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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
As she woke, Tamika could feel the air on her bare skin. Still groggy, she noticed that she wasn't wearing her night gown and had even lost her blanket. There was that, and the air smelled funny. A kind of mix of salt and sweat. She could hear the steady chugging of a motor somewhere in the background, too. Was a delivery truck idling in the driveway?
Then she remembered. The contract. Tamika had sold herself into slavery. Her and her mother's debts were gone, but so was her freedom for the next six months. She was not waking up in her bed at home. No, she was in a bunk on a boat along with close to thirty other black women who shared the same fate as her. They were all on their way to Puerto Esclava to serve as slaves at a twisted island vacation resort. Home was thousands of miles and half a year away.
Tamika finally opened her eyes when she heard footsteps on the stairs leading down from the deck. She instantly recognized Charlie, the crew member who'd at first rescued her from being raped by a deck hand, but then had forced her to suck him off and swallow the results. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the face, but he didn't seem to pay her any special attention as he stood at the bottom of the stairs, surveying the room.
"Everybody on your feet," he ordered. "Line up and go up the stairs."
Falling into line, Tamika found herself behind her bunkmate, the big negress with "508" marked on her ample ass. She followed her up the stairs and onto the deck. The sun was low on the horizon, but still bright enough that the colored girl blinked and squinted until her eyes adjusted to the light.
The boat was tied to a wooden planked dock. Beyond it, Tamika could see a white clapboard building with windows facing the water. Several tables with umbrellas mounted on them with chairs around them were on a patio in front of the building. The tables appeared to be occupied, but they were too far away for her to make much out.
The captain was standing at the gang plank connecting the boat to the dock. He watched the naked slave women file past him, clearly enjoying the sight of the bare brown female flesh parading by. Tamika saw him smile as she approached, but realized immediately he was looking at 508, who had shamelessly and enthusiastically serviced him during the night.
"Keep it moving," he said as the line made its way to the gangplank.
Waiting on the dock were four light skinned negro women. They, too, were bare breasted and marked block numbers. However, unlike Tamika and her fellow passengers, they were dressed in thin wrap around skirts and wore what appeared to be light brown leather dog collars decorated with chrome studs in them around their necks.
One woman with touches of gray in the short wooly hair on her head seemed to be in charge. Tamika would later learn her name was Althea and she estimated her to be about fifty years old. She was of medium build and had the number "22" emblazoned above her saggy left breast. She carefully looked over each of the new arrivals with a scowl on her face.
"Line up," said Althea. "Nobody leaves the dock 'til you told to."
Once they were all out on the dock, the other three skirt clad women approached them. One was pushing a cart that, judging from the effort required to move it, was quite heavy.
"Get the chains on 'em," ordered Althea. "We ain't gonna have no new niggas wanderin' 'round loose here."
Althea's assistants produced what appeared to be steel collars with lengths of heavy looking chain attached to them from the cart. Starting with the first negress in line, they put the steel collar around her neck. Tamika shuddered at the thought of being made to wear such a thing. She looked on anxiously as the collar was locked into place on the unhappy woman.
They proceeded to the next woman in line, collaring her and attached the chain to the first one's collar, tethering them together. Moving down the line, they repeated the process on each of the newly arrived black slave girls. Tamika's anxiety increased, the closer they got to her.
After they'd made their way down the line some, Tamika's focus started to drift. Partly as a way of blocking out what was happening in front of her, but mainly because she was dreading the moment when they'd come to her. A commotion ahead of her caught her attention.
"You ain't puttin' that on me!" exclaimed a woman further up the line.
"The hell we ain't!" said Althea, stepping quickly over to her. "You forgettin' yo' place, girl. You ain't nothin' but a slave now an' you ain't got no say 'bout nothin'. New niggas gots to be collared an' chained an' dat's how it is. Keep actin' up an' you gonna get a whuppin'. Den you gonna get collared an' shackled."
"Shackled?" asked the new slave.
"Dat's right," Althea answered. "You get yo' wrists chained together an' yo' ankles so you gonna be shufflin' aroun' wit' a chain 'tween yo' damn legs. Don't matter which to me. I bet some o' dem white folks over there hope you keep it up 'cause dey love watchin' a nigga get her ass whupped an' put in her place. So, what's it gonna be?"
The woman slumped shoulders and bowed her head submissively in defeat.
"Smart girl," said Althea.
One of the assistants put the collar on the chastened negro while the other fastened the chain to the collar of the woman in front of her. They moved on while Althea lingered.
"Don't you be actin' up again, nigga," said Althea. "I'll whup yo' ass my damn self."
Althea stepped back and resumed overseeing her assistants carry out the collaring process. It was obvious that there was no way out of this unexpected humiliation, thought Tamika. Soon enough, she'd feel the shame of the collar, herself.
Eventually, the bare breasted assistants reached Tamika. The stockier of the three, Lucille, was charged with moving the cart. Her full left breast was marked "71" and she appeared to be in her early thirties with short straightened hair.
The other two, Janelle and Carla, marked "420" and "433" respectively, seemed a little younger and were more slender. Light skinned like Althea and Lucille, both had straightened brown hair that almost came down to the light brown chrome studded leather collars around their necks. None of them met the eyes of the woman they were putting in chains.
Tamika stood passively as the steel collar was closed around her neck. It was heavier than she'd expected. Of course, there was more to the collar than the steel it was made of. Much of the weight also came from what the collar represented. The colored woman could feel the tears welling up again. She felt controlled and objectified. She was chattel; livestock; an animal.
At last, all the new arrivals were collared, shackled, and chained together. Althea walked down the line, carefully checking her assistants' work. When she was satisfied, she returned to the head of the line.
"We gonna be takin' y'all to get cleaned up an' ready fo' the auction," she announced. "Do like you tol' an don't make no trouble or else you be gettin' a whuppin'. Now, let's get a move on."
Althea picked up the chain attached to the first woman in line and led the way down the dock. The line of tethered slave girls walked along, the planks of the dock creaking with their movement.
As they approached the end of the planks and stepped onto dry land, Tamika could see that the tables on the patio in front of the white clapboard building were filled. White men and women, even some teenagers, were seated there watching the proceedings, eating and drinking, as bare breasted black women made their way among the tables bearing trays of dishes. It was as if the degradation of these unfortunate negro women was a floor show for their dining entertainment.
Tamika remembered Chantelle telling her about the white folks watching the new slaves' arrival. She hadn't been prepared for just how demeaning it was to be led naked and in chains past a bunch of strangers who appeared to be so amused by their humiliation. A little further ahead, she could see the structure her friend had described where they'd be washed and made ready for sale. The colored girl actually found herself anxious to get on with the process and move away from these gawkers who were taking such pleasure in her shame.
No sooner had the last of the chained slave women shuffled off the dock, than Althea stopped the line. Tamika and the others found themselves standing naked on the dusty ground under the glaring tropical morning sun. From the patio a few yards away, the onlookers seemed to be enjoying the show as they ate their breakfast and chatted amongst themselves. Occasionally, laughter could be heard above the murmur of conversation and the sounds of knives and forks on plates.
The sun rose higher and the shadows grew shorter as the breakfast crowd finished their meal. The negro slaves had no alternative to simply standing there, naked and chained, waiting for whatever they were waiting for.
Finally, someone was approaching them along the path that went by the dock and up to the washing station. It was a black slave woman walking towards them. At first it appeared that like them, she was completely naked.
As the slave woman drew closer, Tamika could see that she was wearing some kind of harness made of black leather straps. One around her neck, another above her bare breasts, and yet another below them. Even her head was harnessed. A thin leather strap came down from behind her head to a chromed ring on the middle of her forehead connected to two more straps on either side of her nose. These, in turn, were connected to a strap that went under her chin. The purpose of the harness was to hold a large black rubber ball in the unfortunate woman's mouth.
Tamika felt her stomach tighten when she noticed that the negress was pulling a cart with a young blonde woman sitting in it. The cart was pretty much just a leather upholstered seat mounted on two large spoked wheels. The white woman was holding reigns that were attached to the ball in the slave's mouth. It was as if this black woman was a horse or donkey being used as a draught animal. Tamika hadn't even considered such a degrading possibility. Was this in her future?
A light metallic sound of bells became audible and got louder as the cart approached. The blonde pulled on the reigns when the cart reached the spot where the newly arrived slaves were standing sweating in the sun. The sound stopped. Tamika quickly glanced at the negro who'd been pulling her and saw that she had silver bells attached to her nipples somehow. The number on her left breast read "479". The slave's expression was hard to read since her face was somewhat obscured by the harness and the ball distorted her features further with her mouth forced open wide to accommodate it.
Turning her attention to the cart driver, Tamika saw a white woman about her own age or perhaps a little older. She was quite petite with green eyes and had long blonde hair in a pony tail that almost came to her waist. She wore a white button up blouse and tan pants. What really struck the colored girl was the knee high black leather boots the blonde was wearing. She looked like she was ready to go horseback riding.
The blonde surveyed the crowd of naked black women from her seat in the cart. She seemed quite pleased with what she saw, beaming happily at the sight of the chained slaves. Althea stepped up to her, smiling broadly.
"Mornin', Miz Caitlin, ma'am," Althea greeted her. "It sho' is a fine day, ain't it, ma'am?"
"Good morning," said the blonde cheerfully. "Yes, it's beautiful out. Perfect weather for taking in a new group. Any problems with them?"
"No, ma'am, Miz Caitlin," replied Althea. "Dey ain't no trouble at all, ma'am. Dey be lookin' like a fine bunch o' niggas. We jus' gots to git 'em cleaned up an' ready."
"That's fine, girl," said Caitlin.
Althea held out her hand and helped the young white lady out of the cart. As she passed by, Caitlin gently ran her hand down the side of 479's harnessed face, smiling kindly at the negro who'd just been pulling her in the cart. The bound woman bowed her head and her eyes quickly darted to the ground. Tamika imagined just how humiliated she'd be to be seen by the new arrivals being treated like an animal and having to just take it.
Caitlin and Althea walked slowly down the line of slave women; the blonde looking them over carefully while the older negress kept a watchful eye on things. Tamika blushed with shame as the white woman seemed to evaluate her brown body. Standing there naked in her chains, she felt like an animal on display. After a long few moments, the blonde moved on.
Once Caitlin had finished with her once over of the new slaves, she returned to the cart and sat down. She spoke with Althea for a moment, but Tamika couldn't hear what they were saying. The blonde took the reigns and gave them a quick snap. 479 began walking up the path towards the washing area, pulling the white lady in the cart behind her.
"We goin' to go get y'all cleaned up now," Althea announced to the slave girls. "Get movin'."
With that, Althea picked up the chain attached to the lead woman's collar and started up the path following Caitlin's cart. Tamika started walking along with the other naked negro slaves, the chains between their collars softly clinking.
Behind them, some of the folks who'd been watching the goings on from their tables on the patio got up and followed the procession. Ahead, the patio extended in the direction of the washing station where there were tables and chairs set up for an audience to observe the continued humiliation of the negro slaves. Apparently, thought Tamika, the entertainment was just beginning for them.
Walking down a dirt path with a chain between connecting her to the woman in front of her was a challenge for Tamika. She did her best to keep up with the woman in front of her to keep some slack in the chain connecting their collars. She hoped that the woman behind her was doing the same. Despite the struggle to walk, the colored woman was very aware of the fact that she was completely naked and that there was small crowd of onlookers watching her and the others make their way along.
Although the distance from the dock to their destination was only a hundred yards, it took a few minutes for the line of chained slaves to cover it. Caitlin was there well ahead of them and sat in her cart watching the naked negro women slowly walking up the path. Althea walked up to her holding the chain of the lead girl. Her assistants, Janelle and Carla joined her.
"Let's get started, girl," said Caitlin.
"Yes, ma'am, Miz Caitlin," Althea replied.
Janelle unclipped the first woman from the chain. Tamika was certain that it was the woman she'd seen back at the old factory office building just before her second interview. She could make out the "356" on her right ass cheek as she was led away. What would have possessed her to return to this place?
Carla led her to the washing station, a small cinder block structure on the end of a long building. It was enclosed on three sides with a corrugated metal roof. On one side of this open room was a hose attached to a faucet on the other was a small table.
356 was made to kneel on the floor. Carla picked up something from the small table, electric hair clippers. She switched it on and stepped over to the kneeling negro. The woman's shoulder length hair fell down to the floor as she was shorn like a sheep. The process only took a minute or two and left her head essentially bald other than the stubbly remains of her hair. Tamika still couldn't understand why anyone would agree to have their hair cut off for even two thousand dollars. She knew she wouldn't be able to take it.
The freshly shorn slave stood and Carla squatted in front of her. She took the clippers to her pubic mound and buzzed her pussy bare. As soon as the initial clipping was complete, Janelle was ready with shaving cream and a razor to finish the job.
Next, the naked negro was taken over to where the hose was. Janelle spoke to her briefly. The woman squatted, brought her hands up to cover her face, and urinated. Tamika couldn't believe they actually made her piss in front of them all as well as the many onlookers who'd followed the slaves up to watch the show.
After she finished relieving herself, 356 stood. Janelle turned on the hose and wetted her down. Carla soaped her up and then took a rag and scrubbed her entire body. The poor woman winced as the rag went over her breasts and again when it went between her legs. Finally, she was rinsed off and led her back to where Caitlin and Althea waited. The newly shorn and shaved slave stood there naked, hanging her head in shame.
The next woman's collar was unclipped from the chain. Janelle began to lead her up to the washing room.
"Leave the hair on four ninety nine," Caitlin spoke up, looking at notebook she held in her hand.
"Yes, ma'am, Miz Caitlin," said Janelle.
Janelle continued on, leading 499 up to the washing room where she was shaved, scrubbed, and hosed off as 356 had been. Tamika watched her being led back to where Caitlin and Althea waited. The white lady looked her over as she stood there, naked and shamed, her wet hair hanging down.
Althea's assistants continued on, taking one new slave after another to be prepared as Caitlin checked the notebook to see if this one's hair would be spared. Tamika looked on, dreading her own turn in the process.
Finally, Janelle unclipped Tamika's collar and she was led towards the washing station. Her stomach did flip flops as she walked and listened anxiously for Caitlin's instructions to spare her hair.
"Leave the hair on five oh two," said Caitlin, much to Tamika's immediate relief.
"Yes, ma'am," acknowledged Janelle.
Tamika's relief quickly returned to dread as she was led along. She was very aware that all the eyes of the white men and women standing and watching were fixed upon her nude body. Janelle walked her into the wash room and Carla clicked on the clippers. The naked negro stood as stoicly as she could while her pubic hairs were deftly removed.
"Squat down," Janelle instructed.
Her face burning, Tamika squatted and felt Carla run the clippers by on the insides of her thighs. She remained in position as the girl got out the shaving cream and lathered her up and used the razor to render her mound hairless and smooth.
Janelle pulled Tamika to the other side of the room until she was standing over a metal grated drain. The colored woman was all too aware of what was expected of her.
"Time to pee," said Janelle. "You ain't gonna get no other chance fo' a couple hours so you best do it now."
Tamika tried to at least turn her back to the onlookers, but was stopped.
"Uh uh," Janelle warned. "You gotta face 'em. That's how it is. Might as well jus' squat down an' do it an' get it over wit'."
"I don't know if I can...," said Tamika meekly.
"You better, 'cause if you piss yo'se'f while some white man's inspectin' you o' you up on the auction block you gonna get whupped but good," advised Janelle. "Jus' close yo' eyes an' let it flow, girl."
Squatting down, Tamika couldn't help but take a glance outwards. She could see the white men and women all looking at her as if she were an animal in the zoo. Her fellow slave girls were also focused on her, waiting for her to shame herself as they had done before her. The colored woman closed her eyes and tried to relax. It was almost a minute before her urine started to flow, splashing on the grate, the spray getting on her feet and ankles.
"See, that ain't so hard," said Janelle softly.
When Tamika's bladder was finally empty, she stood up. Janelle hosed her down to get her body wet and Carla soaped her up with a wet rag. The water was cold and the rag was rough and coarse. The colored girl braced herself when they started scrubbing her naked body.
Carla didn't hold back with the rag and scrubbed Tamika's breasts as vigorously as she had her back. Her tender nipples hardened and felt as if they were on fire as the rough rag went back and forth over them.
"Squat so I can get at yo' coochie," Carla directed.
Tamika squatted once more and winced as Carla used the rag on her vulnerable crotch. She winced from the pain between her legs. No sooner did that stop than she felt the spray of cold water on her as Janelle hosed her off, rinsing the suds off and down the drain.
"You done," said Janelle, tugging on the chain attached to Tamika's collar.
Wet and shamed, Tamika was led back to stand with the other slaves. The next girl was taken to the washing station, all eyes upon her.
This went on until the last of the new arrivals had been prepared and the negro slaves were all shaved and washed and standing around naked in the sun. The crowd of onlookers showed no sign of getting out of their seats and clearly were anticipating further entertainment. Tamika wondered what degradation waited for her. All she was certain of, was that it would leave her even more humiliated than she was right now.
Next: Chapter 7 - Tamika's Training
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