TXR-92U-2280 -- Call Name: Sara -- Part III
In a society that otherwise resembles our own, mass slavery has persisted into the 21st Century. It is a common and accepted feature of public and private life. Males and females of all ethnic backgrounds are held thrall, without status or legal rights. They are quite literally living property, and may be bought, sold and used for any purpose, including: hard labor, breeding, menial work and sexual servitude.
This series of stories, which is not presented in any particular order, explores the daily life of a prostitute-slave named Sara. Purchased at auction by a Las Vegas casino, she is tasked with fulfilling the sexual urges of its clientèle, who pay for her favors along with room service and Wi-Fi access. Subject to their every whim, she has known both anguish and delight, but most often casual exploitation.
When she is not engaged by a guest, Sara must contend with capricious and underpaid corporate overseers and occasionally vicious slave stable politics.
***
Continued from Part II
The first time the elevator opened onto the skyway, Sara could not muster the courage to step outside. After a moment, it closed and carried her back down to the maintenance corridor. For a time, she stood staring at a distorted image of herself in the scratched and battered metal doors.
It was not a slave who stared back at her -- it was a woman.
In place of her strappy black heels, she wore a pair of casual cork wedges with tan leather accents. Her legs were covered by a pair of tattered jeans, which fit almost as snugly as the stockings they replaced. Beneath them: a simple white cotton thong, which peaked above her waistline in the back.
Her midriff was bare, below a tight, faded t-shirt with "I love Las Vegas" on the chest, except that the word "love" was replaced with a plump red heart. Underneath that, she wore a white shelf bra that showed off the natural shape of her breasts and bared her nipples, which stood out through the clingy t-shirt.
At her side, she held the shopping bag that contained her house dress and the toys that Cruz instructed her to bring.
Steeling herself, Sara pressed the button marked "S" again and the elevator lurched into motion. The doors parted, and she forced herself across the threshold. She nearly panicked when the doors closed behind her, and she looked back and realized that there was a lock in place of the call button. After taking a moment to control her breathing, she walked up a short flight of concrete steps which deposited her on the pedestrian bridge.
Sara had looked down on this bridge countless times, watching the people walk back and forth, imagining where they had been, where they were going and what wonders they had seen. She had never, ever dared to hope to walk across it herself.
Having lived virtually her entire life indoors, the sensations were overwhelming. The air was so hot and dry that she found it difficult to draw into her lungs. It was being carried along by gusts of wind, which brought with them scraps of paper and tiny particles of grit that she could feel impacting on her face and skin.
No longer diminished by the tinted windows of Helios, the sunlight was blinding. Even the white concrete surface of the walkway made her squint against the glare.
From beneath her feet, the roar of the traffic was continuous. She could actually feel the bridge tremble every time a heavy truck rumbled past.
Although her senses were under constant assault, it was a tiny change in the behavior of the people around her that stood out the most. When she was on display or just walking the floor of the casino, men would stare at her unabashed. Their eyes would settle on her cleavage or her ass, with no more regard than looking at a picture on the wall.
It was subtle, but that had changed. Rather than staring, men stole quick peeks at her or avert their eyes altogether — only to look back as she passed.
Women, who usually ignored her, looked on with a mixture of admiration and envy. She saw one woman actually drive her elbow into the ribs of the man next to her when his gaze lingered little too long. It all came together in a heady rush that flowed into her, fulfilling some part of her that she never knew was empty.
"Hey, baby!" said a young man who suddenly appeared out of the crowd. He had dark skin and curly hair.
"You love Las Vegas? Uh, yeah -- me to! Do you want to go somewhere, maybe a club? I could buy you a drink... or dinner? Whatever you want... Where are you from, baby?"
Sara carefully set her face with a cool expression and a small smile. Her eyes flicked up and down his body, then she continued across the bridge. Another young man, standing next to him, burst out laughing.
"Ice cold!" he said. "Ouch, Fadi! She is just way, way, way out of your league!"
Sara walked on, smiling. Stepping into the shadow of Camelot, she was grateful for the relief from the blazing sun. Looking back over her shoulder at Helios, she was surprised by how small the pyramid looked. Before, its vast atrium and endless ranks of guest rooms had seemed like the entire world.
Turning back towards Camelot, she identified its cavernous entryway -- a mighty stone arch beneath a huge banner that read: "Lords and Ladies, Welcome to Camelot! Enjoy the Many Pleasures our Castle has to Offer!"
Before she stepped inside, Sara looked further along The Strip in the direction she had been walking. In the distance, she could see a collection of glass towers, sparkling in the sun. Below them, rising from a pool of water was the mighty figure of a woman in long robes, rendered in a green patina -- the Statue of Fortune.
It was another casino, The Big Apple, which Sara knew from her recent training had been built to resemble New York, a great city far, far away. She took one step towards it -- one step towards that next unexplored marvel -- and then she felt every prod that had ever been touched to her skin and triggered come upon her at once. She turned back and walked into the castle.
The space was bustling. Jugglers, musicians and acrobats performed all around her while the churning crowd pushed in a dozen different directions at once. Moving deeper into the air conditioned space, Sara spotted a utility in a brightly colored harlequin uniform. She approached him, mentally rehearsing the words she would speak.
"Boy," she began.
"Yes, mistress?" he replied immediately, his eyes low.
"Take me to this room," she said, holding out the card Cruz had provided.
Bowing his head, he took it from her.
"Yes, mistress," he said. "May this boy carry your bag for you, mistress?"
She was about to decline what she took to be a very peculiar request -- no one having ever offered to ease her burden -- when she remembered who she appeared to be.
"Yes, boy," she said, taking care not to thank him.
"Thank you, mistress."
The utility led her across the casino floor to a bank of elevators. Up on the fifth floor, he steered her down a long hall and opened the door to room 528. He walked in ahead of her, putting the bag and the card down on a small table.
"Enjoy your stay at Camelot, mistress," he said.
She let him go without another word.
***
Walking into the room, Sara felt the whole world turn inside out. Cruz was kneeling at the foot of the king-sized bed, wearing the house dress of a Helios slut. Everything was exactly as it should have been, and also completely, totally wrong. Sara reached out to the wall to keep her balance and focused on her breathing to steady herself.
Finding her center, she barked at Cruz: "Up, slave! Everything off, now!"
