Undercover Slave Girl

by Argus

  “I love how you dress her,” Juan said with a smirk.

  “No point in putting a lot on when I just have to take it off when the mood strikes me.”

  “Yes, I can see the advantages,” Juan said.

  “Puta,” Hannah heard the woman mutter.

  O'Neil heard it too and laughed. “Of course, she's a whore, madam. She is, after all, a sex slave. Her only purpose in life is providing others with sexual pleasure.”

  Hannah would have disagreed with that, had she dared, but his depiction of her was starting to turn her on, starting to make her feel like the sexual creature he was describing. The fact she was standing undressed as she was, in front of three fully clothed people examining her could not help but arouse her in any event. She had always gotten off on showing herself off, and that sensation of hunger at being exposed had gotten infinitely more powerful of late.

  She tried to think back to her navy time, now seeming so very far away, but it was almost hard to imagine being a respected officer.

  The butler appeared at the door, then.

  “Mister Daeley is here, sir.”

  “Ah, excellent. I'm sorry, Juan. Bradford will show you to your suite and we'll meet for dinner.”

  Everyone rose, and left the room. O'Neil jerked his head, indicating Hannah was to follow.

  She felt her chest tighten further. He had not said anything about putting her dress on again.

  She had little choice but to follow them out into the corridor and up the hall, naked, save for the leather on her arms and legs and around her middle. That made her actually feel more naked than naked, and her mind squirmed self-consciously as they walked up the corridor and into the front reception hall.

  Bradford picked up a pair of suitcases, and then O'Neil said something to Juan Hannah didn't catch, who chuckled in appreciation. O'Neil looked at Hannah, and pointed at two more suitcases.

  “Take those up and serve Mister Fernandez as he wishes,” he said sternly.

  Hannah's stomach swirled and churned, but she stepped forward and picked up the suitcases. Fortunately, they were not overly heavy. Fernandez and his woman followed Bradford, and she followed them, her mind deliciously self-conscious and darkly aroused as she walked along in her stilettos, her breasts jiggling ever so lightly.

  What did that mean 'serve him'?

  But of course, she knew. She was a slave. She was, to put more of a point on it, a sex slave. If Fernandez wanted her she would have to do whatever he told her to do.

  Bradford showed them into a lovely suite. Again, the walls were stone blocks, but well maintained, and the furniture was heavy, dark, warm wood-grained, and with expensive fabric done in shades of blue and green. The outer room consisted of a comfortable leather sofa and chair facing an orate fireplace. Off to the other side of the door was a desk with computer and monitor. Then through a wide door was a grand bedroom with an immense, four poster bed.

  Bradford set the suitcases on the bed, turned, spoke with Fernandez, and left. Hannah still held her cases, not having been told what to do with them, and her arms were starting to get tired. She considered putting them on the bed, too, but suppose they told O'Neil? Suppose she wasn't supposed to do anything without being told, like O'Neil had said?

  “The man is a pervert,” the woman, Cecile said.

  “All men are perverts, my dear,” Juan replied in amusement.

  “What are we to do with this... with … it?” she asked disdainfully.

  “Whatever we choose. That is the point of a slave, Cecile.”

  He turned to Hannah. “Put the suitcases on the bed, then open all of them and unpack. Cecile will instruct you.”

  “Really, Juan,” she said in exasperation.

  “Is she not beautiful to look upon?”

  “She is a whore.”

  “That is beside the point.”

  “My body is not good enough for you to look at?”

  “Would you like to strip naked for me?”

  “To unpack the suitcases?!”

  He chuckled. “You see. Slaves do not offer such opinions.”

  “Not while they're gagged.”

  Hannah had put the suitcases down as he'd directed, and was in the process of opening them all. There were several large chests of drawers in the room, but she wasn't sure what they wanted to put where.

  The woman glowered at her. “Juan's things go in that chest,” she said. “Mine go in the other. Underwear and shirts on the top, shirts and blouses below, then trousers. So you understand... slave?”

  Hannah nodded and proceeded to unpack

  “You see? She is like any servant, except you do not have to pay her.”

  “And she is naked,” Cecile said dryly.

  “Well, yes, that too.”

  “You are a pervert.”

  “Yes, I freely admit this.”

  Hannah put away their clothes, then waited for further instructions. She was still feeling a swirling rush of emotions and sensations, but feeling less embarrassed as the minutes ticked by. She was still very self-conscious, though. Cecile had her put the suitcases in the closet. Then a chest arrived, and she hung up suits and dresses.

  Hannah was... aroused. Fernandez was not a man she thought especially sexy, by any means. He was out of shape and twice her age. And it certainly wasn't because of his girlfriend or wife or whatever she was. Her presence actually made Hannah very uncomfortable. No, it was the situation she found herself in. It was being a virtual slave ordered to serve strangers – and dressed in this leather outfit that made her into the walking sex toy O'Neil described her as.

  It was the exhibitionist side of her that was aroused, that and that dark, feral side of her mind that seemed to revel in being degraded and demeaned.

  “Stop staring at her, Juan,” she heard Cecile say in irritation.

  “Are you jealous, my dear?”

  “Of this?” she sniffed.

  Hannah felt a hand on her bottom, but given O'Neil's recent 'lessons', didn't turn around. She assumed it was Juan's as it kneaded her buttocks.

  “You see?” he said. “The difference between a servant and a slave girl. You can do anything you want to a slave girl, have her do anything you want. It is like a body without a mind, a toy to play with.”

  “You can find sluts anywhere. And they will do anything you want,” Cecile said.

  “Yes, but that is different. I must purchase their favor.”

  “So? You are rich!”

  “You must see the difference, Cecile. It is a psychological one.”

  “You do not own here, in any case. O'Neil does.”

  “True. But she is mind to bid as I choose right now. So in effect, I can do whatever I want.”

  “You can do whatever you want with me,” Cecile said, sounding sulky.

  He laughed. “Very well, then. Take off your clothes.”

  “What? Now? Here?”

  “You said – .”

  “Fine,” she growled, though she didn't sound happy.

  Hannah heard the sound of clothes being removed. It was very hard not to turn around but for all she knew this was some sort of test O'Neil was putting her through. She wondered if they'd have sex right there behind her.

  Hannah felt hands at the back of her head, then a loosening of the gag. It slipped down and away, and he turned her around to face them. She flushed a little, seeing that Cecile was naked. She glowered at Hannah.

  “Slave. I want you to kiss Cecile.”

  Hannah cringed at the thought, her stomach starting to whirl. She had no interest in women! her mind spun around with alternatives but she saw no way of refusing without getting in trouble with O'Neil. She stepped forward and hesitantly leaned in to kiss her.

  “No, slave. I want full body contact. Put your arms over her shoulders and kiss like you would kiss a lover.”

  Hannah squirmed inside, but she moved forward, feeling her warm, soft flesh aga
inst mine, her breasts, harder, clearly fake, pressing against Hannah's from above, for she was taller, despite her stiletto heels. Their lips met and Hannah grunted as Cecile's hand slid into her hair and gripped it tightly, sharply, jerking her head up and back as she kissed Hannah hard.

  The feel of her breasts against Hannah's was extremely sexual, given the circumstances, and despite her not really having a thing for women she felt her nipples tingling and her breasts flaring with heat. Cecile's free hand slid down her back and squeezed her ass hard as she ground her body against Hannah, and the blonde girl felt a breathless sense of anticipation as their tongues joined together.

  Hannah was fully aware of Juan watching, and a part of her found putting on this lewd demonstration extremely arousing, despite it being with a woman. She felt him up behind her, felt his hands sliding around her to cup her breasts. Then he drew her arms back behind her and she felt her wrists locked together in a practiced fashion.

  Hannah didn't think this was new to Juan.

  “On your knees, slave,” he ordered.

  Pulse racing, Hannah sank to her knees, looking uncomfortably into Cecile's groin and feeling panicky. She had no desire to do what she suspected she was going to have to do. She had no experience with it either, except from the receiving end. That, of course, gave her a lot of insight that a man who'd never performed oral sex on a woman couldn't match, but she was still anxious.

  Cecile sneered down at Hannah, then gripped her hair again, twisting her fingers in it so it hurt, and drawing her face in against her groin. She rubbed the blonde girl's face into her pussy, and Hannah could feel the moisture there. It was gross, but the heat within Hannah flared anyway, again, not because of Cecile, not because she was a woman, but despite it. It was the outrageous nature of what she was doing that was making her heart pound.

  “Please me, slave girl,” she demanded.

  And she had no choice. So with him looking on, Hannah stared at her neatly shaven sex, then leaned in and began to lick on either side, her mind spinning as she tried to consider best how to do this. She thought of her own experiences, what she liked, but didn't know if they wanted it fast or slow or in between.

  She shifted her legs apart, and she ran her tongue up and down Cecile's slit, letting her lips press softly against it and riding up and down until she met her clitoris. She started to lick and suck at it as Cecile continued to twist her fingers in blonde hair, and Juan looked on, no doubt with a huge erection in his trousers.

  The thought of that continued to arouse Hannah. It wasn't that she was licking at Cecile, but that Juan was watching and being aroused by the performance.

  “Sit down on the edge of the bed,” he ordered.

  Cecile moved back, and then began to pull Hannah by her grip on her hair. Hannah shuffled awkwardly forward on her knees, and then the French woman sat and pulled Hannah's face in between her thighs. Hannah moaned excitedly as she felt Juan behind her, and licked harder, starting to fall into that sexual fever where almost nothing matters but the heat and pleasure.

  The thought she was performing oral sex on a woman was wildly shocking to her, but should not have been as exciting, as hot, as arousing as it was. But her body pulsed with heat as Juan ran his hands over her buttocks. And when he pushed himself into her she moaned against Cecile's pussy, her tongue licking harder, twirling and swirling around her exposed clit while Juan's hands moved up her sides, then underneath, cupping and kneading her breasts.

  Cecile's fingers never left her hair, never stopped twisting it, pulling on it, making her gasp and moan in pain. her body shuddered to the impact of Juan's hips against her upraised buttocks as his cock drove deep into her belly again and again. Hannah was amazed yet again that she was doing something this obscene, this wild, this perverse, and her mind churned with the wild dark excitement that was gripping her body.

  She felt Juan's breath against the right side of her neck as he leaned into her.

  “Lick her. Lick her, slave! Make her come,” he growled, his fingers digging roughly into her breasts as he ground himself against her.

  “Make her come and then we will beat you for the pleasure of it,” he grunted, panting as his hips worked himself in and out.

  The sexual tension within Hannah grew more intense, and her body was literally trembling with the hunger and need as she licked frantically at Cecile's pussy. She felt a sense of wildness, as if flinging aside any notions of morality or proper behavior and giving herself completely to an uninhibited sexual desire. God! It was just all so fucking... hot!

  She felt herself sinking into the persona O'Neil had created for her, of a wild, sexual animal, and some part of her reveled in it as Juan's cock drove in and out of her and his hands mashed her breasts between his fingers. Even Cecile's continual twisting and pulling at her hair, her 'forcing' Hannah down against her stroked that strange, submissive, even masochistic dark side of her mind which had been growing over the past week or more.

  She grunted and gasped and moaned as her tongue swept out again and again, heedless of what she would otherwise consider a very gross contact with Cecile's pussy. She was tied up. She was being fucked. She was being used. She was being forced! All of that thrilled the dark side of her mind, and her body quivered and burned with the resulting firestorm of arousal.

  And then the orgasm swept over her, turning her mind to a glittering explosion of sensations as her body bucked and jerked and convulsed to the intensity of the wild release of sexual pleasure and sensations. Juan rode her all through it, and Cecile pulled at her hair whenever her tongue stopped working, and somehow she survived through it all until the orgasm began to subside.

  Then she just wanted to collapse into mush, but she had to continue licking, and her body continued to be hammered by Juan's heavy hips until he and Cecile took their own pleasure and orgasmed against her.

  * * *

  The beating took place immediately after.

  Hannah had not actually thought he meant it, and in truth, it wasn't exactly a beating.

  What they used was a kind of leather strap or paddle. Actually, it was a mix of the two. It was shaped rather like a ping-pong paddle, but a little longer, and without any wood. It was leather, about a foot long, and six or seven inches wide, attached to a handle. It had thin holes scattered over its surface like a spatula. And it hurt!

  Juan put the gag back over her mouth. Then she was bent over an antique chair, with her bottom raised sharply. The back of the chair jammed up into her abdomen, despite the the additional height she gained from the high, stiletto heels, but at least it was somewhat padded. her arms extended down and forward and were chained to the front legs of the chair.

  She didn't stop to think where they got them from, though perhaps O'Neil had thoughtfully provided them for the rooms he loaned out, but two huge dildos were shoved inside her as she was bent over, twisted and turned until both were flush with the openings to her body. Then her ankles were clipped together so they couldn't move, and Cecile attached a pair of nipple clips to her nipples, pulling them down and forward and locking them in place.

  The nipple clips burned! Hannah screamed and twisted and writhed as they clamped down, but could do nothing about them, and slowly, the pain eased down to a dull throbbing sensation. Her ankles were linked together by the restraints around them, and the two chatted about what best to use to 'spank' her.

  And then the strap or paddle or whatever it was called, slapped down across her bottom with stinging force. Oh it stung! Her eyes bulged as she reacted, and her body jerked convulsively against the restraints, her head jerking up sharply, pulling at her nipples as the force of the sting burst inside her.

  Another blow followed, then more, one after the other, pausing only as they traded off the paddler, smacking down against her bottom as she howled and twisted and shook at the wild pain. Then the pain began to ease, to soften. her bottom was on fire by then, and the sensation of that fire seemed to overwhelm
the stinging force of each successive blow, moderating it, muffling it. The blows still stung, but not nearly as much any more.

  Her pounding heart began to ease down, and she began to get her breath as the pain faded. She started to calm, moaning weakly as she stopped struggling. The steady Crack! Crack! Crack! continued as the spanking continued, but she merely moaned and gasped occasionally now.

  Juan appeared before her, and it was evident the blows had excited him far more than they had Hannah! He was very hard, and undid the gag to get at her mouth. Hannah moaned weakly as it fell away, and he gripped her hair to raise her head up, then pushed his big cock through her open lips and onto her tongue.

  The feel of it, the sight of it, combined with the relief of the sharp, stinging pain to send a rush of something through her. Hannah wasn't suddenly aroused again, but she began to feel more sexually piqued. She thought it was just that any sight of a cock now aroused her. But it was also the dark, nasty, sexual eroticism of what was happening stroked the masochistic side of her sexuality now that the worst of the pain had faded.

  Hannah began to lick and suck almost without thought, almost instinctively, as he pushed himself deeper into her mouth. Her nipples sparkled with pain each time he pulled her head up and back, for that pulled on her upper body, as well, and thus against the clips on her nipples. But as his cock grew slick and hard in her mouth, and slid in and out, the heat started to rise within her again.

  Hannah felt her legs parted, then chained down once more, and then the dildo in her pussy began to move in and out as fingers stroked against her clit. The heat rose slowly, unevenly, as her bottom throbbed and burned, as her nipples sparkled and ached, as her wrists pulled against the restraints and the wildness, the wrongness, the outrageousness of all that was happening flooded through her mind.

  And then, slowly, the aches and pains began to seem arousing, as well, as if the sensations were simply so much fuel for her own inner fires. Now the sharp stinging sensations every time her nipples pulled against the clip made her gasp in both pain – and pleasure. And soon her mind had once again slipped over into that sexual fever where nothing mattered but the heat and pleasure that drove her towards another massive orgasm.