Finally I was ordered to Claudia's office. I entered and knelt before her. Standing next to her was the English man who had "tried me out" earlier.

"Jenny, this is Mr. McGregor," Claudia said. He made the high bid on you, on behalf of his company, and he is now your owner." The shock must have been evident on my face. "You may greet your new master," she finally said.

I remembered then what I was supposed to do. I turned to him, bent down, and began to kiss his feet. "Thank you, master," I said. "I will be absolutely obedient and pleasing, master. Thank you for letting me be your slave." I remembered what he had done to me that afternoon. He had been utterly commanding, and ruthless, and dominant. I had begged him to rape me and finally screamed out my submission to him as he used me for the third time. He had left me with no doubts about what it meant to be his slave.

"Yes, I think she'll do nicely," he said to Claudia, ignoring my efforts to please him. Finally he indicated that I should stop.

"Jenny, you will sleep here tonight. Tomorrow you will be transported to your new home," Claudia said. "You have been an excellent student and have all the makings of a superb slut. I wish you well."

"Thank you, mistress," I said.

"Do you have any questions?"

I don't know where I summoned the courage to ask. "Mistress ... how much did I cost?"

Claudia smiled and turned toward Mr. McGregor. He laughed.

"1.6 million dollars," he said.

Chapter 7: Paris

The next morning, after our group exercise and shower and one final breakfast eaten naked and on all fours from a bowl on the tiled kitchen floor, I was allowed to say good-bye to my fellow slave girls before being "shipped." We kissed and hugged, tears in our eyes. After spending weeks together, virtually all of the time with no clothing other than our collars, it seemed completely natural to clasp another girl's naked body to my chest. Here, although we had been unequivocally taught our slavery, we had shared a routine and a set of experiences. Now, I expected, I would never see any of my sisters in slavery again.

I would be transported to Paris in a simple minivan with tinted windows. I was consigned to two drivers who would see that I arrived at my destination undamaged, Mr. McGregor flying to Paris separately. Claudia did not deign to see me off. No doubt, having pocketed her profit on me, I was gone from her mind, another foolish girl made to pay for her secret desires. I wore nothing except my collar, now adorned with a small brass tag indicating my new owner, the bracelets that held my wrists together behind my back, and a twelve-inch chain that joined my ankles together. The drivers, I would later learn, did not have the keys to my bonds - presumably so that I could not wheedle them into unchaining me, in case I had any notions of escaping en route. I noted that the slack in the ankle chain left me enough latitude to open my knees and thighs for them, either on my back or on my knees. I expected this was a collateral benefit of their occupation.

I was placed on the first bench seat behind the drivers, a long, loose chain padlocked to my collar and to the inside of the van for extra security. The back door was locked and could only be opened from the outside, I had no chance of escape. I would be delivered to my new owners, a new slave for their amusement and pleasure.

One of the drivers, a young, stocky, black-haired man whose name I would learn as Eddy, sat next to me while his colleague Karl drove. "What a pretty little slut you are," he said as he started to caress my breasts with his small but strong hands. "So young, and innocent ... but I can tell you love being a slut, don't you. You love spreading your legs for men, don't you, slut. You love having it in your mouth, in your slutty lips, tasting it, swallowing it, don't you."

His hand was now between my thighs, probing my body. I was still dry from fear, but I could feel my body beginning to respond, uncontrollably. I knew where this was going, and while I had no desire to be raped in the back seat of a van, I knew that there was nothing I could do about it, and I would be better off complying with this man's wishes. I did not want an unfavorable report to arrive with me in Paris. "Yes, master," I whispered as sensuously as I could. "I love being a slut. Please use me like the slut I am. Let me take you in my mouth and please you like you've never been pleased before." I licked my lips. As a slave, I had learned early on to adapt my behavior to the preferences of the master, to intuit quickly whether he wanted a hot, eager slut to be enjoyed or a reserved, reluctant girl to be forcibly put to her back and dominated. This, I had been told, was one of my particular skills as a slave. I closed my eyes and let myself indulge in his impatient caresses between my legs, willing myself to become hot and wet for him. Bound as I was, there was little he could expect me to do for him, at least until he positioned me appropriately.

Soon he pulled me down from the seat and put me on my knees in front of him, and began to open his pants. My body still sore from the abuses I had suffered the day before, I decided I would do my best to satiate him with my mouth, to give my bruises more time to heal. I lowered my head to him and plunged into my work with abandon, moaning with apparent satisfaction as I practiced my skills. But before I could complete my task, he withdrew from me and pushed me down on my back. My wrists ached, trapped in the small of my back against the rough carpet of the van, as he brought his weight on top of and inside me, pressing my thighs back against the floor. Even though I was sore inside, my body welcomed his entrance into me. But after the work I had done with my mouth, he was unable to last very long inside me, and he climaxed before I was able to achieve more than a moderate arousal. He withdrew, buckled his pants, and pushed me back onto my seat. I could feel a damp spot spreading on the vinyl seat.

"She's really hot, Karl," he called up to the front seat. "I bet you can't wait to get a piece of that nice juicy ass." I felt like I had been slapped. As a new slave, I still hated being reduced to my anatomical essentials. But I knew that was where most if not all of my value lay.

"Just let me get out of town and I'll take a turn," Karl answered. As I awaited the inevitable, Eddy casually ran his hands over my body, fondling his new toy. I moaned softly in appreciation, trying to please him. "You want it again already, don't you, slut?" he said. "Well, you won't have to wait long."

I didn't. About fifteen minutes later, the van pulled over by the side of the Autobahn. The two men changed places, Karl coming back to enjoy the entertainment available for the ride, Eddy easing the van back onto the road. Karl was older, taller, and less of a talker than Eddy. He wasted no time with my mouth, dumping me unceremoniously on my belly on the bench seat, my breasts crushed against the vinyl surface, my body open to him as a slave, before entering me from behind. He took his time, seemingly trying to arouse me, so I let my mind go and let myself revel in his deep, powerful thrusts, forcibly impressing on me my status as the helpless victim of his pleasure. Finally I felt him press himself against me, and I cried out in my own helpless orgasm. I hoped I would not be punished. But he didn't seem to mind, even smiling down at me as I cleaned him with my mouth, his hands playing with my hair. "We're going to have a nice trip, aren't we," he said.

I nodded as I could, my mouth still occupied by his manhood.

Now that my training was over, it seemed, there was little to pass my time other than actual service. Eddy and Karl were seeming indefatigable - certainly more impressive than any of my boyfriends. Perhaps it was a product of their generally monotonous occupation. Or perhaps it was a natural product of having a naked, bound sex slave constantly available to them in the back seat, willing and ready to indulge their every desire. In any case, somewhere in the former West Germany I lost count of how many times they had put me to their uses. After having exploited my more conventional uses, they had each used their hands to bring themselves to climax, aiming at my wide-open mouth or at my breasts and body. They had wiped some of their ejaculations into my mouth for me to taste and swallow, but the remainder was drying on my body and in my hair, out of reach of my bound hands, an abject reminder of my miserable condition. Through it all, I attempted to maintain my eager, willing, slutty demeanor, knowing that was what would please them the most. But inside I was crying silently, wondering if this was to be how I would pass all my days. Since the first time Karl had taken advantage of me, I could no longer be aroused by my abuse. Instead, I felt a mixture of soreness and boredom, hoping my rapists would tire of me so I could rest my mouth and body.