, but it was over much too quickly for
me to gain release.  "You may thank me," he said.

"Thank you, master," I sobbed, not daring to break position.  Then I
felt another man penetrate me and subject me to his domineering
thrusts, again using me quickly and casually.  "Thank you, master," I
repeated when he had finished with me, and awaited the third.

"I would prefer to make use of that mouth of hers," he said instead. 
Not sure what was expected of me, I turned to face him and raised
myself to my knees.

"You may use me in any way you wish, master," I said.  At a sign of
encouragement, I opened his pants and lowered my head to his body.  I
had never before pleasured a man with my mouth, but I thought I could
guess what I should do.  He locked his hands in my hair and pulled my
open mouth over his manhood, setting the pace I must keep.  Soon he
let out a moan and clutched my head to him, forcing me to swallow his
seed.  I almost gagged, but my fear at the potential consequences
overcame my reflex.  He withdrew from me.  "Thank you, master," I
managed to say.  He cleaned himself off with my hair.

The leader of the three said, "That is all you are good for now.  You
had better hope that men find you satisfactory."

"Yes, master," I replied.  

Then the men took to talking to themselves in rapid German, leaving
their slave to kneel silently at their feet.

I cried softly during the car ride.  I could think of nothing except
the brutal rape I had just suffered, their casual, forceful handling
of my body.  The long, slow cycles of tantalizing, excruciating
arousal that Cristina had put me through, the fantasy world of
semi-consensual slavery that I had imagined for myself - these were
long gone.  Instead, I was kneeling, silently and in terror, before
three men who had just used me for their ruthless, unilateral
pleasure, treating my mouth as well as my body as only another place
to find their release.  The taste of that last ravishment remained
thick and heavy in my mouth.  I supposed I had better get used to it,
I said to myself.  It was a taste I was sure to know well in the days,
weeks, and months ahead.  No, this was clearly not the exotic,
comfortable slavery I had imagined.  But at the same time that I
dreaded what masters might do to me, I understood that, on some level,
I had asked for this.  No one had made me accompany Cristina to that
first party, semi-nude, a collar and leash on my neck.  No one had
forced me to beg Stefan to rape me that first night, or to offer my
body up to Cristina after the dinner party.  And I knew that there
could be no slavery that was not total, unconditional, and abject, in
which masters could not freely use my body in any way they saw fit.

I moaned softly as my the realization of my predicament sank in. 
This, then, was what I had to look forward to, for at least as long as
my body continued to be of interest to masters - kneeling naked before
men, my body still sore from their previous assaults, waiting
submissively for them to see fit to take pleasure in my soft flesh
once again.  And I had to admit that part of me - a small part, but
one I could not deny - almost reveled in that realization, that the
slave girl in me had finally been recognized, brought out into the
open, and cruelly enslaved, finally being forced to put her charms to
use.

I wondered if Cristina knew what was happening to me, if she had
somehow arranged for my abduction and enslavement, or had even sold
the rights to my body to some dealer in women's flesh.  If the latter,
I wondered what she had gotten for me.  Even if she were not involved,
I felt sure that she would approve of this drastic change in my
fortunes.

I wondered how long I could survive as a helpless slave, completely at
the mercy of demanding masters.  As a new slave, I expected I would
provide at least some novelty value, a new plaything for a few hours
of entertainment.  But then perhaps they would tire of me, or at the
least would become more and more exacting, continually demanding new
depths of submission and service.  I silently prayed that men would
find me satisfactory, as my captor had said.  But then I realized with
a shock that it was not just a matter of others "finding" me
satisfactory or not.  I, though a slave, still must have some power to
please masters, to make them desire my services, to stimulate their
desire and, in so doing, provoke my own ravishment.  If I wanted to
survive, I would have to do everything in my power to make myself
desirable, to anticipate the wants of my masters, to inflame them with
lust and then satiate their urges with my soft, naked body.  I knew
the only assets at my disposal were my body and my ability to use it
to please men and women, and that the quality of my life would depend
directly on my success in encouraging them to humiliate, abuse, and
debase me.  And with a kind of calm, I realized that in succumbing to
my submissive urges, in giving in to masters as the brazen slut I knew
I could be, I was only heeding my own self-interest, following the
course of action most likely to preserve my life in a tolerable
fashion.  If I was totally dependent on the whims of my masters, it
was far better for them to find in me a willing, eager, sensuous slut
than a reluctant, withdrawing, resisting woman attempting to preserve
her dignity.  Armed with this irrefutable justification, I was free to
cast aside any vestiges of modesty or propriety I might of thought to
keep, free to embrace my complete and abject subjection.

I looked up at my captor, a pleading look in my eyes.  I begged
silently for him to be kind to me.  I knew at that moment I would do
anything in my meager powers to please him.  Unbidden, I lowered my
head to his feet and began to lick at his shoes.  Although I had
performed this act of obeisance several times before, this was the
first time I did so as a true slave, in complete recognition of the
absolute power this man held over me, my body, and my very life.  I
abandoned myself completely to the worship of his feet, covering them
with caresses of my tongue and tears from my eyes, hoping in this tiny
way to be found pleasing.  At that moment, I actually hoped that he
would deign to make use of me again, if only for the security of
knowing that he found me of interest.

Instead, he only reached down and stroked my hair, falling about his
feet.  "You'll make a good slave," he said.  I moaned in appreciation,
but continued licking his shoes.

***

Eventually the car pulled into the long driveway of another secluded
mansion.  A tug on my leash pulled me back up to my knees.  I looked
up at my master, expectantly.  "This is your new home, slut," he said.
 This was real, then.  I had not been abducted simply to serve as an
evening's entertainment, thereafter to be returned to my accustomed
life.  This was, in fact, the beginning of a new life, a life I whose
outlines I could only dimly imagine - a life to be spent at the feet
of my masters, desperately hoping to please them with my nude body.

My captor led me up the stairs to the front door.  I trailed behind
him as Cristina had taught me, my eyes lowered submissively.  He
knocked on the door and I waited in expectant silence.  The door swung
open.

A tall, black-haired woman stood in the doorway.  She looked at ease
in a crisp blue business shirt and grey slacks.  She seemed about
forty, her face hard but not wrinkled, her hair flecked with grey.  I
looked into her eyes for a moment.  Then I lowered my eyes and knelt
before her, my knees wide.

"Here's the slut," my captor said.  I reddened at the verbal slap.

"How was she?" the woman asked.

"Remarkable," he answered.  "I've never seen a new girl so eager to
please."  I wanted to die on the spot.  The humiliation of being raped
by three men in the back of a limousine paled next to the humiliation
of having my secret, submissive nature exposed.

"Is this true?" the woman asked me, lifting my chin with her hand. 
"Are you eager to please?"

Tears welled up in my eyes.  "Yes, mistress," I whispered.  "I exist
only to please my masters."  I took refuge in the thought that I was
only trying to say what she would want to hear, but I knew that was a
lie.

"Then we will get along wonderfully, my dear," she said.  She took the
end of my leash in her hand and led me into the house.  My captor, the
first man who used me as a slave, patted me affectionately on the
bottom and turned to leave.

She led me into a large, almost empty room that seemed more
appropriate to a Kreuzberg loft than to a rural mansion.  She stopped
and turned toward me.  Instantly I knelt before her, my knees open, my
chest thrust forward.  I hoped she found my body pleasing.  I wondered
what she would demand of me - if I would be forced to please her as I
had pleased the men in the car.

"I take it you understand what has happened to you," she began.  "You
are now a slave - a sex slave, in fact.  We know that you have
secretly desired to be a slave, and now we are simply granting you
that desire."

There was no way I could argue with that.  Hadn't I gone willingly
both to the club and to the party, there to serve as a slave?  Hadn't
I begged Stefan and Cristina to put me to use as a slave?  "What is
going to happen to me?" was all I could ask.

"Although you show considerable promise as a slave, you have a great
deal to learn.  This is a training facility.  Here you will be taught
what it means to be a slave, and the arts of serving men and women
with your body.  If you do not learn quickly, you will be whipped." 
She paused.  "I assure you that it is best to learn quickly."  I
nodded, silently.  I had always been a good student, but never before
had I taken classes in sexual slavery.  I hoped that I would be a good
student.  I vowed to do everything I could to be pleasing.

Then I remembered what she had said - that this was only a training
facility.  "Then what happens ... once I've been trained?" I whispered.

"Then you will be sold to your new master," she said simply.  "And
then you will spend a lifetime endeavoring to convince him - or her -
that you are worth keeping.  Presumably you will spend much of that
time as naked as you are now, with your legs spread or your mouth
open, begging to be used as a slave.  Or your master can choose to
sell you to someone else, of course.  You are just an article of
property now, to be bought and sold and consumed."

I thought about what I had gotten myself into.  No longer could I
enjoy the comforts of submitting to my idol, Cristina, or to people I
knew and liked.  Now I was just a naked, helpless slave girl, who
could find herself on her knees before anyone, anywhere, begging to be
raped.  But at the same time, now I knew that I truly had no choice in
the matter.  I was a slave and that was all there was to it.  I would
have to be utterly pleasing to anyone who had rights over me.

"What kind of owners do the slaves get sold to?" I asked, wondering
what fate lay in wait for me.

"A few are sold to extraordinarily wealthy men and women who want to
have personal sex slaves.  But actually, the largest number are sold
to high-class prostitution businesses," she said.  "There's more money
there than in private slavery.  Most of the girls we train here end up
being rented by the hour or by the night to wealthy businessmen who
want the exquisite services that can only be demanded of a complete
slave.  And then some are sold into the pornography business, where
they are used to make movies and videos.  But there isn't much need
for slaves there, since so many young girls are willing to do it for
the money."

So that was my future - offering my body to one man after the other,
to satisfy their every desire, for the profit of my owners.  Gone was
any of the romance I might have imagined in sexual slavery.  Instead I
would be a simple commodity to be used up and presumably discarded
when my body was no longer of interest.

"I am Claudia, but you will address me as Mistress," she said, jarring
me out of my reverie.  "I run this house.  You appear eager and
obedient, but that remains to be proven.  Any disobedience, however
slight, will be instantly punished.  We have very few rules, apart
from absolute obedience.  You will remain nude unless specifically
permitted otherwise.  You will kneel when in the presence of any of
the staff here, unless permitted otherwise.  Your body is constantly
available for use by any of the staff, unless specified otherwise. 
And you may not please yourself or any of the other slaves.  Your
bodies exist for the pleasure of masters alone.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, mistress," I said.  "I will be absolutely obedient."

"Very good," she said.  "You may keep the name 'Jenny' while you are
here, although you will more often answer to 'slave' or slut.'

"Michael!" she called.  A moment later a tall, burly man strode in to
the room.  "Take the new slave to the slave pen."

"Yes, Claudia," he answered.  He picked up my leash and began to lead
me away.  "Any special instructions?" he said with a  smile.

"No, Michael," she said.  "You may do with her as you wish."  

I would not have to wait long to find out what she meant.  He led me
down a staircase to a large, dimly lit room with several narrow beds. 
Most seemed to be occupied by young women, apparently naked under the
thin sheets.  He pulled me to an empty bed, threw me down on it on my
back, and tied my leash around a ring attached to the wall above the
head of the bed.  Then he casually flipped me over onto my stomach and
lifted me onto my knees, forcing my bottom up into the air.  I heard
him undoing his zipper behind me.  My heart was pounding and my
breathing frantic as I realized I was to be raped once again.  I could
feel my body lubricating itself desperately to protect against its
impending violent penetration.  Then suddenly I felt him plunge into
me and I cried out in pain and surprise.  He used me brutally,
forcefully, and casually, with no regard for my feelings or my own
pleasure.  I was nothing but a vessel for his manhood, a toy for his
amusement.  My body was warm with excitement but still far from
satisfaction when I felt his final surge inside me.  After he withdrew
from me I collapsed onto the bed, sobbing into my pillow.  So this was
what it meant to be a slave.  So this was what it meant to be a slave.
 The words repeated over and over in my head.  "Welcome to your new
life, slut," Michael whispered as he left.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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