Return to Sessia Ch. 11

The day Amy and Scott left Sessia, Gretchen took me to the airport to see them off. Of course I got plenty of stares. A naked girl with my figure walking through a public place will get ogled and gaped at. Of course there were quite a few people with iPhones or cameras who took my picture.

My bottom was still red from that morning's spanking. Something about that made me proud. A slave with whip marks, welts or hand-prints on her skin is somehow more exciting and more esteemed.

"I'm not sure when's the next time that I'll be able to make it back to Sessia," Amy said lamentably. "I probably won't be able to see you again until you return to America."

She hugged me and it felt delicious to be naked and be hugged by someone who was fully dressed. It made the contrast between her status and mine so stark. It made me feel quite intimately how much she outranked and outclassed me. Her clothed body pressed against my naked body forced me to acknowledge my helplessness, inferior status and vulnerability.

And just thinking about the implications of my vulnerable status as a slavegirl caused my sex to throb and my entire body to become hot with desire.

"I'll be fine in Sessia." I told my sister. "I'm in my element here. Don't worry about me."

"What about this lesbian club you're going to?"

Then turning to Gretchen, she asked, "How are you going to keep her safe while she's being exposed naked in front of two-hundred horny strangers?"

"There will be security working the club," Gretchen said wearily. "They know how to do their jobs. They'll work crowd control and keep the club patrons from getting out of control."

"And what about you?" Amy asked. "I know my sister chose to become your slavegirl, but I'm wondering if she's blinded by love and trusts you too much. How do I know you won't whip her so hard that she has to go to the hospital? How do I know you won't tie her up in such a way that she dislocates her shoulders? Or pulls a groin muscle?"

Gretchen sighed and rolled her eyes. She and Amy disagreed on the proper way for a slavegirl to be treated. Or at least Amy disagreed on the way I should be treated. I was her big sister and she wanted me to be safe and protected, not whipped in the punishment park and exposed naked in public and groped by strangers.

"I've had years of experience taking care of your sister," Gretchen replied, trying to be patient and polite with Amy. "I think I know how to control and discipline her without causing any actual medical damage. And your sister is very flexible. She's had years of ballet training and Claudia has been working on maintaining her flexibility. She can be tied in all sorts of ways without her actually pulling any muscles or dislocating anything."

"I want her to call me after she's been roughed up by the lesbians at that club. Will you at least let her call me after they've had their way with her?"

Gretchen's mouth was set into a grim line and she seemed to be mulling over Amy's request. Finally, in a tired, unhappy voice, she asked, "Why?"

"I just want to make sure that she's alright! Jeez! Is that so much to ask?"

"Fine," Gretchen said, sounding reluctant, "After Diane and I get back from Adoration, I'll have your sister give you a call. The two of you can talk until you're sure that your sister hasn't been injured or abducted or whatever your prevailing anxiety is concerning your sister."

Amy and Gretchen sealed the deal with an uneasy handshake and Amy hugged me again and kissed me on the cheek. Amy and I were about as close as sisters could be, and in many ways I was her best friend. I couldn't blame her for being concerned about my welfare. It was actually kind of sweet.

Amy and Scott couldn't spend all morning saying goodbye, and eventually they picked up their luggage and headed for the check-in counter for United Airlines.

As they walked away, I could hear Scott attempting to tell Amy that she was being overprotective. Amy accused him of being a bastard and hit him with her carry-on luggage.

"Your sister loves you very much," Gretchen said as we both stood there and I watched my sister get in line.

"I'm the only on in the family that was ever nice to her," I explained to the woman who owns me. "My mother was an overbearing dictator. My father abandoned us when she was eight. My Aunt Ruth is something of a recluse who never calls and never visits. I was the only one she could ever come to when she had problems or needed advice."

Gretchen smiled and gave me a hug. "It's nice that your sister cares about you," she said. "However I'm still going to have to be mean to you. You're still my slavegirl. That means I still have to keep you naked, discipline you and be strict with you and loan you out to people who will be cruel."

She patted my bare bottom affectionately and I replied, "I know you will, Mistress. I knew you would when I signed that contract. And the thought of being naked, helpless, groped, fingered and stared at by strangers while I'm waiting to be whipped or cropped or something terribly painful excited. Even when I'm scared still I'm terribly excited. It makes my pussy throb, just thinking about it. Why do you suppose I signed the slave contract in the first place?"

Gretchen looked at me with adoring eyes and said, "Sometimes these things need to be said out loud. Maybe you can say something like that the next time you talk to your sister."

"Of course, Mistress," I replied. "I'll tell her next time we talk."

"Now turn around, Darling," Gretchen said, "I'm going to cuff your hands behind your back."

Naked in the airport lobby, I turned my back to Gretchen and offered my wrists. My hands were trembling as I waited for the woman who owned me to produce stainless steel handcuffs and use them on me to make me helpless. As I patiently waited, I felt a sense of delicious humiliation. I was watched keenly by members of the European press, airport security and travelers carrying their luggage. They all took an interest in my nudity and my submissive surrender to Gretchen's authority.

The metallic clicking of the handcuffs tightening on my wrists seemed to be the loudest sound in the entire airport. Gretchen made certain that the metal was snug on my feminine wrists and when Gretchen was finished I tugged against my bonds. They were strong and secure. I could feel Gretchen's authority in the metal she had placed on my wrists.

It was thrilling to be naked and helpless in a public place. I felt exposed and about ninety percent breasts and pubic lips. The sudden loss of my hands and arms made me feel twice as naked.

"I intend to be beautifully mean to you," Gretchen informed me flatly and my pussy throbbed even more.

"Yes, Mistress."

"You won't complain?"

"No, Mistress," I replied with absolute honesty. "I'm your slavegirl. I expect you to be beautifully mean to me."

And while I was naked and handcuffed and Gretchen was fully clothed and unfettered, she pulled me close and kissed me passionately in front of the European media and all of the airline patrons and employees.

It was deliciously humiliating to have so many people watch me as I was naked, bound and being kissed by my mistress, and I abandoned myself to the humiliation and the helplessness of the moment.

This kiss went on for a long time and when my mistress broke from it, she whispered, "Everyone in the airport lobby is looking at us."

"Yes, Mistress," I whispered back.

"I'm the most envied woman here," she said in response.

And as we left the airport, Gretchen got on her phone to prepare more humiliations and torments for me to suffer.

* * * * * * * * * *

It took more than two weeks for Gretchen and Victoria to coordinate with the club management at Adoration so that I could be the entertainment for the patrons of their club.

They had to advertise, arrange for sufficient security, build a stage, obtain the appropriate bondage devices, sell tickets and make certain that the European press would have enough time to set up so that they could film and photograph my humiliation.

Of course when the night in question came I was nervous as a teenager on her first date. Actually, it was probably more like I was as nervous as an innocent teenager on her first day in a woman's prison.

There were butterflies in my stomach and I kept having to go and pee. A security guard followed me to the bathroom every time I relieved my bladder. She wasn't being mean or nasty, but she insisted that somebody from the club needed to keep an eye on me at all times. If I were to get hurt at the Adoration, the club's insurance premiums would go up and there'd be plenty of bad press and the club manager would be pissed. Therefore the security guards at the club were being very proactive at making certain that I didn't get hurt.

Or, at least not hurt any more than is traditional for Sessian sex slaves.

"Hey, Pretty-girl. You look like you could use a drink."

That's Ashley. She's one of the bartenders at this club. She's a little bit older than me and cute in a Sandy Duncan/Peter Pan kind of way. She insisted that I call her Ash, and she said that she could see the way that I was panting and trembling and turning pale. She saw no point in me suffering before the entertainment even began.

"I don't have any money for drinks, Ash," I told her. "And anyway, I don't think that my mistress would allow me to drink. I was spanked just for asking for coffee."

Ashley gave me a disarming smile and said, "I've already talked to Gretchen, and she said I could give you just one glass of red wine and no more. She agrees with me that you look too nervous for a girl who hasn't even been tied up yet."

I graciously accepted the wine and Ashely was right. It did help me to calm my nerves and keep me from panicking.

"You've got a long night ahead of you, Sweetie," Ashley informed me, "They've sold hundreds of tickets to this event. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't want to start out sober."

Ashley explained that the staff of Adoration had sold twelve blue tickets, thirty-five white tickets, twenty-four orange tickets and one-hundred seventy-six red tickets.

The red tickets were for the cheap seats, not very close to the stage. The orange tickets were for the good seats. They paid a lot for those tickets, so they'd get an excellent view of my humiliation and torments. The white tickets allowed women to get their picture taken with me after the show was over, and blue tickets actually allowed a select group of lesbians to go up on the stage with me during the show. Ashley wouldn't tell me what those women would be doing to me while on the stage. Very likely she didn't know any more about my fate would be any better than I did.

Before the patrons started to file in I was taken back to the manager's office. I was left in there with the manager until and told that I couldn't go outside until a club employee came to get me. I was also ordered not to touch my pussy.

"Well, you're certainly pretty enough," said the club manager looking my naked body up and down. "You look even sexier in person than you did on the telly."

"Thank you, Mistress," I replied, leaving my hands at my sides and my feet apart, so that the club manager could get a good look at my public lips and everything else I had to offer. A slavegirl should never use her hands to cover herself.

"My name is Fran," the manager said sharply, "You can forget that 'Mistress' bullshit until the show starts. I'm running a business here and I'm not at all distracted by the fripperies of what you do. You've got a hot body and you show it off. You don't wear a stitch and my audience will love that. Do a good job and I'll invite you and Gretchen back, but I don't get even a tiny amount of pleasure or excitement from being called 'Mistress'. Do you understand me?"

I hadn't expected this. Most of the women I've met since coming to Sessia preferred to be called Mistress, but a slavegirl needs to be adaptable.

"I understand," I said without complaint, and then I added, "Sorry, Fran. It won't happen again."

"Not a problem," Fran said, "We've made almost £6,000 selling tickets to your show, so I'm rather happy with you and Gretchen. And those women who come to see your show will probably spend a lot of money at the bar tonight."

"Naked girls bring in profits?"

Fran gave me a winning smile and replied, "More so with you than with most. Your friend; Gretchen; didn't even ask for a share of tonight's profits. She basically just wants the media exposure. I let Channel-Four set up to film you, and she's totally happy."

I understood that. Gretchen was working for Listig Strategic Communications and it was her job to make slavery more popular in the nation of Sessia. From her point of view, media exposure would be more important than the profits from my show.

I was ordered to stay in Fran's office until 10:00 PM. Then I was supposed to make a dramatic entrance and get everybody's attention. Of course the waiting made me even more nervous than before. The wine had helped to calm my fears, but it had only been one glass. The harsh, vexing feeling of fear settled into the pit of my stomach again and I nervously counted the minutes until 10:00 PM.

When my time came, a security guard dressed in a stylish uniform came to get me. I was told to place my hands behind my back as if they were bound there, wrist to elbow and to keep them that way until I was given orders to the contrary.

A second security guard cleared the way in front of us and I was led out into the public area of the club. Every chair was filled with customers and every customer had her eyes intently focused on me.

Some of the women were my age, however others were in their thirties of forties. Some of the women were slender and athletic like me. Others were plump or voluptuous. And of course all of them were fashionably dressed in evening gowns, mini-dresses and stylish footwear. Most of the women were displaying jewelry on their wrists or their necks. I saw the looks on their faces and they all seemed to be judging me. These women were all respectable, well-dressed women out on the town. I was just a naked, captive slavegirl, here to be abused, ogled and humiliated for their entertainment.

Gretchen was standing to my right and in a low, serious tone, she told me, "Head up, eyes down, keep your hands tightly behind your back and don't forget to breathe."

There were scores of eyes on me as the security guard led me over to the stage. The stage was one of those portable things, about 8 inches tall and maybe 12 feet wide by 12 feet long. Quite a number of people pointed as I stepped up onto it. I noticed photographers and cameramen from both Insider Magazine and Channel four. There were murmurings in the crowd as I stood naked on the stage and posed there for everyone to ogle. The stage felt cold underneath my bare feet and as I stared out at the gorgeously dressed crowd, I somehow felt even more naked than I had in the manager's office.

No one had told me what would be done to me here at this lesbian club, so I kept my head up, my eyes down and breathed.

Then, I heard Gretchen's voice cutting sharply through the murmuring of the crowd, "Slavegirl, tell us your name!"

"Diane Schlank," I called back, keeping my voice loud enough to be heard above the crowd.

"The patrons of this club would like to see you, Diane," Gretchen called back. "Give us a spin...nice and slow!"

Still keeping my arms behind my back, my chin up and my eyes down, I slowly turned for the crowd, giving every women there an opportunity to ogle my naked ass, and then slowly turned so that I was facing them again, my naked breasts and pubic lips blatantly on display.

Gretchen then sauntered up, climbed up on the stage and stood behind me. "Okay, Diane," Gretchen called out so that members of the audience could hear, "Even though you're not bound, I want you to keep your hands behind your back. Don't move them until I tell you."

My heart beat faster, wondering what Gretchen was intending to do to me in front of all these strangers. How humiliating would it be? How painful? The audience in front of me looked unimpressed with me so far. What would Gretchen have to do to me, to impress them?

Gretchen began by gripping me around the throat and roughly groping one of my breasts. I obediently maintained position and even managed not to whimper or flinch as Gretchen's strong, capable fingers tightly gripped the tender flesh of my boob.

Then Gretchen let go of my breast and placed one hand against the small of my back while still gripping my throat. Using her hands, she bend me over at the waist. This was an awkward position to maintain with my hands behind my back, however I had experience with awkward positions before.

While I was bent over, Gretchen took one hand and began to smack my bare bottom with it. She didn't hit my bottom very hard, however I was already sore from my morning spanking and Gretchen didn't stop at just a token spanking of two or three slaps, but rather she spanked my naked ass sixteen times--and the last four were hard enough to make me cry out in pain.

Using her hands, Gretchen stood me up again and walked to the end of the stage and addressed the audience.

"Is there anyone here with a blue ticket, who would like to come up here and get to know my slave better?"

About a dozen women raised their hands, most of them displaying a blue ticket and waving it high above their heads. The murmuring had stopped at this point and quite a few faces in the crowd looked eager now.

"Just one," admonished Gretchen. Then stepping off the stage, she walked up to an audience member and told her she could go up on the stage and put her hands on my naked flesh.

Then calling back to me, she sternly ordered, "Keep your eyes down. I don't want you looking at this woman. She can look at you. You can't look at her."

I called out, "Yes Mistress," and kept my eyes down. The woman was dressed all in black, but I never got a good look at her face, due to Gretchen's orders. The woman set her drink down on the stage and I got a very good look at that. It was something golden in color with ice cubes floating in it.

The woman stood behind me, much like Gretchen had and began to grope my breasts. She wasn't anywhere near as rough as Gretchen had been, however she used both hands and she excited my already stimulated nipples and got them painfully erect. She also leaned over my shoulder and licked and sucked on each of my pink, erect nipples. My nipples belonged to this mischievous woman more than they did to me and we all knew it.

Next she bent me over and had me arch my back. While I was in that vulnerable position she swatted my ass twice, first the left buttock, then the right.

"Don't move," the woman ordered me and then I felt her spreading my ass cheeks wide.

"Your asshole is so pink," the woman exclaimed and then I felt her hard, wet tongue probing at my anus. I gasped at the unexpected intrusion and then she grabbed my pubic lips and roughly pulled them apart. I had just enough time to hear her compliment the pinkness of my pubic lips before I felt her tongue being probing into the wet interior of my sex.

"Aaaghhhh," I gasped, but her tongue was gone almost as soon as she sound left my lips.

Gretchen then announced it was somebody else's turn and then lady in black picked up her drink and walked off the stage.

The next woman who came up on stage, of course, had to spank my naked ass as well. Her slaps were hard and stinging, however she didn't seem to be satisfied with just spanking my ass.

Still standing behind me, she ordered me to spread my legs far apart and to keep my arms behind my back.