Unable to look the man in the eye, the woman finished dressing. Her heart was racing and she felt sick.

“You will have your answers in a moment, love,” he said. “Just wait a little bit longer.” Though she couldn’t see him, the woman heard the man smirking. She said nothing.

After a few more minutes of awkward silence, a knock rang at the door, and the man moved to open it. The woman heard several men entering the room and talking to the man as if they knew him well.

“Love, you may now look up. These men are here to explain what will happen next. You may speak only when spoken to. Do you understand?” The man asked.

“I… I understand,” said the woman. She took a few deep breaths to ground herself before looking up.

In front of her stood three men – one she knew, two she did not.  All three looked at her like predators look at prey and despite her terror, she felt shameful arousal.

“Love, you may call me Professor,” said the man she already knew, his light blue eyes twinkling even in the low light. She knew from their earlier escapades how masculine he was but seeing him in full took her breath away. He was gorgeous. Even though she hated him, the woman could not help the way that her body reacted to his tall, powerful form. “Next to me is the Negotiator and the Duke. The Negotiator is here to offer you a choice, and the Duke is here as one of our leaders to welcome you into the fold.”

The woman looked at both men. The Negotiator was a small, thin man with thinning hair and beady eyes, and the Duke was a slightly plump, red-faced man with a giant moustache.

“Hello, Ms Harris,” said the Negotiator, “I am pleased to meet you. I must say you are just as beautiful in person as you were on the screen”.

The woman’s head began to spin again, and she felt the overwhelming urge to vomit. I had been so careful – how do they know who I am?

“Enough flirting, Negotiator. Get on with it,” muttered the Duke. “I have things to do.”

“Fine, fine, dear Duke. Ms Harris, you are aware that your earlier engagement with the Professor was broadcast live to viewers across the world, yes?”

Feeling unable to do anything else, the woman nodded.

“Use your words, Ella,” ordered the Professor.

“Yes… I am aware.”

“At the moment, that broadcast was private and seen only by the 1,000 or so members of our organisation. However, should we deem it prudent, we could easily release a recording onto the internet and send a copy to your family and friends. I imagine that your father’s supporters would be very interested to see what the daughter of the leader of the country gets up to in her spare time.”

Ella could no longer help herself, and she threw herself into the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Oh god, oh god, oh god – what will I do? Father is going to kill me.

After a few minutes, Ella had calmed herself enough to stand up. She exited the bathroom and stood in front of her tormentors again.

“Dramatic, Ella, and unnecessary. There is an alternative option which may better suit you…and your family. One where your…interesting tastes remain hidden.” The Negotiator grinned.

“Yes, please, that one!” Ella nearly screamed at them. “That one!”

The three men smirked at her, and nodded. “We thought you’d say that,” said the Negotiator, “which is why we prepared this contract.” He handed Ella a small stack of papers and a pen, and pointed towards a table in the corner. “You have ten minutes to read it, ask any questions and sign it. In ten minutes and one second, we release the video.”

Ella threw herself at the table and began to read the document. Her panic only grew as she realised she couldn’t understand any of the legal wording, and she broke down in tears.

“Shhh, Ella, shh,” said the Negotiator, coming up behind her. “You are OK, it will be OK. Do you want me to explain it to you?” he asked, rubbing her back in a calming manner.

“Yes, please, quickly, before you release the video!” She cried out, sobbing. Close up, the Negotiator smelled of talcum powder and body odour. It was a strange concoction.

“OK, Ms Harris, let me help you. You need to relax.” Without waiting for permission, the Negotiator pulled open her top and pulled down her bra.

What the fuck-

“Professor, if you would be so kind.”

“Of course, Negotiator. Glad to help,” smiled the Professor, kneeling in front of Ella. “Here, love, let us help you.” Leaning forward, the Professor gently nipped at Ella’s nipple, one hand dropping between her legs and pulling up her skirt and another pinching her other nipple.

Distractions. Lust. Overwhelming. Terror. Fuck!

“We are an organisation that provides sexual services and excitement for powerful people across the world. Whatever their tastes, as long as they want someone over 18 we provide services for them. We do other things to, but that’s the important thing for you to know. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” whispered Ella, “I understand.”

The Negotiator shivered before continuing. “This contract is a safety net for you and us, Ms Harris,” he said as the Professor continued his attack on Ella’s body. “It says that you are ours to command, and that you will willingly do as we say - whatever that is - and will never reveal the existence of the organisation or its members on pain of death.” The Negotiator breathed heavily as the Professor fingered Ella’s clit. Ella barely contained her moan. “In return for your obedience as our whore, we will feed you, house you, and allow you supervised visits with your family. You will give up your career and service our members as and when and how we tell you to. As a whore.” The Professor’s fingers pulled, pinched, pressed her body, and his teeth nipped her neck. Ella was slowly being driven mad with lust.

Would it be so bad? To feel this good all the time? But what if it’s not the professor that looks after me? What if it’s one of those two, or worse?

“Four minutes left, Ms Harris,” called out the Negotiator, amusement in his voice.

“What…what sort…fuck! What sort of things would I…fuck!” Ella moaned as the professor’s fingers moved, playing her like a guitar.

“Good question, whore. Sometimes, just a quick fuck. Sometimes, a long fuck with ore than one partner. Sometimes you’ll be tied up, sometimes you’ll be choked, sometimes you’ll be fucked again and again until you physically lose consciousness. Yes, sometimes there’ll be pain, but there will always be pleasure,” the Negotiator breathed as the professor growled into Ella’s ear, causing her to get even wetter.

“One minute, Ms Harris,” said out the Negotiator.

“Will I be with the Professor?” Ella whispered, “will he be…in charge of me?”

“Oh yes, whore, for as long as he deems necessary. He will, after all, be in charge of your training. That’s why they call him the Professor. He’ll have you cumming again, and again, and again as he trains you to meet our needs. Thirty seconds, Ms Harris!”

“Say yes, Ella. Be our filthy, dirty whore,” moaned the Professor.

Yes, oh my god yes, call me that again and let me get off!

“Cum for us, whore, and say yes. Right fucking now, Ella!" yelled the Negotiator.

Fuck fuck fuck!

Ella screamed as her orgasm took hold of her, her agreement echoing through the room. Quick as a flash, the Negotiator shoved a pen in her hand and forced her to sign, her mind melted and unable to comprehend what was happening. She vaguely heard the papers in front of her being taken away.

“That’s a good whore, I’m proud of you. This is going to be a fantastic opportunity for you and for us,” smiled the Professor.

Ella nodded, unable to speak.

“Well done, both of you. Whore, welcome to your new world. Professor, her new uniform, please,” drawled the Duke. Ella jumped; she had forgotten he was in the room.

“Stand up, whore,” demanded the Professor, “and remove all your clothes.”

“What –“

“You may no longer speak, Ella. Now, do as I say,” growled the Professor. Leaning over to her as she stood up, he whispered, “trust me, love.”

Ella nodded at him and removed her clothes, keeping her eyes on the professor and ignoring the other two men in the room.

“Good girl, whore. Now turn around, band over, and give those watching a full view of your dripping cunt. Quickly.”

Ella bent over and spread herself open, unsure of where to angle herself but assuming she would be told if she was doing it wrong.

“Good girl, whore. You may touch yourself for ten seconds,” smiled the Professor.

Wait, what? Really? But what –

“Time’s up, whore. You had your chance. Next time, you won’t hang about. Now, stand still; it’s time for your uniform,” said the Professor. He reached up with something in his hands and quickly placed it around her neck. Ella felt a gentle pressure across her throat as something clicked into place.

“Perfect, whore. Go look at yourself in the mirror, see what you look like.”

Ella walked to the mirror and looked at herself. She was flushed and her nipples were red from the Professor’s handling earlier, and there was a light sheen of sweat on her. There were even love bites on her tits. The strangest thing, however, was the collar now around her neck. The leather and metal looked scandalous but the most shocking part was the metal “WHORE” on the front of it.

I look well fucked, and like a whore. Not like myself. Father would be devastated.

Why does it make me feel as sexy as it does filthy?

“What do we think, gentlemen? How does she look?” asked the Professor.

“She looks fine, but she’s missing something,” muttered the Negotiator.

“I know. On your knees, whore,” the duke said, pulling out his flaccid cock, “and open your whore mouth.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Yes…