My Berlin Summer

Cristina walked around me and sat on the edge of the bed. She leaned forward, picked up the loose end of my leash, and tugged, drawing my head forward between her legs. I felt her hands clasping my soft brown hair as she pulled my face and mouth closer to her body. Weeks ago I had stripped myself naked and fallen to my knees before her, begging to be allowed to serve her. Now that wish was being granted.

Delicately, I used my teeth to pull down her panties, alternating from side to side until they were clear of her hips, then pulling them down and over her high heels. Then, taking a deep breath, I lifted my head back under her short black skirt and dedicated myself to her pleasure. I used every trick and nuance I had learned, varying the rhythm, and intensity, and location my tongue's caresses, hoping to show her that I was, indeed, worthy of being owned. Cristina lay back on the bed, her hands still locked in my hair, no doubt relishing my helpless and passionate service.

Finally I felt her thighs grip my head as I brought her to a long and rolling climax. I continued to lick and kiss at her until her hands gently pulled me away.

"Did I please you, mistress?" I asked. Cristina had left no doubt as to the relationship between us.

"Yes, my dear," she answered. I flushed with pride. "You still have a lot to learn, but you clearly have some talent. And Claudia was right - it's hard to find a slave so eager to please. As long as you keep up that zealousness, you'll do fine as a slave."

"Thank you, mistress," I said. Although I was deeply ashamed of it, I knew my ability to block out everything and focus on a master's pleasure, to devote myself wholly and unreservedly to his or her desires, would serve me well as a slave. My life might depend on that utter submissiveness.

"Now listen to me, Je

"Yes, mistress," I said.

"In case you had any doubts, you are here because I recommended you to Claudia. I am one of her 'talent scouts;' I identify young girls with strong potential to be female slaves and test them." I thought about the day she had invited me to that first "bondage ball." Slowly it all started to make sense. That had been a test. Apparently I had passed it. "If they seem promising, Claudia takes it from there."

"Yes, mistress," I said blankly. Cristina had chosen this life for me. I supposed I should have hated her for it, but I couldn't muster the emotion. She had only opened the door to this life of unremitting sexual servitude; I had stepped through it.

"But I chose you for another reason," Cristina continued. "I'm really helping the German police investigate the white slavery and prostitution industry. We're trying to plant informants into the organization, and I chose you. We need girls on the inside who can let us know what is going on and provide evidence when we finally decide to nab someone. For rather obvious reasons, we can't just plant any old female agent; we don't need someone who can act like a slave girl, we need someone who really is a slave girl, both physically and emotionally. Anything less and they would spot it immediately." She paused. "That's where you come in."

"You want me to be a spy for you?" I stammered. Slipping into the life of a slave girl, completely free of worries and responsibilities - apart from absolute obedience and exquisite sexual services, that is - was something I was more than halfway resigned to. This sounded more complicated, and dangerous.

"After a fashion," Cristina said. "Listen, Je

"If you say yes, you spend your time listening to what goes on around you, gathering evidence, and remembering it. Periodically we'll send in a client to pick up the information. If we nail the people we want and the operation ends, you're free to go. You can go back to school and go on with your life. Even if we don't get them, we'll get you out within three years. We'll just buy you if we need to.

"That's your choice. What'll it be?"

I thought rapidly. Cristina was right. Even if I could be contented as a sex slave, how long could it last? What could I look forward to once my cheerful smile and young body were gone? And what she was offering seemed the best possible option. I could continue to live out my slave girl fantasy, but now it would have a happy ending; I would be set free while still young enough to live another life. And who would suspect in me, the perfect, subservient, eager slave slut, an informant?

"Yes, mistress," I said. "I'll do it."

Cristina smiled. "I knew you would. You may be a sucker for humiliation, but you're still smart." She casually patted me on the head. "Tonight, you're going to be bought by the Brit who was in here before me. Don't ask how I know that. Then you're going to be shipped to a brothel in Paris. You'll find out what that's like soon enough. You'll receive instructions from one of your clients. The code phrase is 'I like daffodils, but my favorite flower is the chrysanthemum.' If any client says that to you, he's one of us, and you can trust him. Do you understand?"

"I like daffodils, but my favorite flower is the chrysanthemum," I repeated. "Got it. Mistress," I added.

"You were really meant to be a slave, Je

From the look on her face I could tell that she had an idea. She pushed down on my shoulders, forcing me to my back. My wrists were pi

When Cristina's time with me was up, I was once again allowed to clean myself and was then summoned to serve at di

After di