Enslaved in Europe Ch. 03

Her touch didn't become any gentler when she touched my breasts of pubic lips. "Ow," I exclaimed as she rubbed the bar of soap over my left breast with undue force.

I looked into her eyes as if to ask for sympathy and to plead for her not to be so rough. However it didn't seem to work.

"This is the way slaves are bathed," Gretchen said. "I won't leave any bruises, but I won't be gentle either. If I was, you wouldn't be getting the full slave experience, and that would be fair to either of us, would it?"

I wanted to say it would be fair to me, but I kept my mouth closed. Part of me really wanted this. Part of me wanted to be mistreated and humiliated and degraded. However part of me wanted to have my old life back where I was allowed to have privacy and freedom and autonomy.

But something about losing my freedom and my dignity and my rights made me so aroused. It was like all my nerve endings were super charged and most of the blood in my body was rushing to my clit. My nipples were hard and erect, and my clit was so swollen that it ached. Never in America, had I been so turned on. Did all slaves get this aroused by their captivity? Or was this some strange psychological quirk that was unique only to me?

Gretchen was much less rough when she shaved me. I was glad, because it she applied that much pressure with a razor she would surely have cut me. She shaved my underarms and my legs, but her razor never touched my crotch. "Mistress?" I asked sheepishly, "Aren't you going to shave me between my legs?"

"No," she said, although she did clean my asshole and pubic lips vigorously with the soap and washcloth. I had the grit my teeth and tense my whole body as she did this. She was so rough on my labia it almost thought she was going to scrub it right off.

When she was done cleaning me, my breasts, anus and pubic lips were all sore, however I tried to bring up the subject again. "Mistress, if my pubic hair grows back, won't I get in trouble? Sessian law says that slaves can't have pubic hair.

"Don't' worry about that," Gretchen said. "We'll take care of your pubic hair tomorrow. Now crawl out of the tub and kneel on this bath rug. That's it. Spread your legs further apart. Hands behind your head. Elbows back."

Next Gretchen got down a towel and dried me off. She wasn't any more gentle with the drying than she was with the washing. I whimpered when her hands roughly rubbed the more delicate parts of my anatomy but I did not complain again.

When she was done, she looked me over and seemed to like what she saw. She nodded at me and stood up. I began to rise and she grabbed my by my long, blonde hair and pulled me back down. "On your knees, girl," she ordered.

I quickly sank back to the kneeling position and looked up at Gretchen, hoping for an explanation. All she said was, "You don't get up until your Mistress tells you to get up."

Then she looked me over and corrected my posture. "Straighten your spine," she commanded. "And put those elbows back. Stick those tits out."

I did as she said, staring blankly ahead. I could tell this would be a difficult position to hold for a long period of time, so I asked the obvious question. "How long must I kneel like this, Mistress?"

"Until I give you permission to get up off your knees," came the curt, no nonsense answer.

I felt a wave of heat pass through me at these words, and although I followed orders and kept my head up I could feel the moisture between my legs accumulate as my pussy started to drip. The more unfair and abusive Gretchen treated me, the more my body responded with sexual arousal. I closed my eyes and tried to slow down my breathing, hoping Gretchen wouldn't notice the warm moisture between my legs.