I am a Slut

naked woman tied with rope long hair flowingI think it’s happened. Oh my poor friend, I am trembling as I write this and I can’t believe what I am about to admit:

They have won.

I know I still need to tell you about those two evenings I mentioned last time I wrote and I will soon, I promise. But first I just have to quickly tell you about last night.

I was standing downstairs, staring out the window, wondering if I’d ever be free to walk around outside without the fear of being taken and used at any moment by any man.

“Clara.”

A man’s voice startled me and I turned around so quickly I almost fell over. I’m still very weak from my illness and it doesn’t take much to make me feel faint and lose balance. Seeing Mr. Kozlov standing there, staring at me with an impossible-to-read expression, did nothing to calm me or stop the dizziness. Was he angry and planning to punish me for being ill and unavailable for so long? Or was he happy to see me with my shiny brown hair, dyed just as he had instructed? My hand flew up to touch my hair as though to somehow check that the color hadn’t magically disappeared overnight. (Once I’ve told you about the previous encounter with Mr. Kozlov that will make sense; I’m sorry if it’s a bit confusing right now!)

I stood, trembling, leaning against the wall for support.

He didn’t say anything for a moment or two (or perhaps that’s just the way I remember it because it took my poor brain so long to settle down). I remember trying to smile, to greet him, to be polite and to ignore the way my heart was pounding out of control in my chest. He asked how I was feeling and said that he’d heard I’d been ill. I nodded, told him I was much better now, and thanked him for his concern.

“I wasn’t concerned.”

I looked down, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean that I thought you were worried about me because you liked me or anything I was just-”

“When was the last time you were fucked, Clara?” Mr. Kozlov cut me off and made me blush even more than I had been doing just a moment ago. He began to walk slowly towards me, closing the short distance between us and stopping just in front of me. So close I could feel him even before he laid a finger on me. I kept looking down, avoiding the eyes I knew were staring into me.

“I.. it was probably… before I was ill…”

“That’s a long time, isn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“We need to change that, don’t we?”

“Yes…”

“Beg me.”

I knew I couldn’t disobey him. I knew that, as always, he would get exactly what he wanted from me. But that evening I had another reason to try my best to be good, to try my very hardest to please him and to make him happy. I was just far too weak to be able to handle a torture session and I wasn’t sure that if I got ill once more so soon that Mr. Negulesco would call the doctor again. Maybe he’d decide I wasn’t worth it this time. At least, that’s what I convinced myself as I prepared to beg the man I hate to touch me.

I began to cry softly.

“Please fuck me, Mr. Kozlov.”

“What did you say?”

I looked up, startled and afraid, but my fear turned to deep embarrassment as Mr. Kozlov roared with laughter.

“I’m impressed! You’ve never said that so easily before. Perhaps there is hope for you yet.”

I wish I could’ve felt proud or happy that he was so pleased with me but I only felt shame. I didn’t actually want him to take me, not really. Did I?

My crying turned to sobbing as I hung my head in shame, unable to meet his eyes. But he cupped my face gently in his hands and tilted my head up until I was forced to look at him.

“Don’t cry, Clara. You’re a slut. There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing to be sad or upset about. You should be happy. It seems you are finally starting to accept your place here and to understand who you really are.”

But I couldn’t stop the tears. Was it true? Had they actually won? I know that my illness had made me weak but was that all there was to it?

I looked away slightly, over Mr. Kozlov’s shoulder to the wall behind him. I realized that I was looking for something and it took me only seconds to find it. I couldn’t read the words blurred by tears but I didn’t need to; I knew them by heart. Mr. Negulesco’s latest poem:

My mouth is made to please men.
My pussy is made to please men.
My ass is made to please men.
My life is meant to please men.
My body is made to be used.
My flesh is made to be abused.
My only value is to provide pleasure.

Say it. Believe it. Live it.

Kind Regards,
Carlo Negulesco
Retreat Director

I was living it.

Mr. Kozlov had removed his hands from my face and I looked back to see him smiling at me.

“Yes, I think I will fuck you, as you asked so nicely. But only if you have been good, otherwise you will be punished of course.” He took a step back and looked down my body. “What is under that dress? Are your holes open and available? Show me.”

I felt all the blood drain from my body as, shaking, I lifted the hem of my dress to reveal the tiny lace panties. I thought for a second about trying to say that they were practically crotchless because they were so flimsy but decided that I’d only make things worse for myself. I’d been so proud of dying my hair for him – which he hadn’t even seemed to notice – but I ‘d completely forgotten his first and basic rule. I was useless.

“Oh dear,” Mr. Kozlov’s tone was terrifying. I looked up and I’m sure he could read the pure terror on my face. But then he laughed again.

“Well, you’re lucky that I don’t feel like punishing you today. Let’s just say that, if those panties come off right now, you’ll be forgiven just this once. As a gift from me for giving me such a good laugh. Lose the dress too while you’re at it. Now follow me.”

Mr. Kozlov turned around and walked towards the door. I scrambled to get undressed and almost tripped and fell several times trying to catch up with him. He had left the house and when I did too I saw him walking down the pathway that leads to a small garden. It’s a lovely little garden, very peaceful and pretty, with just an old wooden bench and – I found out – a wall with chains and cuffs attached to it. I ran as quickly as I could, hoping no one else was around to see me naked.

“Stand with your back to the wall and raise your arms above your head,” Mr. Kozlov said when I arrived next to him.

I did as he said, without hesitation, still telling myself that I was simply trying to avoid earning a punishment. But there was something more to my obedience and despite trying my very hardest to deny it, I realized that a part of me actually did want his touch. I hated it the thought, but had my body become so accustomed to being touched that it was starting to crave it?

“So, it’s been at least a few weeks since a man has made you come.” Mr. Kozlov finished attaching the cuffs to my wrists and pulled the chains taut enough to keep my arms raised but not so tight that I was uncomfortable. I was far too comfortable, in fact. He stepped close to me as he spoke and reached out with one hand to gently caress my cheek. “You must be getting desperate.” His hand moved slowly down to my neck, then lower.

“Look at me, Clara. Look into my eyes and keep looking at me. I’m going to touch you and you will come but not until I tell you to.” His hands were on my breasts now, massaging them gently and stroking the delicate skin, then teasing my nipples softly. He wasn’t hurting me. He was doing everything he knew I liked and suspected I needed.

“Do you understand?”

I nodded, wishing I could look away. “Yes, I understand.” And I understood far more than just what he was going to do to me. I understood that I had lost the battle and that they had won.

“Good. Now close your eyes and open your legs wide for me.”

I heard myself moan as one of his hands moved between my legs and began to play. The other hand stayed on my breast while he teased me, letting just a finger dip inside, then two, then – oh that thing he does with his thumb! I cried out. His mouth was on my nipple, his hot, wet tongue swirling and twirling around and around and his hands seemed to be everywhere. My mind couldn’t focus.

I didn’t want to come so quickly. That would show him how desperate, how in need, and easy to excite I was. But I couldn’t help it. He was too good and my body seemed to be just doing whatever it wanted, responding to his touch, without even asking me if it should.

Then I felt his lips on my neck, kissing, nibbling, moving around my throat. His hands touched and played, caressed and teased. I felt myself pushing into his hands, arching my back so that my breasts thrust towards him. Why was I doing that? I couldn’t not do it. I was breathing hard, letting out little yelps and moans as his other hand played between my legs, circling and gliding far too easily over skin that shouldn’t have gotten so wet, so quickly, so easily.

I felt dizzy and was glad he had cuffed me. Had he known that too? Did he know everything and was I just his robot? That can’t be true but it felt like it at that moment.

I was so close. I could feel the orgasm building and knew I wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. I dreaded asking him for permission to come but needed the release so very, very badly.

Then suddenly he was whispering in my ear, his breath so warm on my cheek, his voice an addictive mist in my brain. “Beg me, Clara, beg me to let you come.”

I moaned loudly as at least two or three of his fingers pumped in and out of me. I knew I was moving my hips, writhing, dancing, trying to pull him into me. I hated that I was doing it, hated that I needed more.

I couldn’t help it. Before I even knew what I was saying I was calling out, “Please let me come. Please make me, please let me, please!”

“Not quite yet…” He laughed as he pinched my clit. I gasped. He was going to make me come and then punish me for doing so without permission!

Then I was crying out with intense pleasure and pure desperation as he took a nipple between his finger tips and twisted lightly, all the while still playing between my legs with his fingers, plunging into me, twirling his thumb around and around on my clit.

“Please, please, please, please, please…”

“Yes, Clara, you may come now. Come for me now.”

I screamed so loudly I couldn’t hear it. That doesn’t make any sense and maybe I didn’t scream at all; maybe my mouth was wide open in a silent, white-hot yell. All I know is that my body exploded on his fingers and I died completely and utterly. I couldn’t have lived through that. No way was it possible. I died. I must have.

After a while, after the throbbing, pulsing, contracting, shuddering waves had begun to calm down I felt something on my head. He was stroking my hair and speaking. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

I did so. I could barely focus but I directed my hazy gaze towards him.

“Was that good?”

“Yes.” My voice was soft, barely audible, but I think he understood.

“Would you like more?”

“Yes.” Why couldn’t I have at least hesitated before answering? Why did I have to respond so quickly and easily?

“Beg me to fuck you. I want to hear you say it again.”

“Please fuck me, please… I need you… I mean… I need it… I mean… please… please fuck me.”

A soft laugh.

I looked down and began to sob. I needed him? No! I just needed to come. Was that any better? No, it was worse! If I actually like him then it would be okay that I needed him so badly. But I hate him! I hate everything about him which means that I only want the orgasm and the sex. No, please no… I really am a slut?

He couldn’t just let me enjoy the incredible orgasm? He had to make me realize that I have become what they wanted me to become. He had to make me admit to myself and to him that I truly need all this.

“I didn’t say you could look away.”

I quickly met his gaze, expecting to see anger but he seemed amused. He knew. He knew I had admitted defeat and realized the truth.

“Now you may close your eyes.”

I felt him lift me until my legs were pulled up and my ankles were over his shoulders. He was almost inside me, but not quite. I whimpered. He laughed.

“Say please.”

“Please.”

He chuckled, then slid deep into me, filling me with his girth and I shuddered with pleasure. I had gotten used to his fingers and now he was really inside me and it was much, much bigger and oh so much better. Why did I think that? But I did. It felt so, so good.

“Oh my poor little Clara. Trying so hard to deny that she’s just a horny slut who can’t help spreading her legs for any man who happens to come along.”

He began moving more quickly. Grunting as his words burned through my heart and soul. Tears ran down my cheeks, as I realized that he was right, that he wasn’t just teasing me or saying those things to make me feel bad about myself. He was actually right. I was nothing more than exactly what he and Mr. Negulesco have always said I am. The only man who treated me a little better was Taun and even he thinks I’m just an object to be owned and used. Although at least he wanted to be the only one to own and use me.

“Come for me again Clara, come for me, little slut.”

I knew I would. I knew that he only had to say it and I couldn’t help but obey. Maybe the next time he used me it would be different but on that evening he had so finely and perfectly tuned into me he could make my body do whatever he wanted it to. I was his musical instrument to play whichever tune he liked.

I screamed out as the orgasm hit, making me cave in and crumble. He roared and I felt him explode inside me, claiming my body yet again.

“Open your eyes.”

He had pulled out and was standing in front of me, pulling his pants up. Then he just stood there, looking at me. What was he thinking? I can never tell, but the silence frightened me.

“Thank you.” Oh why did I say such a stupid thing? I felt I had to say something but why did I have to say that?

He smiled. “You’re welcome. I had a pleasant time with you. Thank you too.”

My eyes widened. He was being so nice! The whole evening had been good and he’d even let me get away with breaking his no panties rule. He hadn’t said anything about my hair but perhaps it had pleased him; surely he must have noticed the color change. Could he like me just a little bit? Perhaps that’s why he was hesitating now. Perhaps that’s why he was looking at me, not knowing what to say or do next. Perhaps he-

“But it would be wrong of me to keep you all to myself. I’m sure some of the other men will get as much if not more pleasure from you as I did. I’ll go into the house and let them know there’s a horny slut tied up and begging to be used.”

~ ~ ~

I can’t bring myself to write down the rest, my dear friend. It’s all a blur anyway and it doesn’t matter. There were about four or five men – not so many I suppose – who used me before someone untied me and finally allowed me to crawl off to sleep. None of them hurt me, not really, not physically, but they all made me cry. I couldn’t stop crying. But I didn’t struggle or fight. Why would I? I was only being used for their pleasure and that’s exactly what I’m for.

Isn’t it?

onpost_follow 9
See More of Charlotte & Clara:

One comment

  1. Charlotte says:

    ((Thank you to Mr. Carlo Negulesco who writes such wonderful motivational posters for the lovely girls of the Gentleman’s Retreat!))

Leave a note about this post & I promise I won't tell Clara you read her diary *winks*