Return To Sessia Ch 01

Author's note: This story is a continuation of "Enslaved in Europe" and "Enslaved in Fairfax County" and it probably never would have been written without the encouragement and cheering enthusiasm of Traum (one of my fans from Germany). Traum not only urged me to write more about Diane and Gretchen, but in addition to that also came up with new ideas and inspired me to write more. So, for those of you who wish to thank me for continuing to write about the lesbian sex-slave adventures of Diane and sending them back to Sessia, you owe some of those thanks to Traum as well.

* * * * * * * * * *

Officer Ryan stayed with us the next few days and, of course, she took full advantage of the fact that I was a live-in sex slave.

She shaved my legs and underarm area and my pubic are every day. And of course her thumb would "accidentally" slide over my clit every time she shaved my pubes. Of course this just increased my already high levels of sexual frustration and stimulation.

She also continued to perform body cavity searches on my vagina and my tight, pink anus (even though there was no security-related reason to do so), but I never got used to them. It was tormenting and very exciting for me, and Officer Ryan's strong, probing fingers quite often brought me right to the frustrating edge of a powerful orgasm, but Gretchen forbade me to climax and, Officer Ryan seemed to know just how far she could provoke my poor clitoris without actually providing me orgasmic release.

At times I would be whimpering and sweating, flush with lust and sexual frustration and Officer Ryan would ask me if I objected to Gretchen forbidding the relief that an orgasm would provide.

What could I say? Gretchen was my mistress. I was her slave. Did I dare to speak out against her? Did I dare object to one of her decisions? My typical response in these situations was to silently shake my head and hope that there were no follow-up questions.

Gretchen continued the tradition of my morning spanking and indeed; insisted that as our guest; Officer Ryan should have the honor of spanking me every morning. Officer Ryan never used a paddle or a strap or any type of spanking tool, preferring instead to swat my naked ass with her bare hand. This however does not mean that I was being shown any mercy. Officer Ryan has strong hands and a strong right arm. Every time she threw me over her lap and spanked my upturned ass with her bare hand it always ended with me red-eyed and sobbing and my poor bottom decorated with dozens of painful red handprints.

On one occasion Dawn came over and saw me naked and red-assed and sobbing over Officer Ryan's knee. Dawn muttered and apology and said something about coming back later. Apparently she still finds it a little bit awkward watching her next-door neighbor get spanked naked over somebody's knee. I suppose we're going to have to do something about Dawn someday. She's adjusting badly to my being a naked submissive and someday she's going to have to come to terms with it.

And Officer Ryan hadn't forgotten her promise to use a strap-on dildo to violate my tight, tiny little anus.

Despite all my time as a slave, and all of the spankings and whippings and public humiliations, somehow nothing frightens me more than being anally penetrated. And, of course, Officer Ryan used a dildo that was too wide to be comfortably accommodated my tiny anus. I tried to protest that it was too big, but Gretchen and Officer Ryan just shushed me and tied me down and smeared gel lubricant into my tight pink anus and speared me with her massive dildo.

I screamed in fear and shock every time that Officer Ryan abused my tight little anus, but no matter how much I screamed or protested of whimpered or sobbed, she showed no sign of compassion and just thrust the big, rubber phallus into my tight orifice and pumped it in and out over and over again.

If she was trying to cure me of my fear of anal rape, she failed. I'm just as scared of it now, as I ever was.

Of course, despite my fear, I obediently bent over and allowed Officer Ryan to tie me up before penetrating my tiny orifice. Oh, I would tremble in fear while I docilely waited for my anus to be abused, but Officer Ryan enjoyed my fear and my obedience equally. The look of timid apprehension and the tears in my eyes and the way that my legs would shake and twitch in quiet dread, just made the experience all the more delicious to her.

She probably would have continued to violate my poor, sore, abused pink anus for an entire week, however one day Gretchen came home from her job with Listig Strategic Communications and she had some disturbing news that disrupted everybody's week and Officer Ryan's fun and games came to a halt.

It seems that Gretchen lost the Sessia account and her boss gave it to Stacy Martinet instead.

Stacy has been with Listig Strategic Communications for slightly longer than Gretchen (about four months longer) and she's stolen several accounts from Gretchen before. Gretchen went ballistic when Stacy stole the Sessia account and that was it. Spankings and anal rape suddenly became unimportant, and getting the Sessia account back from Stacy became Gretchen's sole concern.

"There was an emergency meeting of the account managers," Gretchen explained. "The main focus of the Sessia account is no longer selling legalized Sessian slavery to the American public. Now the focus is on selling legalized Sessian slavery to the Sessian voters and the Europeans. Sessia just got kicked out of the European Union, and all over Sessia, people are freaking out. Some Sessian politicians want to ban legalized slavery altogether. We spent freaking

hours

in a meeting, trying to devise a solution that would rapidly turn around public opinion all over Europe."

Gretchen looked angry, so I fixed her a drink. A rum and coke when she's angry will sometimes help calm her down. It was Officer Ryan who asked how Gretchen lost the Sessia account.

"It was that damn Stacy," Gretchen spat. "She suggested a media blitz, focusing on a very photogenic and telegenic slave/master couple that could make a personal case for Sessian slavery rather than an economic case. It's a good idea, and I probably could have owned that idea and ran with it."

At this point, Gretchen had finished her drink and she held the empty glass out towards me, indicating that she would like a refill. I took the glass from her hand and hastened to make her another rum and coke.

"Apparently Stacy has friends all over Europe and one of them just happened to be staying at the Hotel Castello, the week that Diane and I were there and they made a video of us in the hotel lobby. Stacy showed it at the emergency meeting, and my boss's boss was

so

impressed, that he insisted right on the spot that he had to have Diane as the public face of Sessian slavery and Stacy volunteered that I could easily get Diane to agree to go to Sessia and win over public opinion in Sessia and the rest of Europe."

I was being swept along by a sea of emotions at this point. On the one hand, I was literally wet at the idea of going back to Sessia and being paraded around as Gretchen's naked slave again. I was also consumed with fear and dread at the idea of going back to Sessia and being paraded around as Gretchen's naked slave again.

I'm like that. With me, fear and lust tend to go together. There's just no explaining me.

However, in addition to that, there was confusion.

"So, if I go back to Sessia as your slave, how could that possibly lose you the Sessia account? It seems to me that would make you-"

Gretchen didn't even allow me to finish my sentence. "I've lost the account," Gretchen spat, "largely because Stacy claimed that I can't possibly control my slave

and

manage the Sessia account both at the same time! She claims that they're both full-time jobs, and everybody at the meeting agreed with her! Well, everybody except for me of course! I'm a natural born multi-tasker, but would Aderholt listen to me?

NO!

He gave the account to Stacy Martinet and now I'm supposed to go back to Sessia as your handler, and; oh; I haven't told you the worst part yet! Since she's handling the Sessia account

I'll actually be working for her

the whole time we're in Sessia!!"

Now, I understood Gretchen's exasperation. Stacy and Gretchen had never gotten along. They both had the same job title and each was constantly trying to outdo the other. But now rather than being Gretchen's equal, Stacy was going to be Gretchen's superior and would be giving Gretchen orders.

And it occurred to me that I while Gretchen would be taking orders from Stacy, I'd be taking orders from both of them. At least Gretchen had some degree of emotional attachment to me. To Stacy, I'd be nothing other than a trained performer to do her bidding. I would be sort of like a trained seal at the circus. And if Stacy didn't like the way I performed, then what would happen? I dreaded the possible consequences of being under Stacy's control and my stomach filled with butterflies. If I agreed to go, I was certain that something horrible would happen to me.

And yet, as frightening as the prospect of being at Stacy's mercy was, it would have hurt Gretchen grievously if I had refused to go. So, there was really never any thought given to the idea of me saying

"no"

to the idea of going back to Sessia.

That night Officer Ryan slept in the guest room and Gretchen and I lay in our bed, both of us wide awake, staring into the darkness and too troubled to sleep.

Around 2:00 A.M. I spoke up, my voice barely more than a whisper and I said, "Gretchen, I'm scared."

I wasn't certain she heard me at first. She took a rather long time to respond. Finally, when I was just about to repeat myself, she queried, "What are you afraid of, Darling?"

I explained that if we went to Sessia under the terms of Listig Strategic Communications, I wouldn't just be Gretchen's slave. I'd be Stacy Martinet's slave as well. I'd be taking orders from a woman that I'd never even met. In addition, Gretchen would be taking orders from her as well. It would make the whole thing a lot less personal and a lot more officious. I'd feel a lot less like a valued sex-slave and a lot more like a federal prisoner or a corporate whore. I'd be a number in a corporate database and my life would have a lot less red blood and a lot more red tape.

"You're worried about your status as a sex-slave becoming cold and impersonal and passionless?"

I sighed into the darkness, and replied, "That's pretty much it. I feel like our relationship is going to be poisoned because a large, heartless, faceless American corporation is going to own our relationship and stamp a huge corporate logo on it."

In the dark, Gretchen held my naked body close to hers and I could feel the warmness of her skin and the firmness of her breasts as she pressed them into my back.

"I have an idea," Gretchen confided in me. "Listig Strategic Communications may be able to control our public image while we're in Sessia, but they can never control our passions or our commitment to each other. Before we sell our souls to corporate America, I have an idea. Tomorrow, I'm going to put into motion a plan that will do something very personal and passionate that will bond us together for the rest of our lives."

And then she kissed me, and I finally managed to fall asleep, confident that Gretchen had a plan that would solve both of our problems.

* * * * * * * * * *

And the very next day I learned about the "Bonding Ritual".

The Bonding Ritual is a public ceremony, in front of witnesses where a slave declares her willingness to serve a mistress (or master) for the rest of her life. The slave proclaims her commitment to her Mistress and then a Matriarch (or patriarch) pronounces that the slave and the mistress are permanently bonded.

The slave is then stripped naked and bound in front of everyone, and then she kisses her mistress.

It's supposed to be a very emotional ceremony.

The ceremony was held at Gretchen's mother's house, which made me nervous as hell. Gretchen's mother knew that Gretchen and I lived together, but did she even suspect that her daughter was a lesbian? And an even bigger worry...did she suspect that her daughter was involved in a BDSM relationship? How would she react when she found out?

And how would opinion of

me

change when she discovered that I actually

enjoyed

being thrown naked over her daughter's lap and spanked until my ass was red and almost welted?

It turns out I needed have bothered worrying. Apparently (despite her respectable public image) Christina Busch had a very kinky history back in her college days and she was very accepting of her daughter's sexual orientation. She was even accepting of me as Gretchen's lesbian lover.

"I'm glad you two told me," Christina told us as we sat in her kitchen, drinking coffee. "I spent years thinking that there was nobody special in Gretchen's life. Now, I know that she has you, Diane."

"Oh, she's very special," Gretchen replied. "You'll see just how special at the bonding ritual."

* * * * * * * * * *

Gretchen was able to get a surprisingly large number of guests for the ceremony, especially when you consider how little time she had less than two days to plan the whole thing.

My best friend, Hailey showed up. She hugged me and held my hand throughout most of the ceremony. She seemed to have the idea that something horrible was going to happen to me at the bonding ritual and she wanted to show her support and be there for me. She couldn't seem to grasp the idea that this was something I wanted.

My sister, Amy showed up. So did her fiancé, Scott. Scott was the only non-female at the ritual. It was a lesbian thing, so really I was a little upset about Scott being there, but at least Scott was a gay man, so I knew he wouldn't be ogling me.

My old boss from Griffith Bank was there. I didn't recognize her at first. And I was totally surprised to see her.

"Francine?"

I asked when I saw her walk across the back lawn of Christina's home. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm here for your bonding ceremony, obviously," came her cheerful reply. "I'd often suspected that there was a lot more to you than the boring persona that you depicted at work, but I never dreamed that your personal life was

this

exciting!"

"But, who told you?" I asked. I certainly wouldn't have told my boss or any of my co-workers about my kinky sexual activities.

"She did," Francine said, as she gestured over to Gretchen. "Your girlfriend...or I suppose it would be more appropriate to call her your mistress."

"She told you?" I asked, shocked and humiliated and scared. It was one thing if strangers in a foreign land knew that I was a lesbian sex-slave, but I used to work for this woman. I didn't want this woman to have an image of me naked, on my knees, my ass red from a brutal spanking while I licked another woman's pussy.

Francine just smiled and put her hand on my shoulder. "Diane, there's no need to be embarrassed. When I was your age, I did a lot of the stuff you're doing now. Hell, I started out a lot younger than you. I was only fifteen the first time I was stripped naked and tied up by another girl."

"Fifteen,"

I asked incredulously.

"Well, I'll be honest," Francine responded. "The other girl didn't really think of it as anything sexual. She just thought we were playing a game. I was an East-German spy and she was an American who had to interrogate me to find out where I'd hidden a computer disc that I'd stolen from an American agent. For me it was sexual, but for her it was totally innocent. She had no idea that I was getting a sexual thrill from it."

"An interrogation, huh," I asked, marveling at the way she had tricked an innocent and naïve girl into tying her up.

Gretchen had invited some of her female co-worked from LSC (but she deliberately left Stacy of the list of invitees), and soon I was surrounded. Amy, Hailey, Gretchen, Scott, Francine, Christina and three of Gretchen's co-workers. Also the UPS deliver woman who delivers packages in our neighborhood. I didn't recognize her at first in civilian clothes, but apparently Gretchen invited her as well. Everybody thought I was brave for going through with the ceremony, although there were several questions that I felt uncomfortable answering.

There were the inevitable questions about how I was able to handle the humiliation and embarrassment of being naked and exposed in front of hundreds of strangers when I went to Sessia. There was also Elena (one of Gretchen's co-workers) who had never been spanked and wanted to know just how painful it was. It was a difficult question to answer, since she had no experience with spanking (not even as a child), thus no context, but I tried to answer all of their questions politely and accurately, without blushing or stammering.

Finally when it came time for the actual ceremony, Officer Ryan was the one who presided over it.

"Diane Schlank," she announced loud enough for all assembled to hear. "You are here to pledge yourself to Gretchen Busch, as her sex slave from this day forward. Do you do this of your own free will?"

"I do," I replied.

"Gretchen Busch," she then called out. "Do you have the ceremonial shackles?"

"I do," replied Gretchen.

Actually, they were stainless steel handcuffs, but upon closer examination, the handcuffs were engraved with the words:

Diane Schlank, Sex Slave

Property of Gretchen Busch

Never shall they be parted

The words had a huge emotional effect on me, and when Officer Ryan gave the order for me to hold out my wrists so that they could be bound, I was so overcome I almost broke out in tears. There was a loud metallic

click

as Gretchen locked my wrists behind my back in stainless steel and then Officer Ryan announced, "The slave has been bound by her mistress."

Officer Ryan then addressed the entire crowd and in a loud, booming voice proclaimed, "Diane has proclaimed her intent to be a sex-slave in front of her family and loved ones. Now to prove that intent, she shall allow all of you to bear witness as she is stripped naked by her mistress."

There was a slight pause for effect and then Officer Ryan turned to Gretchen and said, "You may now strip your slave."

As per Gretchen's instructions, I wasn't wearing very much. Just a white shirt-dress, a white belt, white stay-up stockings, white low-rise thong panties and white shoes with four-inch heels.

My heart was beating painfully fast as Gretchen advanced on me. Friends, family and strangers watched as Gretchen stripped me naked. First she unbuckled my belt and threw it to the ground. Then, rather than unbutton the buttons on my shirt-dress, she just gripped the front of the dress in her strong hands and ripped it open, tearing buttons off and sending them flying in all directions. I gasped at this act of violence (as did several people in the crowd) and with my dress ripped open, everyone assembled could see that I wasn't wearing a bra.

"You won't need this anymore," Gretchen curtly remarked and then she produced a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut my shirt-dress off of me and let the tatters of fabric fall to the ground.

"I think you're enjoying this," Gretchen whispered into my ear and grasped one of my nipples between her thumb and forefinger. The nipple was hard and swollen and erect.

"Yes, Mistress," I replied. It would have been impossible to deny my arousal at that point.

Then I was naked except for my shoes, my stockings and my panties. Gretchen knelt down and grabbed my right foot and lifted it off the ground and removed my shoe. Then she did the same thing my left foot.