Whole New Slave Game Ch. 05

Chapter 5 -- Making movies

SEX WORK AND LEGAL WORK

The Bolrian Lottery Corporation pretty much left me alone on Sunday following all the tension, humiliation, pain and sex work on Saturday. I did cover one man on Lermanov's list of men to spy on without spying on Sunday. After my hour long daily workout, newspapers, a walk outdoors, and several hours reading Russian history, BLC CEO Vadimovich met me in Room 708 at the BLC facility. He fucked me.

I don't normally speak of sex that way. After all these years and many hundreds of partners, I don't like to speak of "fucking." Also, I don't normally think of myself as being in the purely passive role of one who was "screwed" or "fucked," but that is the way it was with Vadimovich.

He came into the room and immediately explained that he was only doing this because he felt he should have sex with the famous Laurel as part of his job. He said he only took the job as CEO of the Bolrian Lottery Corporation because of his loyalty to the great leader of Bolry, Pyotr Tolski. He prayed that he would be able to move up in the government under the shining example of the great leader. If he did not screw me, Bolrians would think he was homosexual, asexual or worse.

I had used sex as a career move many times in the past but I'd always thought of it as something at least a bit romantic or fun. Even when sex has venal purposes it can still be fun. This was no fun. It was as sensual as a pap smear.

Afterwards, Vadimovich said that I was indeed very attractive but that he preferred the escorts that he met in the capital and in Moscow. "One knows what one has there and does not have a feeling of responsibility or inferiority. You are too smart and professional in many ways, certainly for a woman."

I did not feel that I'd done anything to impose such feelings on Vadimovich. If he had sought warmth and fun, I would have provided that both because the BLC requires slaves do that and because I'd want to share that. But if someone says he is having sex out of duty, what am I to do but spread my legs and get it over with?

BLC sex slaves are told to never fake orgasms. I did not try to fake anything with Vadimovich except patience with his self-absorption and his obsequiousness to the great leader.

The whole session would have ended in 10 minutes except that Vadimovich took the occasion to give a long speech on how Pyotr Tolski was basically a god and I was blessed to have met him. He also sang the praises of Foreign Minister Lermanov, Commerce Secretary Dantorev, Security Police Chief Dvorzhinski, Justice Minister Veramanzov and everyone else above him in the Bolry peck order. He even said that Cultural Minister Svetlana Tolski had to be respected for her courage and intelligence, even though he resented that his organization, the Bolrian Lottery Corportation, is only a semi-independent corporation under the Ministry of Culture run by Svetlana.

Vadimovich's efficiency in bed did allow me time afterward to read my email and a book about a woman finding herself in Italy, India and Indonesia. Perhaps, she should have come to Bolry, but not become so famous that Vadimovich would feel it was his duty to fuck her. I would have liked to see Crystal, but when I tried to reach her, I was told she was off to Moscow for some purpose they would not share with me.

Monday, I woke up fairly rested at my room in one of the rooms in the BLC facility. Only two weeks ago, I thought, I was on Long Island going along normally with my family, my work at the 4S law firm and my life as a sex slave. That seemed like an eon ago as I contemplated going downtown to the capital of Bolry for work and being the star of a BDSM porn movie tomorrow.

I had an email telling me to go to the Ministry of Justice. There Deputy Minister of Justice, Anfisa Romanova, would show me some issues relating to the pipeline contracts and liability for pipeline accidents that may occur in Europe.

The government did not need to worry about liability for accidents that occur inside Bolry. No one can sue. To use the legal terms, Bolry does not waive sovereign immunity as to anything that the government does to anyone in Bolry.

Anfisa greeted me at the entrance to the Justice Ministry. Anfisa is an attractive brunette woman with hazel eyes, a strong nose and chin and a very nice figure. I immediately liked her although she was obviously very wary of me. She reminded me of myself ten years ago except that she had the very guarded exterior that all Bolrian women adopt to survive.

Anfisa seemed also to be one of the more capable people I had met in Bolry. She answered questions like she understood them. She had done many things correctly. She was a superstar compared to her boss, Varamanzov, who evidently only came into the office that day to leer at me and Anfisa.

Anfisa was wearing a sharp gray suit with a tight short skirt designed to show off her flat belly and well-rounded butt and a tight sweater designed to show off her well sized and very nicely shaped breasts. Her clothing was a bit more expensive than what most Bolrian government officials can afford but tasteful and not ostentations. She pointed to a bunch of things they would like me to review and told me that I should stay away from the Pacific Resort contracts because she was handling them.

I spent an uneventful day going through contracts and memos. I took lunch at a Doner Kebab place across the street even though I knew the BLC would make me pay for that with more exercise to make up for the extra calories not in my budget.

I know it's not my body anymore. It has not been for seven years. Still, I occasionally don't treat the BLC's property exactly as the owner wishes.

At 4:30, pretty much everyone left the building. I have not worked a 7-hour day in my life.

About 19:30, I decided I had billed enough time and headed for the door. I heard giggling and panting noises coming from Anfisa's office. I had assumed she'd left the office and wondered if one or more of the maintenance people were playing around. I glanced in. What I saw was Anfisa lying near nude on her back on the top of her cluttered desk with what looked like a very well built young man with his head between her thighs. They seemed utterly absorbed in their activity. I was as quiet as I could be as I headed back toward the main door of the building. I heard, though, some loud panting and screaming of the very noisy orgasm variety followed by a crash. The crash did not sound good. After a short pause, there was swearing and discussion of how they'd knocked her laptop off her desk and the screen was broken.

Everyone at the BLC left me alone that night. There were no assignments for sex work to make sure there would be no marks on me before they made the movie tomorrow. It seemed the BLC management had resolved on cruelty and knew that leaving me alone with my fears was the cruelest thing to do.

THE NEW MOVIE

I had initially thought that the new movie, made to show potential Whole New Slave Game participants what losing would be like, would be easier than what I went through in 2009. When I had my debut as a sex slave, I was naturally an emotional wreck. I had not expected to lose. I'd never been whipped, electro shocked, or humiliated to anything like the extent I was that day. The amount of sex I hosted over the first eight hours of my slavery was orders of magnitude more than I had had before although I had not led a sheltered life. Just how bad could a new initiation movie be for a woman who had been through what I had been through over the last 7 years?

Svetlana started the process of making this movie much more scary and humiliating than I expected. Usually, she works to calm women down so that they do not suffer more psychologically than necessary. This time she worked to instill fear. She left an email saying she would be in the Tuesday cabinet meeting and too busy to see me for a while. Also, she did not want to watch. She added that Sofia would be gone on a trip to see the world until mid-July and would not be returning to her duties as head of the BLC Slave Security Department until at least August. Vadimovich had instructed the movie director, actors and other men that I was not to be damaged permanently. She concluded, "They are really going to work you over this time. The potential participants in this new game can't see you yawning during the whippings. Even more, there are a lot of people in Bolry who think you have had it easy. The board wants to show that the famous bitch Laurel is still in her place despite her role in the government and infrequent appearances in Bolry. I got them to tone it down a little. You were going to get slapped across the face after giving your introductory speech, but no one should get the idea that sex slaves may be struck above the neck with anything harder than an erect penis."

They would pull out all the stops except anything that would leave physical scars. Also, I knew bestiality and water sports would be off limits because Svetlana thinks that bestiality, golden showers and scat would reduce the future value of the sex slave and hurt the BLC. "It is hard to market a woman for 25,000 Euro a night on Tuesday if you've had her with animals or had guys piss on her on Monday. We market our women as classy and they should be classy and feel that they are classy. If you make a woman feel like she is garbage, she comes to be worth garbage." Svetlana once explained in her usual sympathetic manner. I think she actually is worried about the animals and feels some fetishes are just too distasteful to force on a slave, but she would never admit to having anything but pecuniary interests when talking about anything relating to the BLC.

Getting out of bed, I felt like I was about to be executed The BLC did not allow me anything like a proper last meal. No, it was the usual dreadfully healthy stuff provided in just the right amount so that after I had eaten it all, I would feel slightly hungry and not gain or lose any weight. The only satiation I am ever allowed is sexual.

The meal was followed by my usual exercises designed to keep every part of me as fuckable and lovely as imaginable. I guess it should have been comforting that the BLC was working to make sure I would be a hot bedmate for another couple decades, but that morning I sure could have used some comfort food or at least some sort of moral support.

After that, there was a full physical. Male doctors poked, prodded, took blood, and measured blood pressure and everything else that could be measured. I was not entirely happy when the doctor in charge announced that I was a picture of health and could take lots of rough sex, pain, and bondage for many years.

My self-pity went into hyper-drive.

I had been instructed by email to come down to the dungeon at 1:00 to meet with the director and crew. I decided it would not help to be late. The director I recognized as the same bullying sadist who had tried to force another sex slave to lean off the top of the huge radio tower downtown even after she had revealed that she had a mortal fear of heights. Svetlana had saved that slave but she was not around to save me.

The director had gained a bit of weight in the last seven years. The cameramen and technicians were all male. In addition, six muscle bound guys, the smallest of whom was probably 200 cm tall, were there in black leather pants and black "wife beater" shirts. All of the maybe two-dozen guys present were looking at me like I was a Thanksgiving Turkey fresh out of the oven. There were no women to be seen.

The director naturally spoke in Russian. I am not a professional translator but I will do my best to provide the flavor of his directions to me. It was pretty much, "Ok, slave pussy, you may be a nice girl but we're going to start off with you looking like you bust balls for breakfast. You start in cloths like you had for the lottery Saturday except we are going to pick up the make up a little more and paint your eyelids black.

"You ever seen Russian Ark? It is a movie about a museum in St. Petersburg where they did the whole movie in one take without ever stopping the camera. We're going to do something like that here with you starting at the end of the long hall leading to the dungeon and taking off articles of clothing while you walk. Stop briefly if you must to unbutton something. I don't want you to trip and hurt anything before we hurt it.

"When you get to the dungeon, we are going to lift you up onto the wooden pony that I know you enjoyed so much when you were first initiated as a pain slave. After that you are to give two speeches.

"Because you are supposed to be so damn smart, you can ad lib the speech in English telling women about your situation. Don't mention Bolry. We plan to sell this to the general porn market. Yea, maybe some guys will recognize you on the street that have seen the movie on the Internet. You can just lie if someone asks if they haven't seen you before. I'm sure you're good at lying.

"I know you'll want to keep your speech short as you'll be sitting on the wooden pony the whole time.

"The Russian speech will appear on a screen and you are to read it verbatim. A lot of thought has been given to just what we want you to say to the Bolrian audience. If some of the language seems to have been taken from confessions in 1930s trials of old Bolsheviks under Stalin, it is because it was.

"After you give your introductory speeches, you won't be much in control so you won't have to worry your pretty head about anything. You can scream and cuss as much as you want during the show. We'll cut anything we don't like. Given what a pervert you are, I'm sure you'll get off on most of it."

I tried to think if there was anything I could do or say that we lead to any measure of leniency from this crowd. I could think of nothing but to cooperate completely in my humiliation. Perhaps, someone would feel sorry for me. No, who was I kidding?

I was led to the dressing room. This pinned stripe suit had a bit wider stripes and wider lapels, a sort of 1920s mobster look to add to the power bitch outfit. Same pearl necklace as Saturday, but now there were also pearl cufflinks and black high heels that were higher than any professional woman would wear voluntarily. The make-up seemed designed to make me look like Natasha as in Boris and Natasha except that my hair is auburn rather than black and I have no interest in killing Bullwinkle or pleasing Fearless Leader.

With me at the beginning of the hall looking fierce and feeling frightened, the director waived for me to begin. I began to walk removing first one earring then another, the necklace, the jacket, and the blouse in each case handing the article of attire to one of the black leather clan men who were lining the hall, taking an article and running back to the front as in a strange square dance. I had to stop briefly to kick off the shoes. I tried to do this in a sexy manner but I could not walk and remove shoes at the same time. A brief stop was also needed to drop my skirt and my stockings.

I don't know how I could still feel this way, but with each article removed, I felt a profound sense of embarrassment, almost like a college girl losing at strip poker for the first time. But I am over 40 and have been a sex slave for 7 years. As I stripped, I was also getting horny and disgusted with myself for becoming aroused, which in turn aroused me still more. Naturally, the fact several dozen men were gaping at my body and that thousands more, including many people I knew or would meet, would do so on the internet embarrassed, humiliated and aroused me still further.

I was able to remove my bra in a smooth flowing motion letting my breasts spring out like twin jacks-in-a-box. I could feel myself blush as everyone glared at the all-natural DDs that have brought me such joy and gotten me into so much trouble. I knew my nipples were as erect as they can be. The big man who accepted my bra almost dropped it because his eyes were fixed on my breasts. Keep your eyes on your business, I thought in a few seconds of nervous relief.

I entered the dungeon wearing only my panties. I had to stop to remove those too, of course, and looked up to hand them to, damn it, Fergusson, the asshole former partner at 4S who had done so much to set me up to become a sex slave in 2009. The camera was behind his head. It clearly filmed me saying, "Oh Fuck."

I looked around the room to see that it was something of a reunion from my 2009 initiation only without any of the people from the first time there who I would have liked to have seen (Svetlana, Fred Mann, 4S partner Ms. Gentile). Leslie, the 4S legal assistant who always took such satisfaction in my humiliation, had come with Ferguson. Anderson, the inventor of the lottery machine who also helped set me up for sex slavery, and Walker were also there.

I recognized Phil Clark who was probably there in connection with the new slave game that might lead Clark's wife to become a sex slave. What a sweetheart. He was enjoying making arrangements for the new slave game too damn much.

My arms were pulled back and roped together at the elbows again jutting my breasts out for the amusement of the audience. The film cameras were rolling and amateurs were using their cell phone cameras from a safe distance as I was lifted onto a wooden horse and placed with my weight on my pussy and a wedge of wood between my labia. With my feet unable to reach the floor and no way to get relief, it was uncomfortable as possible. Vulnerability, pain, fear, humiliation overwhelmed me even as it aroused me.

"Ok, Laurel, you can give your first introduction," the director said.

I began, "Hi, I'm a sex slave. As a result of losing a wicked game, I am now owned by a corporation that is using my body to make money by pleasing rich men and their friends. You can ride me high and low, tie me up, whack me around and, for a lot of money, knock me up. I took chances years ago knowing it could lead to this. In the years I've been a BDSM pain slave, I have been used by many hundreds of men, had two children under circumstances and with men I would not have chosen, and experienced enough pain and humiliation to break a lot of women. If you are thinking of playing the game, make sure you know you can take it if you lose. If you lose, there's no going back."

I'm sure I sounded very sincere in saying all this because the wood between my thighs sincerely hurt like hell.

The director called a break. "Laurel, that was fabulous. The walk was perfect and the speech was just perfect. Now we will load the Russian speech for the domestic market into the projector."

"No hurry," Walker said. "Yes, maybe it's time for a spot of tea," Leslie commented. "That does seem like a good idea," the director added, although Laurel won't be able to have any with her arms behind her back sitting up on the wooden pony like that." For emphasis, he startled me by putting some sort of electric device against my inner thigh.

I knew it was no good to beg. It was Fergusson who said that while it would be fun to extend Laurel's misery as long as possible, he had a business appointment in two hours downtown and wanted to see the whole show. In Bolry, one always clothes mercy in cynicism lest one be suspected of having empathy.

A few seconds later, the Russian introduction was on the screen. It had me saying that I had been a puppet of foreign powers but now, even if I appeared at times to be powerful, I was always a slave of the Bolrian Lottery Corporation and a loyal follower of the patriotic leaders of the glorious Republic of Bolry who themselves are humble servants of the common men and women of Bolry. That I, a capitalist running-dog lawyer and a whorish western slut, served completely the Bolrian Lottery Corporation, the prosperity and security of the republic and the hard-working members of Bolrian proletariat.