Enslaved in Europe

Back in America it would have been a difficult decision whether to continue with this ordeal. On the one hand I was more aroused than I'd ever been before. On the other hand I felt more humiliated and vulnerable than ever before.

However here, in Sessia, I wasn't allowed to make a choice. The government had made a choice for me. I would endure this for as long as I was in their country.

Sessian law forbade me from covering my nudity anyway, so I went to the other extreme and began to flaunt it. Even though my face felt flush with embarrassment, I began to look for ways to make certain that the largest number of people got to see as much of my naked body as possible. While Gretchen and I waited for the elevator, I placed my hands behind the small of my back and forced my breasts out so that they were well on display.

While we waited for the elevator a young married couple came up and the husband asked if he'd allow me to take a picture of myself and his wife together. Gretchen told the man she'd agree, but only if she could take some photos of us together as well.

The woman was about my age and very cute, with long hair, brown eyes and olive skin. She put one arm around my waist and smiled for the camera. Gretchen told me not to smile as slaves are supposed to look obedient and attentive at all times. It was another sign of my new inferior status that even my facial expressions were controlled by Gretchen now.

When it was Gretchen's turn to be photographed, she gave her camera to the husband and stood with one arm around my naked waist. He took several photos of us standing like that, then Gretchen surprised me by turning me to face her and pulling me close.

Gretchen and have hugged many times in the past, however I've never pressed my naked flesh into her while she wore street clothes. My naked breasts rubbed up against her cotton t-shirt and my thighs rubbed up against the rough fabric of her jeans. It was a very different kind of feeling.

There were also a few photos with all three of us women standing together. While taking these photos, Gretchen snuck a hand where the camera couldn't see it and squeezed my left buttock hard. When that failed to elicit a reaction, she pinched my naked flanks and when I opened my mouth to protest she kissed my on the mouth. Pictures were taken of this as well.

The four of us went up on the elevator together and it turned out that all four of us were staying on the sixth floor. I stood with my legs far apart and allowed the married couple to get a good look at my swollen pubic lips. The wife enjoyed my nudity too much to be straight. I wondered if she was a lesbian or merely bisexual.

At least half a dozen more people got on the elevator at the third floor. The older ones trying to ignore me and pretend they weren't inches away from a naked girl. The younger ones stared openly and with obvious interest.

Gretchen held my hand, as much as a sign of ownership as a sign of affection. Too many people were looking at me as if they wanted to take me home. Gretchen was staking her claim to me without saying a word. This felt comforting and disturbing at the same time.

Gretchen and I were in room 612. The married couple were in 609. We said our goodbyes and then Gretchen used to key to let us in. Once inside I put my arms around Gretchen and tried to kiss her. "None of that now," she said as she pushed me gently away.

"What? Why not?" I asked. Here I was totally naked and aroused, and I could tell by Gretchen's body language and the look in her eyes that she was horny too. Why was she resisting?

"You get your chores done first," Gretchen explained, "you can have sex later. That's the rule for as long as we're in Sessia."

I opened my mouth to protest, but then I realized how this game was played. Slaves don't question orders, they obey them. And Gretchen wanted to make role as a slave as real as possible.

"You can start by unpacking," Gretchen said. "Let me know when you're finished."

Gretchen took off her shoes and lay down on the bed. I unpacked all of her luggage and put away her clothes and camera in the drawers. Her toothpaste, toothbrush, shampoo and other toiletries went in the bathroom. I also took out her laptop computer and plugged that in and set it on the desk.

I double checked to make certain I hadn't forgotten anything and then stood over her to announce, "I'm finished."

"I'm finished, what?" Gretchen replied.

Gretchen confused me on this point. What else was I supposed to say? She already knew what I was finished doing. She was the one who ordered me to do it! Then it hit me.

"I'm finished, Mistress?"

"That's better," she said. "As long as you're legally my property, I think you should address me as Mistress."

"Of course, Mistress," I said, slipping into my new role. "Is there anything else?"

"As a matter of fact there is," she replied. She reached into her purse and pulled out one of the little booklets on the Sessian laws regarding slavery. "I want you to study this. We got caught flatfooted when we got here, and I don't want that to happen again. You're going to read this until you're an expert. I'll test you on your knowledge of Sessian slave law every day we're here."

I held the book in my hands and flipped through the pages. It wasn't very thick, but it was written in small print and very detailed. It was like a legal text, and I was never very good at understanding legal codes.

"What if I um, don't do so well, Mistress?"

"You'd better do well," Gretchen replied. "If you do poorly, you'll be punished."

I hung my head low. Gretchen had spanked me before, but I suspected that here, in Sessia, punishments would be more elaborate and humiliating than that. "And if I do well?" I asked.

"If you do well, you can have an orgasm," she replied.

"Mistress," I asked, fearing the worst, "does that mean that unless I do well in memorizing these laws, I ...."

"That's right," she confirmed, "no orgasm for you until you get a perfect or near perfect score. We can still have sex together, but you won't be allowed to come unless you study hard and do well on my quizzes."

*****

I spent the next two hours studying and taking notes. It was difficult to concentrate, being naked and sexually frustrated, but I had strong motivation, so I tried hard. I learned a number of important things and added them to my notes.

It turned out there was significance to the color of my slave collar. A black collar indicated that the slave was gay. I gray color indicated that the slave was bisexual, and a white collar indicated that the slave was heterosexual. By Sessian law, black collar slaves could not be forced to have sex with people of the opposite sex. White collar slaves could not be forced to have sex with people of the same sex.

There were age limits for slaves and slave owner. Slaves and slave owners had to be a minimum of eighteen years old. The maximum age for a slave was thirty-eight. The maximum age for a slave owner was forty-four.

The maximum any person could serve as a slave was ten years.

The Office of Slave Identification was in charge of all slave contracts. No person could legally be a slave unless the O.S.I. had approved the slave contract and had a copy of the contract in their files

Slaves were not to be injured by their owners through negligence or by assault. Of course corporal punishment like whippings or spankings were permitted, however these punishments were not permitted to break the skin. Brandings or anything that would burn or blister the skin of a slave was prohibited. The breaking of bones or dislocating of joints was prohibited.

It was illegal to starve a slave or to poison their food. Any drugs given to the slave had to be approved by a doctor in the employ of the O.S.I.

Doctors employed by the O.S.I. could make unannounced visits to the home of a slave owner at any time and give a medical exam to any slave. They had unlimited authority to check up on the medical welfare of any slave in Sessia. They also had the authority to remove a slave from the custody of a master or mistress if they felt that a slave had been abused.

Slaves were to be kept naked at all times, even when in public, however public sex was forbidden.

Sex clubs were not considered public places nor were the punishment parks.

There are five punishment parks in Sessia. Slave owners are allowed into the parks free if they bring a slave with them. Slaves are allowed in free. However the general public has to pay a fee of 100 euros.

Slaves are not permitted to have pubic hair or body hair of any kind. It is considered a form of "clothing" according to the Sessian slave laws.

No person convicted of a violent crime is allowed to ever become a slave owner.

Slaves had to be in excellent physical condition and their medical records had to bear this out. Furthermore, an O.S.I. doctor had to examine each new slave within 24 hours of a slave being contracted. This was so that they could determine independently that the slave was as healthy as their medical records indicated.

*****

I set my notes aside and went to go tell Gretchen this new wrinkle. Gretchen was at her computer, checking her e-mails. I wondered if slaves were allowed to interrupt the woman who owned them. I finally decided that it was far better to interrupt her than risk breaking Sessian law again.

"Mistress?" I said sheepishly.

She turned away from her computer and cocked an eyebrow at me, questioningly.

"I think we have a problem," I said. I went on to explain that we had less than 24 hours to get down to the Office of Slave Identification or else we'd be in violation of the law. At first she was reluctant to believe me, but when I showed her the relevant passage about the legal requirements for new slaves, she was all business.

"I'll just do a computer search and find the nearest office for the O.S.I. and we'll be on our way," Gretchen said.

The O.S.I. only had two offices nationwide, but the nearest one was only twelve miles away in a town called Villaggio. Gretchen got an address and put on her shoes and grabbed her purse. "Come on Diane," she said, "let's get you registered while the sun is still up. I had some plans for this evening and if we hurry, maybe they can still be salvaged."

We went down to the lobby and once again all eyes were on me. Gretchen kept one hand on me the whole time as if to say "She's mine." Gretchen led me to the front desk and asked a boy at the front desk how we could get a cab. He was very helpful and punched up a cab company on speed dial. Within seconds there was a cab waiting for us out in front of the hotel.

In the cab, the driver told me that he'd never had a slave in his cab before. He was fascinated by the concept and asked me endless questions about what it was like. Gretchen encouraged me to be polite and answer all of his questions to the best of my ability. It was emotionally exhausting to divulge such personal and private information to a perfect stranger, but it was also very liberating. In America I have to hide the fact that I'm a lesbian as well as the fact that I'm into B&D, but here in Sessia there are no secrets. I don't have to hide anything. My nudity and my slave collar marked me as a lesbian slave for anybody with eyes to see and a basic understanding of how the law works in Sessia.

When we got out of the cab, Gretchen took my arm and kept me very close as we walked over to the government building that housed the Office of Slave Identification. Men and women in suits and ties stopped on the stairs outside the building and stared. A woman deep in conversation on her cell phone, suddenly stopped talking and stood transfixed as I walked naked up the steps. It was against the law for slaves to wear clothing in this country, but apparently an attractive naked woman still got people's attention. I blushed with embarrassment, but my nipples got so hard that they ached. I'm certain people noticed my hard nipples, but did anybody notice that I was blushing?

Gretchen steered me over to a desk in the main lobby where we found a young professional at a computer. She was rather cute and dressed in a v-neck white blouse and had short red hair. She stood up as soon as she noticed us and offered a hand for Gretchen to shake. "Good Afternoon, my name is Gina. May I help you?" she said in a polite, corporate tone.

"I'm Gretchen Starke," Gretchen said, "and this is my slave. "This is our first day in Sessia and I understand there's some sort of requirement...?"

Gretchen left the sentence unfinished. If the girl worked here, she'd understand the rules on slaves far better than Gretchen or myself.

"Yes, of course," the girl said. "A medical exam is paramount, but also there's pictures and prints for security purposes."

"Pictures and prints?" I asked the girl.

The girl smiled the most innocent smile at me and replied, "It's just in case you get lost or try to escape. Up to date and detailed photos will make it easier to for people to locate you. And with your fingerprints there won't be any question about a proper ID."

It was getting overwhelming again. When I read up on Sessian law and realized that slaves actually had rights it made me calm down somewhat, but all these security precautions against slaves escaping just made me feel more helpless and owned and inferior. I really and truly was Gretchen's property in the eyes of the law.

"I can't really leave my desk," the girl explained, "but there'll be somebody along shortly to take you back to be processed. Just have a seat right there, it won't take long."

The girl indicated a row of chairs just a few feet from her desk. The seats looked comfortable, and Gretchen steered me towards the ones furthest from the exit. It was almost as if she thought I might panic and bolt. "Nervous?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, being honest. "This is all overwhelming, y'know?"

Gretchen patted me on the thigh and said, "You're doing just fine. I'm proud of you."

"Fingerprints and photographs," I protested, "It's like I'm a criminal."

"Well, as a slave, you're status isn't all that different," Gretchen said as she put her arm around me. "The main difference is that your prison is anywhere is Sessia that I decide to take you."

I shivered at that thought and then suddenly a too cheerful woman in a gray business suit walked up and extended a hand for Gretchen to shake. "Miss Starke?" she asked. "I'm Miss Price: Assistant manager in charge of office operations."

Diane noted that the woman didn't bother to shake her hand. Obviously the O.S.I. provided a service, but that service wasn't for the slaves. It was for the slave owners.

Miss Price chatted amicably with Gretchen for a few minutes and decided what they were going to do with me. First she had me stand up so that she could get a good look at me. I was ordered to stand in several different positions, displaying my ass, my breasts and my shaved crotch. She also checked my teeth, the soles of my feet and felt my thighs for muscle tone.

"Slaves are the only persons in Sessia that are allowed to appear nude in public," she explained. "For that reason we have high standards for the aesthetics for our slaves. I must admit your slave is the most attractive slave I've seen in months. You're quite lucky."

"Thank you," Gretchen said accepting the compliment. Being a slave, I wasn't allowed to own anything, not even compliments about my own physical attractiveness. Then Gretchen asked a question that hadn't even occurred to me.

"If I brought in a slave that wasn't quite so attractive what would have happened?"

Miss Price frowned slightly at this question, but eventually she answered, "On occasion there are slaves that simply are not up to our standards. Back in February we had a girl that was at least six kilos overweight. And there've been at least three candidates that had excessive and ugly tattoos. I have the authority to reject slave contracts based on such things."

Then she brightened visibly and added, "But your slave is flawless. Her skin, body, muscle tone, teeth, hair...."

Finally she sighed, and concluded with, "I wish all of our slave candidates were so beautiful."

"Where should we take her first?" Gretchen asked.

"Let's take her for pictures and prints first," Miss Price replied. "We have two doctors on duty right now and I'm waiting for one of them to become available, but there's no wait to get your slave photographed and printed.

I couldn't help but notice that I didn't seem to have a name anymore. I was Gretchen's slave. At the Hotel Castello I was stripped naked and forced to submit to a body cavity search, but at least there I had a name!

Miss Price and Gretchen walked me down a hall and I passed several offices with open doors. My bare feet felt cold on the tile floors and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that things were going to get worse.

Miss Price entered the photography studio first, Gretchen and I trailed behind, with my girlfriend wrapping her arm around my waist.

"Have your slave stand over there, behind the yellow line," Miss Price told Gretchen.

Gretchen pointed to the western most part of the room with yellow tape across the tile floor. I walked over and stood there with my toes barely touching the yellow line. "What now?" I asked. A slender woman with very short hair came over with a tiny digital camera. She turned on the power and looked at me through the viewer. "Is this the American?" she asked.

"That's her," Miss Price answered. "If you don't have the paperwork on her yet, you should have it within the hour."

"I've got enough to get started," the photographer answered.

"You," she barked at me, "head up, legs apart, hands at your sides."

She took a few photos like that, some were close-ups, some where wide angle shots. Then she ordered me to turn around and took a few pictures of me from the rear. Then she ordered me to turn so that she could get some shots of me in profile.

"That should do it," the photographer said to Gretchen. "If for any reason we need more, we'll call you at your hotel."

"We can fingerprint your slave in the next room," Miss Price told us and I was ushered through a door while the photographer began to load my photos to a computer. I wondered how many people would see those photos. Could any of the employees here access them? And did they ever share them with outside agencies? Could the general public ever get access to them?

I only spent a few minutes in the fingerprinting room, but the men and women there made it seem like an eternity. The women there were large and intimidating. And the men were just as bad. They didn't seem to trust me and watched me like a hawk. They forced my hands into a black ink pad and then forced each individual finger onto a form with my name on it.

While the people who worked the lobby were cheerful, the people who worked in this room were cold and impersonal. I felt like a convicted criminal that they didn't trust and just barely tolerated. I made eye contact with one of them for a second and then refrained from doing so again. The look in their eyes was cold and contemptuous. I think they had a special contempt for slaves.

*****

There was an almost half hour wait for a doctor to become available and Gretchen and I ended up back in the lobby again for a while. Gretchen was offered coffee, while I was offered nothing. I was noticing a trend.

As is usual with doctors, a nurse did most of the work. "Step up on the scale," a nurse with a British accent ordered. My bare feet stepped off the floor and onto the scale. "Fifty-three kilograms," the nurse announced and then recorded it on my chart.

"Patients should always be weighed naked," she opined. "The medical records we received from America have her at almost a kilo heavier. Shoes, clothing, purse ... it all adds, up."