Reina in a Strange Land

Chapter 7

Dear readers, this chapter grew too long so it will be split between chapter 7 and 8. Chapter 9 will be Reina waking up from her dream.

"Here, listen!" whispered Deb to Reina. She had cracked the door open slightly and was leaning in just before the edge of the door, listening. Reina did the same. Mr. Jamison and Lord Bartow were speaking, and they could just make out the words.

"She's not here, your Lordship," said Mr. Jamison. Reina had never heard him sound so deferential.

Lord Bartow was looking around with annoyance. Then he turned to one of the cells; the girls couldn't see whose cell it was.

"You're . . . Sara, right? You're coming to my island, aren't you?" he barely paused and they couldn't tell if the redhead had agreed or not. "Tell me, Sara, have you seen Miss Jamison recently?"

"M-master?" they heard the redhead answer. They couldn't see her but her voice sounded anxious.

Lord Bartow took a step closer to her cell. "Tell me, slave, are you hoping to live on my island as a free woman, or as a pleasure slave?"

Sara hesitated before answering. "I . . . I'm hoping t-to be a f-free woman, Master," she stammered, her voice clearly terrified. Reina's heart went out to the poor girl. Sara hesitated again, then spoke. "I . . . I was told I could work as a waitress in y-your Willing Maiden tavern?"

"Is that so?" said Lord Bartow, his interest piqued by the new information. He put his hand on his chin as he gazed into the cell. "You are a lovely girl, you know that, Sara? Truly a magnificent figure too. A lovely slave girl who wishes to be free woman . . . and yet with that body you'd be enslaved anywhere in this world I'm afraid." said Lord Bartow, his tone turning suggestive. "How fortunate that I . . . have the power to decide if you will live as a free woman, or a lowly pleasure slave." There was a long pause, and Reina imagined poor Sara was stricken with terror. "So," continued Lord Bartow. "Knowing the power I hold over you, why don't you think before answering. Are you sure you haven't seen the charming Miss Jamison?"

Deb and Reina held their breath at the rather obvious threat. Would the man really deny her freedom over this? There was a long pause, as Sara wrestled with her competing loyalties. Finally, after much too long a pause, the redhead spoke. "She's . . . in the playroom, Master, with the new slave girl." She must have pointed from her cell, because Lord Bartow suddenly turned their way. Reina and Deb jerked their heads back, hoping he hadn't spotted them.

"Excellent!" purred Lord Bartow. "Thank you so much, slave Sara, you have been most helpful! You will love living on my island as a free woman."

The two girls backed away from the door, looking about helplessly for somewhere to hide.

Reina was in a panic, her arms cradling her body. She felt like she was burning up. Whether it was the gas they'd used on her, or the slave cream, or just all the tormenting the girls had done to her body, but she felt terribly ripe and needy. She couldn't bear to let a man see her like this, and if that man was Mr. Jamison? Reina shuddered. "Deba!" she hissed quietly. "You have to do something! My body . . . it's . . . oh god . . . I can't let your father see me like this!"

"You mean because you look like you just had your first cumming?" said Deba, innocently. "Oh, I'm sorry, honey," she quickly added, seeing the panicked look on Reina's face. "I'll do my best to get rid of them, but you have to hide, here!"

Deba pulled her urgently toward the back of the room, where she saw the wood and leather horse the slave girls had demonstrated before. Deba unhooked Reina's leash from her leather collar, and then pushed her down behind the wooden horse. "Kneel down and hide behind it!" she whispered, holding her finger up to her lips to keep Reina silent. Reina complied and Deba moved back toward the door, just as it flew open. Reina watched from behind the wooden horse. She saw Deba turn to watch as Lord Bartow strode in, flanked by his two well dressed bodyguards, and followed by a distressed looking Mr. Jamison. Lord Bartow was dressed in a fine dark blue suit, with a leather overcoat around his ample shoulders. He was as tall and muscular as Mr. Jamison, and while he was quite handsome and masculine, his cruel eyes and knowing grin dissuaded Reina from any interest in him.

"Why hello, Deba Jamison," purred Lord Bartow, walking toward Deba who was in the center of the room. He stopped at a distance too close for her comfort. "Fancy finding you here, your father seemed to think you were . . . somewhere else."

"I . . . hello, Lord Bartow," answered Deba, her usual confidence abandoning her. "What . . . brings you to our . . . to us?"

"Oh, you know," he replied, his eyes looking Deba up and down. "I just want to check if you're ready to join my harem." He paused for a moment, chuckling at Deba's look of disgust.

"In fact, I like to keep an eye on my favorite slave providers . . . to see if they have anything new and

interesting

to show me." With the last comment he looked about the room, and then frowned. "The redhead said you were with another slave girl?"

Hiding behind the wooden horse, Reina stiffened with fear. They were going to find her for sure, and then . . . she'd be standing half naked and collared in front of four men, including Mr. Jamison. For some reason, she felt a twinge of pleasure deep down, and she bit her lip, trying to keep silent as her body burned with need.

"Uhh, what?" said Deba, nervously. "No, there's no one else here, it's just me in here . . . checking on some things."

"I see," said Lord Bartow, though Reina couldn't tell if he believed her. He looked around the room. "Interesting room you have here, I don't think I've ever seen it."

"Uh, yes," said Mr. Jamison, happy to steer the subject away from his daughter and the presumably hidden tax agent. "We use this for our high net worth buyers. We find it greatly improves the chances our girls, who so choose to remain slaves, will get purchased by suitable buyers. A bit of unpleasantness in this room can improve a slave girl's life considerably, if it lets us find the right buyer for her."

"Of course," nodded Lord Bartow, looking around at the variety of stations. "A smart buyer wants to try out the merchandise before parting with his hard-earned coins." He turned to look directly at Deba. "You don't truly know your slave girl until you put her in stocks, whip her, and make her service you with her lips and pussy. Isn't that right, my dear?"

Deba gasped softly, shrinking under his withering stare. The man always made her uncomfortable, but this was doubly worse than usual. "Y-yes, sir, I guess so," she blurted, when his expression turned impatient. The man always made her incredibly nervous.

Lord Bartow smiled, enjoying her nervousness. "Deba, my dear, why don't you give us a short little tour?"

Deba swallowed heavily. "I . . . I don't really know much about this stuff . . ." she stammered, gesturing around the room.

Lord Bartow chuckled, taking a step to move uncomfortably close to her. "Nonsense," he said softly, looking down at the clearly nervous girl. "You know, people might think a man with a harem of 20 slave girls has a voracious appetite. Well, they'd be right. But it has also taught me a lot about women." He reached down suddenly and took Deba's small hands in his, drawing a soft gasp from Reina's friend. "Take you, Deba Jamison, for example," he continued, holding her hands in his strong grip. "I know you are fascinated by slave girls. I think you know quite a bit about the things in this room. Only, I believe you desire to be a slave mistress, rather than a slave."

Deba gasped sharply at his last statement, looking up at him in alarm. Reina saw Lord Bartow smile with satisfaction at her reaction, and she looked at Deba, wondering if he could possibly be speaking the truth. They'd been friends as long as she could remember, so she knew Deba had slave fantasies, but she'd always assumed her friend wanted to be a slave girl, not a slave owner.

Lord Bartow chuckled when Deba didn't respond. "I thought as much. But to be a good slave mistress, a female should know what it feels like to be on the receiving end, don't you agree? Have you personally experienced any of these . . . training methods?" he asked, gesturing around the room.

Deba looked like she was ready to bolt at that moment, but she could only shake her head. She looked at her father pleadingly.

Mr. Jamison saw his daughter's distress, and stepped forward. "Lord Bartow, I think this has gone far enough. Please leave my daughter alone."

Lord Bartow slowly and dramatically turned to face Mr. Jamison. "Ah, but my friend, your daughter has lied. What do we do to females who lie?"

Mr. Jamison's eyes went wide, then narrowed. "My daughter is not a slave, my Lord."

The well dressed man smiled. "And you, perhaps you are lying as well. Where is this new slave girl?"

There was a silence, and Reina winced. Mr. Jamison's silence was tantamount to admitting guilt, why didn't he answer? Her arms moved more tightly around her body. She couldn't go out there, she just couldn't!

Lord Bartow's tone turned serious. "Businesses are based on trust. I cannot have a business relationship with a liar, can I, Mr. Jamison?"

Reina grimaced.

Answer him; tell him you're not lying!

she thought.

Then Mr. Jamison raised his voice. "Slave, if you are in here, show yourself," he shouted.

Reina tensed, unable to believe her ears. He'd not only given her up, he'd called her a slave!

Lord Bartow chuckled. "I thought as much." Then he raised his voice. "Slave girl, show yourself, or I will have to give you 20 lashes for insolence."

Oh god

, thought Reina. She glanced down at herself. How could she show herself in front of that creepy man . . . and in front of Mr. Jamison! But if she tried to hide and they found her? The thought of being whipped terrified her. The man was so creepy he might actually do it. Without more hesitation, she stood up from behind the wooden platform and stepped out. Almost instantly she regretted her decision, as four sets of male eyes moved in unison to look at her. Without thinking, her arms moved to cover her chest and skimpy panties from their gazes.

Lord Bartow made a show of opening his arms to Reina, who was standing there nervously with her arms awkwardly in front of her, trying to hide what her slave shift did a poor job of hiding. "Come over her, slave," he said, waving. "Don't be shy, I won't bite."

Reina hesitated before reluctantly closing the distance between them, blushing as she saw Mr. Jamison staring open mouthed at her. She wanted to look down at herself, to see how indecent she looked, but she didn't dare, and just kept her eyes on the floor in front of her. Reina stopped a little too far from Lord Bartow, too intimidated to move any closer. But he only gestured for her to come closer, and she reluctantly took another step, and another, until she was at arm's length. The tall man smiled down at her before looking at Deba. "And just who is this exotic creature you're trying to hide from me?"

Reina trembled slightly as multiple pairs of male eyes surveyed her thinly covered curves. Her obvious nervousness only made the Lord's grin grow wider, like a wolf that had cornered his prey.

"We weren't hiding her, she was just afraid . . . uh, this is . . . Tania," said Deba, taking a slight step to her right so she was partially between Reina and Lord Bartow. "She's . . . just a new slave rescue, on her way to being returned to her family."

"Is that so?" replied Lord Bartow, his tone slightly mocking. "I've heard it said that Oriental girls are all hot for the collar?" he added, addressing Reina. "Did you self enslave?"

"N-no!" blurted Reina, frowning. "That's not true about us, I would never self enslave!"

"You still wear the collar, little Miss Oriental not hot for the collar," said Lord Bartow, a slightly threatening tone in his voice. "So you will address me as 'Master' until that collar is removed from your pretty little neck. Is that understood?"

"Y-yes! I—I'm sorry, Master!" stammered Reina, not having to feign being intimidated by the tall, handsome Lord who was even more creepy in person than she'd imagined. She was a government official, and part of her wanted to stand up to the man, but standing there half naked and collared, she couldn't find the courage.

"That's better," purred Lord Bartow. "How long have you been a slave, Miss Tania?

Reina paused, trying to think of the safest answer. "Uhh, just a few days, Master," she replied.

"And during those few days, did anyone take your use? Train you? Discipline or abuse you?" said Lord Bartow, who clearly seemed to be enjoying asking his questions.

"Uhh, no Master," said Reina. "I was . . . just kept in a cage."

"Ahh, so based on that experience, you know you don't want to be a slave, eh?" said Lord Bartow. "You know there is more too it than being put in a cage."

Reina nervously shook her head, "No, Master. Uh, yes, uhh, Master, I know that." Where was he going with these questions? Would he see through her? Did she look and act like a slave? It was a struggle for her to call him Master, and perhaps she wasn't very convincing.

"Well now, that's a pity," said Lord Bartow, smiling strangely at Reina. "You see the one thing missing from my extensive harem is an Oriental. I've been looking to add a fine specimen to my harem for several years, but you know, I'm rather a fan of ample breasts, and the few Orientals I've encountered are not so gifted. And then, lo and behold, here is one standing right before my eyes, already a slave. And an even more beautiful one than I could have hoped for. It must be my lucky day." Reina looked at him in alarm, feeling a sense of dread slipping over her. She arm covering her breasts tightened a little, but it only made his grin wider.

"You would live a life of luxury and safety in my harem. It would be so much more exciting than returning to your family. And more stimulating than what you'd get from the village boys back home. Are you sure you're not interested in the job?" he added.

Reina swallowed heavily. The look in his eyes spoke of all the devious things he would do to her if she took the job. "N-no thank you, Master!" she breathed, feeling her heart thumping in her chest. She glanced over to see Mr. Jamison looking intensely at her, and she blushed, quickly looking away. She couldn't believe he was seeing her like this . . . she crossed her legs without thinking, then uncrossed them when she saw Lord Bartow's bodyguards smiling when they noticed her movement.

Deba mustered the courage to take a slide sideways, stepping between the intimidating Lord Bartow and the slightly cowering Reina. "Lord Bartow, with all due respect, she doesn't want to be in your harem; she is returning to her family . . . it's all been arranged, so . . . if you don't mind, I must take her now."

Lord Bartow raised an eyebrow. "Her family is coming down to the docks at this late hour? That's odd."

"Ah, well no . . . tomorrow morning," said Deba, clearly nervous as she took Reina by the arm, trying to guide her past Lord Bartow and his men.

"Well then, there's no harm in the both of you staying and talking for a little while," announced Lord Bartow. "I haven't seen you in two months, I can't let you run out so soon," he added, his tone sounding more like an order than a request. Deba glanced nervously at her father.

"It's alright, Deba," said Mr. Jamison, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Let's . . . not be rude, you can take uh, Tania down in a few minutes."

Reina shot a look at Mr. Jamison.

How could he give in like that? He could order Deba to take her away, and she'd escape this humiliating scene!

"Excellent!" said Lord Bartow before Deba could respond. He gestured for Deba to move out of the way, and she reluctantly complied, stepping aside so that the man had a clear view of Reina. He took a step forward, driving Reina's nervousness to a fever pitch. "I know all about little Miss Deba Jamison. But this lovely creature," he began, reaching up to place his hands on Reina's upper arms, "I wonder what your story is? What did you do before you were enslaved?"

Reina swallowed nervously, tensing at the feel of his strong hands on her arms. She was acutely aware of her vulnerability before the powerful man, with her skimpy slave dress barely hiding her fleshy curves. And she was reminded when he'd grabbed her that her body was still overheated and sensitive from the things the girls had done to her. His closeness and domineering grip on her arms was making her feel strangely lightheaded. The closeness of a disgusting man was usually enough to erase any naughty thoughts from her mind, so why wasn't it working now? She didn't want to be so close to the strange Lord Bartow, she just wanted him to leave her alone. Reina tried to think of a lie, but her anxiety at his closeness left her mind blank. She answered after too long a pause.

"I . . . I was a waitress . . . Master," she said, remembering to address him properly for her station as a slave. It was the only other job she'd ever had.

"A waitress?" said Lord Bartow said, raising an eyebrow. "That's not what I would have guessed. Tavern, inn, eatery?" He asked, looking intensely at her. She'd worked in the Oriental Inn, but somehow she was wary of telling him the truth.

"T-tavern?" lied Reina, unable to think properly.

Why was she always such a terrible liar?

"Are you asking or telling?" the man answered, chuckling. "You know what they say about girls who work in taverns?"

Lord Bartow smiled down at Reina when she didn't shook her head. "Girls work in taverns because they love the feel of men looking at their bodies, and I'm sure your customers stole a few touches as well." He looked knowingly at Reina as her mouth fell open in shock. "Did you tire of men only being able to look, and want more? Do you know how many tavern girls end up self enslaving, to fill that need for more? Well there's no need for that, my Willing Maiden is just the place for you!"

"That's not it, I—" started Reina, but Lord Bartow interrupted her.

"Is this what you wore to the tavern? Your hair down like a slave girl, teasing the men with your voluptuous body, barely concealed? Very curvaceous for an Oriental, I must say. The customers must have loved you."

"Uh, we gave her that slave shift, your Lordship," interjected Deba, glancing at Reina.

Reina nodded. "And I never wear my hair out like this; it's always in a bun!"

"Oh that's not allowed at the Willing Maiden," he said, letting go of her arms so he could wave a finger. "You must wear your hair down and loose as the gods intended. Have you heard of the Willing Maiden? I built it myself. It's quite well known." Reina only recognized the name of the tavern because Sara had mentioned wanting to work there as a free woman.

Reina realized after a moment that he seemed to want a real answer. "I . . . I think Sara back there mentioned wanting to work there . . ." she murmured.

Lord Bartow smiled. "Oh, the busty redhead? Yes, she'll be a popular girl there I'm sure." He stepped back, giving Reina some space, for which she was grateful.

Reina frowned suddenly. "But Sara wants to be free. Are the girls in your tavern slaves?" she said accusingly.

"Oh no," said Lord Bartow, smiling. "The girls are not slaves, and they can make quite a lot of money working for me. However for all that money they must follow my rules. It's the least I can ask of girls privileged enough to work in my tavern," he added. "They call the customers Master, for one. Did you not have this rule at your tavern?"