By Kinkabella
Archived Here With Her Kind Permission

Part 25 - Wash That Man Right Out Of My Hair

It was the must luxurious experience I think I can remember ever having, and yet is was only a simple shower. But to have soap! Real soap, and not the half-dissolved block of compressed slimy fat that passed for soap in the showers of the slave tank. And shampoo and conditioner for my hair. It was a heavenly treat beyond words that made me feel civilized again. I pampered myself under the silky droplets of warm water that cascaded from the shower rose for as long as I thought I possibly could. The bath towel provided was smooth and comforting; and an electric hair dryer! After drying myself, I poked around in the vanity cupboard and found a selection of powders and make-up, including some lip gloss and nail polish. My nails were a mess, after a week of no attention. I sat on the edge of the bath and set about work on them with an emery board and shaped them into neat shapes before glossing them with a fresh coat of red nail polish. I had a few minutes to wait while it dried and I spent them looking at myself in the mirror.

The freshness of the shower had washed away all the dirt and I felt a certain threshold had been crossed which left behind everything that had occurred before it. I studied my face for a while, trying to find something in it that could explain why all of this had happened to me. "What is it about me?" I asked myself.

Picasso is famous for once saying "every woman is either a goddess or a doormat." There was a time when Grant used to treat me like a goddess. He adored me, as I adored him. When did he stop seeing me this way and start to consider me a doormat? For twenty years I loved him and did everything I could think of to please him. I dwelled on that thought for a moment and then checked the dryness of my nail polish. Dry enough to touch lightly.

There was also a range of perfumes behind the vanity mirror including my favorite, First. I gave myself a couple of small squirts on the side of my neck, and one inside each of my wrists. The tiny hint of Jasmine filled my senses; a wonderful scent that never fails to remind me of spring. I was ready to face the new day; to face the beginning of my new life!

I waited for Mr. West in his office as per his instructions. A clock on the wall said the time was after 7am, which I didn't usually consider 'early', except on Sundays. I stood patiently beside his office desk and looked around at things. "A tidy desk is a tidy mind," I said to myself as I noted the way everything seemed to be perfectly in place. In fact, had it not been for the computer on the desk in front of me, it could have been his library. The walls were lined with books, all sorted as neatly as I might have sorted them for work at Smithfield's; arranged by subject, the largest section of which appeared to be computers and electronics.

When he did finally arrive in his office, the first thing he wanted to know was how much I knew about the White Slave Act of 2000. If it hadn't been read to me those two time when I was arrested, I wouldn't have known a thing about it, and I told Mr. West as much. He went on to explain it to me in great depth. The explanation wasn't obviously intended to draw my attention to any possible loopholes in it I could have exploited to my own advantage, but rather to explain how it worked insofar as his slave operations went. He more or less skimmed over the section that had seen me enslaved and the second about those who volunteer to be enslaved which, I was mildly pleased to hear, he considered "idiots". The section that sounded like it was going to be my main task was to compile and maintain files containing all the records relating to individual slaves who were enslaved under the "Boyfriend Clause" or, as the young girls had put it to me last night, "PPC'd".

"What I want you to do is to start with my standard enslavement papers file, then find all the papers dealing with that women's enslavement and make a file for her," he said.

I looked at the voluminous pile of papers he produced for me to work with.

"I've done a couple thousand, so this is going to take awhile. Try and do this for at least 4 hours a day. We will go over other duties as they come up. I've got to go deal with Jen for a while, then with Sonya, the new slut after that."

And that was that. He left things piled neatly on his desk and me alone with the task at hand. In many ways, I felt glad I had something to do. Paperwork in the past was always something I found incredibly tedious, but something told me this might prove more interesting than I anticipated. I sat down in the office chair and wriggled in it a bit until the fabric of it stopped itching my bare ass, and then started reading the first sheet on top of the pile.