The rest of the week followed a pattern that I soon came to recognize and expect.
Every morning I would be washed and groomed by a naked slave girl and then Gretchen would take me down to the hotel lobby where I would be spanked in front of a lobby full of people. After that I would be taken to the Punishment Park and I would be put to work, helping a park employee bind slaves to whipping posts or pillories or other bondage devices. I was repeatedly set to fetch chains, clips, locks, keys, wrist restraints, ankle restraints or other tools of the trade. Occasionally I was punished for not fetching restraints and keys and such fast enough.
And at night Gretchen would take me back to the hotel where I would be ordered to have sex with some female tourist or hotel employee.
And of course I was naked the entire time.
It made me feel helpless, humiliated, embarrassed and degraded.
And I loved it.
On my last morning in Sessia, Kacey washed and groomed me like usual. Gretchen inspected me like usual and like usual she agreed that Kacey had done an acceptable job of getting me clean and presentable.
However unlike most mornings, Gretchen then handcuffed my wrists behind my back and gave Kacey instructions to take me downstairs for my morning spanking. A leash was attached to my collar and the naked slave girl led me downstairs and into the lobby. The crowd of voyeuristic spectators in the lobby was bigger than ever and there were at least ten security guards in the lobby to make certain that nobody in the crowd got too close.
Gemma had a flair for showmanship and she took control of the proceedings immediately.
"This is the slave's last day at this fine hotel," she announced. "So let's make her final spanking a memorable one!"
Kacey then led me closer to the crowds and Gemma announced that as it was my last day it was only fair that Kacey give me a goodbye kiss.
With my hands bound behind my back I was at Kacey's mercy and somehow that made the whole thing much more exciting and erotic. Being kissed while you're naked and helpless is several levels more thrilling and arousing than the more traditional type of kiss. And then there was the fact that approximately one-hundred-thirty people were watching the whole thing and ogling my naked body at the time. And at least fifty of those people had cameras, which they used to immortalize my humiliation on film or on computer hard drive.
The whole thing was so arousing I almost had an orgasm right there.
Kacey turned out to be a great kisser, starting off with kisses that were soft and affectionate and ending with much more passionate, insistent kisses where she forced her tongue into my mouth.
She ended by stepping forward and kissing me on the neck while pressing her front against mine. I suppose you could call it a hug, except for the fact that with my arms bound behind my back I couldn't hug her back.
Her naked breasts felt wonderful against mine and I tried to rub up against her as best I could. It wasn't easy, but I maneuvered my naked breasts up and down and left and got myself noticeably excited and my breath was coming in loud, slow pants by the time Kacey broke off from the hug.
Then Kacey was ordered to choose the winners of the raffle.
I almost asked "what raffle?" then I remembered that slaves aren't allowed to speak without permission.
But even as I kept my mouth shut, Gemma answered my question anyway . . . even if indirectly.
Kacey reached into a fedora and pulled out three raffle tickets. The tickets were presented to Gemma and Gemma called out the winning numbers.
The winning numbers were 0016, 0021 and 0069.
I can't believe I remembered little details like that.
The security guards allowed the holders of the winning tickets to come forward and they all formed a line. All three of the winning ticket holders were female and the girl in front was about my age. She would have been cute if not for the really bad haircut (it was cut really, really short) and the clothes that didn't fit (with the exception of her leather boots everything was baggy and probably secondhand).
When Gemma gave her permission she stepped forward and gave me a goodbye kiss as well. She wasn't as good a kisser as Kacey, but she was okay. If I wasn't a slave I would have offered to give her some lessons, but that's one of the problems with being a slave. You're never allowed to say what you want to say or offer your opinion or expertise.
The next girl in line was also about my age and definitely cute, with long wavy hair, a dark grey French Terry top and dark grey midi skirt. She gently wrapped one hand around my waist and fondled my naked buttocks with the other. "I'm going to miss you," she whispered in my ear. "Watching you get spanked every morning has been my favorite part of staying in this hotel".
Then she kissed me gently on the forehead, the lips and on both cheeks. The whole thing was over in about ten seconds. I whimpered when I realized that she wasn't going to do any more. Then she wandered over to Gretchen. When she and Gretchen started talking I tried to listen in on their conversation, but then ticket holder number three walked up to me.
She was at least fifteen years older than me and wore a dark-blue tweed blazer over top of something with a v-neck. Her skirt was also dark-blue tweed. "You're a slut," she told me. "And the spanking you're going to get is nothing less than deserve!"
Her words hit me like a physical blow and I was still reeling from them when she grabbed my long blonde hair with both of her strong hands and kissed me firmly on the mouth, gagging me with her tongue.
Then she turned around and marched angrily out of the hotel lobby.
What was that all about? Did that lady have issues or what?
When the winners of the raffle took their places with the rest of the crowd I was led over to Gemma and I took a deep breath and tried to work up my courage for what was about to come. And while I was trying to gather my courage, Gemma grabbed me by my torso and dragged me naked and helpless across her lap.
I heard laughter from the crowd behind me and I squirmed with uncontrolled panic. No matter how sexually arousing it may be to have my naked ass spanked there's always a grim foreboding in the minutes and seconds before it happens. Especially when the person inflicting that spanking has an arm as strong and merciless as Gemma's.
"Hold still", Gemma ordered. I did my best to slow down my breathing and relax my muscles, but I was still filled with dread. Then two tall, strong-looking women loomed over me and quickly one woman unlocked one of my wrists from the handcuffs. The other woman just as quickly forced both of my hands in front of me and then my hands were once again bound together with stainless steel.
"Much better," commented Gemma. "I do so love seeing a girl with her arms bound behind her back, but when that girl is being spanked, well we want to have her hands as far away from her ass as possible, don't we? Otherwise she might try to use her hands to protect herself."
I wasn't certain if Gemma wanted me to respond to that or if she was just playing to the crowd. Or maybe she just liked to hear the sound of her own voice. I was trying to decide when suddenly the first blow came down on my unprotected, vulnerable ass.
The impact was so loud I could hardly believe it was the sound of her hand on my naked ass. And she was so strong! Unless you've gone through it yourself you have no idea how painful a spanking inflicted on your bare ass by a truly cruel, competent, able-bodied sadist can be.
I howled in pain and squirmed and twisted and floundered on Gemma's lap while tears welled up in my eyes and slid down my face, but Gemma took no notice and continued to rain down blow after painful blow on my unprotected ass.
The crowd loved it.
Although my vision was blurry with tears I could see quite a few of them still taking pictures.
My throat grew sore from the screaming and eventually I just couldn't scream anymore. I was eventually reduced to just sobbing and squirming and Gemma's arm apparently hadn't even gotten tired yet. Her blows still came down just as hard and fast and painful as before.
When the spanking finally stopped the two strong-looking women grabbed me and pulled me off Gemma's lap. I did nothing to resist them. I was physically and emotionally drained. My arms and legs felt rubbery. If I tried to stand up I seriously doubt my legs would've supported me.
So the two women laid me on the cold tile floor where I sobbed miserably and above me Gemma explained the next step in the morning's entertainment.
She explained that there were more raffle tickets in the hat and that was about to pick some more winning numbers, so people should pay attention.
At this point I was too exhausted to pay attention to the exact numbers that were called out. I just lay there sobbing, while the winners were chosen. Six or seven women detached themselves from the crowd and were permitted to come up close to where I lay on the floor.
Gemma explained that I was to kneel before these women (knees far apart of course), and kiss their feet. Gemma would make sure that each woman got an 8x10 glossy photo of my submissive act to immortalize the occasion.
I don't think I ever saw any of those women's faces. I saw stylish leather boots and suede wedges, but I never raised my head up high enough to see the faces of the women that towered over me.
One woman with a British accent insisted that in addition to her feet, I was also supposed to kiss the hem of her skirt. The hem of her skirt was about three or four inches above the knee and if you ever saw the photo it would probably look as if I was getting ready to perform cunnilingus on her.
When it was all over the two strong looking women helped me up and the handcuffs were unlocked from my wrists. Gretchen led me outside and several uniformed security guards helped us clear a path through the crowds. As a slave I wasn't really allowed to speak, but I would have thanked the security guards if I could. I'm not certain what would have happened if I had waded into the enthusiastic crowd without their help.
Once outside, Gretchen introduced me to a tall, thin teenage girl with a winning smile and dark, styled, shoulder-length hair.
"Diane, this is Jacki. Jacki, Diane."
We shook hands, which seemed strange to me. It just seemed odd for a slave to be shaking hands with a free woman. Offering your hand to somebody was sort of a sign of respect. And it was made fairly clear during my time as a slave, that slaves were never shown any sign of respect.
