Enslaved in Europe Ch. 05

I awoke that morning on the floor, naked, my wrists and ankles bound with rope and my exposed sex wet and swollen.

I wanted a nice, hot bath to sooth my aching muscles. I wanted to rub the sleepy dirt out of my eyes. I wanted to masturbate furiously so I could get rid of the urgent, throbbing, insistent need between my legs.

Of course I was denied all of these things. Gretchen had robbed me of the ability to satisfy even the most basic of my physical needs. Somewhere in the back of my mind was a voice that whispered to me and told me that I had always craved this sense of helplessness and was just too afraid to ask for it.

I tried to ignore the voice by struggling against the ropes that bound me. The ropes were tight and scratchy, and it hurt my wrists and ankles to pull against them, but the pain was a welcome alternative to thinking about how I might actually enjoy being helpless and publicly humiliated.

"Well, look who's awake," I heard Gretchen's familiar voice say from only a few feet away. "I've been awake for almost two hours."

I looked up and caught a glimpse of my girlfriend. Oops! I'm not supposed to call her that anymore. I caught a glimpse of my owner. This whole week I'm her property. It's all nice and legal according to Sessian law.

I couldn't get a good look at her since I was bound on the floor, but I could see she was already dressed. "It took forever to fall asleep last night," I said in a sad voice that I hoped would elicit sympathy. "It's hard to fall asleep in a position like this. My quadriceps and lower back were sore all night. They still are."

"Yes," Gretchen agreed. "They would be."

She knelt down and gave me a wicked smile. Then she slowly ran a finger from my breastbone to my pelvis, stopping just before she reached my pussy. I reflexively flinched.

"You look so helpless and vulnerable in this position," Gretchen informed me in a soft purring voice. "And that look on your face..."

Gretchen didn't elaborate, but I assumed that the look on my face was a look of misery or fear. Was that how Gretchen wanted me to look? Did she find that arousing? This was all new and scary territory for me. I'd never seen this side of Gretchen before.

She kissed me gently on the forehead, then stood up. "We've got a big day ahead of us," Gretchen said, suddenly all business. "These women will clean you up and get you presentable before we go out into public."

"Women?" I asked, straining my neck to look up and see as much of the room as possible.

Four women in maid's uniforms closed in on me. They were very businesslike and proceeded to take charge of me with minimal conversation and maximum efficiency. First they untied me and then they forced me to stand up and walk to the restroom. They seemed not notice or care that my muscles were sore from being tied up all night, and my pleas for patience were ignored.

Gretchen stood in the bathroom doorway and spoke to them in Italian. I couldn't understand a word they were saying, but I got the impression that it was some sort of instructions or orders. The oldest of the maids responded in Italian in a way that sounded very obedient yet unenthusiastic.

One of the younger maids filled the bathtub with warm water while the two tallest of the maids held onto my arms. Perhaps this was to keep me from attempting to escape. Or perhaps it was to keep me from falling down. My legs were weak from the way they were tied far apart all night and I welcomed the support they gave me.

They ordered me around in Italian and rapidly became impatient when I failed to follow their instructions right away. I was ordered to step into the tub when it was halfway filled with water and ordered to move this way and that so that they could lather, scrub and dry various parts of my body.

They were more gentle than Gretchen had been, but in some ways this was worse than being washed by Gretchen.

Eventually I realized why this was worse. In our society maids are considered one of the lowest of the low. Normally they're invisible. People never notice them in hotels. They just put a sign on their door when they want their room cleaned and go out for the day. When people return to their rooms the room is clean as if by magic. Maids are necessary, but nobody ever talks to them or acknowledges their existence.

However Gretchen had turned me over to this quartet of unsmiling women so that they could wash my naked body, dry my naked body, wash and style my hair, brush my teeth and apply my makeup. To make matters worse they eventually gave up on giving me verbal instructions and just grabbed, pushed or pulled to get me to cooperate with their tasks. It was almost like they were grooming an animal.

When it was time to get out of the tub strong hands simply grabbed me by the arms and the hair and forced me to stand up and step out of the tub. Strong hands indicated where to place my hands and my feet while they busied themselves drying my body with a towel. Strong fingers forced my mouth open so they could brush my teeth.

I allowed myself to be touched, washed, dried, brushed, manipulated and moved about like a pet being groomed and did not complain or resist.

But, of course I really didn't have a choice anyway. If I resisted, the maids outnumbered me four to one and could easily overpower me. Or Gretchen could call hotel security and have them restrain me. Complaining would do no good. I was officially Gretchen's property. Everything she had done to me was nice and legal.

When they were finished grooming me, two of the maids grabbed my arms and led me out of the bathroom and out to where Gretchen was standing.

At this point Gretchen was no longer alone in the hotel room. She had apparently ordered room service and a young man in a hotel uniform chatted politely while Gretchen signed for the food and wrote in a tip.

Both Gretchen and the young man paused when I entered and the young man ran his eyes up and down my naked body, making no effort to hide the lust in his eyes. He said something in Italian and everybody in the room laughed at what was certainly a joke at my expense.

My face felt hot and my chest felt tight. It was bad enough when women leered at my naked body, but when the men did it, it was much worse.

The maids shouted commands to me in Italian and when I didn't obey, they forced my legs apart and yanked my shoulders back. They forced my chin up and made me put my hands behind my neck. They made certain that my knees were straight as well as my spine.

Gretchen walked around and inspected me. She paid special attention to my hair and my makeup. When she was satisfied, she gave the maids some money and sent them on their way. The employee with the food cart was exceedingly slow in leaving and kept giving me lustful looks. I wanted to yell at him and cover my naked body, but I knew that would only earn me more punishments.

Breakfast was a rushed affair as Gretchen had plans and wanted to get out and about as soon as possible. I obeyed Gretchen's orders and ate as quickly as I could, but then made the mistake of asking for coffee.

"I get coffee," Gretchen replied, "but slaves take whatever food they are given and are grateful for it. Understand?"

I gave Gretchen a look meant to elicit sympathy and used my most pleading voice. "But Mistress," I begged, "I always have coffee in the morning! Ever since I was fifteen! There's no way I can wake up in the morning without it!"

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Gretchen got this sadistic smile on her face and stared at me for a long time without speaking. I knew from her look that something bad was coming.

"I can see we have a problem," Gretchen finally said in a tone that was disturbingly pleasant.

"I can't have a sleepy, lethargic slave. I simply must find a way to wake you up in the morning!"

Her words sounded innocent enough and her tone was friendly and pleasant. Only the look on her face indicated that I was in trouble. My heart beat faster and I wanted to run, but where could a slave run to? I was naked and had a slave collar locked around my neck. I wouldn't get more than a hundred yards before I was captured.

"Ah, I have it!" Gretchen said with exaggerated emoting. "Every morning you shall have a brisk and enthusiastic spanking! It will get your heart beating and make certain that you're wide awake to start the new day!"

My shoulders slumped in defeat and my head drooped. My bottom was still sore from yesterday's spanking, but now that I had walked into Gretchen's trap there was no way out of it. Arguing would just give her an excuse to punish me even further.

I waited for my mistress to give me the order to climb over her lap for my spanking, however it wasn't to be that simple. Gretchen was in a creative mood and had devised something far more humiliating.

I nervously waited for Gretchen's next orders, however instead of ordering me over her lap she grabbed some hotel stationary and began to write.

I hadn't been a slave for long, but I knew better than to interrupt my mistress while she went about her business. I quietly waited for my mistress to tell me what her plans were and stood very still with my hands at my sides.

When she was done writing, she folded up her page and stuffed it into an envelope. She sealed the envelope and handed it to me. I obediently accepted what my mistress gave me, still with no idea the implications of what this meant for me.

"Okay, Slave," Gretchen said, still smiling, "you are to take this envelope down to the lobby without opening it. You are to choose a person from the lobby and hand the envelope to them. Wait for them to read it, and then you are to follow any orders that they give you."

I looked at the envelope in my hand as if it were a poisonous reptile. I now had a very good idea what Gretchen had written in her note and wasn't looking forward to handing it to anyone. I tried to think of a way out of the predicament I was in, but no solution came to mind.

"You're dawdling, Slave," Gretchen said in a lecturing tone. "When I give an order, I expect it to be carried out quickly".

"Yes, Mistress," I replied. "Sorry, Mistress!"

I backed out of our hotel room and bumped into a young, married couple as I awkwardly backed into the hallway. "Oh my lord," the man exclaimed. "She's not wearing a stitch," his wife added.

The husband blushed and the wife had a shocked look on her face. Her eyes went wide and her mouth made a perfect "O" shape. I took a step back and touched the slave collar around my neck.

"I-I'm not allowed to wear clothing," I said nervously, embarrassed to have to explain my unfortunate position. "I'm a slave."

"Certainly not!" the wife exclaimed, apparently ignorant of Sessian law. She and her husband were both tourists from the U.K. and were shocked to find that slavery was legal in Sessia.

I let both of them read the tag on my slave collar, but they still looked in shock when they finally went back to their room.

The commotion had caught people's attention and at least seven people came out of their rooms to get a good look at the naked girl. I wanted to make an angry, sarcastic comment and make them stop staring at my naked body, but slaves do not do such things. Instead I walked my naked ass to the elevators as quickly as I could without seeming like I was running away.

Like an idiot, I assumed that the elevator would provide me with protection and privacy and hide my nudity from the public.

How wrong I was.

When the elevator doors slid open, I was greeted with the shocked expressions on the faces of five passengers. For a few seconds I just stood there, uncertain if I should step into the crowded elevator car or not. Were the five people in this elevator car worse than the perverts in the hall?

I was frozen with indecision and probably would have remained that way until the elevator doors closed, but somebody in the hallway snuck up behind me and pinched me on the bottom.

It was so sudden and so unexpected, that I gasped and jumped forward. I placed one hand over my buttocks to protect it (illegal by Sessian law) and turned my head to see who had pinched me, but the elevator doors had already started to close and I only got a glimpse of dark blue fabric. I couldn't even tell if the pincher was male or female. By jumping forward as I did, I ended up pressed into one of the other passengers on the elevator. "Sorry," I said weakly after bumping into him. "Somebody pinched my bottom, and I just sort of ... overreacted."

The young man had wrapped his arms around me when he and I impacted. That was a normal and reflexive thing to do in order to keep his balance, but now that the initial impact was over the polite thing to do would be to let go of me.

It took me a second to realize that I was a naked girl in a man's arms, and that men are not known for quickly or easily giving up a prize like a naked woman.

Of course as a slave I had no right to ask him to let me go or to try and squirm out of his grasp. Luckily for me, a form, confident female voice rang out and said, "Eric, a proper gentleman would let go of that girl right now."

"Yes, of course, Mother," replied Eric as he took his hands off of me and stepped back a few inches. He affected a look with his face and body language that seemed to say, "I wasn't thinking any improper thoughts! I am always a proper and innocent British gentleman! Really!"

Eric's mother was middle aged and was visibly blushing at the sight of my nudity. Obviously not used to seeing naked people in public, she was still trying to maintain as much order and dignity for her family as possible.

With some difficulty Eric's mother removed her overcoat and tried to offer it to me. "Put this on, Dear," she said. I don't imagine you're overly comfortable with every soul in this hotel seeing you naked."

My first instinct was to accept her kind offer, but as a slave I would have gotten into a great deal of trouble for wearing any clothing at all. So, with much reluctance I was forced to very politely decline her offer.

This created some confusion, and I ended up having to explain to Eric's mother, father and sister (the elevator was rather crowded with all five of us in there by the way) about slavery in Sessia and how it was illegal for slaves to wear clothing of any kind.

When the elevator reached the lobby level, the whole family got out with me. The mother led her son and husband away from me (must keep the boys away from the naughty naked lady), but the daughter still had questions for me and the mother seemed to think it was acceptable if it was just the two of us. After all girls don't lust after other girls, do they? Why, she could even act as my protector if any lustful males came sniffing about, couldn't she?

I answered the teenage daughter's questions as politely and accurately as I could, however I soon noticed signs that her interest in me wasn't purely scholarly.

She held the lock on my slave collar to see how securely it was attached and confirmed that it couldn't be removed without a key. Then she checked the tag on my slave collar and read it at least three times. Finally she pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper and wrote down all the information off of my tag.

"What's a good time to call?" she asked, licking her lips and giving me a seductive look after placing her pen and paper back in her purse.

It wasn't until after she gave me that look that I realized how attractive she was. She was very slender, but still had girlish curves in all the right places. She was my height (which made her pretty tall) and had a very cute face with full lips, a tiny delicate nose and high cheek bones. Her eyes were a deep, deep blue and her hair was a golden blonde. And it was styled by somebody who knew what they were doing. It was long and wavy, but in an expertly styled way. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to make that hair look good.

"What's a good time to call?" she repeated. This time her voice was louder and more insistent.

I had been so surprised by her question and caught up on a wave of instant attraction that my mouth just couldn't/wouldn't work for a few seconds. Also, I had no idea at first that this girl was a lesbian. Did her mother know? Did she even suspect?

No. She had been very definite about keeping her son and husband from making ogling me or touching me in any way. If she knew there was even the slightest possibility of her daughter having a sexual interest in me, she would have kept her daughter away too.

"Time," I said, my mouth suddenly very dry. "I'm not sure. My owner is taking me to the punishment park today. I'm not sure what time we'll be getting back."

I was actually shaking slightly in anticipation. I was hoping to see this girl again very soon ... without her family impeding things.

"Gretchen Starke? That's your owner?" she asked.

I nodded my head in agreement.

"I'll be calling," she said, and she kissed me on the forehead. "Now, I must be going. If I don't catch up, Mother will be getting suspicious."

She rapidly made her way across the lobby and disappeared. I was sad to see her go, but I looked forward to meeting up with her again. She was one of the most attractive women I'd ever met and the sound of her voice was just so somehow sexually suggestive and proper at the same time. It was a British thing I suppose.

So infatuated was I by this blonde, British girl that I totally forgot about the envelope in my hand. I had to give it to somebody and I had now lost the opportunity to give it to a girl who was both gorgeous and had a definite sexual interest in me.

Mentally kicking myself, I shifted my weight from one foot to another and looked around the lobby for another candidate to give the envelope to. The lobby was filled mostly with men. I saw a hotel security guard, a bellhop, a front desk clerk and several male guests, but at the moment it looked as if I was the only female in the lobby.

Then, suddenly I saw a woman dressed in corporate attire come out and speak to the front desk clerk. She handed him some files and they chatted for about a minute, before she walked away. She was headed for an "employees only" area, so I had to move fast.

I made my way up to the front desk as quickly as I could and tried not to look desperate. "Excuse me," I said just as she was opening the door that would take her from the hotel lobby.

"Yes?" she asked in a polite, professional tone, "What can I do for you?"

She wasn't as attractive as the blonde girl, and her body language and facial expression indicated that she was only helping me because it was part of her job to help guests of the hotel, but she was female, and there was no way that I wanted a man putting me over his lap or spanking my naked ass. And I was pretty certain that Gretchen's letter was all about me being spanked ... or possibly something even worse.

I nervously handed her the envelope, and with some difficulty forced the words out of my mouth. "My mistress says I need to give this to somebody in the hotel lobby."

The woman took the envelope and reached in a drawer for a letter opener. "I don't actually work in the lobby," the woman informed me. "I work in the back, in accounting. I could give this to one of the lobby staff if you'd like."

I looked around the lobby and saw only male faces. Several of them were giving me lustful smirks. No way did I want to give this envelope to any of them.

"Please, just read it," I said, desperately. "My Mistress said I could choose the person I gave it to, and I really don't want to give this to anybody ... male."

She gave me a suspicious look, but silently took the letter from the envelope and read it.

Then she looked at me and read the letter again.

"You're sure you want me to do this?" she asked.