I thought for a moment about what that could mean. Were there really women - and men - who were truly slaves, fully owned, compelled to utter obedience to their masters, open and available to any of their whims or desires? Or did she only mean that there were people who had more experience playing the role of slaves, who perhaps would surrender themselves unconditionally for the span of an evening?
In any case, I could tell from the heat in my belly that I was clearly interested, but I did not want to let on to Cristina the extent of my desire. "Would I have to go completely naked?" I asked, trying to buy time.
"Not if you don't want to," Cristina answered. "I'm sure what you wore last night would be appropriate."
"What kind of service would I have to provide? Would I have to sleep with anyone?"
"That depends on what you want, Jenny," my friend said seriously. She waited. "What do you want?"
"Well ... I might want to in some circumstances" - I could hardly deny that, since she knew all about my attempts to interest Stefan - "but I'm not sure I like the idea of being forced to please anyone who wants me."
"You won't have to do anything you don't want to," Cristina promised.
"If you want to call it off, just say so and I'll take you home."
"OK, then, I guess I'll try it. But only because it's you," I said, trying to sound less excited than I was.
Cristina smiled. "I knew you'd agree. You'll have lots of fun."
"Now will you take of this collar?" I reminded her.
"Of course." She got up and stood behind me. "Bend forward and hold your hair out of the way." I obeyed, realizing the submissiveness of this posture, even here at a sidewalk caf table, baring my neck before Cristina. She pulled off the scarf, exposing the steel collar to public view. I felt a bolt click and then the soft breeze on the back of my neck as she lifted the collar away.
"Thank you," I whispered, finally free of that most compelling symbol of my bondage.
"Any time," Cristina answered. "Why don't I just give you the key, so that doesn't happen again," she said. I looked at her, wondering what she meant. "Well, it's your collar now," she explained. "You can take it home and put it on whenever the urge takes you."
The urge? Did she realize the depth of attraction that collar held for me? "Well, ok," I said.
"It's settled, then," Cristina said, gathering up her things. "I'll pick you up at your place on Tuesday around 6:30."
"What should I, uh, wear?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said. Seeing the shock on my face, she said, "No, I don't mean you should go nude. Just don't worry about it. I'll bring you something ... suitable." I wondered if that meant I would be granted more or less modesty than I had enjoyed the night before, when my most feminine secrets had been clearly on view and open to all. I wondered if it were possible to be more naked yet not completely nude. But I would be going to this party as a slave girl. I slave has no control over what, if anything, she is allowed to wear. She must simply abide by her master's will, even if that means displaying her charms openly to all comers. That is the least a slave must expect.
"OK, see you then," I managed to say. Clutching the collar in my hand, I began to retrace my journey to my apartment.
The next few days went by in a blur. I could think about nothing except the party to which I would be going and, I suspected, at which I would be a considerable part of the entertainment. I was afraid to see Cristina or any of the friends who had seen me at the club, for fear of how they might treat me. I found myself constantly wondering what other people, particularly men, thought of me. Did they find me attractive? Would they like to have me kneeling naked at their feet? If I begged them to rape me, would they do so?
When Tuesday came, I felt almost sick with nervous anticipation. Last time Cristina had exposed me in public, virtually naked, forced me to kneel before and lick her feet, bound me bent over a table - in short, had treated me as a slave. What would she demand of me tonight? I assumed she command at least as much, and probably more. I expected I would find myself completely nude before strangers, my charms open and exposed. But would I be compelled to serve them with my body, surrendering the last vestige of my freedom, my soft flesh a mere vessel for their pleasure? And if I were so commanded, would I obey? I spent much of the day trying to decide how I would respond. On the one hand, I was deeply, viscerally attracted to the thought of being used as a helpless sexual plaything, taken casually in multiple ways by strong masters intent only on their own pleasure. On the other hand, I was frightened to fully admit my inner nature to the world, to Cristina, and even to myself. At the time, I thought that it was still possible to turn my back on this new world, to return to the person I had been just a week before; but I sensed that if I truly surrendered my body, I would be crossing an line of significance, searing a mark in my body that would be impossible to erase. Then, I sensed, I would truly be a slave, for there would remain nothing to separate me from that condition of complete bondage and sexual servitude. What I failed to realize was that I was already a slave, that there could be no turning back.
At the time, I told myself that I would not let masters have complete sway over my body, that I would protect my last and most intimate assets from their attentions. But I could not be sure that I would comply with that decision.
A few minutes after 6:30, just when I was beginning to wonder if Cristina found me sufficiently pleasing, I heard a knock on the door. I opened it, and there she was, wearing an elegant black dress and high heels. "Hi, Cristina," I started to say when she interrupted me.
"Shouldn't you be on your knees, slut?" she said coldly.
I swallowed my excuses and lowered myself to my knees. I spread them widely, even though I was wearing jeans. I looked up at my mistress, already feeling the now-familiar stirring between my legs. "Yes, mistress," I said. "I'm sorry, mistress."
She brushed her hand in through my hair. "That's ok, Jenny," she said. "You have a lot to learn, but you show great potential." I wondered what she meant by that. "Well, my car's waiting, so let's get you dressed and let's get out of here."
She opened her bag and pulled out two bands of dark blue cloth. "This one goes around your breasts, and the other goes around your hips," she said matter-of-factly. "You tuck the loose end in back." I looked at the cloth. At least it was opaque this time, I thought. "You can use the bathroom," she said, smiling.
I rose to my feet, took the clothes, and went into the bathroom. Well, I should have known it would be something like this. I took off my clothes and looked in the mirror. There was really nothing there that hadn't been on display to hundreds of people last week. I wondered how long it would be before those full breasts and soft hips would again be exposed to view. I wondered if this evening's dinner guests would find them satisfactory. I hope they would.
Each band of cloth was long enough to wrap around my body almost twice. The one for my hips was about six inches wide, allowing me to cover the area from the tops of my hip bones down to a couple inches below my crotch. I started it at my left hip, and wrapped it in front of my body twice before tucking it as tightly as I could in back. I simple tug, I knew, and it would be around my ankles, baring my charms to view. I wrapped the top, which was only about four inches wide, around my breasts twice and, after a bit of a struggle, managed to tuck it in as well. I looked at myself again in the mirror. Most of my breasts were visible above and below the cloth, their curves clearly delineated. My hips were more or less covered, but I knew if I were to bend over that my modesty would be entirely compromised. Just as last time, my garment was open at the bottom; there was not even the flimsiest shield of cloth to stand between me and a master's predations. I supposed that was as it should be. A slave girl should always be open and available for use.