(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Monaco/Characters/Avatars/KarinAvatar_04.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">KARIN LECONTE</span></span><br/><strong>Location:</strong>At home/BAF office registration suite<br/><strong>With:</strong>Master/With several NPC BAF employees<br/><br/>Washing papa’s body clean was enjoyable, because it was servitude – the thing my life had been building towards, and touching his warm skin with the slippery soap was sensuous, but even so I was more than a little confused because it was so intimate and because he was my own father and because the way he asked me to do it was so… erotic, a bathing style we’d often been shown in videos at school but which I had actually never had the chance to practice on a real person though I had practiced the moves alone in the shower or in my bedroom with a pillow as a makeshift partner. I had learned how to flex my spine and shift my hips and press my chest forwards against the ‘person’ I was serving but until today it had all been theory.<br/><br/>The act itself was completely sexual and that was why I was a little confused. Surely papa would buy a new Slut-Wife to take care of those needs?<br/><br/>Papa then stepped out of the shower and sat down to watch while ordering me to soap myself. This was easy! I had often dreamed while showering that my new owner, whoever he was, would want to watch me clean myself and so I gyrated slowly and sensuously in the glass cubicle, soaping my tits over and over and caressing their teats until they were erect and hard, the strings of soapy bubbles running down between them over my belly to my cunt. I’d turn away from papa and bend over to soap my behind and continue to shimmy and grind, making it a sexy dance, my fingers going between my cheeks to pull apart and get clean the crevice back there and my little pink rear hole, into which I willingly stuffed a finger, then two fingers and arched in pleasure as I reamed myself out. It was a sexual act of course but it was what a slave did, if ordered to get herself clean she did so happily, no matter who was watching, even if it was my own papa, he owned me.<br/><br/>Papa could place a bowl of water in the street and order me to do it and I would, happily and eagerly because that was what slaves were for, especially pretty ones as I knew I was – to be put on display, to entertain, to give visual and sexual pleasure to whoever watched. It could be a policeman or Madame Nourenne that grumpy old lady with the smelly cats who lived in the apartment next door, or even Monsieur Drogues, that gross, bald, old, fat man with the unshaven chin and the string vest who stank of garlic and lived down the hall in one of the cheaper apartments that faced onto the back street away from the marina. Honestly… I mean they must both be stinking rich to live here, but I suppose lots of money and too much seclusion makes some old people go funny in the head!<br/><br/>I would be a happy slave to cavort naked even in front of old ‘garlic’ Drogues. He was a man and deserved to see my body. These things didn’t make me question at all and I took pride in being asked to do them (at least in my head I did – this was my first day as a slave and I hadn’t yet been asked to do any of this!)<br/><br/>I dried off in front of Master, patting my soft skin gently and loving the feel of his gaze on me. When I was dry I then dried him as he ordered while he stood at the sink and brushed his teeth. He parted his legs and I had to delicately dry his behind and between his cheeks, just gently pat-patting his small opening, then squatting to reach under to take his manliness in my small hands and pat him dry with the fluffy towel, taking great care with his delicate balls.<br/><br/>He then told me to stand and lean on the sink while he brushed my teeth! That was so nice and reminded me of when I was a tiny child and he’d taught me how to clean my teeth, so many years ago. It made my heart ache a little, him doing that; it was so sweet.<br/><br/>It then seemed to him that we had plenty of time and he asked for a cuddle in bed. I went into his room and crawled, cat-like, up onto the big bed with its crisp white sheets and lay down, sprawling on my back and arching up at him, arms thrown above my head. I smiled at him as he joined me and we spent a lovely five minutes cuddling together, him on his back and me with my leg thrown over his and his big erection sticking proudly and rather rudely up in the air, plain to see. He didn’t seem shy about it and of course it didn’t bother me. A man should get excited by his slave; if he does not, she isn’t doing her job properly; but I was perplexed that papa would get excited by his own daughter.<br/><br/>His warm hand came around my back and squeezed my bottom, then spanked it lightly. It made me giggle, a nice playful fatherly touch.<br/><br/>He got out of bed then and began to choose his clothes for the day, I rolled onto my back, spreading my legs, and lay there for him to enjoy as he chose his shirt and suit.<br/><br/><strong><em>"You may pick the tie and cufflinks, cunt. I will think of you when I adjust them throughout the day."</em></strong><br/><br/><strong>“Merci, Maître,”</strong>I said, slipping off the bed and looking through his rows of ties. I chose a gold silk one, a Louis Vuitton which looked stunning against his dark grey suit.<strong>“This cunt thinks the gold Vuitton tie will look good on her Master.”</strong><br/><br/>(http://i3.squidoocdn.com/resize/squidoo_images/-1/lens17265721_1294671088expensive-exclusive-silk-)<br/><br/>I knew which cufflinks too, a gold pair with a floral enameled design in dark grey, almost black, that linked the gold of the tie to the grey of his suit.<br/><br/>(http://www.imcufflinks.com/297-1555-large/18k-gold-vintage-totem-expensive-men-cufflinks.jpg)<br/><br/>I then dressed him completely, from underwear to handing him his suit jacket. I loved doing this, it was what all my schooling had been for!<br/><br/><strong><em>"Well done, cunt. It has been a while since I have felt so handsome. Now go prepare me breakfast. I am in the mood for a lightly buttered croissant, fresh squeezed orange juice, and coffee. While you do that, I will choose your outfit. After breakfast, we will walk to the office and get you officially registered... as my </em>slave<em>."</em></strong><br/><br/>I adored the way he spoke, often emphasizing those words that described me, making me feel less worthy and more like the pretty piece of meat I was. He was making me so happy!<br/><br/>When preparing breakfast I put on the simple white cotton apron, that had a big crisp bow that tied in the small of my back. My bare behind wiggled at the rear and the sides of my tits showed from the side of the bib-front. I got papa his breakfast, brewing the coffee in the Gaggia machine just how he liked it.<br/><br/>He came downstairs and placed my outfit on the floor. Just a pail of heels. My white satin ones with the incredibly tall spike heels. They were six inches tall and papa had always called them my ‘fuck me’ shoes. I had a few other pairs just as tall and just as sexy. I slipped into them and in seconds adjusted my balance to the new alignment of my feet and legs. I rose up, taller in the kitchen and the sink and dishwasher seemed further away!<br/><br/>I walked around the tiled kitchen, clicking loudly and papa never took his eyes off my body. His constant gaze was making me wet, exciting me. I had been taught so many times to treat the look of my Master as an arousing thing so that now I did, unable to help it. Just having him in the same room as me made me feel hot and bothered and somehow the tall heels and the apron I knew made me look sexier. I would bend forwards to brush crumbs off the table in such a position that he could best enjoy the sight of the side-curve of my forwards-dangling tits.<br/><br/>Then breakfast was over. I took off my apron, went up to my room to apply a little perfume and a small amount of makeup and to brush my hair then came down to wait by the apartment door for my Master.<br/><br/>He came striding down the hall, opened the door and went out. Drawing a deep breath and, even after so much time spent nude in the classroom at school with all the other girls, I still felt exposed when naked and outside my own apartment – I went out, closing the door behind me. I slipped one wrist behind my back and clutched it with my other hand and then, so totally aware of my bare body and my unsupported bare breasts, shifting and bouncing a little on my chest, I set off down the short apartment corridor to the lift that would take us to the street and the sunshine and bustling crowd of a commuter city.<br/><br/><em>My God. I’m going outside naked in public! For the very first time in my life! This is so… it makes me so… so wet!</em><br/><br/><hr/><br/>As I answered his questions the weaselly-faced man tap-tapped away at his computer keyboard, entering everything about me so it was all official and would stay in the BAFs databanks until I died, being archived even after my death. I was so proud of this moment! I was finally becoming a slave. It would not be long now before I would feel a real collar go on.<br/><br/>There were dozens of questions about my home life and personal life, then all my school qualifications, it went on and on, and though my vice grew a little ragged as the hook-nosed man touched and played with my cunt, I made sure to answer quickly, clearly and truthfully. The stinky fat man behind me never let my tits alone and soon after we started, my teats almost hurt, they were sticking up so stiff and proud,<br/><br/>I was aware that while three walls of the Registration Room were covered with shelves, eye charts, height charts and the various machines the men would use on me for their tests, the fourth wall was a clear glassed panel. It seemed that it gave a view onto the rest area for the employees. There was a small kitchen with a sink, microwave and fridge; a coffee machine and another for snacks as well as a water cooler and some tables for them to take lunch at plus some soft seating to relax in.<br/><br/>Occupying this space beyond the glass wall were about twenty men. I saw one woman, naked, collared and kneeling. She seemed to be what I knew as a Corporate Slave, a slut owned by the company and often employed for their secretarial skills or other abilities. This one though was stationed in the men’s rest area and while I was there she did nothing but accept men into her mouth. My registration process took a long time. I think she must have sucked a dozen men to orgasm during that time and I did notice that the men using her mouth were facing the window and watching me being tested.<br/><br/>This made my heart soar. If so many men wanted to lustily stare at me and perhaps that man having his cock sucked was imagining me doing it, then I was truly a proud and happy slave!<br/><br/>The fat smelly man and the hook-nosed camera man’s constant groping of my body was exciting enough, but to see fifteen or twenty other men staring at my tits and belly and behind made me go weak at the knees with pleasure.<br/><br/>My attention was brought back to weasel-face.<br/><br/><strong><em>"That concludes the first interview part of the registration process. You will now take a written examination. Have a seat over there in front of the computer, my pretty cunt. <br/><br/>"The computer will ask you questions about basic math, basic science, logic, reading comprehension, language usage and, finally, slave behavior. It should take about 30 minutes. A section will end after you have gotten a certain number of answers wrong.<br/> <br/>"When you have more correct answers, the questions will get more difficult. You will be given one minute for each question, and there is no going back. Good luck. And Grégoire, please stop molesting the pretty cunt so she can concentrate."</em></strong><br/><br/><strong>“Oui, Monsieur, merci, Monsieur,”</strong>I answered him obediently and for the first time since I’d got in the lift after leaving papa, I was not being touched by men.<br/><br/>I sat at a little desk and typed on a keyboard the answers to questions that came up on the screen. All the questions seemed quite silly and simple and I whizzed through them, sometimes the answer was so obvious that I was waiting several seconds for the computer to catch up.<br/><br/>I don’t know how long I was doing the written test but it seemed a long time. I thought of papa often during the test and wanted to be back with him, kneeling by his side with my brand-new shining slave choker about my neck.<br/><br/>The test ended at some point, I do not know why. I was told to stand and not knowing differently I laced my hands behind my neck again. This posture did lovely things for the shape of my tits and it seemed to please my examiners most, so I decided to keep the posture unless I was asked to do something else. I arched my back so my tits thrust out more. The hooked-nose man continued filming me with his camera.<br/><br/>Next, a medical. A doctor looked carefully into my eyes with a very bright light, then in my ears, up my nose, and down my throat. I sat in a chair and he conducted an eye test, then he tapped my knees and elbows with a little rubber hammer. He held a cold stethoscope to my chest and back, listening to my heart, then checked my blood pressure, pricked my inner elbow with needles to draw out blood samples, held a bag device for me to blow into and all kinds of other things. I was weighed, my height measured (I stepped out of my shoes for that!) and then all kinds of body measurements were taken, bust-waist-hips, inside leg, shoe size, collar size, hat size and so on. I knew this data went into my Slave Log Book and was all useful for an owner who wanted to buy me outfits though in my case this wasn’t necessary since dear papa intimately knew all my sizes. He had seen them grow and – haha –<em>develop</em>since I was a baby.<br/><br/>I was asked if I was lactating and shook my head. Papa had never done that to me with those drugs that make a slave make milk. Had I been lactating I supposed the doctor would have squeezed my tits several times to make a milk sample come out.<br/><br/>I was allowed to slip my shoes back on. My body temperature was now taken and I was ordered to bend forwards and part my legs. I noticed that the doctor had me bend with my back to the glass wall so the men could all see. I was actually wet by now, this being on display excited me so bad! A curt command had me responding by reaching back behind myself to take hold of my buttocks and pull, spreading my body open. I could feel the needy heat and slickness at my lower lips and wondered if my wetness was visible to the crowd of men yet.<br/><br/>Big-nose with his camera moved behind me to film my pulled-apart bottom and there was a tiny touch against my wet cunt as the doctor used my own juice as lubricant. I allowed a little gasp to escape, even that small touch felt good. Then something wet and slippery and small was pushed up into my backside. I kept still, waiting until the thermometer had been inside my bottom long enough. It was drawn out and the reading taken. Weasel-face tapped that into his computer also.<br/><br/>Next I was told to squat and pee into a cup. The doctor made me turn round and I faced the twenty – or by now was it more? – men beyond the glass. I had never done anything so dirty and embarrassing as this before and I was squatting with my knees wide apart with my hands behind my head for ages, willing myself to wee until finally I did so, the doctor catching the flow in a cup held in his gloved hand. He used a wet-wipe to clean me then told me to lie down on an examination table.<br/><br/>The doctor placed stirrups to the sides and told me to lift my legs into them. He strapped my legs in place then shifted the stirrups wide apart and further back until my knees were up beside my waist and my cunt was pulled wide open. A cold, hard speculum was slid a little way in and opened up. The doctor carefully took swabs and stated that I was a virgin. Tap-tap-tap when weasel’s keyboard.<br/><br/>Still on the examination couch I was told that my gag reflex would be tested. Us girls during our last school year, when we’d been seventeen, had spent so long practicing on silicon dildos that many of us were very good at not choking and puking. Several fathers or older brothers had signed release forms allowing oral penetration for education purposes and I recall there were six girls in my class who regularly had the cocks of the teachers, other senior boys or visiting BAF officials in their mouths as part of these lessons, having to kneel, arms behind their backs while men’s flesh was slid further and further down their throats. There were classes too where they (and we, who used dildos fixed to poles) lay across a long bench side by side on our backs with our heads hanging upside down off the side. Those girls with their CMR letters had men standing and pushing their cocks in while the rest of us used the dildos. For an hour or more (a double lesson on Tuesdays and another on Thursdays after lunch) we would lie their choking and coughing and spitting thick strings of drool and saliva and in some cases, throwing up, as we all tried to get the best score in class.<br/><br/>We girls even held unofficial competitions to see who could hold the longest cock or dildo.<br/><br/>Today the silicon fake cock was clamped in an arm and wheeled across the examination couch and I did my best, accepting it as deep down my throat as I could, holding my breath or trying to use my breathing techniques to get air to my lungs despite a blocked throat. I bounced my head backwards and forwards bravely trying to do my duty and remember all the techniques I learned in school while making all kinds of disgusting noises! The doctor then dropped the headrest of the couch so my head was upside down and I was given a second depth test, gurgling and coughing and trying my hardest. Dear papa had said<em>no penetration</em>, I wondered what this test would be like if he hadn’t said that? Did they have men working here who had cocks as big as these rubber ones?<br/><br/>As I was doing my very best upside down I could feel the coughs and chokes making my tits jiggle on my chest. I heard some faint applause and looking over, saw the crowd of men beyond the glass clapping and grinning and giving thumbs-up signs.<br/><br/>The dildo was finally slid out. The doctor spoke.<br/><br/><strong><em>"That was... impressive. Your owner is lucky. </em>Very<em> lucky."</em></strong><br/><br/><strong>“Merci, Monsieur,”</strong>I replied, pleased that I had pleased my examiners and being given a wipe to get rid of all the gooey mess that had run down my face and into my hair. I had had so many rubber cocks in my mouth at school and become quite good at taking them deeply so in a way it was a shame my skill would never be used since papa would use the mouths of his slut-wife. That reminded me, it had been a few months since he’d sold the last one, I should ask him when he would buy another. I remembered him using the previous slut-wife’s mouth really vigorously so that she made the most amazing noises and made a great mess! I know he enjoyed doing it, he must be missing not having one around the house.<br/><br/><strong><em>"Okay, stand between the desk and this machine that I have rolled in front of it. Bend over at the waist, then reach back and spread your ass cheeks. I have a machine here that I have to adjust for your height, so get comfortable and hold still."<br/> <br/>"I will insert this narrow rod into your entrance, and you are to back up into it so that it penetrates you. Keep backing up into it until I tell you to stop."</em></strong><br/><br/>My thoughts again were interrupted by the sphincter and rectum tightness test. I knew this was a measurement that was very important, next only to cunt tightness which I couldn’t be tested on because my hymen was in the way… Lots of possible buyers, I was taught at school, liked a tight slave, so this was an important moment. It made me nervous.<br/><br/>I stood by the desk and bent forwards from the waist, reaching back again to hold my bottom open. I had to lift my head and place my chin on a rest. This lifted my back at the right angle. I felt the greased rod of the machine sliding into me. It went deeper and deeper and<em>deeper</em>. I bit my lip and whimpered. It felt like I was gushing now, I was so excited and feely so sexy!<br/><br/><strong><em>"Okay, stop and hold still. Do not squeeze or clench. Do not push. Just relax. I will measure your natural tightness first. Starting... now."<br/><br/>…<br/><br/>"Okay, on the count of three, clench as tightly as you can, and hold it for as long as possible. Ready? 1... 2... 3..."<br/><br/>…<br/><br/>"Okay, you can stop clenching. This time, I want you to push as hard as you can. On three. 1... 2... 3..."</em></strong><br/><br/>I did exactly as I was told, relaxing and clenching tight and pushing over and over, many times so that the multiple sensors all over the tiny rod would record the pressure on it in dozens of places and so produce a computer-generated “Pressure Profile” of exactly how tight my little virgin bum was.<br/><br/>As I was bent forwards my tits dangled down and Stinky-fatty man decided to enjoy playing with them again, his pudgy moist fingers squeezing them again and again, his thumbs tightening against his forefingers to pinch me and make me want to moan out loud. I kept silent though and carried on with my clench-relax-pushes as ordered. It was a good thing I had pooped out all my creamy white waste this morning; that Balance drug really was so useful, no more horrid smell ever again!<br/><br/>There was a kindly pat on my behind and the rod was eased out of my bottom. I stood up. Stinky-fatty simply kept his hands on my tits, amusing himself with them. My fingers laced behind my neck at once. I felt horny as anything but more than that, I wanted a bath again with all of his grubby grasping!