The Trade Show

"Ahrgggg...sto....sto stop stop...hurkggg," Justine dropped her head down sobbing. Her face and some of her hair touched the vomit floating in the toilet water and her stomach heaved again as she snapped her head back. Justine felt like her stomach would never relax enough to let her breathe again. When the last cane stroke came Roger slammed into her so hard and deep that she felt like he would puncture something inside her. Then he pulled out in one quick motion. Justine cried out again, her voice raspy and dry. The hands released her and she fell to the floor beside the toilet, her body shuddering, tears mixing with the vomit and water from the toilet on her face. She opened her eyes and through her tears she watched Roger and the other women, except for Jasmine, leave the bathroom.

"So my pet," Jasmine said in a soft voice. "Have you learned anything from this?"

Justine turned her head to look up and Jasmine and nodded.

"Speak up, pet"

"Yuh...yes. Yes, Mis...Mistress."

"And what would that be, my pet?"

Justine opened her mouth to reply, but instead she began to cry and curled into a fetal position.

Jasmine sighed and said, "Poor little pet. I hope you will be more articulate when I return from dinner with the others."

Justine stopped sobbing and whispered in a raspy voice. "Mistress, I...I don't think I can eat...anything for...for a while."

"Oh, no, pet. You are staying here while we go to dinner. I will have room service bring you something later."

Justine nodded and struggled into a sitting position, hissing as her weight pressured her rear hole.

Jasmine continued. "Now, get yourself cleaned up. You may wear your silk robe while I am out, but nothing else."

Justine wiped her tears with the back of her hands and managed to get to her knees. "Yes, Mistress." She reached out and flushed the toilet as Jasmine left the room. Slowly she got to her feet and sat on the toilet seat. She took a piece of toilet paper and gently touched her aching anus. When she brought the paper around to look at it she saw a bright spot of blood. Sobbing, she dropped the paper into the toilet then put her elbows on her knees, her face in her hands.

4 – The Next Morning.

The phone rang. Justine reached over and lifted the handset from the base and then placed it back into position. She turned onto her side and began to wake Jasmine by caressing her body. When Jasmine responded Justine said in a raspy voice, "Mistress, it's time to..."

"Yes, I know, pet," interrupted Jasmine. "Time to get up."

"Yes, Mistress. I will start the shower..."

Jasmine turned onto her side and looked Justine in the eyes. "No need to rush this morning, pet. I have made a change to our plan."

Justine raised up on her elbow and propped her head in her hand. "A change, Mistress?"

"Yes, pet. You are leaving Atlanta this afternoon. Your flight leaves at 1:00 PM."

"But what about the rest of the conference? I thought we'd be here for the entire show."

"Yes, that was the original plan, but the incident with Rog pointed out where an aspect of your training is lacking. I intend to correct that."

Justine paled. "Oh, no, Mistress, please. I..tried...really, really I did...please..."

Jasmine laughed and caressed Justine's cheek. "No, no pet. Not that. I quite enjoyed your performance with Rog. It was very entertaining."

"Then, what...I don't understand."

"Pet, it is time for you to learn to speak Hindi."

Justine was only slightly relieved. "So why does that mean we have to leave this afternoon?"

"Because that is when your Air India flight leaves for Mumbai."

Suddenly Justine realized that Jasmine was saying 'your flight' not 'our flight'. "Wait, Mistress, did you mean my flight? Did...don't you mean our flight?"

"No, pet," Jasmine responded. "I mean your flight. I have decided that the best way for you to learn Hindi is total immersion in the culture of India. So I am sending you to live with one of my cousins at her home outside Mumbai."

"Live with? In India? But for...for how long? Mistress, can't I just take some classes here, I mean back home in San Francisco? I don't know anything about India. You'll be there with me won't you? Please, Mistress..."

Jasmine reached out and placed a finger on Justine's lips. "Hush, my pet. You will only be there as long as it takes you to learn the language. And maybe to learn how to wrap a sarie." She giggled. "I think you will be very beautiful in traditional Indian clothes."

"Mistress, please don't..."

"Justine," Jasmine said sharply. "That is enough."

Justine stopped speaking but her lower lip was trembling.

"Now," said Jasmine. "We should get ready. We do not have to rush, but we should not waste time either." She got out of bed and released Justine from her ankle shackles.

Epilogue

At the airport in Mumbai, Justine was met by Jasmine's cousin, Kanta. Justine had nothing with her except her passport. The lack of baggage might have been something of a problem at customs had Kanta not been there to vouch for her. Apparently, Jasmine's family was well known and respected in India. After leaving Customs Kanta took Justine's passport, put it in her purse, and handed Justine a large bag filled with what looked like several yards of brightly colored cloth.

"Now," Kanta said. "Take this sari into the restroom and change into it. Put your other clothes in the waste bin and rejoin me at the newsstand across the walkway."

"But, I don't know how to put this on," Justine said. "Can't you help me?"

Kanta reached out and wove her fingers in Justine's hair and made a fist, pulling hard against Justine's hair. "You will do as you are told. And you should do so without being told twice."

Kanta turned and walked toward the newsstand without looking back. Justine, her shoulders slumped in defeat, went into the restroom.

An hour later Justine shuffled across the walkway, holding the sari around her waist with one hand and over her breasts with the other. It dragged the floor and more than once Justine stumbled and nearly lost her grip on the cloth. Older Indian women looked at her and frowned while young women giggled and pointed.

Kanta did not wait for Justine to reach the newsstand and met her in the middle of the walkway. She carried a small plastic bag with a couple of magazines in it. She looked at Justine and gave an exaggerated sigh.

"So," Kanta said. "You cannot even dress yourself?"

Justine was on the verge of tears. "Please, Kanta...I..."

"And you do not know how to address your Mistress?" Kanta interrupted with mock exasperation, clearly enjoying Justine's distress.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Mistress," Justine was on the verge of tears. "Please help me with this.

Kanta looked at Justine and shook her head. "No, pet. I think you will be fine as you are. But," she paused. "Perhaps I will forgive you for embarrassing me with your sloppy dress if you carry this bag for me." She held out the bag for Justine.

"Mistress, please, I can't let go of this. If I do some part of it will fall off of me.

"Hmm, that is so." Kanta said. "So, open your mouth."

"My mouth?"

"Yes, your mouth. And do it now."

Justine opened her mouth and Kanta placed the bag's hand-hold between Justine's teeth.

Kanta stepped back and held a hand over her lips as she laughed at the miserable expression on Justine's face.

"Now, my sweet, let us be on our way."

As they walked through the airport, people openly laughed at Justine as she shuffled along. Finally, they exited the building into the heat of the Indian summer.

Though Justine had grown up in the southern United States, she had become accustomed to the climate around San Francisco and the heat and humidity of Mumbai nearly took her breath away as she and Kanta stepped outside the terminal. When they were seated in Kanta's car, Kanta took the bag from Justine's mouth then smiled, leaned over and, with the backs of her fingers, stroked Justin's cheek.

"I think you will be called Gowri while you are in my care. The name suits you nicely," Kanta said.

Justine didn't reply but simply leaned forward, placing her face in her hands. The sari slipped and exposed one of her breasts and she quickly pulled the cloth around her chest. Kanta gave a quiet laugh, put the car into gear and drove through the crowded streets, carrying Justine to her new home.