"Is everything here?"
"Yes, Sir. My passport, driving licence, ownership deeds , medical history, academic record, and various ID cards."
"Your flat is empty and your car has been left in the parking area specified?"
"Yes, Sir. I left the key in the starter."
"Good. I will send someone to take care of them later. Please place your handbag on the floor and remove your coat and dress. Then place everything on that armchair."
She does as she is told and returns to her position, standing in her heels and an ivory bra and culottes. The man stands up and walks around her appraisingly.
"You are a beautiful woman, Anna. What are you, thirty-nine?"
"Thirty-eight, Sir."
"You will make a wonderful slave for a discerning owner who is not interested in breeding you. And we will fetch a very good price, I daresay. Why do you want this, Anna?"
For the first time, Anna blushes. " I need it, Sir."
"And why do you need it, Anna?" asks the man, almost curiously.
"I... I don't know, Sir. I only know I do. I always have."
The man approaches her and runs his finger lightly down the line of her jaw. "Of course. Some of you are just born slaves. Don't worry, Anna. We are going to set you free. How's your cunt?"
"Sopping wet, Sir."
"Yes. I can smell it. Well, let's begin then, shall we?" He takes a step back and contemplates the goose pimples on Anna's flesh. "Walk into that bedroom. There is a blindfold on the bed. Tie it on, lie down on the bed, face up, arms by your sides, and wait."
***
She waits and waits and waits, losing track of time, listening for every tiny noise, her nipples hard as rocks, and so wet that the quilt beneath her is starting to get soaked.
Then the door creaks open, and she feels a hand on her legs, gently opening them. Soft steps on the carpet, and more hands - three? four? five? - on her face, her breasts, her stomach, he mouth. A male smell, so close, so hot. Then a cool hand slipping beneath her culottes, cupping her mons firmly, just so her juices slurp and slither between fingers and she raises her hips involuntarily, greedily, seeking more.
"So docile. So eager," laughs her handler's voice, softly. "Don't worry, Anna. We will make you even more so. And we will remove that little voice at the back of your mind. The nagging voice that keeps insisting that you are an independent person with a mind of your own. It will be gone. Forever."
Then two fingers slide into her, so deftly, and something hard pushes against her mouth, and she opens hungrily - above and below - and she moans gagging as she falls into the rocking rhythm, sucking and pumping, grinding against the hand, slurping against the cock, blindly. Her handler's voice, now next to her ear, whispers relentlessly: "Such a good slave. Such a good piece of property. So biddable. So docile. So obedient. You will obey, Anna. You will serve. You exist only to serve. You are ours. Obey now, Anna. And... cum."
When commanded, she explodes into an orgasm so hard that it feels her entire body is bursting. So hard that she hardly feels her cunt clenching wildly around the intruding fingers, the hot jism spurting wildly onto her face and breasts.
She feels hands supporting her, holding her up somehow, as her orgasm subsides. Then her blindfold is suddenly removed and she blinks in the sudden brightness and rawness of it, her sperm-covered skin so sensitive after the shock.
Something is presented to her. A form and pen. "Sign," says her handler's voice, and, in her dazed and confused state, she can only scratch a cross at the bottom of the page.
"Good girl, Anna," says her handler's voice, obviously pleased, and she hears the crinkling sound of paper being folded and placed in an envelope. "You have done the right thing. It has started."
Suddenly the brightness disappears again as the blindfold is slipped back on and the hands push her down onto the bed. Fastenings - bands being stretched over her chest, hips, and knees, cuffs being secured around her wrists and ankles. Tightly, like the restraints in a psychiatric ward. She feels cold metal against her skin as scissors slide under the restraints to cut off her underwear and she is left lying naked and helplessly bound on the bed.
Her mouth is prised open and something smooth and hard is inserted, then a gag is secured over her mouth. Her legs are opened again, and something else is inserted, large enough so as not to slide out on all her wetness.
"Keep her on P1," comes her handler's voice from beyond her feet. "No stimulation. I think this has been quite enough for today. And besides, this one seems capable of generating stimulus enough on her own," he laughs lightly again, and seems to leave the room.
Careful hands place earbuds in her ears, and a crackling hum invades her head, blocking out everything else. White noise? is all she can think, as she seems to catch elusive snatches of words, meaning, in the sudden avalanche of sound. But soon her body takes over and she falls into a heavy, blank sleep, punctuated by the hisses and slithering voices being looped over and over into her exhausted, vulnerable mind.
2
She kneels naked in front of the mirror, staring at the pale, dark-haired woman in front of her, her bleary, slightly glazed green eyes, her huge pink areolae like another set of eyes. Confusedly, she is somewhat aware that this must be her looking at her, but in her disjointed state she is unable to articulate any sentence or judgement. Only the perception, and the distant rumble of missed thoughts at the back of her mind as they fade out of her awareness.
She feels someone standing behind her, but is unable to look up or back and see who it is. She has been told to stare into the mirror, and the idea of not doing so does not even cross her mind. Yet she feels the warmth of the other against her back, legs, and involuntarily she shimmies and grinds her hips against the object which she had and had not noticed is placed between her thighs, rubbing its long, smooth curve against her G spot. She moans slightly.
