Chapter 11: The Revolution

This idyll of blissful servitude came to a violent end early one cool morning in January.

That night, I had been fortunate enough to be the slave girl selected by the master to serve his pleasure. As usual, he had put me to a variety of the specialized uses to which a slave such as I must be accustomed, finally cuffing my wrists to my ankles and taking me from behind, making me scream repeatedly in submission and ecstasy. Then he unbound my wrists and ankles, chained me to the foot of his bed by the collar, and climbed into bed to sleep.

I lay awake for a time. The passage of the new year inspired in me another round of reflection on how my life had changed. Every new year prior to this one, I had looked forward to new experiences, accomplishments, and horizons. As a popular, bright, hard-working student at a prestigious university, I had had a world of possibilities open to me. Each new year I had regretted the opportunities not taken in the previous twelve months and resolved to seek them out in the next twelve months. Now, though, I lay chained naked at the foot of my master's bed, a helpless but willing captive to his sexual depredations. By the standards of my previous life, I was now the lowest of the low - not only a wanton slut who would beg on her back for a man to take her, but worse than that a confessed slave who willingly accepted the loss of her rights and freedoms in exchange for the purity of absolute submission.

And this year, I truly had nothing to look forward to. My life, from this point forward, would be nothing more than a continuation of the daily routine of absolute obedience and sexual exploitation that I had lived for the past several months. My master might tire of me and sell me to a new owner, but that would be little more than a change of decor; in essence, my life would remain one of perfect and constant sexual service to my master and any men or women he might choose to make me available to, completely devoid of any choices or preferences of my own. I must offer up my thighs or my tongue to anyone on a moment's notice, routinely delivering pleasures that I had once reserved for a small handful of boyfriends, or that I had never intended to provide to any man. I knew all the ways in which a slave girl might be used, and blushed at how many of them had brought me to helpless ecstasy.

I felt a momentary, profound sadness at the life I had left behind. I supposed that as long as I lived I would feel moments like this. But they were fewer than they had once been, and I did not know at that moment if I would have voluntarily given up my slavery for the freedom I had once known.

I awoke with a start. It was still dark out, although there seemed to be a shade of pre-dawn gray light filtering through the light curtains. I thought perhaps my master had summoned me to his bed to enjoy my naked body once again, but he was still sound asleep. Then I heard the sounds of men running through the building, of hammering on doors, of furious commands being shouted in Arabic. I was scared, but I dared not wake my master, who was by habit a deep sleeper - especially after having thoroughly made use of one of his slave girls. I was chained to the foot of his bed, nude. There was little I could do.

He woke up when the door of the room burst open and four men rushed in, wearing assorted, mis-matching military fatigues and carrying what looked like automatic rifles. My master jumped out of the bed and started toward the bathroom door, but they intercepted him before he could get that far. A moment later, I saw them tie my beloved master's hands together behind his back and begin to march him out of the room. I wondered what kind of men these might be, that they could assault the compound of one of the country's favored sons and treat him so.

As two of the men led David out of the room, another spied me huddled against the bed, my legs drawn up to my chest in a futile effort to cover my nudity. He smiled, said something to the others, and walked over to me, pulling me to my feet by my arm. The chain on my neck would not let me stand upright, forcing me to bend over in a humiliating posture. I heard laughing from the men. They forced my master to produce the key to my chain and unlocked it from the bed, leaving it on my collar as a leash. Then they tied my hands behind my back and led me out of the room behind my master. I noticed they had draped his robe over his shoulders and belted it in front to protect his modesty. I, however, was marched through the halls completely nude save for my collar and bonds. I walked as gracefully as I could despite being led by a leash, my hips swaying and my breasts thrust forward as I had been taught. I had no idea what these men might do to me, but I desperately wanted to interest them in my body, to make them see me as a sex toy with which they might amuse themselves. The alternatives, it seemed, could be much worse.

We were marched through the breaking dawn light outside and across the compound to the central building, which I knew from the times we had served at my master's parties or business meetings. There, in the large main dining room, a kind of makeshift command center had been set up. There were twenty or thirty of the irregular soldiers in the room, and others drifted in or out. Against one wall, bound and under guard, were the regular inhabitants of the compound - guards, servants, wives, and children. We were brought to one end of the room, where the apparent leader of the attackers had seated himself at one end of the central dining table. He was thin and bearded, with a rifle slung across his shoulders and a wild look in his eye.

First he spoke briefly with David, and then two guards escorted him over to the wall with the other prisoners. Then it was my turn. I lowered myself to my knees and spread them as widely as possible. He had probably never known a slave girl such as I. I would use every device I knew to win his interest.

"You are American?" he said in heavily accented English.

"Yes ? master," I said. He smiled.

"You American girls - you are all sluts," he said. "Yes?"

"Yes, master," I said, not wanting to contradict him. "I am a slut, master."

"All you want is sex. Always sex," he said. "You come here and you seduce our men with your slutty bodies."

I was afraid where this was leading. "Yes, master," I said.

"Sluts like you are a disgrace and a threat to our nation," he said bitterly. "We should kill you all."

My eyes went wild with fear. I did the only thing I knew how to do. I prostrated myself before him, falling onto my side and squirming over to him, where I began to kiss at his feet frantically. "No, master," I pleaded. "Please don't kill me. Let me serve you instead. Let me serve you and your men with my body. You can use me any way you want. I know I'm a worthless slut, but think of the pleasure you could have with me."

He looked down at me. "You disgust me, flaunting your body, begging to be raped. You Americans are weak. I despise you."

But he did not stop me from licking and kissing his feet and ankles. I looked up at him from where I lay, naked and bound, at his feet. "Yes, I am weak, and you are right to despise me. But why kill me, even if you hate me? Would it not be a sweeter victory to take advantage of my weakness, to enslave me and make me your own, or to give me to your men as one of the spoils of your conquest? If it is Americans you hate, what would be better than taking their girls and using us for your amusement, kicking our legs apart and raping us, or forcing us to serve you in ways you would never demand from your own women? And no matter how you abuse me, I will remain your devoted slave, always ready to please you or anyone you choose. Why throw away such a chance to demonstrate your superiority over us, to put us in chains and make us beg for your touch?"