She waited for her seventh guest of the night. Or was it still afternoon? Maybe it was morning already. Maybe it wasn't her seventh guest. It might as well be her ninth, or her thirteenth.

She sat on her oil-drenched calves. Her thighs were spread. Tingling sensations echoed in her tender cunt lips. She savoured the sated feeling of being used thoroughly. It lingered in her deepest niches, in her throat, and in the stretched muscle at the entrance of her ass hole.

Her body arched back provocatively. But her eyes were modestly cast down. Her nipples stood out. The left one was pierced with a white gold ring. An emerald lily dangled from it. She was totally naked, but for the leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles. A tight metal collar clutched her throat. Each square inch of her tanned body shone with fragrant oil. Her hair was slicked back into a ponytail. Over her right foot, where her ass cheek billowed out, the brand of a French lily marked her skin.

This place was called Bordello. The old woman had told her its name. It was a room with no windows. There were no colours but red. Red damask had been stretched over the walls. A huge bed stood covered with red satin pillows, red satin sheets, and red silk draperies. Her knees sank deeply into the red carpet. And even the lovely Japanese lacquered armoire was a shining red. All was red, except for the ceiling. The ceiling was a single, square wall-to-wall mirror.

She knew of only one door. It was almost invisible when closed. When it opened, her heart would leap with sudden electricity. She never knew who or what might cross the threshold to her silent cell of sexuality. But she knew there would be yet another opportunity to serve her Mistress. That certainty never failed to moisten the lips of her swollen sex.

She had been in here for days now. She only had left the room to visit the bathroom, where she restored her ravaged body to perfect splendour. She ate in this room. She slept in this room. But most of all she was fucked in this room. Mornings, afternoons and nights a constant stream of men and women visited her. Often they came as couples or groups for her to pleasure. They fucked her and ate her. They filled her throat and the depth of her bowels. She got double penetrated or even fucked in all three orifices at once. She remembered the visit of two lesbians. They used her with huge latex strap-on dildos. And once she'd had a session with six young studs that never seemed to end. They left her with a frosting of sperm on her face and chest, her thighs and belly.

A big woman visited her with two Labrador dogs. She'd had to suck them and receive them in her asshole. Many men had tied her down to the bed. Or they found other ways to submit her to bondage. They tortured her tits. They glazed her bare cunt lips with seething candle wax.

"Here I am. I kneel and ponder my fate. I wait for new patrons who will bring me new tortures. They shall offer me new ways to service my Mistress. It is my pride to accept that. To invite it. It has become my life. It is who I am. I know that now.

Sometimes I wonder about this girl Kristie. I knew her once. She was a healthy girl who worked hard. She loved to exercise her body. Kristie shared her life with uncomplicated friends. It was a dull life. Her days and nights had no meaning. She shared them with meaningless people. She worked with them in a meaningless job. She spent days at the beach with them. She spent her nights in discos.

Kristie lived her life for Kristie. She believed she had a life of her own. She thought she could live it for her own pleasure. She was independent. Another word she once knew. Or did she?

I knew that girl. Or did I? Not really. She was a selfish, silly girl. I remember her like I remember my old friends from high school. Like I know my colleagues from the restaurant. Like I remember my mom, my sis, my real sister, I mean. But I know I am not she. Not now. Not ever do I want to be her, anymore.

I am Giselle. I am Angique's girl. That thought makes my blood surge. My body and soul are Angique's. She is the woman I need to call Mistress. I cannot live without her anymore. She is the woman who watches me as I try to please her. The woman I convince myself of watching me through the overhead mirror. Giant cocks ravage my body and take me to climax. Angique watches me. I smile widely upwards into the mirrored ceiling. Fat splashes of sperm hit my face.

I know this is my world. My world is right".

Giselle felt happy. She felt sated. There was nothing she craved for. She just needed to serve whatever entered her little red room. Her Mistress would watch from above.

Her memory had become a limited place. Hazy walls had enclosed it. They moved and boiled with shapes too misty to declare themselves. Of course she remembered the Villa. She remembered her new sister Clarize. It was a clear memory. It always filled her with a glow. It made her yearn to have the girl with her. To have her here and share her services.

She had envied Brigitte the moment she came back to the Villa. She had been jealous. She feared the girl would destroy the special bond she had with her Mistress. Giselle had been baptized and marked. She had been pierced and branded to be the sole property of her mistress Angique. For a while she had been the one and only pet. Or at least that was what she thought she was.

But her envy had dissolved in the vast ocean of time-torture that Angique had submitted her to. When she surfaced and found the new girl in the dirt of her heart-rending misery, a new feeling had bloomed. They had grown close in the weeks after the shattering events in the stables. The ultimate baptism had glued their fate together. They had shared fears and ecstasies. Giselle saw her agonies mirrored in Clarize's eyes.

They had taught each other to accept their fate. They shared their nightmares. They fought their doubts. Together they found the courage to enter a new world of unconditional slavery.

One memory rose from the fuzzy edge of shadows. It shone with remarkable clarity. It brought back sounds and smells. It even echoed the incredible passion she had felt at the time. The lovely Summer Room of the Villa took shape before her mind's eye. The light came from a golden afternoon sun. As always it shone straight through the huge windows at the end of a cloudless day. It painted the two girls' naked bodies in stark contrasts of golden flesh and deep dark shadows.