Puerto Esclava | Neal's Home Page | ASSTR Home Page
CAUTION: This story is not politically correct. It includes the humiliation and degradation of willing and maybe not so willing black women. The "n" word is used liberally.
by Neal
The mall was crowded with holiday shoppers as Tamika Thompson made her way towards the food court. A little thick and nice and round in all the right places, the attractive twenty five year old black woman turned more than a few heads as she walked along despite the conservative office attire she wore.
She had just left the brokerage where she'd recently started work as a secretary. It was almost eight o'clock and she hadn't had dinner yet, so she figured she'd grab something quick and take care of some of her shopping.
Despite the festive atmosphere, Tamika was not in the holiday spirit. Other concerns, notably her mother's financial problems, were weighing heavily upon her. Alone in the crowd, focused on her own issues, she didn't notice her friend Chantelle sitting alone at a food court table until the girl called out to her.
Chantelle Wilkins was also twenty five and had met Tamika when they attended the same high school. Darker in complexion and short in stature, she also had a more slender build. Tamika almost didn't recognize her friend who she hadn't seen for some time.
"Mika!" called Chantelle. "You ain't gonna jus' walk on by are you?"
"Chantelle?" said Tamika slowly, looking the other girl up and down. "Where you been? I ain't seen you in ages. You look different. I wouldn't a known it was you if you ain't say somethin'. You lose weight or somethin'?"
"I guess I did," smiled Chantelle. "I been... away."
"And your hair...," Tamika went on. "Was it always so short?"
"Nah, that's new, too, I guess," said Chantelle. "Least since the last time I seen you. Sit down."
Tamika slid into the seat opposite Chantelle.
"How long has it been?" mused Chantelle. "I was startin' to worry a little."
"Sorry, Mika," Chantelle apologized. "Somethin' came up real quick back in May an' I ain't have time to tell you about it."
"A job?" asked Tamika. "I remember you was lookin' pretty hard there."
"Yeah," said Chantelle.
"That's good," said Tamika. "I saw your car was still in the parkin' lot at your condo, so I figured you kep' it all somehow. I remember you was sayin' you was gonna lose it."
"Yeah, I kep' all that," replied Chantelle. "I had them fuckin' collection agencies callin' me all the time, too. I tol' 'em I ain't got no job so how the fuck is I gonna pay 'em? The job I got... took care o' all that."
"I remember you was talkin' 'bout gettin' a job...," said Tamika.
Tamika looked around and then leaned across the table.
"So, did you?" asked Tamika quietly. "Get a job with that... escort service?"
"Well, yeah...," admitted Chantelle. "I did that."
"Is that how you managed to catch up with them payments?" asked Tamika.
"No," answered Chantelle. "I got somethin' from that, but not near enough. I'll tell you about it... But, not here. You wanna go to my place?"
"Let me pick up some food real quick, girl," said Tamika. "I ain't had dinner yet..."
* * *
Since Tamika had walked to the mall from her office and planned on taking the bus home, she rode with Chantelle back to her friend's condo.
"I thought I'd never ride in this car again," said Tamika. "I remember back in the spring you were scared it was gonna get repo'ed."
"Yeah, I remember keepin' an eye on it all the time," laughed Chantelle. "I always figured I'd wake up one mornin' an' it'd be gone. Now, it's paid for so I ain't gotta worry 'bout that shit no more."
"Paid for?" said Tamika, incredulously. "How did you do that? You're not dealin' dope or anything like that are you?"
"No, nothin' like that," Chantelle laughed again.
Chantelle made no effort to explain further and Tamika didn't feel like prodding her. Her friend would tell her how she did it soon enough. Soon, they arrived at the condo.
Chantelle's home was nicely furnished, but what caught Tamika's eye was the huge high definition television in the living room.
"Damn, girl!" exclaimed Tamika. "You get your payments up an' right away you're buyin' somethin' else! You're gonna dig yourself in again."
"Nah," said Chantelle, "not anytime soon."
Tamika sat down on the couch facing the fancy TV. Chantelle sat opposite her.
"Okay, you gotta tell me how you did it," Tamika insisted. "My mother kinda got herself in trouble. Ever since my father died, she's been spendin' money like nothin' an' I kep' wonderin' where she was gettin' it from. She never even asked for nothin' from me for living there with her. I figured dad left more than I thought, but it turned out she was maxin' out her cards an' then she took out some home equity loan. Now it's all gone an' they're callin' her 'bout foreclosin' on her place. I jus' started workin', but it don't pay enough to meet her payments. If I can do what you done, I can help her keep the house."
"Well...," started Chantelle, "I don't know if it's somethin' you'd want to do..."
"Tell me anyways," replied Tamika.
"Okay," Chantelle continued. "After those assholes fired me from that receptionist job, I was fucked. I jus' bought this place an' the car an' everythin' an' I was... well... used to livin' like this. No way I was gonna go back to livin' in that shit hole apartment from before or drivin' that piece of shit car that wouldn't hardly even start."
"I kep' thinkin' bout that ad I showed you... You know, the one in that free paper? The one for escorts? I figured, what the fuck. Money's money, right? Anyways, I answered it an' it turned out to be totally lame. I'd have these old guys pawin' at me an' even if I let 'em fuck me, I didn't make that much. Maybe a couple hundred dollars each an' that ain't shit when I got payments like I did.
"Then I met this guy... Said his name was Smith... Yeah, right, I figured. He was a talker an' we got to talkin' an' he was askin' me why I'm doin' this escort thing an' I tol' him how I needed the money bad an' I got to tellin' him 'bout gettin' fired an' all that shit an' how they was gonna take my place an' my car.
"He asked me what I'd do if he could... well... take care of it. You know? Make it so I ain't gotta worry 'bout it no more. I figured he's full o' shit. I mean, if he's so fuckin' rich, what's he doin' with some escort girl? Anyways, he tells me how his company could do that for me. I'm still thinkin' he's bullshittin' me, but he's payin' for my time so, what the fuck? I'd rather listen to his bullshit than suck his dick, so I listen.
"His company owns this resort on a island in the Caribbean called Puerto Esclava. It ain't jus' a hotel, either. It's the whole fuckin' island, like it was some kinda country on its own. The thing is, on this island, they got slaves.
"Slaves?" repeated Tamika, shocked. "What do you mean?"
"Yeah, I couldn't believe it either," said Chantelle. "I jus' come out an' tell him he's bullshittin' me. Ain't no slaves no more. He says, they ain't exactly slaves, jus'... um... indentured servants, he says. They pay women... an' some men... to go there an' stay for a few months or even a year or more. All of 'em black, too. While they're there, they is jus' like slaves on a plantation from a couple hundred years ago."
"Most of the island ain't got electricity an' there ain't no cars. He says the guests that come down there are rich white folks an' they pay a shit load of money to live like it was the ol' days an' have slaves to do what they want with.
"No way!" exclaimed Tamika. "That ain't legal even if they're payin' 'em."
"It ain't in America, Mika," explained Chantelle. "The way he said, it's part of some country I never heard of. His company bought this island nobody lived on from 'em an' they let 'em do what they want there. So it's legal there."
"Wow," said Tamika. "I can't believe anybody'd be willin' to be a slave like that."
"Well, they pay plenty," said Chantelle. "I mean..., they paid my car loan an' cards off. They paid up my mortgage an' even made it so I ain't gotta pay it again fo' a couple years. That was a fuckin' shit-load o' money. They take care o' that for me an' I go be a slave there for six months. That's the deal."
"You did it?" asked Tamika. "For real?"
"Yeah," Chantelle confirmed. "I did it. All my shit is paid up now. All I had to do was jus' do the time an' do like I's tol'."
"What did you have to do?" Tamika wanted to know.
"What do you think?" replied Chantelle. "Housekeepin', cookin', all that kind o' shit... An', course I had to let 'em do what they wanted wit' me. Fuckin' an' suckin' mainly. I had to be all "yes, boss," an' "yes, massa," an' talk like some ol' time nigga slave. Well, I ain't have to do it like that, but it goes a lot easier if you do. Truth was, I liked spendin' my time on my back wit' some ol' white man fuckin' me 'stead o' workin' in the laundry or kitchen. But, that ain't up to you 'cause you gotta do what they want. The trick is to make 'em wanna jus' fuck you all the time so you ain't gotta do that other shit."
"I can't believe it...," said Tamika. "You're makin' this up, ain't you? You been dealin' crack or somethin' to pay for all this..."
"I ain't lyin', Mika," Chantelle assured her. "Check this out..."
Chantelle unbuttoned her blouse and tugged down her bra. The number 437 was written on the top part of her left breast. Tamika's jaw dropped.
"What's that mean?" asked Tamika.
"When you sign the contract, you get a number," answered Chantelle. "It ain't a tattoo, so it wears off in a year or so. It's faded from what it was. I was number four thirty seven. They even call you by it while you there. Most of them white folks don't give a shit what yo' name is an' they don't ask. They see the number an' that's what they call you."
"How could you stand it?" Tamika wanted to know. "It's so... dehumanizing. Treatin' you like... a animal. Like livestock..."
"Like a slave," added Chantelle. "You ain't gonna get beat bad or nothin' like that. Well, nothin' that'd leave permanent marks, anyways. You always gonna eat an' you always gonna have a roof over your head. You ain't gotta worry 'bout any o' that. But, otherwise..., yeah. Exactly like a slave. 'cause that's what you is while you there."
"Yes!" exclaimed Tamika. "How could you stand bein' a slave?"
"It ain't that bad," Chantelle explained. "I mean, it's embarrassin'. Hell, it's humiliatin'. But, so's workin' for some asshole boss an' so's bein' a escort... which is basically bein' a damn ho'. This pays way better. No way I's payin' all my shit off workin' part time jobs or even goin' on "dates" from the escort service. Goin' to that island fo' six months an' now I'm ballin'."
"I could never do that," said Tamika. "No way. I can't belive you did!"
"Well, I did," said Chantelle. "Believe it or not. You could, too. I know they'd take you if you wanted. They'd pay for your mama's loans an' cards an' all that shit. She'd be set an' you'd be, too."
"No...," said Tamika. "There's got to be a better way than that. I couldn't take it."
"Hey, I ain't twistin' yo' arm, girl," said Chantelle. "I's jus' sayin'. That's all."
Tamika didn't press any further about Puerto Esclava or Chantelle's experiences there. She knew her friend was willing to go pretty far to maintain her lifestyle, but she was shocked at just how far that was. Working for an escort service would be typical of her, but selling herself into slavery was beyond belief, even if only for six months. The truly surprising part was that Chantelle was actually suggesting that Tamika go the same route to save her mother's house from foreclosure. Surely, there was a more reasonable way to do that.
* * *
When she returned home at her mother's house, Tamika found a pile of bills marked "Urgent" and "Final Notice" on the kitchen table. It was depressing. When the phone rang, she checked the caller ID. Months earlier, they'd stopped taking calls from any number they didn't recognize since it was likely from yet another collection agency.
That night as she tried in vain to fall asleep, Tamika imagined what a relief it would be to be freed of all these financial worries. But, then she thought about what she'd have to do in order to make that happen the way Chantelle had. She remembered the number that defiled her friends body. It was just too horrible to consider for herself.
Anyways, she had a paycheck coming in now from the secretarial job, and it was a good one, thought Tamika. She decided to take the bills with her to work so she could call their creditors during her lunch hour and try to work something out. The idea of speaking to them had her stomach in knots, but the alternative was unthinkable.
* * *
A week later and Tamika was calling Chantelle's cell phone, not sure if she wanted her friend to pick up or not. Her negotiations with the creditors had gone poorly. Their cable subscription was cancelled and if it hadn't been winter, the power would have been shut off. She'd barely scraped together enough money to make the monthly mortgage payment.
Desperation was starting to take hold on the young black woman, and she was beginning to consider the unthinkable. When she spoke to her friend, she arranged to meet her again at her condo.
* * *
Even though she'd only come to get some more details and nothing more, Tamika still felt nervous as she rang Chantelle's doorbell.
"You're thinkin' 'bout goin' to Puerto Esclava, ain't you, girl," smiled Chantelle after letting her friend in.
"I gotta find a way to get these bills paid up or we gonna lose the house," said Tamika. "So, I figured I oughta find out jus' what I'd have to do an' decide if I could stand it."
Tamika took a seat on the couch across from where Chantelle sat down.
"Go 'head an' ask whatever you want," offered Chantelle. "I don't mind tellin' you 'bout it."
"Well..., what happened when you got there?" asked Tamika.
"We got there on a boat," Chantelle answered. "Not like a cruise liner or nothin', but it was big enough. There was maybe twenty girls wit' me an' some white folks, too. We got out onto the dock an' stood aroun' a while. There was even more white folks what was already there waitin' fo' us. They only get new girls once a month an' watchin' 'em get off the boat is somethin' the guests like to do."
"Really?" Tamika remarked. "They like watchin' y'all get off a boat? I guess they ain't got much to do."
"Yeah, well, we was all naked," said Chantelle. "I guess that makes it more entertainin' fo' 'em."
"Naked!" exclaimed Tamika. "You had to stand around on the dock naked?"
"That's right," Chantelle replied. "You don't take no clothes wit' you so you stay naked 'less they give you somethin' to put on. It's warm there so it ain't like you gonna be col'."
"But, naked in front of all those people?" reiterated Tamika. "I'd die of embarrassment!"
"It ain't that bad," said Chantelle. "'specially when you ain't the only one naked. You kinda get used to it some after a while, but, yeah, it's still embarrassin'."
"Then what happened?" asked Tamika.
"They took us to this building near by where they'd get us cleaned up," answered Chantelle. "Kinda like a big shower room, like in gym, but it only got a wall on three sides so you could see inside. One at a time they'd take a girl in an' cut her hair off an' shave her coochie bald. Then they'd soap her up an' scrub her with a ol' rag. It hurt a little. They'd rinse you off wit' col' water, too. White folks is watchin' the whole time, too, like it's some kind o' entertainment."
"They cut off your hair?!" said Tamika, wide eyed. "Is that what happened to your hair?"
"Yeah," Chantelle replied. "'cept if it's in yo' contract to keep it, they cut yo' hair right off. I coulda kep' mine, but they pay extra if you let 'em cut it off. I figured what the fuck, it'll grow back. I got enough money to buy a wig if wanted."
"No way would I do that!" Tamika exclaimed. "I ain't gonna go 'round all bald!"
"You say that, but is yo' damn hair worth a few thousand dollars?" asked Chantelle. "You see that big ass TV I got? All I had to do to get it was let 'em cut my hair off. It'll grow back like it was while I's watchin' it."
"So what'd they do then?" asked Tamika.
"They took us to this fenced in yard an' left us standin' there," answered Chantelle. "White folks come in an' walked aroun' lookin' an' touchin'. You gotta do like they say, too. Open yo' mouf for 'em. Bend over an' spread yo' cheeks out fo' em. If they touch you you jus' stan' there an' let 'em."
"That's jus' too much," said Tamika. "Wasn't it humiliatin'?"
"Hell, yeah," laughed Chantelle. "Havin' some white man tellin' you to bend yo' ass over an' spread yo' cheeks so he can look at yo' coochie an' asshole's damn humiliatin'. Thing is, if some man like that buys you, you might jus' have to fuck an' suck a few times a day an' jus' lay aroun' lettin' him look at you the rest o' the time. That's easy money."
"They buy you?" Tamika asked.
"You is a slave there, girl," explained Chantelle. "You can get bought an' sold the whole time you there. They got some kind o' VIP guests that get first dibs on the new girls an' they pay plenty for 'em. The rest get sold at a auction. You gotta get up on the stage an' white folks bid on you. Any girl they don't get the minimum for ends up workin' in the hotel or the club or somethin' where anybody can do what they want wit' you, an' you gotta cook an' clean' an' all that, too."
"What happened to you?" asked Tamika.
"Some old guy bought me at the auction," answered Chantelle. "I figured somebody like him'd be easy on me so I acted real nice an' sexy fo' him while he was lookin' me over. It worked 'cause he ended up payin' a few thousand dollars for me. He was retired an' stayed down there a few months a year. He kep' me the whole time he was there. All I had to do was suck his dick a couple times a day an' fuck him 'fore we went to bed. Same kinda thing I'd a made a few hundred dollars a night doin' for the escort service. Doin' it there got me a hell of a lot more."
"So that's what it was like..." said Tamika.
"Well, it's different for everybody," Chantelle replied. "Some o' them white folks weren't so nice as mine was. They ain't allowed to fuck you up, but they can whup you if they want. Some o' the girls jus' ain't wanna do like they tol' an' they get whupped. Some o' the white men like girls like that so they can whup on 'em an' make 'em do what they say."
"They was whupped?" Tamika was shocked. "How?"
"Nothin' too bad," said Chantelle. "They got a little ridin' crop on their asses or somethin' like that. Ain't no bullwhips or nothin' like that. Like I say, they ain't allowed to injure you or draw blood or nothin'. So it ain't that bad. Now, me, I ain't never act up so I ain't hardly got whupped none. Act right an' do like you tol' an' you ain't got nothin' to worry 'bout. An' at the end, you got a shit load o' money. That's all there is to it."
"It jus' sounds way too freaky," said Tamika. "Even for all that money."
"Whatever," shrugged Chantelle. "Like I tol' you before, I's jus' sayin' how it is. It's up to you if you wanna do it."
"I know, I know," Tamika replied. "Um... Not that I'm gonna do anythin', but... You know how to get in touch with 'em?"
"The recruiters fo' Puerto Esclava?" said Chantelle. "Yeah, I got their number. You want it?"
"I guess...," said Tamika. "I mean, I could jus' talk to 'em."
"They ain't gonna talk about much on the phone," Chantelle said, while writing the phone number on a piece of paper. "They only wanna talk in person. If you call, they'll set you up an appointment. If they ask how you got their number, tell 'em you got it from four thirty seven."
"Okay," replied Tamika, taking the slip of paper. "I'll do that... If I call. Which I probably won't."
"Whatever, Mika," smiled Chantelle. "Don't matter to me none."
* * *
Back home at her mother's house, Tamika sat at the kitchen table and looked at the phone number written on the piece of paper in her hand. In front of her were a fresh batch of demands and dunning notices in their white envelopes with red writing on them.
The idea of spending a few months as a slave in Puerto Esclava was frightening as well as oddly exciting. Chantelle didn't seem phased by what had happened there and was clearly enjoying the fruits of her labor there. Tamika started dialing her cell phone, but she was calling her friend and not the resort recruiters.
"Hello, Mika," Chantelle answered the phone. "Wha's up?"
"Would you do it again?" asked Tamika.
"Do what?" replied Chantelle. "Go back to Puerto Esclava?"
"Yeah," said Tamika. "Would you?"
"If I needed the money again, yeah," Chantelle told her. "Right now I'm ballin', but maybe in a couple years... Who knows?"
"All right," said Tamika. "Thanks. Later."
"Later, Mika," said Chantelle and hung up.
Tamika snapped the cell phone closed and glanced back at the phone number in her hand. It couldn't hurt to just call, she thought. Flipping the phone back open she hesitated for a moment. She pressed *67 to block her number and then punched in the number on the paper.
"Hello?" a male voice answered.
"Um..., hello," said Tamika. "A friend of mine gave me your number. She says you do recruiting for a... um... vacation resort?"
"A friend?" asked the voice.
"Yes..., her name is... four thirty seven," Tamika said haltingly.
"Four thirty seven?" the voice asked. "That's your friend's name?"
"Well... uh... yeah...," replied Tamika, getting a little flustered. "She said to say that's who I got your number from..."
"Okay," said the voice. "You're interested in the same position she had?"
"Uh..., yeah...," said Tamika.
"Can I assume you're in need of financial assistance like your friend?" asked the voice.
"Yes," admitted Tamika.
"I can set up an appointment for an interview if you like," replied the voice. "We'll be in your city next weekend. Are you available at one o'clock on Saturday?"
"Yes," said Tamika. "Where?"
"Give me a phone number we can reach you at and we'll give you the location," answered the voice.
"Okay, sure," said Tamika. She told him her cell phone number.
"Okay," said the voice. "Bring whatever bills or statements you need taken care of with you to the interview."
"I will," Tamika replied. "Bye."
The line clicked. Tamika sat at the kitchen table, her heart pounding. She couldn't believe she'd actually taken the first step. She dreaded the upcoming interview, but at the same time she was anxious for it to happen. Next Saturday seemed a very long way off.
Next: Chapter 2 - Tamika's First Interview
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