(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/>When my new Master slipped my first ever collar about my neck in front of the mirror by our front door I gazed at the simple circle of black leather and it’s bright steel buckle as though it were an angel’s halo. As he touched my shoulders and my hair and the tight band was closed by his fingers around my neck I let out a sigh of complete happiness. I loved him so much, and by keeping me and making me his slave, he was demonstrating his love for me. The collar was the physical mark of his love and, therefore, I loved it. It’s slightly coarse edge that cut against my skin, its tightness just choking me a little and that leash that connected my throat to his hand, a physical and spiritual ownership. ‘This is my slave; my property.’ I so adored papa and wanted<em>so badly</em>to demonstrate my love in serving him however he asked.<br/><br/>As he connected the leash its leather hand loop dropped down, the chain falling between my up-thrust tits to sting me as it fell against the soft bald mound of my cunt. I shivered a moment as his knuckles grazed against me there as he took up the leash in his hand. The fact he was touching me, his daughter, in such intimate places made me a little afraid and worried.<br/><br/>I was his slave. I must obey everything he ordered and I must allow him to touch me anywhere… do anything to me. I turned these conflicting things over in my head one more time but then relaxed. I knew he would take his bodily pleasure from a slut-wife he’d buy, perhaps later today from that expensive store, or perhaps later in the week when I had excited him with my body so much that he had to have satisfaction. No. He wouldn’t do it with his daughter, dear papa was too fine and proper a person for incest.<br/><br/>As we stood in the hallway by the door he addressed me and gave me some instructions. When he had finished I bowed my head. His instructions did not specifically need a reply but as they were so intimate I thought it best that I should, so I bowed my head a little and spoke.<br/><br/><strong>“Merci beaucoup Maître.”</strong><br/><br/>He opened the door, we stepped out. My hands rested in the small of my back. My wonderfully tall heels clicked loudly on the cool marble-tiled floor of the corridor. In the lift we rode down in silence though I was sure my thundering heart was loud enough to be heard in the street. I was so nervous! My entire life had been building up to this moment! The first public appearance of a new slave beside her master. It was so important and in my head I heard my teacher’s admonitions and guidance as though it were yesterday.<br/><br/><div align="center"><strong>~ * * * ~</strong></div><br/>“A slave<em>is</em>her Master. She reflects upon him; her faults are his faults. In public where others see her, especially his family, friends and business associates, she must behave and obey perfectly, instantly and willingly. She must give evidence to everyone around her that she delights in obeying his every order, no matter what it might be. She must be filled with genuine joy.”<br/><br/>“Karin Leconte, what is a slave’s duty?” The teacher, Monsieur Bruille, had asked.<br/><br/>“To obey, Monsieur.”<br/><br/>“And what else?” he continued.<br/><br/>“To delight in being obedient.”<br/><br/>“Good girl. That is the correct answer, but why is this important?”<br/><br/>“Because the slave reflects on her Master. His taste, his status, his breeding, his values, his style. If she does not obey, or obeys slowly, her poor performance is a bad reflection on him.”<br/><br/>“Also correct. Good girl. Come to the front of class and strip, I will use you to give the girls a series of posture demonstrations.” When Monsieur Bruille made a girl come to front of class and strip naked, he got very animated and became an intense teacher. He had a class full of thirty sixteen year old slaves-in-training to teach, so it was to be expected that he got excited some days.<br/><br/>I remembered that exhilarating day, almost two years ago, when an innocent but eager-to-please sixteen year old Karin had first been selected in front of her whole class to remove all her clothes except for her high heels and her hold-up stockings and to pose nude to demonstrate several slave postures – lacing my hands behind my neck; putting my arms behind my back and walking up and down the aisles between the desks; kneeling, my knees parted and my mouth open. Monsieur Bruille had of course filmed me, the video would be used in other classes. I had been so excited I had got wet and my glistening excitement on my legs and my bullet hard nipples had earned me five extra bonus marks. That was a happy day!<br/><br/><div align="center"><strong>~ * * * ~</strong></div><br/>There was a soft judder and a clunk of machinery that brought me back to the present. The lift doors opened, Master stepping out. I stepped after him, moving to keep two paces behind and to keep the leash slack.<em>Ticky-tick-ticky-tick,</em>went my heels, loud enough to turn heads. My bare breasts bounced so much as I walked, swaying slightly from side to side, their liquid firmness feeling alive on my ribcage and yet so vulnerable too. I loved that feeling of vulnerability and exposure and it was the way I had arched my back and thrust my young breasts out (in those days much smaller than they are now) that had so pleased Monsieur Bruille. I had been a 33B back then. How pleased he would be today to see my 34Ds bouncing proudly down the street.<br/><br/><em>The slave honours her Master,</em>I said inside my head,<em>Her instant obedience and style and beauty reflects not on her, but on him.</em><br/><br/>The doors of the apartment block opened and from his side office the concierge, Monsieur Dupont, put a finger to his black peaked cap in salute to Papa. I felt so proud feeling his gaze on me, him seeing my body in profile and enjoying it.<br/><br/>The warm morning sun hit me and my thundering heart beat even faster as the fresh air moved against my skin. Gods… I was so excited! My nipples were like pebbles, my cunt was wet. What my master was doing to me was turning me on terribly. Drivers of cars, passengers of busses, cyclists, pedestrians, shop keepers… all were staring and pointing. Naked slaves were rarely photographed in public any more, they were so commonplace. Men saw bare women every day, everywhere; bound, being spanked or whipped, and even giving sexual favours in public. Nothing was a novelty these days. Yet my heart swelled with pride as I saw more than a few camera phones take pictures and video of me. Was I really that pretty? If I was then it was all papa’s achievement to bring me up wanting to be pretty for him!<br/><br/>I was so happy and so exhilarated and so aroused! I was soaking wet already! Men would surely smell me, the scent of fresh young slave, horny and ready to be used. It was just a tragedy that I would not be used that way, for dear papa would not touch me and I doubted he would give me to others to be used, he had expressly kept me a virgin for his own reasons which he had not revealed to me but I did not let these things concern me, I was just a little unhappy that I would doubtless not be given to any man and so my only pleasure would be my own fingers.<br/><br/>But then…! Oh! If I did that… I couldn’t could I? It was against the rules. “No slave may pleasure herself or seek pleasure without the express permission of her Master or whosoever her Master has given her to.” That was a rule we learned early in our classes. But dear papa would never want to watch me touch myself would he? No. he wasn’t a pervert like that. So how…? How would I ever have pleasure? Maybe I wouldn’t? I then realised that that in itself was a pleasure – to be constantly horny and desperate for cock and never have one, to be a virgin slave all my life! Wow! That<em>would</em>be something! That would be intense. How could a slave concentrate if she desired only cocks all the time, wanting to cum yet never be allowed to? A slave would go insane wouldn’t she?<br/><br/>This jumble of girlish thoughts filled my head as we crossed the street,<em>ticky-ticky-tick-ticky</em>, my shoes clicking faster as papa strode out between the traffic. On the other side was the newspaper seller that papa always bought his paper from, Monsieur Cevert, ancient and almost blind, but a kind man and always cheerful.<br/><br/>Papa bought his paper and then told the old man that he had someone he wanted him to meet. The old fellow turned to me, sensing I was there from the sounds and scents of me.<br/><br/><strong><em>“Ah! Is this your daughter?”</em></strong>he asked. His watery small eyes turned on me. I am sure they widened a little!<br/><br/>I stepped forwards, nervous as anything, my heart pounding. Keeping my arms behind me I dipped down in a neat curtsey and bowed my head also.<br/><br/><strong>“Bonjour Monsieur Cevert. This slut wishes you a good morning. Monsieur Leconte is this slut’s papa and Master. Today is this slut’s eighteenth birthday, and she is terribly happy because her Master has chosen to enslave her.”</strong>My heart was bursting with pride at speaking my first sentences in public, using the style that the teachers at school had said was the most appropriate way for slaves to address others.<br/><br/><strong>“This slut is pleased to let you know that her Master wants you to look at her, so please stare at her body in any way you wish. Please ask her to pose for you in any way you want so that you can see her body fully.”</strong>As I spoke I turned slowly, having taken my arms from behind me to raise them up and press the knuckles together, palms open, stretched above my head, my soft smooth armpits and the curving sides of my tits now exposed to the old man’s gaze.<br/><br/><strong><em>“Mon Dieu! Formidable! Oui, oui, tres bien! Just face me again, child,”</em></strong>the newspaper seller said, clearly delighted by the vision before him. I did so instantly, keeping my arms fully raised.<br/><br/><strong>“Please, Monsieur, this slut’s Master wishes you to touch her. If there is any place on her body… any place <em>at all</em>, that you would like to touch or play with, please say so and this slut will happily offer herself for your examination.”</strong><br/><br/>The old man surprised me by reaching out his hands and with his dry fingertips tracing my hairline, brows, nose, cheeks, jaw, lips and chin. He coughed and chuckled.<br/><br/><strong><em>“Ah. Such a beauty. A beautiful face. Young girls are so pretty! It is a long time since I had one this beautiful, but in my youth! Ah yes! 'Casanova Cevert' they called me! And… ah-ha!”</em></strong>He coughed again and his fingers slid down my armpits to find the curving sides of my tits and then he reached to cup and grip them, being none too gentle. His crooked thumbs ran over my nipples and I let out a sigh at the wonderful sensation. I wondered if he would put his head down and lick and suck them. I wanted him to, I needed a man to touch me so badly! However, he didn't. He contented himself with playing with my tits for a few minutes and chuckling, saying they were real beauties and that in his youth he had milked the family cow on his grandfather’s farm and now that he was too old and too poor to afford a slave girl of his own it was a pity he could not milk me.<br/><br/><strong><em>“I hear they have drugs now, to make pretty girls give milk, even before they have children. Ah, yes, </em></strong>[cough-cough]<strong><em> it would be grand to milk these fine udders! These scientists today, so clever!”</em></strong>With a final clutching grasp and a rub at my nipples he let me go.<br/><br/><strong><em>“Good day to you, Monsieur Leconte, please come again, I’ll have your paper tomorrow!”</em></strong><br/><br/>I curtseyed again and thanked him for touching me and then papa led me away.<br/><br/>I was so happy!<br/><br/>At the end of the Quai Jean-Charles Rey was the grocery stand where I went to get papa his fruit some days, and our vegetables for cooking. Monsieur Mongolfier owned it. He was black and colossal, like some ancient warrior of Rome, an African slave-gladiator perhaps. I knew he used to be an athlete but had suffered an injury in training for the Olympics a few years ago and had never run again. He must have to work hard in a gym to keep his huge muscles in good shape. I licked my lips. Monsieur Mongolfier would have a giant cock. I was sure of it. I had seen plenty of videos of slave training at school and when the teachers wanted to show how a slave needed to handle a big cock, in her mouth, in her cunt or up her ass, they always used black actors. Some of them…<em>Mon Dieu!</em>as Monsieur Cevert would say. Huge! A foot long and over two inches thick! I wondered how a girl could take such a massive object into her small body! Some of those videos though... where the big black men took the girls in their bottoms... the moans and cries they made! I remember putting my hand between my legs while watching those videos. Haha, we all did! One day I wanted to cry in agony from a big man taking me that way!<br/><br/>Once again, papa said hello and bought a bag of tangerines to have in his office fruit bowl for the day. He then commanded me to introduce myself and this time, with more trepidation but no less eagerness, I curtseyed and spoke my piece. This time I added more smiles and sensual looks with my eyes. I cursed myself that I had not been quite so sensuous with the newspaper seller but his eyesight was bad. Then again I would not know whether the men I offered my body to were completely blind or had the eyesight of a watchmaker, and for that mistake I chided myself. I should offer and display my body as sensuously as I could to every man papa told me to, no matter who it was.<br/><br/>For Monsieur Mongolfier I pulled out all the stops and behaved in my most alluring way, yet spoke in an innocent tone, a style I discovered right then and there excited men very much. A pretty young slave with a beautiful body and a sweet innocent voice and demeanour yet being forced to behave in a filthy slutty manner turned men on the most. It was like a law of nature.<br/><br/><strong>“Monsieur Mongolfier, this slut wishes you a good day. Monsieur Leconte is this slut’s papa. Today is this slut’s eighteenth birthday, and she is terribly happy because her papa has chosen to enslave her and become her Master! This slut is very pleased that her Master wants you to look at her body in any way you want. Please ask her to pose for you so that you can see any part of her body in any way you want.”</strong><br/><br/><strong><em>“Oh yes! What a body! Leconte, you old hawk! She’s magnificent! You lucky bastard, having this little tramp at your beck and call naked round the house all day! Look at that fuckin’ ass! Bend over bitch, right now. Palms flat on the floor and spread your legs wide! Ah yes, what a fine cunt! She’s wet too!”</em></strong><br/><br/>I instantly turned and bent over, school had taught me to be very fit and supple, so even with my heels raised six inches, it was easy to plant my palms flat on the stone kerb and shift my ankles three feet apart. I felt my sopping wet cunt pulled wide open and fresh cool air on the pucker of my anus.<br/><br/><strong>“Please, Monsieur, this slut’s Master wishes you to touch her.”</strong>I offered sexily from my position with my head lowered.<br/><br/><strong>“If there is any place on her body… -ahn!- Any place <em>at all</em>, that you would like to touch or play with... please... -mmm- say so and this slut will happily offer herself for your uh-examination.”</strong><br/><br/>I got only as far as ‘…any place on her body…’ and his huge meaty hands cupped and fondled my soft behind, pat-patting my cheeks and giving them playful but heavy slaps so they bounced for him. I carried on speaking, my voice a little wavering but obediently completing the speech I was ordered to make. The black giant’s thumbs pressed to my anus and explored a little, then one of them dipped between my lips and I gasped in delight. He scooped up a smear of my liquid and returned the thumb to my anus, working it in.<br/><br/>God! It felt so good! His thumb was huge and as I stretched and gave way and he forced it in I gave a small wail of pain and delight, panting and gasping at the thickness of the invading digit. My first time! Ever! The first time a man had entered my body in any way!<br/><br/><strong><em>“Damn. So tight. Like a vice. What a lovely daughter you have Monsieur Leconte. I’m envious. I’m also stupid! Why did I come and help my family run this place when I should have applied to be a slave-ed teacher? Maybe I should. It’d be mighty fine to have a class of cunts like this to teach.”</em></strong><br/><br/>His thumb withdrew and I gasped again, though the second little cry was more one of frustration that the painful stretching had stopped.<br/><br/><strong><em>“Up, cunt,”</em></strong>the grocer said.<strong><em>“Turn round.”</em></strong><br/><br/>He gave me his thumb to suck clean and I did so slowly and sensuously, using my wide innocent eyes to make love to him as well, treating his thumb like it was the finest cock in the world. He stared at me and I wondered if he was getting hard. I bet he was.<br/><br/>Papa led me on, along the quaysides around Fontvielle Harbour, the sun falling delightfully on my body, people still staring, then up streets and steps away from Monaco’s southern marina and up the sloping roads and steps to Monaco-Ville, the oldest part of town. We went past the Palais Princier, home of Prince Albert with its smart armed policemen in their white caps at the gates. Their eyes fixed straight ahead flicked to me as we went by. I gave them a wink and a lick of my lips and wiggled my rear more as I swayed up the hill in my tall heels, enjoying the feel of their gazes on my legs and behind.<br/><br/>I enjoyed a third display to a policeman who was on duty at the traffic island outside the BAF office. His name was Foch and he spent even longer than Monsieur Cevert playing with my tits. He seemed to be delighted with my nipples especially and he rolled and pinched them hard, tugging on them and making me gasp in pain. He even put his mouth to one and sucked it. I let out a small moan, not just to please him and show him the slut he was attending to was responding to his attentions but also because it really did feel good to have a man’s mouth on that part of my aching body. I had enjoyed girls kissing and sucking them in school when we used to practice on each other but this was the first time any man had licked my nipples. It felt wonderful and my moan of pleasure was genuine.<br/><br/>We finally got to papa’s office. Poor me! I was so ready for a cock I was almost begging for it, although I remembered all my schooling in behaving the right way for the fat official who took me downstairs.<br/><br/><div align="center"><strong>~ * * * ~</strong></div><br/>The rest of the registration examination was a blur to me. I was made to walk, then run naked on a treadmill in my tall heels, my arms held behind me, the man in the white coat with the big nose filming me all the time as my tits bounced in every direction. He set up his tripod to film me directly face-on for about ten minutes as I jogged, then a similar time from the side. I wondered why the BAF would need such long recordings but a slave isn't there to question things. I worked on a rowing machine and I lifted weights and lay on a bench press as well. I sat on a cycle and worked away until I was sweating. I breathed into a lung-capacity bag. The doctor gave me a Venus tablet before all of these exercises and of course the workout raised my heart rate and got the blood – and the drug – pumping around my body so that when I was finished it was hard to obey their orders. I was<em>so</em>horny! I would have fucked a dog if one had been offered to me, right then. All of the men, regardless of how ugly or fat or smelly they were, made me want to suck their cocks and offer my cunt to them to use! I would have willingly let the dirtiest Paris tramp have me I was so in need of cock! I needed it so bad! My slick juices were running down my thighs.<br/><br/>The doctor then examined my body for Venus response and was apparently delighted in how hard my nipples were and how much slave-juice was running down my legs. The man turned to his colleagues and chuckled.<br/><br/><strong><em>“The little tramp’s off the scale. I don’t have a box to tick marked ‘filthy nympho’. Look at her clit! It’s sticking out a centimetre, like a tiny dick!”</em></strong>The others laughed. I was very proud!<br/><br/><strong><em>“Her owner should put a ring behind her clit head and lead her around by it!”</em></strong>Said the fat man. The very idea of that made me feel faint. The constant pleasure would be intense.<br/><br/>Everything was finally complete. I was wiped down like a horse, with a cool damp towel and Weasel-Face unbuckled the plain leather collar and slipped around my neck the standard collar with its smart shiny steel panel. He typed some settings for it into his keyboard and then printed off the document of registration, slipping it into a clear plastic wallet.<br/><br/>Weasel-Face led me to the door. Through the glass I knew Master was waiting. I had seen him arrive and all the workers leave while I was on the treadmill.<br/><br/>Weasel-Face clipped a leash to my collar and opened the door. He politely offered my papa the completed forms to sign and when that was done, he retained one copy for the BAF files and gave papa the original, in its plastic sleeve. He then handed the leash over.<br/><br/><strong><em>“It passed with flying colours, Monsieur Leconte. I can’t comment on the DMV yet, the computer needs to give the final figure but that will be added to the Slave Logbook and these will be posted to your address within two business days. Please?”</em></strong>He offered the leash,<strong><em>“Your property Sir, have a pleasant time owning it.”</em></strong><br/><br/>It was official! I was papa’s slave! I had never been so happy. I smiled up at him, beaming in delight and uncontrollably randy! I had to use most of my training to not beg for a cock right there and then.