Enslaved in Europe Ch. 05

"No," I replied. "But I have my orders. And slaves who disobey orders get punished pretty severely."

"Very well," she replied. "I'm going to go show this to my boss, and then I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

Where was I going to go? I was naked, with a slave collar around my neck. If I tried to leave the hotel, I'd be captured as a runaway slave and severely punished. If I tried going back to my hotel room without following the instructions in that envelope I'd be punished.

After the girl left the lobby, the male employees and hotel guests seemed to be even more open about staring at me.

On some sort of masochistic impulse I placed my hands behind my back and allowed my knees to spread apart. I'd get punished if I covered myself, so why not go to the other extreme and expose myself as much as possible? I was a slave after all!

I felt my face burn hot with embarrassment as men with wolfish grins moved in for a closer look. Not willing to make eye contact with them, I lowered my gaze and looked at the floor.

It seemed like hours before the girl came back. In addition to her boss, she also brought back a metal folding chair. She set this down in the lobby and then placed a hand on my arm.

"Miss Schlank," she said, causing me to look up, "this is my supervisor.

I looked at the woman she'd brought with her. She was dressed in the same sort of corporate attire as the girl I gave the envelope to. She had her hair up in a formal looking bun and she wore glasses. However she had a look on her face similar to that of the men. She seemed to be enjoying my public humiliation.

"Miss Schlank?" the supervisor replied. "Beverly, don't be so formal. She's a slave. You don't call a slave 'Miss Schlank'. It's a title of respect. You don't have to be respectful to slaves!"

The girl named Beverly seemed to think about this for a few seconds and then finally tried again.

"Very well, I'll call her slave girl, shall I?"

Beverly's supervisor nodded with approval and then Beverly explained what was going to happen.

"Your Mistress wants you to be spanked. She left very specific instructions. You're to lie across my lap and not get off until I tell you. You're to keep your hands on the floor, palms down. You're not to move your hands to your bottom and try to block any of the swats as I spank your bottom. You're not to beg for mercy or ask me to stop. Do you understand?" My heart sped up with panic and excitement, and I felt an urge to back away and try to escape my punishment, but instead stood there and replied, "I understand".

Beverly set up her metal folding chair and then gave me a look of impatience. Her eyes and her voice had absolutely no sympathy whatsoever, when she finally said, "alright slave girl, get over my lap."

Obediently I bent over and lay across her lap. Her tweed slacks felt rough against my naked thighs and the floor tiles felt cold on my fingers and the palms of my hands as I obeyed orders and rested them there. I looked down at the floor and waited for the first blow to land on my naked and vulnerable ass.

I tried to be brave, however Beverly was stronger than she looked and swatted my naked, upturned, vulnerable ass with far more force than I would have thought possible. She was a slender girl, with skinny arms and soft looking hands, but she spanked my ass with such force that it hurt with the very first blow.

I began yelping after the second blow. I closed my eyes tight and screamed and struggled to maintain the proper pose, but it was almost impossible. I had no idea it would hurt so much!

I kept hoping that her arm would get tired, but she was like a machine. She kept slapping my naked cheeks over and over and over. She would hit the same spot over and over, hurting more each time, then start on a new spot.

Soon I was screaming in pain and sobbing as hot, wet tears slid down my face. Beverly seemed not to notice. She just continued spanking ... very hard and very rhythmically. She assaulted my ass and my thighs without ever slowing down or breaking rhythm. When I could no longer bear the pain and my left hand shot up to try and protect my buttocks, she quickly grabbed my wrist and pinned it to the small of my back.

"I told you, you're not allowed to do that," she said in a very calm tone of voice and then resumed spanking my naked bottom.

She was so much stronger than she looked! Her grip on my wrist was like iron, and if anything her blows raining down on my poor, upturned ass came down even harder. I screamed and kicked my legs and tears slid down my face, but Beverly never wavered from her task and just continued to punish my ass mercilessly.

After what seemed like hours (but was really more like two or three minutes) the spanking stopped.

I was still sobbing loudly, so it was hard for me to hear Beverly when she spoke next.

"Now, get off my lap and get onto the floor . . . hands and knees, please. And while you're down there, you need to kiss my feet. Her tone was lacking in malice, but firm and businesslike. It was clear that she had not giving me an option to disobey.

Even through all the pain and the crying, I still managed to feel humiliated and ridiculous. My naked ass (which was now very red) was pointed directly at the voyeuristic men in the lobby. My face was lowered almost to the floor as I lowered my lips to Beverly's very sensible shoes and planted kisses on each of them.

When I was done with that task, Beverly informed me that I was supposed to thank her for my punishment. I was still sobbing and my throat was raw from screaming, so my verbal skills were greatly diminished, but I finally managed to get the words out.

Tears slid down my face and landed on this girl's shoes. I was wondering if I would get in trouble for that, when I heard Gretchen's familiar voice from a short distance away.

"What an excellent job," she said. "A very thorough spanking if ever I saw one!"

Since I hadn't been given permission to get up off the floor, I stayed there on my hands and knees while Gretchen and Beverly chatted. Apparently Beverly had followed Gretchen's instructions to the letter and Gretchen attempted to get Beverly to spank me every morning for as long as we guests there at the hotel.

Beverly tried to talk her way out of it, however Beverly's supervisor was very much in favor of the idea. Then another voice (the leader of their marketing department) insisted that it could be good publicity and bring an audience into the lobby every morning. They'd have to publicize it of course, but it could draw a large number of people in.

Eventually Beverly accepted when somebody offered her sixty euros a day to give me my morning spanking. More people showed up and began to discuss how to promote and manage the event. A female voice insisted on the need for greater security in the lobby, due to the fact that promoting such an event would attract a certain amount of riff raff.

Hotel staff hammered out the details and planned my public humiliation while I remained on my hands and knees without being allowed any input whatsoever. It was just another way of reinforcing of my slave status. Slaves had no say in how they were treated. Nobody ever consulted a slave to see if their punishments were too humiliating or too painful. Decisions were simply made, and the slave would do as she was told. It was a simple system and if I didn't like it, there was nothing I could say or do to change it.

I was feeling helpless and sorry for myself, and didn't think things could get any worse for me, but before we left Gretchen pulled me close and leaned forward as if she was going to kiss me, but instead whispered in my ear, "I saw you put your hand up to block that girl's hand from spanking you."

I felt a sense of panic as she imparted this information to me. I instantly knew I was in trouble. My chest felt tight and I could feel my heart beating faster in my chest even before the next words came out of her mouth.

"That's just one more thing I'll have to punish you for today. You're going to be a very unhappy slave girl by the time we leave the punishment park."

* * * * * * * * * *

Before Gretchen took me to the punishment park, there were two humiliating ordeals she forced me to go through.

The first ordeal was at a beauty salon. That introductory sentence doesn't even begin to prepare you to understand just how bad the experience was. For starters I had to stand there naked in the lobby while women with arrogant smirks on their faces got their fingernails and toenails painted. They openly stared at my naked body while I was forced to stand there, without being able to cover myself.

However I wasn't in the lobby for long. Soon I was led into the back for a bikini wax.

When I was led past the smirking, arrogant ladies, they got a good look at my spanked, red bottom and they all commented loudly and openly upon seeing it.

"Oh, that poor dear!" one of them exclaimed. "Her bottom's all red!"

"So?," another woman commented. "I'm sure she did something to deserve a spanking!"

"Better her than me!" a third woman remarked.

Apparently this last remark was considered witty, as all of the female patrons laughed heartily at this.

* * * * * * * * * *

In the back room, a petite girl with short, dark hair tried to put me at ease. She'd performed the waxing procedure many times before and told me that everybody was nervous about it. That was only natural.

She helped me up onto a bed and had me spread my legs for her. She very diplomatically refrained from commenting on how wet my pubic slit was.

If you've never had a bikini wax before, allow me to inform you of exactly how this painful and intimate procedure is actually done.

First a thick, sticky liquid (not actual wax) is heated up, then spread on a clean strip of white cloth. The white cloth (sticky side down) is pressed firmly into the skin of the intended victim. Finally when the sticky glop has sufficiently adhered to the victim's skin and body hair, it is ripped away from the skin in one quick motion, pulling scores of the victims hair out by the roots.

This is painful when done to any area of the human body, but the skin around the genitals and anus is especially sensitive.

There was a loud RIPPING sound as the innocent looking girl ripped dozens of my pubic hairs out by their roots and I screamed in pain.

This seemed to go on for hours, but in actuality took less than fifteen minutes.

The hairs around my anus were longer and easier for the girl to pull out, but caused so much pain when she ripped them out that I had tears running down my face.

It seemed like this painful experience went on for hours, however it probably took only twenty or thirty minutes.

When it was over I just wanted to curl into a ball and sob to myself until the pain went away. However Gretchen insisted that I behave like a proper slave. I was ordered to thank this girl for her time and then get down on my hands and knees and kiss her feet.

The girl protested that it wasn't necessary, but Gretchen was the boss and I ended up down on my hands and knees on the cold tile floor, kissing the girl's white sneakers with their white laces until Gretchen told me I could get up.

* * * * * * * * * *

Our next stop was at a store that that sold bondage and corporal punishment type gear. Gretchen was the only patron in the store with a naked slave, so she got special attention. She was met by the store manager and a very attractive sales girl.

The manager was very warm and welcoming to Gretchen, but didn't even bother to speak to me. Gretchen had all the money. As a naked slave, I obviously had none.

Gretchen was complimented on being a slave owner, however she was told that it was a mistake for her to allow me to have my hands free. Apparently keeping a slave bound and helpless at all times was very important.

Within seconds, my arms were forced behind my back and my wrists were bound together by cold, stainless steel handcuffs. Gretchen inspected them and asked how much they cost. Apparently the price seemed reasonable to her, as she agreed to buy them.

Next, the manager picked out a leash that was mostly a stainless steel chain, but also had a black, leather handle at one end. The other end was clipped onto my slave collar and then the salesgirl tugged on the leash, forcing me to follow her. She walked me all around the store, moving fast and making sharp, unexpected turns. It was difficult to keep up and without my arms to protect me, my poor breasts were painfully bumped into several customers (who seemed very unmotivated to get out of my way), one store employee, a metal display rack and a mannequin.

Gretchen then took possession of the leather handle of the leash and led me around the store . . . thankfully not bumping my poor breasts into anything.

After Gretchen agreed to purchase the leash, a ball gag was taken from a display rack and forced into my mouth. The manager gave a long speech about the importance of slaves not being allowed to speak and the more and more I was forced to listen, the less and less I felt like a real human being. She talked about me as if I were a dog that needed to be controlled and trained and restrained so that I would never defy Gretchen's will.

Gretchen then mentioned that she'd like to look at some items for punishing my bottom. The salesgirl then uncuffed one of my wrists and then moved my hands in front of me so that my wrists could be bound in front.

Then I was bent over a counter, so that my ass was sticking up and several items were brought forth, so that Gretchen could try each one on my bottom and see which she liked best.

They all hurt.

If not for the gag, I would have been screaming in pain. However, with the large rubber ball forcing my mouth open and my tongue to the bottom of my mouth, I could only make vague, muffled noises that did not adequately convey my pain or outrage.

Gretchen's favorite was the riding crop (very painful), however she also agreed to buy a small wooden paddle and a thin leather instrument of pain called a "quirt".

There were tears running down my face after the demonstration of corporal punishment products. I was trying to cope with the pain of what I'd just endured when Gretchen said she wanted to purchase some items without me being able to see what they were.

They started speaking in hushed tones after that, and then the salesgirl came grabbed me by my arms and helped me to stand up. Once standing, she led me over to an area where there were changing booths. I was led into one of the booths and told to be a "good girl", while my Mistress completed her shopping.

Then she took my hands (which were still cuffed in front of me) and helped me lift them up over my head. "Now, be a good girl and keep them there," she advised me.

Within seconds she produced a stainless steel device, that she clipped to a metal ring that was set into the ceiling. There was another clip on the other end of the device that she clipped to the handcuff chain. Just two quick clips and I was trapped. Until I was released, I would be unable to lower my arms or leave the changing room.

The salesgirl gave me a seductive smile and told me how cute I looked all bound and helpless like that. Then she said that she'd like to stay and do all kinds of "evil" things to me, but she had to get back to work.

I tried to speak, but with the ball gag in my mouth, all that came out was, "Pfmmm". I would have loved for her to touch me all over and then thrust her fingers inside me. I was so sexually frustrated that I'd probably come within seconds.

However all she did was kiss me on the forehead and fondle my breasts a bit. Then she left the changing room and closed the curtain behind her.

I wondered how long I'd be left there, with a gag in my mouth and my hands bound over my head. When Gretchen is shopping, she can go on for hours, and already my arms and shoulders were beginning to grow tired from holding this position. Not to mention the fact that my jaw ached from being forced open by the ball gag. Also, I had to continually swallow in order to keep from drooling on myself.

I had no way to accurately measure time, while I was bound there, however it seemed to be perhaps twenty to forty minutes later that a young, innocent looking girl with short hair parted the curtain to my room and came in.

With the gag in my mouth I couldn't say anything, but I gave out a startled, "Whhtth!" sound as she entered the dressing room.

The girl's eyes went wide at first and she even apologized. "I'm sorry" she said. "I thought this changing room was unoccupied."

Then realization dawned upon her. I wasn't another customer, with a right to privacy. I was a naked, bound a collared slave. She didn't have to apologize to me. She didn't have to show me any type of respect or consideration at all.

Suddenly a playful smirk spread across her face and she stepped forward, closing the curtain behind her. "This is too good an opportunity to pass up," she whispered to me.

She dropped some leather pants and a corset on the floor and once both of her hands were free, she immediately took my breasts into her hands and began fondling them. I made moaning sounds into my gag, which she seemed to take as encouragement. She then began to fondle and squeeze my breasts even harder.

After about five minutes of this, she began to pinch my nipples. This hurt like hell, but with my hands bound above my head there was nothing I could do to stop her. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a muffled, "Uummphh!" sound.

The look on the girl's face was utter bliss. She looked rather young and this was probably the first time she had a naked girl that she could play with. I guessed that she was a closeted lesbian who lived at home with her parents and had to pretend to be straight for the sake of peace in the family home. If not for the gag in my mouth, I might have asked her if this was the case, but as matters stood I couldn't say a word to her.

After my breasts were well manhandled, she kissed me on the forehead, picked up her leather goods off the floor and left the changing room.

She left the curtain open when she left, and I tried to call her back to close it, but all that came out was "Whht Chmm bhhh!"

This was very unfortunate and stressful for me, as the next person to find me was a tall, well-dressed woman in her early to mid-forties.

I'm a lesbian, so obviously I like being touched by women, but being touched by a woman who's old enough to be my mother just seems creepy.

She fondled my ass and thighs, both of which were still sore from the hand spanking, the riding crop and the quirt. I squirmed in pain and the older woman's touch, which she took as a sign of sexual arousal.

Then she touched me in between my legs. Everything in that general are was sore from when the girl at the beauty parlor yanked all of my pubic hair out by the roots. I flinched and squirmed and wished I could do something to protect my poor, abused venus mound, but I was bound and helpless.

Then she stuck two fingers deep inside of me.

"You're soaking wet," the older woman accused. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

I shook my head to indicate that I wasn't enjoying this at all. The only reason I was wet, was because I'd been kept naked for almost twenty-four hours, my clit and pubic lips were constantly being stroked and Gretchen was denying me permission to have an orgasm!

She didn't like my response, so she took one of my public lips and pinched it hard. My pubic lips were already sore, and this new pain was so bad I screamed and struggled against the handcuffs. I yanked so hard I actually pulled up both feet off the floor and left raw, red marks on my wrists where the metal restraints bit into them.