The Lady-Friendly Resort Pt. 01

"You Tracey Smith and Emily Rhodes?" asked the man gruffly.

"Yes sir" replied Tracey, humbly. How did he know their names?

"You're late. One more minute we would have left without you. Get your lazy cunts on the bus."

At any other time, or in any other place, Tracey would have been outraged at being called a "lazy cunt," by anyone, but right at that moment she felt nothing but relief and gratitude. Behind the guard, just 10 meters away, was a bus with the hotel's name printed on its side. It was the hotel shuttle, and it represented deliverance from the dangers of the plaza. Emily and Tracey rushed to board.

They were in such a hurry to get on the bus that they had failed to notice from the outside the unusual arrangement of the passengers. They were all nude women, but given all they had been through by that time both Tracey and Emily were mostly desensitized to female nudity by then, including their own. What surprised them was that instead of being seated in upholstered seats facing forward, the women were seated on stainless steel benches, facing outward. The windows of the bus offered a full frontal view of each of the women riding it to any passerby. As soon as they boarded, the conductor grabbed Tracey and pushed her down the aisle, and seated her on the bench.

It was remarkable how Tracey was adjusting to her new reality. Not only had she resigned herself to being nude in public, and surrounded by other nude women, but she had also started to accept being ordered around and manhandled by the likes of this conductor. This was probably a survival instinct, since any resistance on her part would have been as dangerous as it would be futile. Emily, apparently, had similarly resigned herself to her situation, as Tracey could see her passive acquiescence to being placed on the bench by the conductor. Both women meekly allowed themselves to be strapped to the bench, ankles locked in place, and wrists restrained behind their backs. Their nude bodies were now on display to anybody from the street who cared to look, and there was absolutely nothing Tracey, Emily, or any of the other women on the bus could do about it.

The bus took off at a painfully slow pace. The stainless steel bench was hard, and provided no protection from the bumps of the uneven road. Nor did she have any protection from the cold. After spending what seemed like an eternity in the sweltering heat, the air-conditioned bus felt like the inside of a walk-in freezer, and all of the women on the bus started shivering. The guard -- he seemed more like a guard than a conductor -- did not seem to notice. Tracey, meanwhile, could do nothing but sit and shiver silently as she contemplated the events of the day.

She felt a complex mix of emotions. On the one hand, there was a part of her that relished the roller coaster ride that the day's events represented -- one near-miss after another, each representing a chance to be condemned for life to become a sex toy for a stranger. That possibility was, at the same time, exciting and horrifying.

On the other hand, another part of Tracey's mind told her that, regardless of the ultimate outcome, this trip to Zonga was a bad idea. That part recalled that it was Emily whose idea this trip was, and even though Tracey had gone along of her own free will, she wanted to resent Emily for putting her at risk like this.

And there was another part of Tracey that simply wanted to survive, no matter what it took.

The bus eventually pulled up to the front entrance of the resort, and the conductor released the Lady-Friendly guests from their restraints. They were herded off the bus into the sweltering heat of the outdoors before being conducted into the air conditioned lobby. There, as they passed through the doorway, a young petite woman with long, jet-black hair, wearing nothing but a thick steel collar, curtseyed each guest as she walked through the entrance and handed her a pink terry cloth robe and a pair of thin sandals. Tracey accepted hers with overwhelming gratitude. The air conditioning inside the hotel lobby was almost torturously cold against the sweat on her naked body. Plus, after having been completely nude since leaving the airport, simply having something to wear made her feel almost human again.

Almost.

She was still surrounded by intimidating, male guards, being herded like cattle, even if the place they were being herded into was the lobby of a luxury hotel. She was still not free to leave, and even if she were she would have no place to go. Most important, she was still in a country full of enslaved women, and the only difference between her and them was a bathrobe, some sandals, and the hope that this hotel would keep its promise to protect her. It occurred to Tracey that if the hotel were to break its promise and turn her into a slave there would be absolutely nothing she could do to stop them. She and Emily were vulnerable -- completely at their mercy. That thought stirred something in the submissive recesses of Tracey's mind, and at that moment Tracey wanted nothing more than to run to the nearest private place and bring herself to orgasm, but that option was unavailable to her. All she could do was follow the crowd.

When Tracey and Emily reached the front desk, the woman standing behind it looked eerily similar to Tracey. She had long blonde hair, firm but ample breasts, and she stood at roughly the same height. Unlike Tracey, she was completely nude, and Tracey could see a shackle fastened around her right ankle attached to a heavy chain. Tracey could have been looking at a future version of herself. When the woman spoke, in an accent similar to Tracey's own, it reinforced that idea.

"Place your finger on the scanner," she said. Not unkindly, but not in a "customer service" voice that one might normally expect from a hotel desk clerk. It was an order, not a request.

Tracey did as she was told, and the woman retrieved a badge from a printer behind her and handed it to Tracey. "Clip that on your robe," she said, "and keep it with you at all times. This badge identifies you as a Lady Friendly guest, which ensures that you will be exempt from enslavement as long as you remain on the premises of the resort. It also allows you to access your room, and all of the resort's amenities. Don't lose it."

Tracey clipped the badge to her robe and, once Emily had received her badge, the two women took the lift together to the 17th floor, where they found a long corredor, rather devoid of decoration.

"This doesn't look much like the brochure," commented Emily.

"Hey, at least we are safe, and there is nobody trying to grab for us," replied Tracey. "After the day we have had today, all I want is a nice shower and to relax," said Tracey. Tracey didn't add "and masturbate," but that was certainly part of her plan. Tracey's latent submissive feelings were becoming less and less latent as the events of her first day in Zonga went on, and she badly needed some outlet for them.

"Me too," said Emily, though Tracey had no way to know whether Emily was agreeing only with what Tracey had spoken out loud, or with her private thoughts.

It took an inordinate amount of time for the two women to search the labyrinth of narrow corridors for their room, but eventually they found a door labeled "17518," their assigned room number. The room was, to say the least, disappointing. It contained one double bed that Tracey and Emily would have to share, a small nightstand on each side, and a single dresser at the end. The room was not much bigger than the bed, and could not have accommodated any more furniture even if the hotel had cared to provide it.

"Where's the closet?" asked Emily, addressing the question to nobody in particular.

"Nothing to unpack anyway," pointed out Tracey.

"How long do you think it will take them to send our luggage back to us?" asked Emily.

"We may never get it back," said Tracey. "The way this trip has gone, it's just been one disaster after another. I don't even know how we are gonna get home." Tracey didn't want to quarrel with Emily, but she couldn't help the fact that there was an edge to her tone of voice. After all, this whole trip was Emily's idea.

"Look," said Emily, "I'm in the same mess as you are. You really think I would have come if I had known it would be like this?"

"How could you NOT know?" snapped Tracey, but she caught herself. In retrospect, it was easy to see that traveling to Zonga was a dumb idea, but Tracey herself had agreed to go. This was as much Tracey's mistake as Emily's.

"Let's forget it," said Tracey, before Emily could respond. "I just want to get a shower, and then maybe we can go down and have some dinner. We'll worry about our luggage later."

Emily took a deep breath, clearly wanting to avoid a quarrel with her friend as much as Tracey did. "Sounds good to me," said Emily, just before something dawned on her.

"Where's the washroom?" asked Emily.

That prompted Tracey to search around the small bedroom, frantically, hoping there would be some sort of hidden door they had somehow missed. But there was nothing. It was quite one thing to have no closet, no television, and no windows, but no washroom was another matter entirely.

"There has to be a bathroom somewhere around here," said Tracey. "Let's call down to the front desk and find out."

"No phone," said Emily, gravely.

Tracey stepped out of the room ready to undertake yet another extended search of the corridors for the lift back to the front desk, and Emily followed. Down the first corridor and to the right Emily spotted a door labeled "Showers," which she pointed out to Tracey.

Tracey tried the door, but it would not budge. "It's locked," said Tracey. Emily stood by while Tracey grabbed her badge and searched in vain for a place to insert, swipe, or otherwise use it to open the door to the "Showers" room, but she had no luck. Just then, Emily noticed a sign.

"Guests must disrobe before entering the showers," she read out loud. She glanced at Tracey, and then glanced at the wall, where she saw several hooks. She looked up and down the corridor, and saw it was empty, save for Tracey. Finally, she decided to remove her robe and place it on the hook. Now nude, she tried the door and heard a loud buzz as it unlocked. As soon as she entered, the door slammed shut behind her, and Tracey could immediately confirm that it was once again securely locked.

Tracey thought there must be a hidden camera somewhere, watched by someone who was controlling the door. It seemed that if she wanted a shower, she was going to have to disrobe right in the middle of the hallway, where anybody could walk by. There was nothing to do but grit her teeth and get it over with. Tracey removed her robe, placed it on the hook next to Emily's, and tried the door.

It still wouldn't budge.

Tracey then took her badge and attached it to the robe that was hanging on the hook, and was then able to enter the shower room. There, she found an open bay, with all the women showering in full view of one another. The one good thing was that there were dispensers for body wash, shampoo, and conditioner, but there was absolutely no privacy. Tracey thought that if she chose a shower relatively distant from Emily, she might have some privacy, but no sooner did she turn on the water than she saw another woman entering the room. Then another.

Clearly, Tracey was to have no privacy.

Meanwhile, outside of the shower room, several robes were hanging from hooks in the corridor, and attached to each of those robes was the ID badge, identifying its owner as a free woman protected by the resort's "Lady-Friendly" policies.