I awoke that morning on the floor, naked, my wrists and ankles bound with rope and my exposed sex wet and swollen.
I wanted a nice, hot bath to sooth my aching muscles. I wanted to rub the sleepy dirt out of my eyes. I wanted to masturbate furiously so I could get rid of the urgent, throbbing, insistent need between my legs.
Of course I was denied all of these things. Gretchen had robbed me of the ability to satisfy even the most basic of my physical needs. Somewhere in the back of my mind was a voice that whispered to me and told me that I had always craved this sense of helplessness and was just too afraid to ask for it.
I tried to ignore the voice by struggling against the ropes that bound me. The ropes were tight and scratchy, and it hurt my wrists and ankles to pull against them, but the pain was a welcome alternative to thinking about how I might actually enjoy being helpless and publicly humiliated.
"Well, look who's awake," I heard Gretchen's familiar voice say from only a few feet away. "I've been awake for almost two hours."
I looked up and caught a glimpse of my girlfriend. Oops! I'm not supposed to call her that anymore. I caught a glimpse of my owner. This whole week I'm her property. It's all nice and legal according to Sessian law.
I couldn't get a good look at her since I was bound on the floor, but I could see she was already dressed. "It took forever to fall asleep last night," I said in a sad voice that I hoped would elicit sympathy. "It's hard to fall asleep in a position like this. My quadriceps and lower back were sore all night. They still are."
"Yes," Gretchen agreed. "They would be."
She knelt down and gave me a wicked smile. Then she slowly ran a finger from my breastbone to my pelvis, stopping just before she reached my pussy. I reflexively flinched.
"You look so helpless and vulnerable in this position," Gretchen informed me in a soft purring voice. "And that look on your face..."
Gretchen didn't elaborate, but I assumed that the look on my face was a look of misery or fear. Was that how Gretchen wanted me to look? Did she find that arousing? This was all new and scary territory for me. I'd never seen this side of Gretchen before.
She kissed me gently on the forehead, then stood up. "We've got a big day ahead of us," Gretchen said, suddenly all business. "These women will clean you up and get you presentable before we go out into public."
"Women?" I asked, straining my neck to look up and see as much of the room as possible.
Four women in maid's uniforms closed in on me. They were very businesslike and proceeded to take charge of me with minimal conversation and maximum efficiency. First they untied me and then they forced me to stand up and walk to the restroom. They seemed not notice or care that my muscles were sore from being tied up all night, and my pleas for patience were ignored.
Gretchen stood in the bathroom doorway and spoke to them in Italian. I couldn't understand a word they were saying, but I got the impression that it was some sort of instructions or orders. The oldest of the maids responded in Italian in a way that sounded very obedient yet unenthusiastic.
One of the younger maids filled the bathtub with warm water while the two tallest of the maids held onto my arms. Perhaps this was to keep me from attempting to escape. Or perhaps it was to keep me from falling down. My legs were weak from the way they were tied far apart all night and I welcomed the support they gave me.
They ordered me around in Italian and rapidly became impatient when I failed to follow their instructions right away. I was ordered to step into the tub when it was halfway filled with water and ordered to move this way and that so that they could lather, scrub and dry various parts of my body.
They were more gentle than Gretchen had been, but in some ways this was worse than being washed by Gretchen.
Eventually I realized why this was worse. In our society maids are considered one of the lowest of the low. Normally they're invisible. People never notice them in hotels. They just put a sign on their door when they want their room cleaned and go out for the day. When people return to their rooms the room is clean as if by magic. Maids are necessary, but nobody ever talks to them or acknowledges their existence.
However Gretchen had turned me over to this quartet of unsmiling women so that they could wash my naked body, dry my naked body, wash and style my hair, brush my teeth and apply my makeup. To make matters worse they eventually gave up on giving me verbal instructions and just grabbed, pushed or pulled to get me to cooperate with their tasks. It was almost like they were grooming an animal.
When it was time to get out of the tub strong hands simply grabbed me by the arms and the hair and forced me to stand up and step out of the tub. Strong hands indicated where to place my hands and my feet while they busied themselves drying my body with a towel. Strong fingers forced my mouth open so they could brush my teeth.
I allowed myself to be touched, washed, dried, brushed, manipulated and moved about like a pet being groomed and did not complain or resist.
But, of course I really didn't have a choice anyway. If I resisted, the maids outnumbered me four to one and could easily overpower me. Or Gretchen could call hotel security and have them restrain me. Complaining would do no good. I was officially Gretchen's property. Everything she had done to me was nice and legal.
When they were finished grooming me, two of the maids grabbed my arms and led me out of the bathroom and out to where Gretchen was standing.
At this point Gretchen was no longer alone in the hotel room. She had apparently ordered room service and a young man in a hotel uniform chatted politely while Gretchen signed for the food and wrote in a tip.
Both Gretchen and the young man paused when I entered and the young man ran his eyes up and down my naked body, making no effort to hide the lust in his eyes. He said something in Italian and everybody in the room laughed at what was certainly a joke at my expense.
My face felt hot and my chest felt tight. It was bad enough when women leered at my naked body, but when the men did it, it was much worse.
The maids shouted commands to me in Italian and when I didn't obey, they forced my legs apart and yanked my shoulders back. They forced my chin up and made me put my hands behind my neck. They made certain that my knees were straight as well as my spine.
Gretchen walked around and inspected me. She paid special attention to my hair and my makeup. When she was satisfied, she gave the maids some money and sent them on their way. The employee with the food cart was exceedingly slow in leaving and kept giving me lustful looks. I wanted to yell at him and cover my naked body, but I knew that would only earn me more punishments.
Breakfast was a rushed affair as Gretchen had plans and wanted to get out and about as soon as possible. I obeyed Gretchen's orders and ate as quickly as I could, but then made the mistake of asking for coffee.
