Warnings: public nudity, sex between adults, judicial punishment, erotic punishment, drug use, medical fetish, language, adult themes, involuntary servitude
Chapter 05 – Eve’s house
Eve’s next concern was to get her new servant back to her house and give her something to eat. She knew that Trish had not yet eaten that day and would be famished, but there was nothing she could do about that for the time being. Collared servants had a lot of restrictions placed on them; one of those being that they could not be seen eating in a public location in the capitol.
Eve stopped an island taxi, which was a strange-looking contraption for anyone who had not been to the Caribbean. It was a small open vehicle that barely fit two passengers, with the driver sitting up front. Instead of four wheels, it only had three. It was called a “rickshaw” and had been made in India.
The driver’s eyes roamed over the servant’s naked body before her mistress ordered her to get in. Eve joined Trish and told the man to drive towards the airport.
The trip was the first opportunity Trish had to see any of Santa Eduviges Island. The rickshaw made its way through the market district and went past blocks of single-story residences. Most of the buildings were made from cinderblocks and had laminated roofs. Mixed in with the houses were small stores and an occasional school.
The majority of the people running around were dressed in loose-fitting white shirts and cargo shorts. Many of the younger women were wearing short dresses made of very light fabric. It was apparent that the only concern of the people on the street was comfort. There was not much worry about modesty, even for the Caribbean. Trish noticed something else; that a lot of the women were wearing gold jewelry. The jewelry, and the lack of bars on the windows of the houses, indicated there must not be much crime on Santa Eduviges.
The rickshaw crossed a small river, passed through several kilometers of palm plantations and banana groves, and finally came up to the airport. Eve ordered the driver to turn left and take the road towards the beach. The rickshaw passed through a small town and crossed a large grove of papaya plants. On the other side of the papaya farm there was a small group of cement houses that were within sight of the ocean. One of those houses belonged to Eve Bousquet.
The house was typical for the houses of Santa Eduviges; a single-story white cinderblock structure with a re-enforced laminated roof, designed to withstand both heat and hurricanes. The property was large enough to support several fruit trees in the back. In the front there was a huge mango tree that shaded part of the house and was shared with a neighbor. In the following weeks Trish would learn to hate that mango tree. One of her duties would be to harvest ripe mangos and make sure all the mangos that had fallen were picked up, cleaned, and bagged for a vendor who came by every couple of days to take fruit to the market.
* * *
Eve struggled to control her excitement. She now had, in her possession, a woman with whom she could do whatever she wanted. She wanted to run her hands all over her servant’s body…to kiss her…to make her follow command after command…to have her face buried between her legs. Yes, her dream had finally been realized, with a woman that she truly wanted. Just looking at Trish excited her, and now she had the American all to herself.
However, Eve forced herself to remember that Trish was more than just a toy. She was a person who was scared, bruised, exhausted, and above everything else, hungry and in need of a bath. It was only fair that her physical needs had to be addressed first. She ordered Trish to wash her hands, then to go into the refrigerator and cut herself some melon. There was a pot of rice with chicken that Eve had prepared in the morning, in anticipation of having a second person in her household to feed that afternoon. Eve ordered Trish to take some, and also a glass of orange juice. Trying to maintain a façade of severity, she ordered her servant to sit on the back porch and have her meal.
Trish devoured her food with trembling hands. It was the first decent meal she had eaten in a week. Once she had finished, she cleaned her plate in the kitchen, and then, not knowing what else to do, knelt in front of her Mistress. The next priority was getting cleaned up. Eve ordered Trish to go into the bathroom, brush her teeth, and start a bath. Trish did as she was told.
As the water was running, she looked at herself in the mirror, for the first time seeing herself as a slave instead of an heiress. Her hair was tangled and her face was gaunt, reflecting four days spent in a dark cell and not having enough to eat. Her eyes were both tired and frightened. Her chest had been written on with a large “#4”, the last name “Bousquet”, “sold”, and her sale price “3,500 Fl”, with a large black marker. She cringed with humiliation at the thought that several hundred people had seen her walking around, not just cuffed and naked, but with her auction information scrawled all over her chest, as though she were a walking receipt. No wonder everyone was staring at her. She had become nothing more than recently purchased property, and that was how an entire city saw her.
Above everything else was the collar. It was made from hardened steel and had a ring in the front. She ran her fingers along the grooves and the latch. She took a deep breath. That thing really was permanent. There was no way she’d be able to get it off. It would be part her identity for the rest of her life.
The servant tried to be thorough getting cleaned up, especially in her effort to get all that writing scrubbed off her chest. However, she knew better than to dawdle too long in the bathroom. Her Mistress was waiting.
Eve’s next priority was limiting the possibility Trish might try to escape. She had to go to work five days out of the week, which meant that her servant would be alone for hours at a time; plenty of opportunity for her to do something stupid and get in trouble. The way to handle that was very simple; introduce Trish around the neighborhood, make sure everyone knew to whom she belonged, and ask the neighbors to keep an eye on her when her owner was at work.
Trish was totally exhausted, but felt much better after having eaten and getting cleaned up. She dutifully followed her owner around the cluster of houses. Trish learned that her Mistress was on very good terms with most of the neighbors. At some of her friends’ houses Eve did not even bother to knock, but instead walked around the house to the back of the property and called out the neighbor’s name. At each stop Trish had to go to her knees and remain silent while her Mistress casually bragged about her new purchase. All of the neighbors congratulated her, in the same way they would have congratulated her on getting a good deal on a fancy car.
Almost all of Eve’s female neighbors were doing chores on their back porches. On Santa Eduviges the back porch of a house was actually a work area for both laundry and cooking. Ovens and stoves were almost always kept outdoors to prevent them from heating the inside of the house. Washing machines were not yet common on the island, so most clothing had to be washed in a large specially designed sink. Therefore, between cooking and laundry, women spent their days on their porches instead of inside their houses.
Trish was surprised that most of the women working on their porches were topless, wearing nothing but an apron, or completely naked. Since gaining independence, the citizens of Santa Eduviges always had been more accepting of nudity than most other islands. The recent flood of tourists visiting from the European country of Danubia and their demand for nude beaches reinforced the island’s relaxed ideas about modesty and wearing only what was necessary. Seeing the female neighbors in various states of undress on their back porches helped put Trish at ease about her own situation, slightly.
The most difficult stop was at a house where a group of teenaged boys were drinking beer and half-heartedly attempting to fix an outboard motor for a family fishing boat. Upon seeing Officer Bousquet, they hid their beer and played innocent. However, Eve was not worried about their drinking at the moment: she simply was passing through to introduce her new servant. There were nine teenagers, and nine sets of eyes were glued to the servant’s body the entire time Eve conversed with them to give them plenty of time to look over Trish. With all those teenagers leering at her, it was very hard for the American to keep her hands at her sides and not try to cover herself. Then, against her wishes, she began to feel a hint of sexual excitement, being totally exposed in front of all those boys. The excitement embarrassed her further.
It was late afternoon by the time Eve and Trish had made their rounds through the neighborhood. The purpose of taking Trish around and introducing her to everyone was very clear: “This is my new servant. Please help me by keeping an eye on her when I’m not around, and if she does anything that she’s not supposed to do, let me know right away.” Trish understood, with all of the neighbors knowing who she was and watching her, there was not a chance she could leave the area without someone noticing. She might as well have been locked up in a high-security prison.
At sunset they returned to Eve’s house. The policewoman ordered Trish to cut herself another piece of melon and finish off the rice. Once again, Trish had to eat sitting on the steps of Eve’s back porch. That would be where she would have to eat all of her meals, since servants were not allowed to eat sitting normally at a table.
Following dinner, Eve ordered Trish to follow her to the house next door. The neighbors were an older couple whose children had graduated and moved out. They invited the policewoman and her servant inside and told Eve to take a seat in an armchair. Eve ordered her servant to kneel next to her, facing forward.
The neighbors offered a glass of rum to their guest. Trish had to settle for a glass of water. She looked longingly at the rum, having been a heavy drinker in her party scene up to the week before. She suspected, quite correctly, that as a servant she’d never be allowed to touch alcohol again.
Eve and the neighbors spent a long time conversing about the neighborhood’s problems, politics in the capitol, and a local girl who had recently married a Danubian contractor and emigrated from the Island. Finally the conversation shifted to Trish. Eve talked about the arrest, her decision to buy the prisoner, and the government discounts she got from the judge. (She did not mention the extra 1,000 Florins he lent her.) Like everyone else, the neighbors congratulated Eve on her purchase and outsmarting her rival at the auction. Eve then got to the point of her visit. She would make Trish available to pick mangos on the neighbor’s side of the property in exchange for her being taught how to perform household chores. As Eve put it:
“This girl hasn’t done a lick of work in her entire life. I’d imagine she doesn’t know one end of a mop from the other or what laundry detergent looks like.”
Trish knelt silently, embarrassed by her owner’s accurate assessment. She looked longingly at the bottle of rum, badly wishing she could have a glass…just one glass. She dreaded the prospect of having to spend her days picking mangos and doing household chores.
However, there was something else that made her uneasy as she remained on her knees and tried to stay on her best behavior. Eve was running her fingers through her hair and caressing her shoulder, in an absent-minded manner similar to the way a person would touch a large dog lying next to their chair. As Trish felt her Mistress’s fingers exploring her scalp and stroking her skin, she suspected the real reason Eve had wanted to buy her. . The visit to the neighbor’s house concluded with the wife saying:
“Don’t worry about a thing, Eve. I’ll keep your girl plenty busy and teach her what she needs to know. She’ll be such a good housekeeper; she’ll put the hotels to shame.”
“Thanks. And if she gives you any trouble, just let me know and I’ll deal with her when I get home.”
* * *
Eve ordered Trish to accompany her back to her house. The servant was very worried, wondering what was going to happen next. However, Eve was not sure how to proceed with her plan to turn Trish into her submissive lover. She simply could have ordered Trish to do whatever she wanted, in the same way that she would be ordering her to do housework and pick fruit. However, when it came to sex, Eve wanted more than just to boss Trish around. She wanted to dominate Trish by seducing her. She wanted to control not only the actions of her servant, but also her body and her emotions. Trish would not be truly under her control if she were angry or resentful at having to be Eve’s sexual slave. The hope what that, at some point, Trish would want to be Eve’s sexual slave; that she would willingly submit to whatever Eve wanted from her. That was Eve’s ultimate ambition.
Since Trish was dead tired and Eve was not sure how to proceed with her ambitions, she simply decided to put her servant to bed. Anyhow, Trish had been through a hellish day, following four nights with almost no sleep. More than anything else she needed to rest.
The custom on the Island was that a collared servant was not allowed to sleep in a normal bed. However, Eve did not want her sleeping on the floor either. The compromise was a military army cot with a foam mattress and a sheet over the top. Trish would sleep on the cot, but would not be allowed to cover herself.
Eve ordered Trish to unfold the cot and told her how to set it up. For several minutes the servant struggled with her task, but finally figured it out. It was the first time in her life that she had set something up on her own. When she finished, she got on her knees and Eve caressed her face. Once again, she worried about what that meant, but being caressed was a lot better than being whipped.
A few minutes later Trish was asleep. The cot was not something she would have thought about sleeping on a week ago, but after four days spent lying on a dirty cement floor, it felt wonderful.
Eve undressed for the night. She returned to the living room to make sure her servant had gone to sleep and would not try to escape. Trish was totally out. Good thing Eve had decided to wait on sex, because it was not likely the American would have been very responsive given how tired she was. When the moment came to seduce her, she would have to be rested.
The living room where her servant was sleeping was dimly lit, but there was enough light for her to have a good look at the American’s uncovered body. Eve’s eyes captured every detail …thinking how pretty and sexy Trish really was. She refrained from running her hands over the girl’s smooth skin.
She is so lovely… and so tempting. Seeing her naked servant made Eve give up on her plans for a slow seduction. She knew that she wouldn’t have the patience. No.
Tomorrow’s the day. I’m not going to wait any longer. I’ve waited all my life for this, and I’m not waiting any longer. Tomorrow’s when I’ll make her truly mine.
Chapter 06 – Slave routine.
Officer Eve Bousquet woke up just before sunrise. Trish was still asleep. That morning was the very last time she would have the luxury of sleeping while her Mistress was awake. Starting on Friday, she’d have to wake up and have her owner’s breakfast ready and her uniform cleaned and pressed. However, there was no point of her getting up early until she had been trained, something that would be taken care of over the next several days.
Eve would be responsible for most of her servant’s training, with a single important exception. She felt that it would be better if someone else taught Trish how to do the daily chores; that it would be preferable to for a third person to teach the American what she needed to do around the house. Eve’s next door neighbor was the perfect candidate for that task: a strict older woman who was an immaculate housekeeper.
Eve got dressed and entered the living room. Already the sun was up, with the promise that the day, as always, would be infernally hot. The police officer clapped her hands, startling her still-sleeping ward. Trish was disoriented, but immediately rolled off her cot and got on her knees. She was very nervous, because so far, seeing her Mistress in uniform always had meant something unpleasant or painful was about to happen.
“Good morning, Servant Trish!”
“Good morning, Mistress Bousquet.”
“Today is training day for you. You’re going to do something you’ve never done in your life: work. As I’d imagine you realized last night, I’m leaving you in the hands of my neighbor, who’ll be teaching you what you need to know. When you’re with her, you will show her the same respect you’d show me. When you’re with her, you will kneel, just like you would with me, and refer to her as Mistress Flora. Her husband’s name is Pierre, and he is to be called Master Pierre. Do you understand?
“Yes, Mistress Bousquet”
“Good girl. Now, remember. Mistress Flora and Master Pierre are very good friends of mine. I’ve known them since I was a teenager. Mistress Flora was one of my teachers in school. She helped me get settled after my divorce. She means a lot to me, and you’d better never forget that. Simple and easy for both of us. Yes?”
“Yes, Mistress Bousquet.”
Eve was ready to take Trish over to the neighbor’s house, but there was something she had to do with her servant first. She knew that the seduction would have to wait until the evening at the earliest. However, the temptation of having that lovely body within her reach for the past day was overwhelming. She needed to at least touch her. In a commanding cop’s voice Eve ordered Trish to put her hands against the wall and spread her feet. The servant’s knees trembled as she obeyed.
Eve took a few moments to admire Trish as she stood in that submissive position, a position that anyone ever arrested is familiar with. The officer noted the American’s exposed bottom. The whip marks from the interrogation had faded to faint bruises. The girl had a bikini line from a thong she liked to wear at her pool in Baton Rouge. The tan-line was fading as well. The pale line across her waist probably would be gone by the end of the day, given that she would be working outside for several hours.
Eve did not want any distractions for that evening, including sunburn. She dabbed some sunscreen on her servant’s shoulders, using that as an excuse to massage the girl’s back. She wiped off her hands before massaging her ward’s stomach to make sure it was not swollen. Of course, she also had to make sure the bruises on Trish’s bottom were healing, so she sensuously ran her hands over the American’s trembling backside. Her heart raced as she finally touched and explored that lovely bottom that had so tempted her.
“You have healed nicely. I hope I won’t have to punish you again, because you really do have a lovely bum.”
Eve order Trish to turn around and stared into her eyes. She pinched the servant’s chin with her thumb and forefinger.
“You will be on your best behavior today. Don’t disappoint me. Simple and easy for both of us. Yes?”
Trish, her eyes wide with fear and her knees trembling, managed to get out:
“Yes, Mistress Bousquet.”
Eve led her servant next door to the neighbor’s house. To her dismay, Trish saw the older woman holding a freshly cut switch. She later learned that, when she was still working, the switch had been an important part of Mistress Flora’s teaching. All of her students, including Eve, had felt the switch on their bare bottoms at some point during the school year.
The retiree tapped her neighbor’s new servant with the switch and ordered her to follow her into the house. She spent several hours teaching her how to do various household chores. In spite of the implied threat from the switch in her hand, Trish had to admit that Flora was fair as an instructor. She was good at explaining tasks and showing through example what a servant needed to do. She made sure Trish completely understood how to perform a chore before moving on to something else. She did not take it for granted that what she was teaching was easy for someone who had never done any housework.
The next thing Flora wanted to teach the younger woman was how to pick fruit and harvest mangos. For the rest of the morning Trish wandered around both yards picking up mangos, sorting the good ones from the damaged ones, cleaning them, and boxing them for the local fruit vendor. When all the mangos were picked up from the ground Flora handed Trish a pole with a basket and a hook for pulling ripe mangos from the upper branches. Trish got up on a ladder to pick fruit from the lower branches, and used the pole to get mangos from the higher branches. She spent several hours collecting fruit, but she only harvested a small fraction of what was on that tree.
Several neighborhood boys showed up and watched her as she moved about the yard with her harvesting pole. The boys didn’t say anything rude, but being forced to work in the nude in front of an audience was totally humiliating. Flora was not sympathetic to the servant’s plight: she ordered her to carry boxes of mangos to the front of the property and stack them on the sidewalk, right where her spectators were standing. By then, one of the boys had brought a digital camera and started taking pictures of her. Trish glanced at Flora, silently pleading to either be let off or for her to chase off the boys. Flora responded by flexing her switch. Tears welled up in the naked servant’s eyes as she silently continued working and the camera continued to click.
When noon came around, Trish was weak from hunger. Flora called her onto the back porch and told her how to boil rice with vegetables and cut up fruit for salads and juice. After serving the two older people, she sat on the back steps and ate her portion of the lunch. Then she had to clean up, not only after herself, but also after Flora and Pierre. It was the first time in her life she ever had to clean up after someone else’s meal.
By mid-afternoon Trish was exhausted, but Flora was not about to let her rest. She ordered the servant to return to her Mistress’s house and supervised her as she cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom. She then had to finish both rooms by getting on her hands and knees and scrubbing the floor. As she was working, Flora gently tapped her vulnerable backside with the switch.
“This position suits you. You look really good, naked on your hands and knees. It’s where you belong.”
Trish knew that Flora was taunting her, but with a switch rubbing her exposed bottom, she dared not react. She forced herself to reply “Yes, Mistress Flora” and continued working.
Finally, Trish had to go into Eve’s bedroom, where Flora taught her how to make the bed. The retiree commented:
“There’s a lot more you’ll have to learn, but we got off to a good start. I’d imagine you don’t know anything about laundry.”
“No, Mistress Flora.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll fix that the next time your Mistress sends you over.”
“Yes, Mistress Flora.”
“Very well, young lady. Time for you to get cleaned up. Your Mistress will be home in a few minutes and you need to make yourself presentable for her.”
Yes, Trish did need to get cleaned up. She had spent an entire day working and sweating in the tropical heat. Her muscles ached from fatigue and her back hurt from picking up and carrying all those mangos. A cold bath and several glasses of water made her feel a lot better.
Trish was on her knees in the living room when her Mistress returned to the house. Flora was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper. Eve warmly greeted her former teacher. She walked up to the servant and put out her hand. Because the palm of Eve’s hand was facing down instead of up, Trish understood that she was not offering to help her get up, but instead was holding out her hand so she could kiss it. Yet another sign of submission and humiliation, but Trish complied, knowing that she’d face the whip if she didn’t.
The policewoman took a seat in an armchair. As was the custom for servants, Trish knelt by her side. Once again, Eve ran her fingers through her hair and caressed her shoulders. The two Islanders discussed the servant’s performance during the day and her progress learning her new duties.
“She knows how clean the kitchen and bathroom. Your bathroom and kitchen are now clean, a lot cleaner than you left them this morning. Eve…I really don’t know how you could leave your house in such condition. If you weren’t an adult and wearing that uniform, I’d take this switch to that black bum of yours.”
Eve blushed, but forced herself to smile.
“Anyhow, your servant knows how to prepare fruit, make a salad, make juice, and boil rice. She made your bed, which, dear girl, you didn’t. She still doesn’t know anything about laundry. I figured we’d take care of that the next time you send her over. She picked mangos and took them out for the vendor. Here’s your share…” Flora handed Eve two Florins.
“Anyhow, I think you made a good purchase. You’re right that this girl doesn’t know anything, but she learns quickly.”
Flora stood up. “Dinnertime. Come along, love.”
The three women returned to Flora’s house, where she had dinner waiting. The older woman already had the table set… for three people, not four. As always, the servant would have to eat sitting on the steps of the back porch. Trish served her Mistress and the older couple with plates of spicy rice mixed with fish and corn; then poured rum into three glasses. Flora noticed Trish looking at the bottle. To keep her out of trouble, she ordered her to leave it on the table.
Trish took the remaining rice and sat on the steps. She ate out of the pan, figuring there was no point in dirtying yet another plate that she’d have to wash.
Rice… rice… it looked like every meal the Islanders ate consisted of rice. Fuck. That was going to get real old, real fast. House work… mango picking… constantly being stared at by every boy and teenager in the neighbor hood… sweating in this horrible he at… her entire life was going to get real old, real fast.
Was there any chance she could get away? Trish pondered her options. She quickly realized that physical escape was impossible. The neighborhood was watching her. Even if she managed to get out of the neighborhood, the collar marked her as a slave. If she managed to steal some clothing and get dressed it would be very clear she was a runaway. She had no money and no way of getting any. Even if she could get to the beach and steal a boat, that wouldn’t do her any good. She knew nothing about navigation or operating an outboard motor. Even if she did know how to operate a boat, Santa Eduviges was out in the middle of nowhere, halfway between Panama and Jamaica with no other islands close by. No outboard motor could make it that far.
Her only hope was trying to get on the Internet and tell someone where she was. She’d have to be careful that her aunt Beatrice didn’t find out about her plight. OK…so…who would she contact? Her friends? No… probably not. They were a bunch of drug-addled flakes. Her boyfriend? Maybe. Why just maybe? Trish wasn’t sure about that, but doubt rose up in her mind… perhaps contacting her boyfriend wasn’t such a hot idea. She had gone out with him because he was exciting and presented her with a challenge, not because he was dependable. Then she realized something. She didn’t love him and he didn’t love her. There was no commitment, just “fun”.
For the first time, Trish understood something about her life that was truly frightening. She had a large social circle, but out of all those athletes and partiers, there was not a single person whom she could rely on in a crisis. She couldn’t figure out who to contact, because none of her “friends” was worth contacting.
The only person left was her financial manager. The problem was… she didn’t know his e-mail because she was used to talking to him on the phone. She’d have to try to call him, but there was no way she dared try to call from either Eve’s house or Flora’s house. She’d have to find a public phone somewhere else. But then, she would need to sneak away for a few minutes and figure out how not to be caught. That brought her back to the problem of the neighborhood watching her every move. Also, she’d need money to make an international call. She wouldn’t be able to hide any money, even if she could get some, because she was naked and had nowhere to conceal anything.
Trish felt sick. She had gone over her options for escaping, and realized she had no options at all. She finished her rice and returned to the dining room to clear the table.
* * *
A few minutes later, Eve led her exhausted servant back to her house. Her heart was pounding, because finally she was going to fulfill her sexual fantasies, satisfy the real reason she had spent her entire savings to purchase the prisoner. She started by ordering Trish to fill the bathtub. Once the tub was full, Eve ordered her servant to undress her. With shaking hands, Trish obeyed, slowly taking off her owner’s police uniform, and finally her underwear. She noted Eve’s muscular arms and thighs and her firm stomach. In spite of her constant exercising and police training, Eve had a very feminine body, with large breasts and an ample curvy bottom. Trish had to admit her owner was very attractive when she was out of uniform.
Eve got into the bathtub and ordered Trish to shampoo her hair. She then stood up and instructed her servant to rub soap all over her. For the first time, Eve felt the hands of another woman on her skin. Oh…it felt so good. Finally she sat down and ordered the servant to massage her shoulders and arms.
“I’m going to need to get a massage manual and have you study it. Massages are going to be part of our nightly routine.”
“Yes, Mistress Bousquet.”
When Eve got out of the bathtub, Trish could tell she was aroused. Her eyes were wide with desire and her dark nipples were hard. Eve ordered her servant to go into the bedroom and place her hands against the wall with her feet spread. She was told to arch her back so her bottom would stick out. Eve spent a long time running her hands along Trish’s body. She reached in front to fondle her breasts and sensuously caressed her thighs. However, Eve was most interested in her servant’s “bum”. She massaged and rubbed the girl’s trembling backside, and traced between her bottom-cheeks. She squatted and kissed Trish’s bottom.
Eve ordered her servant to get on her elbows and knees on the bed. Trish complied and followed her Mistress’s command to spread her knees and arch her back, so her bottom-hole and vulva were fully exposed. Eve gently ran her fingertips over the tightly spread bottom-cheeks before tracing the girl’s exposed anus and pussy. She massaged her slave’s buttocks, enjoying the feel of her skin and muscles against her fingers.
Abruptly she made Trish lie on her back. She grabbed the servant’s wrists and pinned them to the mattress. She knew that she was a lot stronger than her ward and could do with her as she pleased. That thought totally excited her. She looked into the American’s terrified eyes.
“You are mine, Servant Trish. I want to hear it. You belong to me. You are mine. Say it.”
“I… I am… yours, Mistress Bousquet. I belong to you.”
“I am your purpose in life. Say it.”
“You are my purpose in life, Mistress Bousquet.”
Eve said nothing more. She ran her hands over Trish’s stomach and explored her hairless pussy with her fingertips. There was something totally exciting about that detail of her servant; that her crotch was totally stripped and totally exposed. The American’s bald vulva made her look younger and very vulnerable. The skin was so smooth. Eve was totally fascinated and totally aroused. She licked the servant’s nipples for a few seconds, noting with satisfaction that the holes from the rings were already starting to close. She turned her attention to Trish’s hairless vulva and kissed her smooth skin.
Eve lay on her back and spread her legs.
“Servant Trish. Look at me. Take a good look at my body. Touch me.”
Trish took a deep breath and followed her Mistress’s instructions. In spite of her terror and the fact she had never been with another woman, a hint of arousal welled up in her. Out of curiosity, she touched one of Eve’s large firm breasts. Eve grabbed her hand and pulled her servant’s face close to her own.
“Put your face between my legs, Servant Trish. Kiss my thighs. Take a good look at me. Learn every detail of my pussy. Then you will bring me to orgasm. Do whatever you need to do, but make sure I climax.”
Reluctantly, Trish obeyed. For the next several minutes, her life would have a single purpose: bringing her Mistress to orgasm. She didn’t know what to expect. Fortunately in her own past several boyfriends had performed oral sex on her, so she knew what excited her. Not knowing what else to do, she’d use those experiences to guide her with Eve.
Trish started by running her fingers through her owner’s pubic hair. She massaged the insides of her legs and played with her labia. Eve responded, groaning and shifting around. So far, so good. The servant pushed aside her fear of sticking her face into another woman’s pussy. She kissed and licked the insides of Eve’s thighs before moving her tongue onto her owner’s clit. She gently licked and teased. Eve immediately climaxed…moaning with total pleasure. Trish continued licking, before remembering that she also liked having guy’s tongues pushed into her vagina. She tried it with Eve, wincing at the salty, musky, gooey liquid coming out of the woman’s pussy. Eve grabbed her by the hair and moaned again. It seemed a very long time passed before she calmed down. Trish’s tongue was tired and her lips were sore by the time her Mistress finished climaxing.
Eve felt wonderful. For the first time in her life, another person had given her an orgasm. Finally…finally it had happened. She had enjoyed a real orgasm with a lover. She told her servant to rinse off her face and to get back in bed with her.
Trish rinsed out her mouth, desperate to rid herself of the taste of orgasm. She washed all that sticky liquid off her cheeks. She was disgusted, but she knew that she’d better get used to it. She understood that Eve had bought her, not to do housework, but for sex. Regardless of whether or not she found it disgusting, she’d have to perform the same task every night.
Trish got back in bed with her Mistress. Eve was satisfied for the moment, but she wanted to take a better look at her servant’s body; to see up close what exactly she had purchased the day before. She carefully studied and touched every part of Trish. No detail escaped her notice. She started with her ward’s face, tracing her eyebrows and lips, and looking carefully into her mouth and eyes. She noted small imperfections such as the occasional freckle and the small scars left over from her various piercings. She moved to her servant’s chest and arms before ordering Trish to spread her legs so she could get a good look at her pussy. She inserted her finger, noting that it went in very easily.
“How many lovers have you had, Servant Trish?”
“I think… I think I’ve had around 45, Mistress Bousquet.”
“45? And you’re only 24. Why so many?”
That was a complicated question. Why did Trish have so many lovers? The only thing she could guess was that life had given her so many options, she easily got bored. After a short time with each partner she was ready to move on and try something different. Her lovers were exactly the same as far as relationships were concerned: they were not the sort to commit. Most of the men she had slept with had been college athletes; rough uncouth types, many with criminal records. The seamy underworld fascinated a spoiled girl like Trish, who had come from a safe environment and was always on the lookout for excitement and danger. Her current boyfriend, besides being a linebacker, was also a drug dealer on campus. Trish’s fascination with drug dealers and their lifestyle was what had landed her into her current predicament.
Trish tried to answer as honestly as she could, partly to make sense for herself why she had been with so many men and why it was always the same type of man.
When Trish finished with her explanation, Eve responded:
“I’ve only been with one man, my ex-husband. He was the only one. I wish I could have stayed with him, but I couldn’t. I’m sure you realize why.”
“Yes, Mistress Bousquet.”
Eve pulled Trish over her lap. She spent a long time exploring her servant’s bottom with both her eyes and her hands. At some point, she wanted to give her servant a long hard spanking, which she’d do as soon as she messed up. As she rubbed and fondled the American’s pale bottom-cheeks, Eve thought about how much she was looking forward to that day. She’d be fair about it, however. The spanking would have to wait until she had a legitimate reason to punish her ward.
Chapter 07 – The Island
The following day, Friday, was uneventful. It was typical for any day her Mistress had to work: Trish got up and served breakfast, then went next door and spent the day picking mangos and other fruit from the two yards. She learned how to cook a couple of new food items and how to wash clothes by hand. She served dinner at Flora’s house and cleaned up. Finally she bathed her Mistress, got in bed with her, and fulfilled her most important duty by bringing her to orgasm.
The following morning Trish began her routine for the third day. As she waited for the water to boil, she decided to sneak a look at Eve’s computer. It was an old clunky desktop that had been given away as surplus by the police department. The CPU had a small door. When Trish opened it, she was deeply disappointed to discover the hard drive was missing. The CPU was designed for law-enforcement and had removable drives. Trish looked around the desk and noted a small safe sitting on the floor. Fuck. Undoubtedly, because she was a cop, Eve knew all about securing computer equipment so no one else could use it.
Trish did not notice that her Mistress had woken up and was quietly watching her from the hallway. Eve slipped back to her room and got dressed. She was tempted to confront her ward about looking at the computer, but decided to keep that discovery to herself. It was an important piece of information: that Trish wanted to access a computer, probably to get on the Internet. So, it turned out that she was not totally resigned to spending the rest of her life on Santa Eduviges as Eve’s slave.
Eve knew, even more than her servant; that it would be impossible to escape and get off the Island on her own. However, she was not sure who might be able to assist Trish from the United States or some other country. The main concern was the possibility that she would contact someone in Baton Rouge and, through her financial manager, somehow arrange a way to extract herself from Santa Eduviges. Admittedly, that was a long shot given the island did not have diplomatic relations with the US, but Eve needed to eliminate that possibility altogether.
The Mistress got up for a second time and ate breakfast. She could tell Trish was a bit nervous. After eating, she decided to send her servant next door so she could get online in private.
She researched the Bousquet family of Baton Rouge to learn more about the rift between Trish and her cousins, trying to figure out how she could turn that to her advantage. First, she learned that the elder Bousquets were killed in a private plane crash when Trish was 18. Through reading her Facebook comments, Eve could tell that Trish was not particularly upset by their deaths: she had grown up in European boarding schools and saw very little of her parents during her teenaged years.
Eve then researched the rival branch of the Bousquet family, a sister of Trish’s father called Beatrice Bousquet-Davis who had been cut out of a will by her grandfather. Trish’s father had partly reconciled with his sister before he died, to the point that in his will he had stated that if anything happened to Trish, she and the cousins would be granted control of the family fortune.
The will also stipulated that Beatrice Bousquet-Davis would have some say in spending the family fortune and that the financial manager had to consult with her. However, that part of the will had been ignored by Trish and the manager. Eve suspected that the manager might be taking advantage of Trish’s spendthrift lifestyle to help himself to some of her money. Looking through the court documents of the lawsuit filed by Beatrice, it seemed that the legal dispute was very bitter. The judge ruled against the aunt and cousins, but in his comments he expressed reservations about the ruling.
There was no way Eve would contact the financial manager. However, Beatrice was a different matter. She figured that the disinherited side of the family would be more than happy to learn that Trish was serving a life sentence on an island that had no diplomatic relations with the US. She decided to e-mail Beatrice and tell her what had happened to her niece. She got a response within five minutes, with a phone number and a request that Eve call her and reverse the charges.
Sure enough, Beatrice was elated over Eve’s message and pressed her for more details. Eve responded by hanging up and e-mailing a copy of the arrest report, the prisoner’s travel itinerary from Panama, and pictures of the cocaine pellets. Then the officer got back on the phone. The aunt was beside herself with joy. Eve advised Beatrice to talk to her own attorney before saying anything to anyone else. The response was:
“Of course, Officer Bousquet. I’m not telling that shyster manager of hers a damn thing. He’ll find out soon enough.”
After expressing profuse gratitude, Beatrice finally asked where her niece was now. Eve responded by telling a portion of the truth, that under the laws of the Island, Trish was a prisoner and that she had been awarded custody.
The conversation concluded with Eve commenting that the next-of-kin needed to be notified of the arrest and conviction, given that there was no US Embassy to handle the matter. She would send an official e-mail that the aunt could use as legal documentation that the officer had fulfilled that obligation. And that was the truth. Beatrice and the cousins were Trish Bousquet’s next-of-kin.
After hanging up, Eve drafted a standard note that, under the laws of Santa Eduviges, served as official notification for the next-of-kin documenting the arrest and conviction of a criminal. She sent that off and got a grateful response.
From what she knew of the family dispute and US law, Eve figured that Beatrice would return to court with the notification letter and arrest documents to request being granted Power-of-Attorney over the Bousquet estate. Since Trish was in no position to make any financial decisions, it would be logical to award control of her finances to the next of kin. It looked like Beatrice had every intention of moving as fast as possible with the request and that she would face a sympathetic judge.
Now the family dispute was taken care of. Hopefully within a few weeks Eve would get notice that Beatrice Bousquet-Davis had seized control of the Bousquet fortune. When that happened, the possibility Eve’s servant could access her money to extract herself from Santa Eduviges would vanish. So… whenever Trish did manage to sneak onto the Internet, she would be confronted with a very nasty surprise.
* * *
Resolving Trish’s family affairs filled up the entire morning. Eve originally had planned to take her ward to the nearby town to the weekly farmer’s market. However, she knew there no longer was any point going there, because the best food already would be sold. Instead, she decided to take her servant directly to the capital so she could be issued a Santa Eduviges ID card and officially registered as her property.
The two women took a rickshaw to the capital, retracing the route they had traveled Wednesday afternoon following the auction. They returned to the government district and entered the registry office. To the servant’s dismay, the place was packed with Islanders waiting to obtain birth certificates and ID cards. Trish was the only naked person in the room. It seemed everyone was staring at her. Eve walked around, asking several questions, with Trish trailing behind. Finally the policewoman took a number. She leaned against a table, reading through Trish’s records and filling out several forms. Trish knelt beside her. She stared straight ahead and tried to detach herself from where she was and what she was experiencing.
The wait lasted more than two hours. Finally one of the clerks called out the number that corresponded with Eve’s ticket. She tapped her servant on the shoulder and approached the clerk, who was a young man. Like every other young man on that damn island, it seemed he couldn’t keep his eyes off Trish’s exposed body. Eve ordered her stand up so he could get a better look at her.
The clerk explained that Trish would be issued a national ID card specifically for servants. She would receive a registration number, just like any Islander or naturalized citizen. The registration meant she automatically would become a citizen of Santa Eduviges, although a citizen without any rights. He ordered Trish to stand in front of a cloth backdrop and took a picture of her unhappy face. For the public record, he also had to take some full body shots: from the front, from the back, and from both sides. Trish knelt while Eve handed over some paperwork and waited for the ID to be printed. When it was ready, Eve put the card in her purse without giving her servant a chance to see it.
By the time the two women left the registration office, it was mid-afternoon. The open air markets were closing, but the regular markets still were open, which meant there was still opportunity to shop and stock up for the week. The neighborhood where Eve and Flora lived had plenty of fruit, vegetables, chickens, and pigs. However to buy rice, beans, coffee, or spices as a reasonable price it was necessary to go elsewhere. It seemed Eve wanted to visit every market in the downtown area of the capitol to see where she could get the best prices. Trish had to carry the market bags, which got heavier and heavier as the trek through the city progressed.
Along with the stops to buy food, Eve also wanted to go into several bookstores. She remembered that she wanted Trish to learn how to give massages. She showed several books to her servant, asking her which one was the best for her to figure out what she needed to do. Trish picked the book she thought would be the easiest to understand and follow. Eve picked up a second book about erotic partner massage and handed two Florins to her servant. Trish had to stand in line at the cash register and pay for the two books. She got a very strange look from the store clerks when she showed them what she was buying.
Within a couple of hours Trish had been forced to walk through the entire downtown area of the capital. Altogether she must have followed her Mistress into 20 stores. She cringed at the thought that several thousand people had seen her running around totally naked and with a collar around her neck. She knew the foray into the crowded city was only the first out of many such trips. As a servant, she would have to show herself to the world: she did not have the right to any modesty.
Before returning home, Eve decided to visit the central police station and chat with some co-workers. She wanted to find out the following week’s duty roster, but she also wanted to show off Trish and brag about her, in the same way she’d show off a new car or some other expensive possession. As the other cops looked her over, they were impressed, especially after learning that Eve had paid only 3,500 Florins at the auction. One cop commented that a similar prisoner had been sold the previous year for 4,500 Florins.
“I really wanted her, but I couldn’t bid above 4,000. A colonel got her instead.”
Some of the men commented on Trish’s lack of pubic hair. Eve ordered her servant to describe, in detail, the depilation treatments she had received in the US. She had to raise her arms to show that she had the hair in her armpits removed as well.
One of the policemen brought a camera and asked to take some pictures of Officer Bousquet’s new purchase. Eve responded “of course”. So, for the next several minutes, Trish posed for a bunch of pictures in the hallway, by herself: with Eve, and with each of the other cops. One cop commented:
“You know, Bousquet, if you find the right photographer, I bet you could recoup some of your investment. The girl’s photogenic and you ought to take advantage of that.”
Trish could tell that her Mistress liked the suggestion and was thinking it over.
Eve’s co-workers told her they were going out to dinner and suggested she go with them. The group walked five blocks to one of the downtown’s better-known restaurants. Trish had to lug the heavy market sacks. No one offered to help her.
Once inside, the group sat at a large table, with the exception of Trish, who had to kneel by Eve’s chair. While the group ate and indulged themselves with rum, she was given a glass of fruit juice. When everyone was finished, Eve scraped the leftovers onto a single plate and set it on the floor in front of her servant. She handed her a fork and told her to eat. It was yet another humiliation for Trish, to be on her knees in a crowded restaurant, eating a plate of leftovers as though she were a dog. However, she did eat. She was hungry and knew, because her Mistress already had eaten, there would be nothing to eat at home. She also knew that if she rejected the food in front of Eve’s friends, later in the evening she’d face a vicious whipping.
It was dark by the time the two women left the restaurant. Eve called a rickshaw and returned to her house. She ordered Trish to put away the groceries. Trish then had to undress her Mistress, which consisted of nothing more than pulling off a light dress and removing her shoes.
As soon as she was naked, Eve pushed her to the wall and pinned her hands. She passionately kissed her servant and sensuously moved her pussy against her body. Her hands moved from Trish’s wrists to her bottom. She grabbed and fondled the slave’s ass as she continued kiss her and keep her pinned to the wall. She moved a hand to her ward’s crotch and moved her lips to her breasts. Trish was scared by the sudden assault, but she knew she needed to cooperate and do what was necessary to please her owner. Now that her hands were free, she moved them up and down Eve’s back.
Precisely because Eve already was so worked up, the night’s round of sex was over quickly. Eve lay on her bed and Trish took her usual position between her legs. The policewoman climaxed the moment Trish’s tongue touched her clit.
* * *
The following day, Sunday, Eve decided to take Trish to the Island’s second-largest city, which was called Gannet Cove and was located at the south end of Santa Eduviges. So, instead of ordering the rickshaw driver to turn north at the airport, Eve ordered him to turn south. The road went through some pineapple plantations and then through a stretch of forest. On the other side of the forest there was a wide beach and several recently-built hotels. There also was a dock with several excursion boats that would take tourists out to nearby reefs. Even from a distance, Trish could tell that everyone on the beaches was naked. She later learned that, because most of the visitors were from Danubia, where swimsuits were illegal, in the tourist area swimsuits also were prohibited. Beyond the hotels, the road passed through a small town that was full of Eastern Europeans, then through another stretch of forest. Finally, Trish and her owner arrived at Gannet Cove.
Gannet Cove was different from the capitol. It was smaller, but a lot cleaner and more kept-up. The houses were nicer and larger than houses anywhere else on the Island. There were more parks, the streets were wide and tree-lined, and the only stores in sight were ones that looked more typical of what would be seen in Europe. There were no crowded grungy markets like the ones Eve had visited the day before. Because Gannet Cove boasted the Island’s only cruise ship dock, the streets were full of tourists and clean-cut tourism workers.
Eve did not go into Gannet Cove very often because it was too expensive for an ordinary Islander. However, one of her high school classmates lived there and she wanted to visit him. The classmate was a professional photographer, so part of that day’s visit would consist of Trish posing for a series of studio portraits.
Trish knelt while Eve and the photographer, whose name was Jacques, chatted and gossiped about various classmates. Finally Eve got to the point of her visit: that she had just purchased Trish and wanted some studio portraits of her. Jacques agreed, but suggested also having Trish walk around Gannet Cove so he could photograph her in some of the town’s more picturesque locations. Just like everyone else, it seemed he was fascinated with her body and wanted to force her to expose herself as much as possible. Of course, Eve cheerfully agreed to have her servant do whatever the photographer wanted.
Jacques decided to go outdoors before the day became too hot and to do the studio portraits last. The first stop was a nearby park. The photographer experimented with various poses and having Trish pose in both the shade and out in the sun. He then took her to the bay. There was a sea-wall with a walkway on top that ran the width of Gannet Cove. He ordered Trish to walk the entire walkway and took numerous pictures of her from both the front and the back. He then took her to the city’s shopping district and photographed her in public. Trish cringed at seeing all the spectators that surrounded her, but she dared not disobey. She had to pose in front of churches and monuments. Then there were the parks. It seemed that there was not a single park where he did not want to stop and take several photos. By noon, Trish had seen the entire town, and the entire town had seen her.
Jacques and Eve ate lunch at a restaurant. As usual, Trish spent the meal on her knees and had to settle for a plate of leftovers. She was miserable as she ate unwanted partially-eaten food and looked out the window at the top decks of a cruise ship. She had been on several cruises, so it was very painful to see that ship and think about the luxury that less than two weeks before had been her everyday life. Now, here she was, kneeling naked on the floor of a restaurant, eating a plate of leftovers.
Jacques was curious about Trish’s hairless body. He noted that most of the other foreign women he had seen, the Danubian tourists, shaved under their arms, but that was it. Trish was forced to describe her depilation treatments to yet another Islander. She felt like a total freak.
“You can touch her if you want. Servant Trish, stand up and put your hands behind your head.”
“Yes, Mistress Bousquet.”
The photographer gently ran his fingertips over the smooth skin of Trish’s vulva. “Interesting. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
After the restaurant, Eve’s friend took the two women to his studio. He ordered Trish to shower while he set up his cameras and a series of backdrops. Because the first pictures were going to be a set of formal portraits, Eve changed into her police uniform.
Jacques started out with Eve sitting on a stool and Trish kneeling at her side. Eve placed her hand on the servant’s shoulder and looked into the camera with a haughty expression. There were pictures with Trish placing her head in her Mistress’s lap, and pictures with Trish kneeling with her back to the camera and looking over her shoulder. The photographer instructed Eve to stand up. There were more pictures with Trish kneeling upright with her owner’s hand on her shoulder. Then she had to get on her hands and knees. Eve stood behind her and put a foot on her back.
Jacques decided to take some experimental pictures. He handed a leash and whip to his friend. Eve hooked the leash to Trish’s collar. There were various domination/submission poses and several pictures of Eve threatening her servant with the whip. Trish was very worried, wondering how far the business with the whip would go. However, Jacques did not want her body marked, because he wanted to take a bunch of pictures of the servant by herself.
Eve left Trish alone in front of the camera. There was another long round of pictures, with Trish assuming every position imaginable. Eve handcuffed her servant’s hands behind her back, and there was another set of Trish in various submissive positions. Jacques put her in a leg spreader and took photos from several angles.
Eve was excited, watching Trish in all those submissive positions. A strange desire swept through her: to photographed in the nude with her servant. When she made the suggestion, Jacques was very surprised, but enthusiastically agreed. So, the photographer re-took all of the studio portraits of Eve and her slave, this time with the owner naked as well. As an experiment, he asked his classmate to pose for some pictures by herself. Eve, totally caught up in the eroticism of the moment, agreed. She posed for several pictures standing and several pictures sitting. However, the pictures were simple studio portraits, not fetish shots.
Finally, Eve stepped away from the camera, packed her uniform, and put her dress back on. The policewoman signed a release authorizing her friend to post the pictures he had taken of Trish on his website. He assured her that he would only post the photos of the servant by herself: obviously the officer had to protect her reputation.
Of course, Trish had no say in the matter. She was mortified, momentarily forgetting about the numerous pictures posted on Facebook of her drunk or drugged and making a fool of herself at parties and Mardi Gras celebrations.
* * *
It was late afternoon when Eve and her servant boarded a rickshaw to return to her house. When they arrived at the entrance of the neighborhood, they found the road blocked. It turned out that a pickup truck had hit a telephone pole and the pole now was lying across the street. Eve paid the taxi driver and ordered her servant to walk the remaining distance to the house.
The two women passed by the house where the teenagers had been trying to fix the outboard motor. As always, the group’s members were hanging around and drinking beer; the only difference that day was they were trying to fix a motor scooter instead of a boat motor. After hiding their beer, their eyes immediately locked onto Trish.
By unfortunate coincidence, one of the teenagers had purchased a high-quality digital camera and was showing it to his friends. When he asked if he could take some pictures with the American, Eve told him “yes”, and ordered her servant to pose however the boys wanted. The group spent several minutes having Trish pose by herself, then with each of the boys, and finally with all of them together. Finally there was another round of pictures of Trish posing by herself.
The teenager with the camera ordered the servant to get on her elbows and knees, spread her legs, and arch her back so that her anus and vulva were totally exposed in the hot afternoon sunlight. Then he told her to lie on her back and pull her knees up to her chest, again forcing her to completely expose herself. He took several variations of the photos, trying to get both the servant’s face and her vulva in the same image. He moved the motor scooter into the road and ordered her to put a foot on the seat. He took several images from different angles with her in that pose, before ordering her to get on the motor scooter and pretend to ride it.
The boys were not done with their model. They were listening to a portable radio that was playing salsa music. They turned it up and ordered her to dance in the middle of the road. Fortunately Trish liked salsa music and was a good dancer, so for a few moments she was able to lose herself in music and dance, ignoring the constant click-click-click of the camera that was capturing her every move. Soon enough, however, the song ended and she was faced with the harsh reality that the teenager had just taken dozens of digital photos of her dancing in the nude.
The photo session only ended when the teenagers ran out of ideas for additional pictures. There must have been several hundred images of her body on that camera, which were sure to be copied over and over and make their rounds through the neighborhood. When the boys finished they thanked Eve, but did not say anything to their model.
The photo session with the teenagers left Trish badly shaken, more so than the session with Jacques. She wanted assurance that the pictures would not end up on the Internet, but she dared not say anything. She knew there was no point. As her Mistress had said:
“…Your body no longer belongs to you. People are going to want to look at you and, because you're collared, you are going to let them look at you. You have no choice in the matter. You are a servant, and you will act like a servant…”
Her body no longer belonged to her. No, really it did not. She knew that within a few days, several hundred lewd high-resolution photos of her naked figure would be posted all over the Internet and become public domain.
Trish wished that she could speak to her owner and ask why degrading herself was so necessary. However, she already was beginning to figure out the answer to that question on her own. Eve wanted to emphasize the harsh lesson that she no longer had any say over what happened to her. The policewoman wanted her submission to be absolute, for her to do whatever she was told without doubt and without question.
* * *
A few minutes later the two women returned to Eve’s house and Trish filled the bathtub. She had to bathe her Mistress and shampoo her hair, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened that day. She massaged Eve’s shoulders and discovered that her owner liked to have her breasts gently rubbed. She soaped the upper part of Eve’s body and massaged her shoulders, arms, and breasts. That reminded her that her Mistress would expect her to start doing full-body massages as part of the nightly routine by the end of the week.
The day ended in the way that most of her days would end, with her head between her Mistress’s legs and her tongue exploring her vagina. To add to Trish’s frustrations, that night it seemed that Eve took forever to climax. By the time the evening’s round of sex was over, Trish was so exhausted she could barely make it back to her sleeping cot.
Trish was still upset over the way her Mistress had treated her that day. However, for the time being at least, there was nothing she could do about it. The only option she had was to please Eve as much as possible and hope the policewoman eventually would treat her better.
Chapter 08 – Servant Trish
Trish woke up before sunrise the next morning. There was no alarm clock to get her up; but instead there was something worse: roosters. The neighborhood was full of them. Flora and Pierre, it seemed, had one of the loudest and most obnoxious roosters of them all: a bird that delighted in standing right outside the living room window and letting Trish have it.
At the beginning of her first full week as a slave, Trish groaned and got out of her cot, cussing out both the roosters and the speed in which the night went by. She grabbed a mango seed out of the trash and with all her strength threw it at Flora’s rooster. She managed to clip his tail feathers and sent him running off, clucking in protest.
Trish put her newly-acquired cooking skills to use and prepared coffee and breakfast. She heard her Mistress getting up. Good thing she already had started breakfast. Good thing she already was awake. Good thing Flora’s rooster had woken her up.
Eve was fully dressed in her uniform by the time Trish had finished cooking. Trish knelt, greeted her owner, and served her. While the policewoman cleaned her service revolver, Trish ate the remaining food and cleaned up the kitchen.
As she was about to leave for work, Eve had her servant kneel to receive her orders for the day. After cleaning the bathroom and floors and making the bed, she’d have to take Eve’s clothes next door to wash them. She’d also have to take her massage books with her and study them.
“I have to go to range qualification and do a PT test today. I’m going to be sore when I get back and I’ll need a massage.”
“Yes, Mistress Bousquet.”
* * *
The day did not start out well. Trish hauled a huge bundle of clothing to Flora’s house, dreading the prospect of having to spend the entire morning washing all that crap. The problem was, she had forgotten that she’d also have to pick up three days’ worth of fallen mangos from the yard and harvest a bunch more out of the tree, so the clothes would have to wait until the afternoon. When Flora made that announcement, Trish rolled her eyes, a gesture she very quickly would regret.
“Get on your elbows and knees, young lady.”
When the servant complied, Flora gave her a vicious swipe across her bottom with her switch. Trish cried out from the sudden pain. Her hands involuntarily went to her bottom.
“I guess you want more, young lady. I didn’t say anything about you getting up. Get back into position. Now!”
Flora struck hard three times. Trish cried out, but managed to keep her elbows on the floor.
“Young lady, you will NEVER disrespect me like that again! I guess you’ve forgotten your place around here! I guess I need to remind you who you are!”
Flora laid another four cruel welts across the American’s exposed bottom. Trish’s body shook with sobs. She couldn’t believe how much strokes from a flimsy piece of tree limb could hurt.
Flora stood over the slave, tapping the switch in her hand.
“In school the usual punishment for disrespect was 12 strokes of the switch on the bare bottom. So, young lady, do you want the last four?”
Trish managed to get out “…no, Mistress Flora” between sobs.
“Well, I guess that’s just too bad, isn’t it? Your Mistress left me in charge of you, so it’s up to me to decide how many strokes you’re getting. Prepare yourself and don’t you dare move, or I’ll give you a lot more.”
Flora stuck very hard over the next couple of minutes, spacing the final four strokes about 30 seconds apart to allow the servant to feel each one.
“Now. Get outside and attend to your duties. I hope there’s no more unpleasantness between us today.”
“Yes, Mistress Flora.”
Trish was crying when she went outside. Flora, with the switch still in her hand, followed her out. The yard was totally covered with mangos.
“The buckets to put the mangos in are over there. Get the ones near the sidewalk first. Then you can work your way back towards the house.”
“Yes, Mistress Flora.”
As soon as Trish began picking up the mangos closest to the street, the neighborhood’s school children started passing by in their uniforms on their way to class. A lot of the children stopped to watch Trish as she worked. She made an interesting sight, a naked American with 12 red welts on her bottom and tears rolling down her cheeks. Some of the children were pointing at her and giggling. A couple of the older students had cell phones and were taking pictures. Trish dared not say anything to the kids. Nor did she dare leave the front part of the yard. Flora was standing in the shade, watching her and tapping her hand with the switch.
After a few minutes the kids moved on. If they were late to class they’d feel their teacher’s switch on their own bottoms, so they reluctantly left the interesting spectacle in the retired woman’s front yard. However, as soon as the younger kids went away, the neighborhood’s high-school students started passing Flora’s house, including the boys that had taken pictures of her the day before. Oddly enough, Trish was much more embarrassed by having the girls seeing her than the boys. The boys were mostly quiet, but the girls happily chatted with each other about Trish and her predicament. Fortunately, time was running short and the teenagers had to get to class.
As soon as the high school kids were gone, Flora went back inside. She had proved her point and expected no further trouble from Eve’s servant.
Trish spent the entire morning picking up mangos, sorting them, dumping the damaged ones into a compost pile, washing the good ones, and stacking the sellable fruit inside plastic bins for the vendor. Flora returned to the yard shortly before 11:00 to tell the servant which mangos she wanted harvested from the tree. By then, the vicious sting from the welts faded into a dull ache. However, the welts had swollen and were dark. Trish knew that if she sat down, very quickly she’d be reminded of the morning’s “unpleasantness”.
Trish continued working with her ladder and pole until 12:30, when the fruit vendor came by. Flora came out to collect the money for the mangos. Trish knelt while the other two conversed. Of course, the vendor was curious about the welts on the servant’s bottom. Flora turned to Trish:
“Explain what happened, young lady.”
Trish was forced to tell the story of how she rolled her eyes and was punished for it. Flora interjected:
“The punishment was just not for rolling your eyes, young lady. It was because you showed me that you did not want to perform your duties. It wasn’t just disrespect, Servant Trish; it was defiance, and I will not tolerate defiance from a collared delinquent.”
“Yes, Mistress Flora.”
Tears welled up in the servant’s eyes. She didn’t understand why, but being referred to as a “collared delinquent” hurt her feelings as much as the switching itself.
Flora told Trish that she would not be eating anything out of the kitchen that day. If she was hungry enough, she could take whatever she wanted from the fruit trees. Trish sullenly consumed several pieces of fruit before going onto the back porch and dealing with the mound of clothing sitting on top of the sink. Flora, with the switch in her hand, instructed Trish as she performed the afternoon’s duty.
The afternoon went only slightly better than the morning. Flora caught Trish giving her a resentful look. She ordered the servant to put her hands on the sink and gave her two cruel strokes over her already marked bottom. She ordered Trish to get back to her laundry, without allowing her to rub her newest welts.
By unfortunate coincidence, Trish had to hang the clothes outside Flora’s house precisely at the moment the school children were returning home from their classes. So…a bunch of kids got another good look at the unhappy servant and her marked bottom.
By 4:00 Trish was as tired as a person could be. However, the only break she got was from physical labor, because now she had to study the massage manual and figure out, in just a couple of hours, how to give a massage. She tried sitting on one of Flora’s hard wooden chairs, but the ache from her welts forced her to remain standing as she looked over the manual.
Shortly before Eve was scheduled to return, Flora reminded Trish that her owner probably did not have any massage oil. Therefore Trish would have to go to a small store at the opposite end of the street and see if there was any coconut oil available. She handed the servant a quarter-Florin and sent her on her errand. Trish walked down the street in the infernal heat with the late afternoon sun shining on her bare body. There were a few neighbors walking around or working in their yards, but fortunately the street was not overly crowded. Still, the walk was not pleasant. The neighbors were interested in her attractive figure, but more of their attention was drawn to the welts covering her bottom. Her punishment had been made public.
When she bought the coconut oil, the shopkeeper snapped at her for not kneeling. He threatened to tell her Mistress about her disrespect unless she allowed him to grope her. Trish was terrified, but responded that he would need to talk to Eve about touching her. Anyhow, she was not allowed to talk without her Mistress’s permission. Much to Trish’s surprise, the shopkeeper backed off and did not say anything more.
When Eve returned from work, Flora ordered Trish to bend over and show the 14 welts on her bare bottom. Eve gently ran her hand over her servant’s injured backside. Then Trish had to kneel and explain why she had been punished. The police officer casually commented:
“Disrespect will get you unpleasant results. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
“Yes, Mistress Bousquet.”
Trish was terrified that Eve would further punish her. Fortunately Flora added:
“I’m sure she understands what she did wrong, love. Yes, there was a little unpleasantness, but she did work hard in the garden this morning and your laundry’s clean. She’s been disciplined enough for the day.”
Eve responded by stroking Trish’s hair.
* * *
When Eve returned home with her servant, Trish pondered what she should say about the incident with the shopkeeper. She was worried about how her Mistress would react. However, she knew that if she said nothing, and then Eve heard something from the shopkeeper or someone else, she could expect to be whipped. Better to come clean about the incident now, take whatever consequences right away, and then not worry about it.
Trish’s hunch turned out to be correct. Eve was very irritated at the shopkeeper, not for his disrespect towards Trish, but because he had disrespected the servant’s Mistress. One didn’t just go around groping someone else’s property without first getting the owner’s permission. Anyhow, Eve added that Trish had handled the incident correctly, by telling him to talk to her owner and not say anything more.
“I’ll have a chat with him. I guarantee it won’t happen again.”
Trish noticed that Eve’s uniform was dusty and that she smelled strongly of sweat. Obviously she had endured a rough day, having to pass both PT testing and then range qualification with various weapons. She suspected her Mistress’s lenient attitude was partly due to being extremely tired. Best to take advantage of that and make sure she stayed in a good mood.
Trish ran a bath for her owner and helped her get cleaned up; shampooing her hair and massaging her shoulders and arms, as usual. She dried the policewoman with a towel. Eve had not said anything about cancelling the night’s massage, so Trish pulled down the covers of her bed and opened the bottle of oil. The Mistress lay down on her back.
Trish lit several candles and turned out the light. She spread oil over Eve’s entire body, making sure to include her breasts and inner thighs. She admired her owner’s strong figure, which was muscular and intensely feminine at the same time. Starting with Eve’s face, she followed the book’s instructions as best she could; relying on what she remembered from her two hours of reading. It was hardly a perfect massage, but considering it was the very first time, she did surprisingly well.
Trish knew that she needed to pay attention to Eve’s arms and thighs, the parts of her body that bore the brunt of the day’s physical training. However, after the front of Eve’s body was finished and she had flipped on her stomach, Trish became fascinated with her owner’s backside. She spent a long time massaging her large shapely “bum”, fascinated by how those large bottom-cheeks felt in her hands.
By the time her servant had finished massaging her feet, Eve already had fallen asleep. Trish was unsure about leaving the room without permission, so she remained sitting on the bed. Without thinking about what she was doing, she rubbed her owner’s bottom. Without realizing it, Trish had started to find the police officer attractive. She was especially fascinated with her shapely rear. It was strange to think that the first time Eve had ordered her servant to kiss and lick her anus and the sensitive area that surrounded it, Trish was disgusted. However, that night, had Eve been awake and had ordered her to do the same thing, she would not have minded. Her time in captivity already was changing how she thought about sex.
Eve was clearly asleep for the night, so Trish blew out the candles and left the room. She set up her own cot in the living room and promptly closed her eyes. Best to get some sleep while she had the chance. That fucking rooster would be waking her up soon enough.
* * *
The following morning Trish started the normal morning routine, assuming that she’d spend yet another day working in Flora’s yard. However, after preparing breakfast, the servant found out that Eve planned to take her to the airport. It turned out that there was going to be a change of command ceremony at noon, which would be followed by a free lunch for the facility’s entire security detail.
It was customary on the Island that anyone who owned a servant should be willing to make that person available to help out in work-related situations. Since all of Eve’s co-workers knew that she had recently bought a criminal, she was expected to bring her to assist the café staff set up for the meal and serve food. It also was an excellent chance for Eve to show off her new girl to the co-workers who had not yet seen her.
Trish was extremely reluctant to board the rickshaw and leave the safety of the neighborhood. Her bottom was still very much marked-up from the previous day’s punishment. She did not look forward to the prospect of running around naked for an entire day in front of Eve’s co-workers and airport staff. She was very nervous about making some awful mistake that would upset her Mistress and earn her a whipping upon returning home. Finally, there was the painful memory of what had happened to her just two weeks before and the thought that she would be so close to the departure gate…so close…and yet so far…
When she got out of the rickshaw and followed her Mistress towards the terminal, Trish noticed the airplane in which she had arrived pulled off to the side, abandoned in a spot where several other dilapidated aircraft were being kept and stripped for parts. The engines already had been removed and a cargo door was missing. She felt sorry for the plane. Like her, it was trapped and never would escape.
* * *
The Santa Eduviges International Airport typically received four passenger flights each day: three of them from the Republic of Danubia. Over the past six years, Santa Eduviges had been boycotted by most countries because of its military government, with Danubia being a very important exception. The Danubians wanted to establish a commercial foothold in the Caribbean, so they took advantage of the boycott to heavily invest in the Island, especially in tourism. Every decent hotel on Santa Eduviges was Danubian-owned and set up for Danubian tastes. So…each day three large airplanes came in loaded with Danubians, and departed loaded with Danubians.
Besides the passenger flights, there were several cargo flights, again mostly from Danubia. The planes brought in repair parts, electronics, and medicine, and departed loaded with mail, fresh seafood, and tropical fruit. For six years, Danubia had been a vital life-line for the people of Santa Eduviges.
The international boycott was starting to break down, because investors from other countries resented the huge head-start the Danubians had enjoyed in Santa Eduviges over the past half decade. Recently a fourth daily flight started coming in from Lisbon which brought other Europeans, some of whom were not as well-behaved as the straight-laced Danubians. The Generalissimo was happy to have the extra commerce, but wanted to make sure the new tourists did not cause any trouble. So… the airport security had received several upgrades, one of which was the metal detector that had caught Trish two weeks before.
Just as important as the equipment upgrades was the additional training Eve and her companions were receiving. Over the past six years the police officers at the airport had very little to keep them busy, but with the new flight coming in from Lisbon, their jobs had become more challenging. Several drug organizations already were testing the Island to see if it could be utilized as an alternate smuggling route. The airport security command was determined to prevent that from happening. Already several couriers had been caught and there were a couple of serious long-term investigations.
Before dealing with the first flight of the day, the airport police officers usually met at the café to have a “working coffee break”, during which they discussed pending issues and heard any new orders passed down from the Generalissimo. On that day, noting that Officer Bousquet had brought her servant, the airport commandant decided to order her to give a presentation to her co-workers about the American’s arrest and the security concern it raised.
The previous week Eve had raised an alarm among her commanders by letting them know that the only reason Trish Bousquet had been caught was because of her metal piercings. She could have tried to impress her bosses by claiming that she had successfully profiled Trish, but that would have been a lie. Instead, she reported that Trish had entered the country undetected and it was only through her own stupidity that she had been caught. The resulting question was: how many other drug swallowers, not wearing body jewelry, might have gone through undetected?
Eve had not prepared a presentation, but she knew her commander was infamous for calling on subordinates to give impromptu lectures. With her servant trailing behind, she went to her desk, retrieved the thumb drive with Trish’s arrest photos and a projector, and returned to the café. Within less than a minute she was set up and prepared to talk. She ordered her servant to stand next to the screen with her hands behind her head.
Going through arrest photos and pictures of Trish’s body jewelry, Eve summarized the how the metal detector first alerted her. She openly admitted that in the beginning she was not suspicious of the American in the least, but she did want to know why the metal detector kept alerting. It was only after she had a look at the detainee’s stomach that she suspected the reason Trish had become uncooperative when she had to pass through the machine several times.
As she stood quietly, with her hands behind her head and her body exposed to 50 police officers and airport employees, Trish felt despair sweeping through her. The only reason she had been caught was because of that fucking body jewelry. The Panamanian drug dealer had warned her to take it off before travelling, but Trish did not want to go through the hassle of putting it back on once she arrived at her destination. She figured there would be no problem. She was paying dearly for that miscalculation.
The presentation was about to get a lot worse for Trish. Officer Bousquet’s medical assistant came before the group to give an account of the prisoner’s physical appearance during the search. She ordered Trish to stand with her side facing the audience so she could talk about the swelling that was evident as soon as she had been stripped of her blouse and bra. Then the medical assistant ordered the servant to face away from the audience and bend over, forcing her to clearly display the switch-marks from the previous day’s punishment. That was only the beginning. To the horror of her subject, the assistant put on a medical glove and shoved two fingers up her bottom, re-enacting the cavity search she performed when Trish was bent over the table.
The assistant ordered Trish to resume her standing position, facing the audience with her hands behind her head. The servant’s face was beet red from humiliation and her eyes were full of tears. She tried staring at the floor, but Eve snapped at her to stand straight and keep her chin up. It was very clear that the men sitting in the café had enjoyed the demonstration. Trish remained standing while Eve discussed her enema and forced vomiting, with photos, of course. Some of the men, the ones who had been present when Trish was taken outside and forced to expel her pellets in the car wash, cruelly smiled.
Eve’s commander took over, explaining how to profile drug swallowers. “With the Lisbon flight we have to do a better job, and we have to be honest about our misses and near-misses. This is important, and I can’t over-emphasize how important. It’s not just about the good of the country. It’s also for the good of the National Police. Don’t forget that every drug courier we arrest, we can auction, and that means more money for all of us.”
* * *
The change-of-command ceremony was mercifully brief. Trish knelt next her owner while she watched the outgoing commander hand the airport’s flag and ceremonial sword to the new commander. There was a playing of the country’s national anthem, the two men saluted each other, and the rank-and-file stood up and shouted:
“For our homeland…by reason or by force!”
The following meal was not so easy. Trish served lunch with three other servants. It was the first time she had the chance to see anyone else wearing a collar since the auction. Her serving companions were two young women and a young man who could not have been more than 18. All three were Islanders. She wished that she had the opportunity to talk to the others, but slaves were strictly prohibited from speaking to anyone other than their owners. The punishment for talking to other servants was particularly severe: if any of the four servants was caught attempting to talk to any of the others, all four would be tied up and publicly whipped. Regardless of who was at fault, the servants would be punished together. Trish later would learn that Island slaves had protocol among themselves; and getting another servant in trouble was considered the worst offense anyone wearing a collar could commit.
Trish realized that she was not alone in her suffering. Two of her companions, one of the young women and the teenaged boy, had frightened looks on their faces and fresh whip-marks covering their bottoms. They must have been punished immediately before being brought over to the airport. The other girl appeared to be well-treated: she looked healthy, had a more relaxed expression, and her body had no marks on it. Before she saw her serving companions, it had not occurred to Trish that some slave owners were considerably better than others. There was no question Eve was harsh, but it was obvious she was not the worst owner a slave could have.
The café staff had already set the tables and brought out lunch, but it was up to the four servants to make sure that everyone’s plates and glasses stayed full. Trish had to pour glass after glass of rum, which was pure torment for a person used to heavy drinking. She dared not sneak a sip, however. Eve had warned her that she had brought a breathalyzer test kit and was ready to use it if she suspected Trish had anything to drink.
More difficult than not being able to drink any rum was dealing with the wandering hands of Eve’s co-workers. The cops felt that, because the servants were property and had no rights, they were free to touch them whenever they passed by. Trish was afraid to react as she felt hands sliding up and down her legs whenever she slipped between seated men to fill glasses. Some men fondled her thighs and others caressed her bottom. However, she realized that her situation could be worse. The young male servant had to fill all of the glasses of the women in the room. They teased him by brushing his penis and testicles with their fingertips and gently caressing his thighs and welt-covered bottom. As a result of their treatment, he had to spend the meal serving rum and other drinks with a furious erection, to the delight of the female cops.
Following lunch, Trish had to accompany her Mistress around the café and endure being shown off. Eve still was very proud of her purchase; eager to talk about both the auction and Trish’s transition to slavery. Over and over Trish had to explain her depilation treatments and how she got rid of the hair on her body, or explain what she did in Panama that landed her into so much trouble when her flight arrived by accident on the Island. There were multiple inquiries about her body jewelry. Several times she was forced to endure having her breasts examined and pinched as Eve’s co-workers looked for the scars remaining from the nipple rings.
Finally, there were photos. It seemed that Islanders really liked taking pictures of themselves with naked servants. Almost everyone, including the outgoing commander, wanted photos, some with just one servant, and some with all of them. Trish, because she was so unusual, was the favorite of the four slaves present in the room. The young male was the second most favorite; almost as popular as the American. He was still running around with an erection, which the women working for the airport security unit thought was hilarious.
Finally the gathering ended and the duty officers returned to work. The servants also had to return to work, while the café workers relaxed and ate what was left over from the cops’ lunch. They watched and took pictures as the four collared criminals cleaned the tables and washed the dishes…by hand, because supposedly the dishwasher wasn’t working.
It’s strange how experiences change a person’s perspective on life. As she scrubbed plate after plate, Trish thought about Flora’s garden and the mango tree…and how much she’d prefer to be picking up mangos than what she was doing at the airport.
* * *
It was well after dark when Officer Bousquet and her servant returned to her house. Trish was too tired to feel much despair or resentment over the way she had been treated that day. The only thing she wanted was her cot.
Eve had other ideas. She was totally aroused after having watched her servant working naked in public throughout the day and submitting herself to one degrading situation after another. With no warning, she grabbed her slave’s hands and pinned her to the wall of her living room.
“Who do you belong to, Servant Trish?”
“I…I…I’m yours, Mistress Bousquet.”
“That’s right, little servant. You belong to me. You’re mine! Get it? You’re mine! Say it!”
Trembling with surprise and fear, Trish managed to reply:
“I’m yours, Mistress Bousquet. I belong to you.”
Eve was in no mood to wait any longer. She pulled off her uniform and sat down on her sofa, with her legs spread wide. Trish knew what she had to do. She knelt and “took her proper place” between her owner’s thighs. She’d have to sleep later. At that moment the priority of her life was Eve’s nightly orgasm.
End of part 2
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