Enslaved in Europe Ch. 01

When Gretchen reached home, she ran in through the door in great excitement. "Diane! Diane! I just got out of a meeting with the Sessian ambassador and his staff! I have great news!"

I greeted my girlfriend with a hug, and then stepped back to see the excitement in her eyes. Never had I seen her looking so thrilled after meeting with a client. "What's so great?" I asked. "Did he sign a multi-million dollar contract?"

Gretchen had to take a few moments to slow down her breathing and try to calm down. Obviously this was a lot more important that just a contract.

"Sessia proactively hired my firm to handle the fallout from a decision their government made a few months back. Apparently they legalized slavery in December of last year. None of the mainstream media have picked up on it yet, but they're certain that it will cause bad publicity before the next meeting of the European Union."

"Okay," I said, still not understanding why all the excitement. It sounded like just another account to me.

Gretchen realized I wasn't following along, and elaborated for my benefit. "Slavery in Sessia isn't exactly like it was here in the United States. Their brand of slavery involves public nudity, erotic bondage, corporal punishment and the like. It's very much like what they do in B&D clubs here in America, only in Sessia a slave is legally the property of the master of mistress."

"Uh-oh," I exclaimed. "I think I can see where this is going."

"And that's not all; they're giving me two free airline tickets so I can go to Sessia and see the country for myself! What an opportunity!"

I went to the wet bar and made myself a drink. Gretchen had always been the dominant one in our relationship, but what she was getting ready to suggest went beyond anything she and I had done before. We'd done some light bondage and spanking before. However we'd never involved outsiders and even my closest friends weren't aware that I was into bondage or discipline.

"Two tickets," I said after I downed half my drink. "And who were you planning on taking with you?"

"Why, you of course," Gretchen said as she strode up gracefully on high heels and kissed me affectionately on the lips.

"As your naked slave?" I asked.

"This is a huge opportunity for me," Gretchen gushed. "Do you have any idea how long I've had dreams of leading a naked slave through the public streets on a leash? Of being able to show her off with pride?" Gretchen placed her arms around my waist and held me gently. She stood close and nuzzled my neck while she spoke. It was a deliberate tactic to wear down my resistance.

"Do you have any idea how humiliating it would be for me?" I asked. "Naked in front of dozens of people?"

Gretchen slowly released me from her grip and looked sadly into my eyes, her long dark hair partly covering her face. "So, you won't help me?" she said feigning great disappointment.

I knew this would make Gretchen feel awful, and she would sulk for weeks if I let her down. "Oh, alright then. I'll do it," I said.

The smile instantly returned to my girlfriend's face and she embraced me enthusiastically. "Thank you darling. I knew I could count on you," she said.

* * * * *

The next two weeks were spent getting ready. Gretchen arranged meetings in Sessia with the department of tourism and various people involved in the sex slave industry. Gretchen and I both had passports, but Sessia required we have proof of medical insurance before we entered their country. In addition they required extensive medical records from my doctor, including an AIDS test. Apparently not just anybody is allowed to be a sex slave. They have to be in excellent physical condition. Being overweight, diabetic, epileptic or any number of medical conditions would have disqualified me.

At this point I almost regretted being healthy, slender and athletic. I was still nervous and apprehensive about being paraded around the streets of a European country as Gretchen's nude sex slave. A medical excuse would have got me out of the whole thing without Gretchen blaming me.

Gretchen and I both packed cameras, film and enough clothes for a week. We also planned on going shopping for more clothes and souvenirs after we got there. European fashions are usually much more exciting than American clothes and Gretchen promised me at least two days of shopping before I had to serve as her slave. That helped to relax me and keep me from backing out.

* * * * *

I was totally jet lagged after the transatlantic flight and wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a nap after we got to our hotel. Gretchen paid the cab driver while I carried one of the bags and signed in at the front desk. The girl behind the desk looked at my signature and typed in my name on her computer. I kept waiting for her to give me my room key, but instead her brow wrinkled and she continued to press keys on her computer.

"Wait here please," she eventually said and consulted with another woman who worked there in the hotel lobby.

"I'm sorry for the delay," the older woman said when both hotel employees were done consulting. "My name is Olivia Pitt. I'm the assistant manager. Your name is Diane Schlank?"

"Yes," I replied. "Is there a problem with the reservation?"

The younger woman took a step back and the assistant manager replied, "Could I see some ID, please?"

I took out my passport and showed it to her, still uncertain where this was going. At this point Gretchen finally caught up with me with the rest of our luggage. She showed the assistant manager her passport as well and asked her what was going on.

"Once again I apologize for the delay, she said. "However according to hotel records, Miss Schlank here is listed as your slave."

"That's correct," Gretchen said. "But I still don't see why all the fuss. I was told that slavery was legal is Sessia."

"It is," Olivia assured us. "However as Americans, you may be unaware of a number of Sessian laws as regards to slavery. For instance, slaves are not permitted to wear clothing. I'm afraid Miss Schlank will have to disrobe immediately."

My jaw dropped. I thought I was going to have several days to ease into this. I also thought that my role as Gretchen's slave would be something we could turn on and off like a light switch. I didn't realize they had laws mandating I be naked the entire time I was in their country!

"Here? Now?" I blurted out stupidly. Suddenly all eyes in the hotel lobby were on me. The desk clerks, the bell hops, security guards and approximately a dozen guests all looked my way to see what the commotion was about.

The assistant manager remained calm and professional. She was only a few years older than me, but she had the demeanor of somebody who'd been doing this for decades. "I'm afraid so, Miss Schlank. It's the law. Technically you should never have gotten this far with those on. Of course you needed to wear clothing on the plane, but you could have easily disrobed at the airport."

I opened my mouth to protest, but then Gretchen's sadistic sense of humor kicked in.

"I told her she could keep her clothes until we got out of the cab," Gretchen interjected, "but then she was to strip in the parking lot. Sometimes she rebels against my authority."

Gretchen then shook her head as if she were disappointed in me. "She likes to see how far she can push me," Gretchen added. "Test her limits. See how much she can get away with."

I gave my girlfriend a shocked look and tried to find the proper words of outrage. This wasn't funny! But suddenly two security guards in black uniforms were standing beside us. "Is there a problem?" the female asked in an accent that sounded quite British. Her partner looked me over as if sizing me up.

"No problem," Gretchen told the female security guard. "We weren't aware of how strict the Sessian laws on nudity were for slaves. However now we know and my slave here was just about to disrobe. Weren't you, Diane?"

I looked into Gretchen's mirthful face as well as the serious faces of the guards and the assistant manager. All four of them had the full force of Sessian law on their side. Having no choice I simply nodded my head in agreement and began to disrobe.

My shoes were the most obvious and easiest choice to start with. I slipped out of those and then blushed as I looked up and realized everyone in the lobby was watching me. Next I grabbed my t-shirt by the hem and pulled it off, over my head. I handed it to Gretchen and then realized that three people in the lobby suddenly had cameras in hand and were photographing my humiliation.

Apparently I hesitated, as the female security guard then offered, "Miss Schlank, if you're having trouble, my partner and I can help you."

Her tone of voice was polite, but the message was unmistakable. Either I take my clothes off without delay, or hotel security would tear them off me by force.

"I'm fine," I said as I then undid the snap on the front of my jeans. Then I pulled the zipper down and slid my jeans down my hips and stepped out of them. The people with the cameras were now getting bolder. Two of them were female and one was male. All of them appeared to be my age or younger.

I now faced them directly as I fumbled with the catch on my bra. It was the type that fastens in front and was normally easy to undo, however my hands were trembling and couldn't seem to work the little hook and eye properly.

"Do you need help, Miss Schlank?" the female security guard asked. Her voice was still polite and her face showed no sign of malice. At this point I saw no point in refusing her assistance.

"I can't seem to work the catch," I said, and I noticed my hands were trembling as I lowered them and allowed her to touch my breasts.

Her hands moved with skill, and found the catch almost instantly. She unhooked my bra without damaging it and then handed it to Gretchen. Now I was standing in nothing but my tiny thong-style lycra panties. The security guard was standing very close and probably wanted to help me remove those as well. However I hooked my thumbs in the waistband and pulled them down myself. After I stepped out of them, I handed them to Gretchen as well and then attempted to cover myself with my hands.

"Hands at your sides, Miss Schlank," the security guard ordered.

I slowly lowered my hands and then looked into the eyes of the female guard. There was still no malice in her eyes, but there was no compassion in them either.

"Sessian law forbids slaves from covering themselves," she informed both me and Gretchen. I placed my hands at my sides and clenched my fists while three cameras now took photos of my nude body. My clean shaven pubic area seemed to be of special interest to them.

Gretchen was busy packing my clothing back into my smaller suitcase. Since I couldn't wear it, it was the most logical thing to do. Then that ever helpful security guard made a suggestion that Gretchen just couldn't pass up.

"As your slave isn't permitted to wear clothing while she's in this country, I'd like to suggest that we lock her clothing in the hotel vault. It would help her to resist temptation and you'd have less unpacking to do."

She sounded so pleasant while she said it, and yet I couldn't help but feel persecuted. In the back of my mind I was thinking about the possibility of at least wearing clothes in my hotel room.

"That's an excellent idea," Gretchen said. She made arrangements for a bellhop to take her luggage up to our room while I was ordered to carry my two bags to the security office.

* * * * *

In the hotel's security office I was once again, the center of attention. All Sessian slaves are required to wear a slave collar, and Gretchen had filled out forms weeks ago to have one made up for me. It was made of black leather and fastened in the back with a very small and stylish metal lock. There were several metal D-rings that were also small and stylish. A metal tag was attached to one of the rings. Gretchen allowed me to examine it before it was attached.

On one side it said, "Diane Schlank, property of Gretchen Starke". On the other side it said, "Hotel Castello. Terra del sesso". There was also a series of numbers that I later found out was the hotel phone number and the room number where Gretchen and I were registered.

"Don't ever remove that tag," one of the security people warned. This woman was much more serious and grim than the lady who had helped me disrobe. "That tag identifies where you're supposed to be returned if you ever get lost or try to escape. If you're found without a tag clipped to your collar, you'll be arrested on suspicion of being a runaway slave."

I swallowed hard. In America, sexual slavery is all fun and games. Here I could be arrested if it was even suspected that I was trying to leave the service of my mistress. My heart beat faster and my mouth went dry. I looked over to Gretchen for sympathy, but she seemed perfectly calm and at ease.

"Are runaway slaves common?" Gretchen asked, in the tone of somebody who is interested, but not really concerned. I suspected she either wanted to know for her public relations assignment, or she was playing the role of heartless slave owner for my benefit.

"Not very," said the security guard with the British accent. "The slave population in Sessia is still very small. And most of them are visiting from Italy, England or America. They're basically tourists who come here for a sexual thrill. Even if they become overwhelmed or frightened, they know they'll be going back home in a week or two."

"No Permanent slaves?" Gretchen asked.

"Sessian law forbids permanent slavery," the woman replied. "There are a few extreme cases where a contract is drawn up and a young man or woman is sentenced to a year or more of slavery. The longest term I'm aware of is an eighteen year old girl who was sentenced to four years."

I gasped in shock. I had only endured this treatment for a few minutes and was humiliated beyond anything I had ever endured before. I couldn't imagine being forced to tolerate this for four entire years.

"She volunteered to give up her freedom for four years?" I asked.

"It's a matter of opinion," the woman said as she sat down behind her desk and booted up her computer. "The girl comes from a family that was deeply in debt. She was unemployed and her family couldn't support her. Between here and there she ended up with a deal that solved her financial problems. She signed a contract were she agreed to become the property of ...... well, I don't remember all the details. One of our wealthier citizens. In exchange she is promised 800,000 Euros when her term of slavery is over."

"Is that a lot of money?" I asked.

"For a girl with no job and no family to support her?" the guard countered. "It's a fortune." I could see how the money could be too good to resist. I wondered how many other women became slave because they needed the money.

"I'd like to interview them both," Gretchen said, "the slave and her owner."

The security guard hesitated and seemed doubtful. Then Gretchen added, "I work for a public relations firm that's trying to put the best face on Sessia's slavery program."

That seemed to ease things in the guard's mind, she then became more helpful. "I don't have that information myself," she said. "However they could tell you at the office of slave identification."

She pulled a pad out of her desk drawer and wrote down a phone number. Gretchen thanked the lady, folded it and then placed it in her purse.

"I also have these for you," the security guard said pulling out two slim pamphlets from another desk drawer. "These are published by a slavery advocacy group. I give them to guests of the hotel if they come in her with slaves. I think you'll find them to be very helpful."

Gretchen and I each got one. It was professionally printed but lacked color and style. I got the distinct impression it was written by a lawyer.

Examining the cover only reinforced that opinion. In large font it declared, "THE LAW AS IT APPLIES TO SLAVERY IN THE NATION OF SESSIA". And three inches down it said the same thing in Italian.

I flipped through the pages and saw the whole thing was printed like that, half in English and half in Italian. It was less than thirty pages long and only half of it dealt with actual Sessian law. The second half dealt with advice to slave owners. Gretchen thanked the woman for her kindness and asked if there was anything else.

"One or two things," the woman responded. "These are only suggestions of course, however since slavery became legal in this nation I've learned a few things, and my suggestions tend to make things easier for slave owners."

"Such as?" Gretchen asked. I was nervous, but Gretchen seemed eager to hear what this woman would say next.

"It's my opinion that we should lock up Diane's passport as well as her clothing. An enterprising slave can find ways of obtaining more clothing, but obtaining a new passport is difficult and time consuming. And without one she cannot leave the country."

"An excellent idea," Gretchen enthused, and she reached into my purse to retrieve my passport. I watched with a sinking feeling as she handed it over to the hotel security guard. Then she seemed to reconsider. She put my passport back into my purse and then said, "Actually lock up her purse too. Otherwise she'll have access to her cash, credit cards and cell phone."

The woman accepted my purse and smiled. "You're a wise woman, Miss Starke. I wish I'd thought of that one myself."

"You'll get this back when you check out of the hotel," she promised. I couldn't help but notice she addressed Gretchen when she said it. I was officially Gretchen's property. People would go through her to handle my affairs. I didn't have any authority of my own.

Just when I thought we were done, there was one more suggestion that made me feel a sense of panic wash over me. "I also recommend we do a body cavity search on your slave. There have been two instances that I'm aware of where slaves concealed handcuff keys inside a bodily orifice. You could search her yourself, or I could do it."

I felt hot and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. This would be far too humiliating. Gretchen couldn't possibly allow it.

"You're the professional," Gretchen said agreeably. "Why don't you do it?"

"Gretchen, please," I begged. "Don't do this to me!"

The security guard stood up and suddenly she looked taller and more intimidating than before. "Miss Schlank," she said in a calm and confident tone, "if you don't want to cooperate we can force you."

I looked around the office and noticed that all the security guards had stopped what they were doing and were suddenly focused on me. One of the female guards even got up from her seat in anticipation of forcing me to submit to a body cavity search.

With tears in my eyes, I got up from my chair and submitted to the inevitable. "Does it have to be right here?" I asked, looking around I counted three male and four female security employees. I didn't want to share my humiliation in front of all of them.

She let me sweat it out for about fifteen seconds before finally responding, "The gloves and the lubricant are in a different room anyway. We might as well do it in there."

I was taken by the arm and led into what looked like an interrogation room. It had a table, three chairs, a filing cabinet and there were security cameras mounted up high in two of the corners. Gretchen came in last and left the door open. I felt it was a deliberate attempt on her part to increase my embarrassment.

"Place your hands on the wall in front of you, Miss Schlank," I was ordered. When I had done that the orders got more detailed and the guard sounded more and more impatient with each word. "Higher than that, please. Palms flat against the wall. Legs spread far apart. Farther than that please. Yes, like that. Only arch your spine and stick your bum out more. Yes, that's better."