Chapter 3

My name is Kathleen, or more appropriately, Slave #39. Read my initial story for full information on my life. I did not plan on writing another story for a few more weeks, but now feel compelled to, because of the last assignment that The Syndicate sent me on. It happened just yesterday, Friday the 13th, to be exact.

The messenger knocked on my front door at 9:50 a.m. I had the feeling that The Syndicate would require my services on this particular day, so it was of no great shock to me when the knock came. It didn't even startle me. I signed for the envelope and then read the letter which was inside.

TO: Slave #39
FROM: The Syndicate

Your services are required today. A
limosuine will arrive for you at noon
and will take you to your destination.
You are to wear:

A thin white blouse
A black micro-miniskirt
Black spiked high-heels
Nothing else... no bra, no panties

Make sure you look your best, or risk
punishment.

The Syndicate

That was the same attire for the first experience I described, back in my initial story. They usually do not have me wear the same things twice, especially in the same month. But I'm not one to question direct orders. I have learned that the smart thing to do is, very simply, obey. So I fished out the clothes without a second thought.

By noontime, of course, I was all set to go. The limo driver showed up on time, as usual. He escorted me down to the parking lot and I got into the back of the limosuine without saying a word. There were no windows, of course, so I had no idea where we would be going.

I poured myself a glass of champagne even before the limosuine began moving. All of the limos have coolers which contain only the finest, top-quality brands of champagne. I like to have a glass before each assignment, because it aids in clearing my head and any tension within my body. Above all else, it helps loosen me up. I never really know how intense and forceful these encounters will turn out to be, so it is best to always be prepared for whatever may happen. A bit of alcohol... light alcohol... seems to help.

30 minutes after leaving my apartment, the limosuine came to a stop and I heard a garage door open. Then it started moving again, and kept moving for at least 45 seconds more. I sensed that we were in some type of building, but where? Perhaps in a warehouse? Or below some huge office complex?

The limosuine eventually slowed down and stopped, and then I heard the engine shut off. We had drove inside some type of structure for at least 45 seconds at a normal rate of speed (35 mph). I knew we were in a structure, because of the noisy sound of the garage door. But where were we?

My thoughts of being in a structure and it being huge were confirmed when the limo driver opened the passenger door and told me to get out. I got out and looked around, noticing a nicely-lit surronding which had peach-colored walls made of cement, but nothing else. I looked down and noticed there were several marked lanes for parking spots, and that the limosuine was situated in one.

But there were no other vehicles in the structure, despite the fact that the parking spaces stretched all the way down, at least the length of a football field. We were in some type of parking garage, but I knew this wasn't the normal parking garage. Where were all the other vehicles?

I gasped, in surprise, when the limo driver suddenly fastened a collar around my neck and then locked it into place. I looked at him with wide eyes as he then attached a leash to the collar. I've had to wear slave collars in the past, but never before had a driver placed one on me.

"You are required to wear this, #39," he told me, calling me by my slave number. The man, expressionless, tugged on the leash and began walking toward a door. "Come along."

The man led the way, holding onto the opposite end of the leash, guiding me along like a prized pet through seemingly endless corridors. I really began to wonder what was in store for me on this day. This was obviously not a house or apartment building. It was some type of complex. Was this man taking me to a slave convention, or slave auction? I have heard stories of slave auctions which The Syndicate arranges, but have never been involved in one.

After five minutes of walking, the driver finally stopped and opened up a door. "Inside," he said, tugging on the leash a bit harder. I walked in, and noticed what appeared to be a big banquet hall. There was a large table, at least 100 feet long, with chairs lining it up and down. It was an elegant room, with several expensive chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, and numerous fine paintings decorating the high walls. The carpet was very thick and lush... I could already tell that it was new.

The driver led me over to the table and told me to sit down in a chair. I did, and then he took the end of the leash and attached it to something underneath the table. "Stay here until told otherwise," he said, before turning and leaving the room.

I looked around and did not see anyone else in sight. Next, I tugged on the leash, testing its restraint... no give in it. I looked under the table and found that the leash was attached to some type of hook. I also saw a tiny keyhole on the hook, and realized that since my collar was locked around my neck, I was chained here until somebody saw fit to release me.

When would that be?

20 minutes later, I was really starting to wonder when that would be. I had sat in that chair, chained to the table via the leash, and hadn't heard a single sound from anywhere within the facility. And then, finally, I heard a door open behind me.

Two men approached me, each holding manilla folders. The first man appeared to be in his early to mid 50s, with gray hair and thick glasses. The other was younger, maybe 35, with dark hair and glasses. Both men were dressed in light blue suits and appeared very professional. I had never been on an assignment like this before, and really wondered what was going to happen to me. This really seemed strange.

"Are you Slave #39?" the older man asked me.

"Yes, sir," came my tentative reply.

"Good," he said. "Let me explain things. This other gentleman and I, we're representatives for The Syndicate." He opened his folder. "We understand that you are wanting to sign an 18 month contract extension. Is this true?"

My eyes bugged out... they were going to sign me!? I was dumbfounded. "I... uhh... sir, I thought... I was under the impression that... a representative would come to my apartment and have me sign the contract. That... That is what happened last time I signed, at least."

"We're doing things a bit differently," he returned. "You seem apprehensive. Do you want a contract extension? We were under the assumption that you did want one."

"Oh, yes!" I exclaimed. "I do want one! I just... I'm just a bit surprised. I was not expecting this today."

"Read it over first," the younger man said. "Then we would appreciate it if you would sign it."

This would be my third contract with The Syndicate, and I already knew that they would not try to sneak something over on me. They take care of their slaves very nicely. So I wasn't all that concerned with the specific terms of the contract. I skimmed it... all the stipulations and terms were the same as my current deal. There was only one thing different, and that was the salary. $1,100 per week. That was $100 more per week than my current earnings.

"You're giving me a raise?" I asked them, totally unaware that I would receive one. I didn't even ask for a raise!

"Yes," the older man replied. "The powers that be came to the conclusion that you are a good and obedient slave. They like to reward quality workers with pay increases."

I was completely shocked! I pride myself on being a good slave, but never dreamed of getting a raise because of it! I was quite content in earning $1,000 per week, which was much more than I could ever ask for in life.

"Be sure to sign it with your real name, not Slave #39."

"Yes sir."

I skimmed the rest of the contract and signed it, giving them total control of my life through June of 2004. My old contract ran out at the end of 2002, but this new one gave me assurance of being taken care of for an additional 18 months beyond the end of 2002... unless I go crazy, and break numerous rules that The Syndicate has. Then they'd have the option of terminating my contract. But I'm a good slave, who is obedient and who does what is asked of her. So I can't envision myself being terminated.

A check of the calculator shows that my new annual salary goes from $52,000 (gross income) to $57,200. That's pretty good for a 26 year old woman who never went to college, eh?

I handed over the contract to the men. Both of them signed it, then the younger one took the contract and placed it in his own folder. He told me that they would send me a copy of the deal within a few days, through registered mail.

I was so excited from signing the extension that sex was the furthest thing from my mind... until the older man undid his belt and then his slacks, and slipped them down.

"Such a nice new deal you have," the man said, gripping his hard, erect cock, "why don't you show us how thankful you are for it?"

"That's right," the younger one said, putting the folder on the desk and unbuckling his own slacks. "On your knees!"

In an instant, I was back in my familiar submissive mode, now with the responsibility of having to please _two_ men at the same time. On my knees, I took the older man's cock in my right hand and immediately slipped it into my mouth.

The other man, the dark haired one, got rid of all of his clothing while I worked upon the gray haired man's cock. I was busy pumping it with my right hand while trying my best to swallow him right down my throat.

Soon, the younger one dropped to his knees behind me, and unlocked my collar. He told me to keep blowing the other man while slipping the collar away from my neck and tossing it to the floor. I then felt his hands reach around my body and begin to unbutton the white blouse I wore. Soon, it was pulled from my shoulders... having not worn a bra to this little meeting, I was now topless.

Those same hands cupped and mauled my breasts as I still worked on the cock in my mouth, sucking and slurping it as best I possibly could. I looked up at the older man, and he was obviously enjoying himself. There was a far-away look on his face as I sucked his cock, while he leisurely undid his necktie and dress shirt.

The man behind me moved his hands down to my ass and then squeezed it, rather hard, through the micro-miniskirt I was still wearing. He then reached around me again, this time sliding his hands between my thighs and finding my pussy. I was not wearing any panties, either. I sighed and moaned as he massaged my pussy with his fingertips.