The Business Of Samantha Ch 03

Samantha was marched by N'Sisi to the villa. It was the first time that she had been to the big house since being put into the orchard. Although she had adjusted to her forced nudity while in the fields, she was embarrassed to parade indoors completely bare while everyone in the house was clothed. She covered herself as best she could with an arm across her breasts and her hand over her sex.

The women working in the kitchens teased her about her lack of garments.

"White slave dressed smart now!"

"Look at posh white bum. Her ladyship giving us treat!"

The bruises across her buttocks from being paddled that morning were clearly visible, which amplified her degradation.

"Dirty girl been naughty, and been give good wallop!" said one of the cooks.

N'Sisi made Samantha stand in the middle of the kitchen.

"Legs wide, hands behind head, push tits out good."

The poor slave girl hesitated for a second, but N'Sisi gave her a whack with the wooden paddle. She quickly displayed herself, and went beet red with humiliation.

The aphrodisiac that had been applied that morning was already arousing her.

"Look at filthy girl's nipples! Bet she been fucking with girls in orchard."

The truth hurt. She'd been cavorting every night, being used by the other slaves. Now that she was in the house, she felt ashamed of her behaviour, but also aroused when she thought about it. The aphrodisiac split her in two mentally and emotionally - her behaviour both mortified and excited her whenever she was reminded of it.

A middle aged black gentleman entered the kitchen. He carried a bundle of paperwork.

"Is this the slave girl that is to be registered?" he asked.

"Yes, rampant field slave need entering on city list," replied the maid.

The clerk walked over to Samantha and began examining her. He checked her stomach and her legs, then patted each buttock sharply.

"Nice and healthy, and tanned all over! She clearly loves to work bare outdoors."

The degraded white girl felt humiliated being spoken to like this. He checked her breasts, her tongue, her ears and finally pushed his finger into her sex. Miss Barrington's eyes bulged!

"Wet as the seven seas!" he laughed.

N'Pana entered the kitchen.

"Is my new slave girl fit and healthy?" she asked.

"Absolutely first class, and very attractive too," said the clerk. "Will it be the usual arrangement for my fee?"

"Yes, of course, my old friend," said Samantha's owner. "Just make sure that you sign her paperwork before you go."

The clerk slapped the white girl's backside, winked, then walked over to the large pantry and opened the door.

As he walked inside, N'Sisi held a cane against Miss Barrington's rear.

"You fuck him good or get fifty stripe. Slave have to show profit, that means keep costs down. That mean you sucky fuck clerk man so we not pay to get you register. Now!"

Samantha feared the punishment, but was frozen to the spot. N'Sisi applied the cane across her bottom harshly, which made the bare slave girl hurry across the kitchen.

Although this felt incredibly shameful, she couldn't cope with another beating on her sore backside. She ran into the pantry to find the clerk waiting for her. He'd removed his clothes and stood there with an erection.

"On your knees and do the necessary," he told her.

Poor Samantha got down and put her lips around his shaft. She'd used her mouth on boyfriends in the past, but being a naked slave, giving fellatio to this middle aged black man was surely as unfair as her miserable life could get?

The clerk was clearly enjoying this, and was holding the back of Miss Barrington's head, pushing it up and down on his shaft. This carried on for several minutes, and made sure that Samantha knew who was in charge, and who was the slave.

"Now get on all fours, there's a good girl," said the clerk, slapping her backside again.

"You're going to give me a good rogering now, are you?" asked the naked white slave, arranging herself for him. She'd worked out that, although she had to watch her Ps and Qs when in the presence of the owners of the house, she could speak a little more freely with other staff as long as she did what she was told.

"Absolutely! N'Pana and I have had this arrangement for years," he said as he positioned himself behind her, gripping her hips firmly.

"I haven't always been a naked field slave, you know...Oooh!" The clerk had entered her quite briskly. The aphrodisiac made sure that she was aroused, so he slid in comfortably. She was wet and he started riding her vigorously.

The clerk grabbed her hair and pulled it back while he fucked her. "Tell me how you ended up running around the orchard in your birthday suit."

The nude slave girl began to tell her tale

******

Samantha Barrington was an extremely effective businesswoman. She gained a First in Business Administration from the University of Warwick, and then started running her own investment consultancy. Although she'd grown up with the best start in life (public school, decent inheritance), she'd been successful without any further help.

She had a nice house in Notting Hill, and drove a Mercedes. Her wardrobe was full of dresses made by Gucci and Vivienne Westwood. Samantha had achieved all of this by 28.

After years devoting herself to her company, she decided it was time to take a holiday. Her PA could handle running things for a month, and she took off on a cruise around Africa and the Middle East.

She bumped into N'Pana on board, who was travelling home to Natawe. They gelled very well, and joined in a lot of the on-board activities and parties together. Both travelled first class, and N'Pana had clearly enjoyed the best education. Samantha tried not to be a snob, but it was delightful to associate with someone who knew which way to pass the port.

Natawe is quite a closed off nation, and so Samantha would always be asking questions about what life was like there. There were apparently certain aspects of their culture that westerners did not approve of, but other governments weren't bothered as long as they could purchase Natawe's plentiful minerals and resources. N'Pana seemed a little evasive as to what these practices were.

"We choose not to live as most western cultures do. Back to the earth, no TV or cars."

"Not even a cooker or a fridge?" exclaimed Miss Barrington.

"It's a healthy way to live. We're not addicted to our phones or laptops" replied N'Pana.

Samantha had to agree that this sounded like a good thing. She knew that Natawe was a very wealthy country, with very few westerners living there since many of the British cleared out in the 1950s. She'd give her eye teeth to make business contacts there.

"Why don't you come and visit?" asked N'Pana. "I could introduce you to some people I know who trade in gold and silver."

She almost bit N'Pana's hand off! What a business opportunity.

"I'd love to!" she replied.

******

As the ship docked at Natawe, and they were about to disembark, N'Pana pulled some paperwork out of her bag.

"I'm so sorry, I should have given this to you sooner. You can't get holiday insurance in Natawe, and these are guardianship papers that I put together. It just means that I'm responsible for you, and if you have any medical illness or accident, you'll be able to use the local hospitals."

"There's a lot here to read," said Samantha. "Maybe I can sign it later?"

"I'm really sorry, but if you're going to come down to the customs building you'll have to have it ready as you arrive."

Samantha didn't know what to do. As it was, this was the only opportunity she'd ever get to visit Natawe, so she broke her rule of reading every contract before signing. She trusted N'Pana after travelling with her for over two weeks, so she got out her pen and signed.

N'Pana quickly took the papers and put them in her bag.

******

They went through customs quickly, and then through passport control. There were no glass and steel departure gates, just a stone building, with most of the locals dressed quite simply. Gosh, this is like going back in a time machine, thought Samantha.

N'Pana handed the papers to the immigration officer.

"I wonder if you could make the necessary arrangements?" she asked him.

She walked through immigration to the departure area.

Samantha was asked to step back. She wondered what was wrong?

"Please come with me," said the officer. They walked around the back to a wooden shed, which was apparently his office.

"You are aware of the importance of the papers that you have signed here?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes, absolutely. N'Pana explained them to me clearly."

Samantha didn't want him to think she was stupid or trying to do something improper. Perhaps she should have read them?

"Please sign this paper to indicate that you understand the documents."

He gave her a pen, and she signed.

The officer signalled to a couple of his assistants, who walked over.

"Take her to the slave trainer's workshop," the officer told them.

They removed her suitcase, grabbed her arms and marched her through the city gates. Samantha was fuming, demanding to know what was going on. Who did they think they were?

Poor girl, thought N'Pana. She doesn't know what's in store for her. On second thoughts, anybody who signs herself over as a slave without reading the paperwork deserves all that they get.

******

The clerk was now laying on his back on the wooden bench in the pantry. Samantha was kneeling astride him, riding his cock with a disgruntled look on her face.

"So that's how your liberty was taken from you? An independent white lady enslaved and made to work without her knickers on!"

Being used like a prostitute by the clerk, while telling him of her fall from grace, was utterly degrading. She noticed that the story of her debasement was making his cock harder. Obviously this was part of the pleasure for him.

"I was taken to K'Taba's slave training establishment to be paddled, caned, smacked, whipped and generally walloped until I was docile," said the naked white slave.

"It seems like he did a good job. You understand your responsibilities and how correction will be applied," said the clerk.

"Is there any way out of this? I'll do anything you want me to if you'll help," begged the unfortunate white girl.

"I really should tell your owner what you've just asked," said the clerk.

Samantha froze!

"Please don't tell my mistress! I can't take another beating..."

"But in this case," he said, "as long as you put some effort in while we're here, I'll let it pass."

Samantha took the hint and rode him even more energetically. She leaned forward and pressed her breasts to his chest as she gyrated her hips. She put on her best smile and tried to look eager as though she was delighting in the clerk using her.

"That's better," he said. "You see, you actually own nothing with which to tempt me. All that you are is owned by N'Pana. What you're doing right now is a case of your owner lending you to me. That's how this works. It's a proven business model where you will earn her money and prestige, or face painful correction."

They changed position. Samantha now leaned across a chair, while the clerk stood behind her, holding her hips tightly as he rode her.

He continued as he slapped her backside.

"N'Pana owns you in perpetuity, and she'll lease you out to whoever will pay, for whatever they wish to do. Her purpose now is to increase your value, and therefore also her profit."

"So I'm just an investment property?" asked Samantha.

"Precisely. That is the purpose of your person now," he answered as he started to thrust more vigorously.

He withdrew, pushed the slave girl to the floor, and rubbed his cock in front of her face. The semen erupted over her mouth, nose, eyes and hair.

"Lick it clean, there's a good girl."

The kneeling white girl used her tongue to lick all of the remaining cum from his cock.

"Those papers you signed also included a Power of Attorney over your property. So there's no point in trying to bribe me. N'Pana is already taking control of your assets and having them transferred to Natawe from the UK."

Samantha felt even more miserable. He'd used her as a whore, her face was covered in his cum, and her entire life had been stolen. Things couldn't possibly get any worse. Could they?

The clerk grabbed her hair, lifting her up and pointing her in the direction of the pantry door.

"My business here is complete," he said, while slapping her backside firmly. "Get back to work."

Samantha hurried off, with the evidence of coitus still dribbling down her face.