The year is 1927. Penelope Latton is a very wealthy heiress who came out of mourning after her guardian died, and decided to embark on a period of sexual adventure. Her friend, and old private school crush, N'Dula visited, and educated her in the finer arts of bondage. Penelope is a willing submissive and exhibitionist, and decided to travel to Natawe, N'Dula's home country, to further her libidinous journey. Slavery still exists in Natawe, an archipelago off the west coast of Africa, and Penelope eagerly consented to be bonded
On a later trip to America, Penelope eventually came under the influence of a new domme, Daisy Buchanan, who took them both back to Natawe to enjoy Penelope's slavery and submission to the full.
Penelope was lent to Queen N'Zana for several weeks, where she met Lady Hermione Charlbury, a member of the British aristocracy who was enslaved while waiting for her ransom to be paid.
They have both now been blackmailed by Lady Cecilia Bibury, and are now under servitude to her. Cecilia tricked them into signing documents that could be used in court, which might result in long prison sentences in England, or slavery for life in Natawe.
She has taken them to England, so that they can be used to further the interests of the Bibury Trading Company.
Currently they are both slaving at Buscott House in their birthday suits.
Daisy has come under the influence of N'Dula, and has consented to slavery. She has been lent to N'Vuna and K'Doma, who run a carpet shop in the market square.
How will Penelope now get out of this mess? Will she ever be free again?
******
Daisy had begged to have the collar placed around her neck, thinking that she could ask for it to be removed at any time. However, her owner had now asserted complete discretion over when (or if) the slave girl would ever again be allowed her freedom.
N'Dula had had Daisy officially leased to N'Vuna and K'Doma, with two covenants:
-Daisy would be compelled to write regularly describing her degradations;
-She would be denied clothing at all times, apart from her slave collar.
This sealed things completely with regard to Natawe's Byzantine laws of slavery for at least the next three months. Daisy might find her predicament demanding, but she would simply have to get through it.
N'Dula opened the letter from Daisy. She had ordered the white slave girl to write every few days, describing how her person was being used at the carpet shop. This was as exciting as pornography, and reinforced to the bare girl her exact place in Natawe society. Putting onto paper her daily humiliation and submission, in the most graphic detail, would make the enslaved American re-live each experience, underlining the fact that she had no control over what would happen to her, or which acts she would be compelled to perform.
******
Dear Mistress N'Dula
Each day that I slave at the carpet shop removes another layer of my dignity and composure. I am sinking faster and faster, and accepting my place. I am now devoted to pleasing those that have title to my person.
This morning N'Vuna took steps to deepen my understanding of my position. The day began with me being ordered to bend forward, in the middle of the market square, and touch my toes while my cruel black taskmistress walloped my backside with the awful carpet beater, which I am obliged to refer to as the Bruiser.
The experience is totally humbling. There are very few slaves compelled to labour in the buff, and I am one of them. I am obliged to count each wallop, and then thank N'Vuna for teaching me my status. The free citizens, and their clothed slaves, gathered round for the exotic view of a white woman being punished in the bare.
After this I was ordered to put my hands behind my back. N'Vuna tied them, wrist to elbow, taking any remaining dignity from me. I was ordered to lie on my back at the front of the shop, where the crowd could clearly see me. My taskmistress pushed my knees wide, and popped a cushion just near my cunny. She kneeled down on it, between my legs, and it was clear that this particular ordeal had only just begun.
"So, slave girl," said N'Vuna. "Whatever should I do now?"
The crowd laughed. I knew I should respond quickly, and to N'Vuna's pleasing, or the Bruiser would be brought out again.
"Please do with me whatever gives you pleasure, Mistress N'Vuna," I replied. I had to enunciate clearly and loudly so that everybody could hear.
"Do you have any suggestions, my naked white American?"
"Perhaps you wish to play with my cunny?" I spoke clearly and loudly, delighting the crowd.
I could hear their comments as they watched my degradation.
"Bare white girl love being used!" said a voice. The crowd laughed.
"Is that what you want, my slave", said my taskmistress.
"Yes," I said, blushing beet red. I knew well the words that she wanted to hear. I knew I had to smile as I spoke. "I beg you to play with my cunny Mistress N'Vuna! Please show the crowd how libidinous your slave is!"
She picked up a jar of the Natawe aphrodisiac and poured some into her cupped hand. She turned her wrist, and the balm was allowed to dribble across my sex. In seconds I started to breath faster and found it difficult to focus my eyes. The fire was lit and I knew nothing other than the need for release.
"I'm not sure what I should do now?" said N'Vuna, in sarcastic act of looking confused. A black slave girl in the crowd giggled.
"Please rub it around my cunny lips, Mistress N'Vuna," I shouted. "I beg you to show the crowd how filthy your white slave can be."
"Well, if you insist," said my taskmistress.
She began to knead my cunny lips and play with my nubbin. I was wet, and could feel her fingers slide around the most private part of my person. My hips wriggled and bucked. I kept my eyes locked on those of N'Vuna. It was important that I looked at the person that owned me, that humiliated me, that was driving me to orgasm in front of a crowd of people in the market square.
"Look at slave!" said a female voice in the crowd, giggling. "She begging to be owned and used!"
"They're all laughing at you, slave girl," said N'Vuna. "Your hips are wriggling with delight at the prospect of being publicly humiliated. What will happen if you don't please?"
"You will apply the Bruiser to your slovenly, bare slave!" I replied, smiling.
"Who owns you!" she spoke, smiling casually.