Authors Note: The story you are about to read for the most part is true. I have lived in South Africa, Switzerland, Washington D.C. and Rome and now am living with my husband near Paris, France. The name I have assumed for my own sexual experiences is "Vixen," the alter ego of a model. Now I have written different stories about my life; my inner mind and psyche, my experiences and the flaw in my character, my weakness for sex, about how I could have said NO, but I let things happen to me. Perhaps some of you will relate to my real life experiences and sexual desires while some of you will undoubtedly fantasize about them and me.
It will be someone who I have teased with my hot body, who I have treated very bad, like the arrogant bitch I am, like I have turned so many men down, treated some men bad when they insisted, insulted, I made him look like a little boy, a fool in public in front of his friends, in my arrogant cock teasing way without knowing that he is a member of a secret powerful society.
They have decided to capture me and I am forced to become a slut and a whore in a world of sexual slavery.
They have stalked me and have decided now is the time to make me their whoring sex slave. Like my first boyfriend told me when I was at high school, he was a older photographer, that I would end up as a high class whore.
The set up has been very clever, a modeling agency in Paris has informed me that I have been invited to a dinner party with a movie producer and some investors for an interview to discuss a new venture.
When I arrive at the airport of Paris, a car is waiting for me and I am driven to a mansion outside Paris. It is a beautiful place, when the door enters a big Negro is very intimidating when he looks at me. I am escorted to one of the guest rooms where I will stay during the night. I am told dinner will be served at 8 and I will be expected to dress for the occasion.
Later that night when I have taken a nice bath, I dress in a long sexy black strapless evening dress. Looking in the mirror, I am a knock out, I check my hair and my dress and I am ready for a nice and pleasant evening. Later there is a soft knock on the door and I am escorted to the dining room. The room is huge and beautiful furnished, and much darker than the hallway, there are candles and there is a fire burning. To my surprise there is a video camera's in the corner.
I am met by a tall distinguished gentlemen who smiles and I assume he is the owner, he tells me he is looking forward getting to know me better, he smiles and tells me "much better", while he looks at my cleavage. He tells me that the guest of honour will arrive after dinner, the one who has invited me.
Different men all dressed for dinner are standing around and I am introduced. They are all older men obviously they are rich, they observe me, undressing me with their eyes like most men do, obviously wanting to get inside my panties, but this is nothing new to me, thought like that make me moist, but like always they are making me feel funny and am sure they are educated men.
I am looking at them confidently, I am sure this will be an interesting evening, after-all, I am the only women present and these are real nice and clearly rich gentlemen. Some of them look at me and finally dinner is served. The food is excellent, the conversation light and highly spirited. They listen attentively, smiling at me. Then the time has come for desert, I like desert. When I ask what is for desert, a silence falls, you can hear a drop fall.
Then he walks in, the guest of honour, I hear his hard voice, Vixen my dear slut, you are our desert for tonight, to my horror I recognise him. It is Master Nero, who I consider a very, very perverted person, he is real, one who I never, never, never wanted to meet again after my first experiences in Amsterdam with him and on my wedding day.
He starts to explain in his calm and cold way, the reason is simple, just economics. There is a huge market for women such as I, who have the proper training to satisfy, certain special tastes, but this time he is doing it for free.
He tells me that he has been planning this, that I have been brought here under false pretences but only for the reason that, like he, the men at this table are interested in me, that there is no new venture, but that I will be trained and educated as his sex slave like he has promised, and when I am ready I will leave again, my life as I know it no longer exists, that I own nothing, not even my name, my life will never be the same, I am now owned by the members of his sex ring whose members are present at the dinner table.
Telling me that he specialises in selecting women, beautiful exclusive women, well educated from the best respectable families, preferable feisty and proud, since aristocratic bitches like me make the best whores. How he turns them into sex slaves before they are joining his society and are available for the members. If they do not behave he sells them on the international market.
I am speechless, completely confused, finally understanding what he told me, this can not be, this is a joke, this cannot be happening to me. Telling them to take me back to the airport. They just look at me, telling me he will help me understand, helping me to find my true destiny in life.
Then I am grabbed by the big Negro who is standing behind me, I scream to stop, protest, beg, I am struggling, trying to kick him, this is not suppose to happen, not to me, I beg them to stop. I know now that I am in deep trouble, I realise this is for real, like he told me on my wedding, I have fallen victim to him. He is standing behind me and grabs my hair and pulls me up, it hurts so much and I am forced to stand still. My legs tremble and I am forced to wait what comes next.