Slaves Don't Need Visas Ch. 21-22
Posted: Sat Dec 21, 2024 2:48 pm
21. Reunited
They drove for only a short while before the van came to a stop. It backed up and turned, moved a few meters, and halted again. Karel exited the vehicle. Melissa could faintly hear voices, but she couldn't discern any words. After some time, the cargo door opened, and Karel entered. He unstrapped her cage, placed it on the dolly, and wheeled her out of the van down the ramp. The brightness outside was overwhelming, and the sun's warmth enveloped her.
"Melissa!" A familiar voice called out from behind her. She turned in her cage as best she could.
"Arbek? Arbek!" Melissa was in disbelief. She shifted to a kneeling position to get a better view, though the cage's height prevented her from sitting upright and gripped the cage's bars. She saw Tariq standing beside him.
“Tariq! You’re here too!”
"I see you all know each other," Karel laughed, beginning to move Melissa's cage off the dolly. Arbek and Tariq quickly stepped in to lift it, ensuring it didn't hit the ground.
"Hey Amina, Zahara, come quick, she's here!" Tariq shouted.
"They've come to see you too," Tariq informed Melissa. "They went into the shop over there. I'm so glad we got you."
Melissa watched as two young black women crossed the road. Then, a third figure joined them, and she was stunned at the sight.
"Markus?" she said in disbelief. Melissa felt her muscles tense up involuntarily. She wanted to hide, but caged as she was she could not prevent them from witnessing her in her unfortunate state.
Tariq turned to look at the approaching group.
"Oh yeah, he came with us," Tariq explained.
Markus had dated Melissa a few times before she met Arbek. They had never been intimate, and despite Markus's desire for her to be his girlfriend, his similarity to her ex had prompted her to gently reject him. He hadn't taken the rejection well, especially not when she subsequently started seeing Arbek. Now, here he was, at a low point of her life, witnessing her being delivered—naked, chained, and caged—in what seemed to be a parking lot.
Why was she still locked in the cage, she wondered, why wasn't anyone letting her out? She tore her gaze away from Markus to see what Arbek was doing. He was showing Karel his passport and then signing something on a notepad that Karel held before him, treating her like a package delivery. Which, she realized, was exactly what she was right now. A package delivery by a courier.
Karel pulled an envelope from his shoulder bag and handed it to Arbek.
Meanwhile, Amina, Zahara, and Markus approached. Melissa looked up at them from within her cage.
“Hey guys,” she said, looking at them shyly.
Amina, with her slightly plump figure, had shoulder-length curly hair and a gentle face that reflected her kind nature. Zahara, on the other hand, was slender and athletic. Her hair was braided and went down to her waist. Both were Black Africans from Grabesh. Markus, a German of average build and height, stood by them. They all congregated around Melissa's cage.
Sweat formed on her skin from the stress of their gaze on her naked skin. At the same time she was grateful that her friends had come to her rescue. Yet, she remained shackled and caged, unable to actively participate in her own liberation, waiting for them to let her out of the cage. The women expressed their concern and joy.
"Oh, Melissa, I’m so glad we got you back."
"It is so great to see you again!"
"Are you okay?"
“We were so worried about you!”
“You have to tell us everything that happened to you!”
Markus stood there, his eyes fixed on Melissa as she sat helplessly in the cage, her hands gripping the bars. Melissa felt her stomach clench under his gaze as he was scrutinizing her naked skin, with no place for her to hide within the confines of her transport cage.
“Whoa, Mel, I’m glad they got you out of there,” he said, not really knowing what to say.
“Markus? What are you doing here?” Melissa was befuddled.
"May I, ladies?" Karel interjected gently, stepping between the two women and the cage. He unlocked it and swung the door open.
“Ah, finally,” Melissa sighed and crawled out on all fours, mindful of the tight travel chains to avoid any painful yank on her wrists. She felt the warm sand beneath her hands and legs. Her muscles were stiff as she rose up. She was grateful to finally be able to stand like everyone else even if she was a bit shaky. As she stood up, the central chain pulled her hands down to her pubic area and left her breasts exposed with relaxed nipples and pink areola.
"Is that an ear tag?" Amina asked, reaching to touch the plastic on Melissa's ear.
Melissa instinctively tried to lift her hands, but they were instantly caught by the central chain of her travel restraints.
"It has a number," Amina noted. "And there's something written here," she tilted the ear tag to see the other side.
"Ouch!" Melissa winced as the ear tag moved, pulling the central chain tight once more.
"Unlawful to remove," Amina read aloud.
"Careful, it hasn't fully healed yet. It's still swollen," Melissa explained.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't know," Amina released the ear tag.
"It's ok," Melissa replied.
"Do you guys need the cage?" Karel inquired.
"No, you can take it back," Arbek responded.
"Alrighty," Karel said, loading the cage and dolly back into the van.
"Can you get these chains off me?" Melissa snapped, her patience clearly exhausted as she stood surrounded by her friends, still bound by the confining travel restraints.
"Yeah, about that," Tariq started.
"We discussed this earlier," Arbek continued in a hushed tone. "Listen, Melissa, we took a huge risk getting you out of the Health Office like this, and we've broken several laws in the process. I'll go into the details later, but for now, it's critical we don't attract any attention. And that means you need to act like a slave."
Melissa tugged at her chains, frustration mounting. Arbek had the keys. Why wasn’t he releasing her from these tight chains? Why keep her in these restraints in front of everyone?
She heard Karel's van engine start and then drive away from the parking lot.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice laced with confusion.
“We need you to behave like a slave would,” Tariq explained. “I know it is hard for you to be naked, but if people see you with a collar and wearing clothes, this is illegal and people might notify the police. If the police are on our case they will find out that you should be in quarantine at the Health Office. Then they will find out that we got you out of the Health Office and we will all be in really big trouble. It is important that we don’t act suspiciously. And for that it is important that you behave like a slave. Ok? Don’t put on clothes and generally behave like a slave, ok?”
Melissa closed her eyes, letting out a sigh, overwhelmed by the influx of information and emotions. She was free from the Health Office, but standing naked in the sand of some parking lot felt surreal. And for some reason Markus was here, which added to her confusion. She tried to concentrate on what Tariq was saying. Her friends had got her out of the Health Office early, just as she had hoped, but they had risked a lot. They had even broken the law, and now they were asking her to not jeopardize their efforts by behaving in a way that could draw attention. She had to act like a slave because her collar marked her as one. She longed to wear clothes like her friends, but doing so would violate the local laws, potentially summoning the police. If the police came, they'd discover that she was supposed to be in quarantine, and her friends' actions would come to light, landing them in trouble because of her. She understood the rationale, but it was disheartening to realize that even now, among friends, she was expected to maintain the facade of being a slave.
“I see,” she finally said. “Ok, I will pretend to be a slave.”
"You really are a slave," Tariq said with a smile. "We're just asking you to behave like one for the time being."
“For now?” she asked.
“You're supposed to be at the Health Office for fourteen days,” he explained. “So you have ten more days to go. After the ten days your record will show that you have been released from the Health Office. After that, Arbek can free you from your enslavement.”
"Okay, I see," Melissa responded. "I'm really grateful you got me out of that awful place. You guys shouldn't get into trouble because you helped me." She sighed before continuing, "I promise I'll be a model slave for these next ten days then. And thank you for getting me out of the Health Office."
“Awesome. Sorry I had to be so pushy, but it is very important,” Tariq said.
She looked at Arbek. "Can you get these off me now?" She lifted her chained hands as high as they would go, just above her pubic area.
“Right away,” he said and started unlocking her travel restraints.
"What's the big deal with Melissa wearing clothes?" Markus asked.
"If slaves cover up, they could pass as free," Tariq said. "It's illegal."
"Oh, right. But can't she wear something that shows the collar?"
"Slaves were originally kept naked to stop them from hiding weapons," Tariq explained. "But over time nakedness became a sign of being a slave. Even with the collar visible, clothes are seen as trying to hide what they are."
"Interesting," Markus said. "Can't they wear clothes for work, though?"
"Yeah, if there's a good reason," Tariq replied. "Normally, they're supposed to be naked unless they need clothes for something specific."
"That makes sense," Markus nodded.
By then, Arbek had freed Melissa from her restraints. She stretched her arms, enjoying the freedom. She hated being naked in front of her friends, but it was something she had to deal with for the next ten days. She was annoyed that they'd kept her chained until she agreed to play along, feeling like they were treating her as their actual slave. This felt like Tariq's doing; he, Amina, and Zahara had grown up in Grabesh where slavery was normal. None of them had ever spoken out against it. And what did Tariq mean by 'You really are a slave'? Surely, he didn't think her current situation made her a real slave, even for a short time.
“These look fun. They might be useful later tonight,” Arbek grinned as he stowed the travel restraints into his backpack.
“Arbek!” Melissa exclaimed indignantly while her friends laughed.
“Let’s get out of here,” Tariq said. “We can sit down somewhere and have a drink.”
They left the parking lot and ventured onto a street that wasn't paved, covered in sand with simple, rudimentary buildings around.
People were going about their daily activities along the street. Melissa kept her eyes down, feeling self-conscious and as though all eyes were on her nudity.
She absorbed her first outside impressions of Grabesh: The road was merely a well-trodden path of compacted earth, dusted with sand, lined with basic wooden structures and mud huts. Palm trees dotted the landscape.
Melissa strolled with her friends under the scorching sun as its rays warmed her naked body. A gentle breeze brushed over her skin and reminded her of her nudity as she felt it on her breasts, where it made her nipples harden, between her legs and stirring the delicate curls of her pubic hair. Underfoot, the warm sand shifted and crunched at every step.
Her emotions were in turmoil; relief at being rescued was mixed with the burden of having to continue the charade of slavery to shield both herself and her friends from legal trouble.
“Where are we?” Melissa asked.
"This is a village called Zawadi," Tariq answered. "We only came here to pick you up."
“And where are we going?”
"We've rented places in Ngalawa Bay. We'll take a bus there later."
”Ideally the courier would have delivered you all the way to Ngalawa Bay. But that would have taken him too far off this normal route and caused suspicion,” Arbek explained. “But Zawadi is on his way, so he could stop here to drop you off without conspicuously losing time on his normal route.”
"Okay," Melissa responded, feeling disoriented. All these place names were foreign to her. She'd never heard of them, but the explanation made sense.
She had been naked for five days now, but this was her first time in public. She was anxious and wanted to cover up, though she had nothing to do so with. She could use her hands to shield her breasts and private area, but she knew that in this culture, seeing naked slaves wasn't uncommon. Covering up would just draw more attention. People would notice her less if she acted like she was used to it, so she decided to resist the urge to hide herself and pretend it was normal for her.
"So, where are we going now?" Melissa asked in the general direction of Tariq and Arbek.
"Back home, now that we've got you," Tariq said. "There's a bus every hour, so we've got some waiting to do. I thought we could hit up a café. Are you hungry?"
Coffee sounded amazing to her; she hadn't had any since she was enslaved, except for the few sips from Killian's cup. And even though the heat had dampened her appetite, the thought of real food, not the bland meals from the Health Office, was starting to get her excited.
"Oh, that would be great!" Melissa replied. Then she paused for a moment. "I had to call everyone 'Sir' at the airport and the Health Office. Do I still have to do that for my slave cover?"
"There's no regulation that says you have to," Tariq answered. "But it's kind of expected. People might think you're rude if you don't."
Melissa figured she could deal with that. She didn't much care what these slave owners thought of her.
"And, even worse," Tariq continued, "it reflects badly on us. If we can't even keep our own slave in check, it makes us look like we don't deserve respect."
Melissa nodded in understanding.
"So if you don't act respectfully towards us, it's like you're making us look bad. I know this isn't what you pictured when you thought about getting out of the Health Office, but while you've got that collar on, you need to play the part. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," Melissa said, still trying to wrap her head around this bizarre culture. She'd promised to play the slave role for them, and they had gotten her out of that hellhole. She couldn't be ungrateful now. "Sir," she added.
"Yes, Sir," she repeated.
"Good, Melissa. Think of it like this: In the West, if someone's walking their dog and it's barking at everyone, running off, not listening to commands, who looks bad? It's not just the dog; it's the owner. In fact, people would mostly blame the owner for the dog's bad behavior, right?"
"Yes, Sir," Melissa acknowledged, realizing once again she was being equated to an animal, just like at the Health Office. Some things never changed.
"And if that dog causes trouble or damages something, who do you think the police will fine? Not the dog, but the owner."
“Yes, Sir.”
"So if you misbehave, it's us who will get in trouble, Melissa. When we ask you to behave like a slave, it's not because we're being mean; it's because we have to adapt to how things work here. We're asking this out of love and care for you, especially when dealing with others. You need to show the respect expected of a slave."
"I get it, Tariq," Melissa said. "It's just for a few more days, and I'll be the best slave girl for you guys." She glanced at Markus, who was watching her with a look of disbelief. This seemed even stranger to him than it did to her. Turning back to Tariq, she added, "Sir."
"Wonderful. I knew you'd understand."
Melissa’s initial feelings of relief from their rescue began to be overshadowed by all these demands made of her. She didn’t like that she had to maintain the facade of subservience. Especially in front of Markus, who she had turned down when he wanted her to be his girlfriend. She had expected freedom upon her rescue, but she understood Tariq and she would do as he had said out of fear of drawing attention to them. Just ten more days, she reminded herself.
They walked along what seemed to be the main road.
Some of the huts had small gardens. A few plants looked decorative, but most were likely herbs or something useful.
Melissa noticed chickens pecking about and the occasional goat sauntering past.
Zahara put her arm around Melissa's shoulder and asked, "So, what's the deal with that ear tag? Slaves don’t normally get those."
"I have no idea. Those sickos at the Health Office just stapled it onto my ear!" Melissa replied, her tone full of outrage.
"Yeah slaves don’t normally get ear tags," Tariq chimed in. “I think they are normally only used in facilities that closely monitor slave health. I thought they were only attached to slaves as-needed.”
"I told them that I don’t want it, but they didn’t care! They just stapled it on my ear right after those bastards chipped me!" Melissa added with outrage in her voice.
"What, they chipped you?" Amina asked, sounding shocked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"They injected a chip between my shoulder blades," Melissa explained. "You might still see the injection site if you look. It still itches sometimes."
Arbek stopped and held Melissa gently. The group paused as well. He turned her around so her back was to him, moving her hair over her shoulder to look. He brushed his hand across her back.
"There's some redness here," he noted, touching a spot between her shoulder blades. Everyone else gathered behind to see.
Melissa felt a twinge, like someone pressing on a bruise.
"Yeah, that's it," she confirmed. "That's where the vet put the chip."
"The 'vet'?" Markus echoed, disbelief in his voice. "You were treated by a veterinarian?"
"Yes, Markus. A vet. They treated me like I was livestock," Melissa said, her irritation clear. It bothered her that Markus was learning about her dehumanizing treatment.
"That is so odd. I thought slaves were only chipped in larger facilities that have the technology to make use of them. I've never heard of slaves being routinely chipped before," Tariq remarked. "Interesting. I mean, I'm really sorry for you, of course."
They walked a few more minutes until a café appeared at the side of the road.
"Let's go in here," Arbek suggested. "We can hang out until the bus comes."
The café had a sign with a pictogram showing a person kneeling, a lock, a leash, and an arrow pointing downward.
"That means slaves need to be leashed inside," Tariq explained.
Melissa sighed. No way, she thought, she wasn't going to be leashed. That was just too much. Being naked in public was already more than enough. She'd rather skip the coffee than deal with that. It could wait until they got home.
"Maybe they have outdoor seating where that isn't necessary," Zahara suggested, checking around the back of the small wooden building.
Indeed, there was outdoor seating with low tables and chairs under a shade. The group settled around one table. Melissa went to sit on a chair.
"Uh, no," Tariq said, holding her arm. "You can't sit on a chair."
Melissa paused, half-standing, then stood back up. “What now?”
"You can't sit on the chair, Melissa," he clarified. "For hygiene reasons. You're naked, remember?"
Melissa was irked by that. She didn't need to be reminded of her nudity, she rarely thought of anything else. But she wasn’t naked by choice. Now, they were making it out like it was her fault.
"So I have to stand the whole time?"
“No, you can’t stand either. Not, while we are all sitting. You have to kneel next to the table,” he said.
Melissa sighed in frustration and knelt beside Arbek. The table was low enough that she could still see over it.
They ordered drinks and some food.
Melissa was kneeling next to the table, not exactly thrilled about her unique status in the group. But she reminded herself that just half an hour ago, she had been caged and chained in Karel’s van, and now she was on her way to freedom. Without her friends, she'd be stuck in that restraining device in the white room now with Killian shoving cotton swabs where they didn't belong. So, she decided to feel grateful and accept that she'd have to endure ten more days of nudity as her penance for getting roped into this slavery mess.
"How did you guys get me out of the Health Office?" she asked, looking around at everyone.
"Tariq found out where you were, which is how I could visit you on Thursday," Arbek started.
"Yeah, I asked my parents for advice on how to bribe you out," Tariq added. "My parents couldn't believe your story. I had to explain it to them three times!" he said, chuckling. "Anyway, they guided me through it. The only hiccup was getting enough cash for the bribe."
"Which I managed on Friday," Arbek jumped in. "I didn't have that kind of money, so I took out a loan at the bank.
"Then I went back to the Health Office. I got there right before closing and followed Tariq's parents' advice. The head veterinarian took the bribe. It was too late to release you on the spot; they needed to forge the papers and all, but by Monday morning, it was all sorted. As far as anyone knows, you've been sent off to some remote outstation, and in ten days, your records will magically say you're in perfect health and 'A-grade breeding material.'"
"Arbek!" Melissa exclaimed in mock outrage.
"I was just messing with the head vet. I wonder if he'll actually write that in your assessment," Arbek laughed.
"I can't believe it," Melissa said, punching him again, but then she couldn't help but laugh. Her nudity and collar didn't matter at that moment; this was just too hilarious. She laughed and leaned against Arbek's leg.
"'A-grade breeding material,'" she said in an exaggerated, romantic voice. "No one's ever complimented me like that before. You're such a romantic. I've always aspired to be A-grade breeding material."
The group burst into laughter and the atmosphere was light and cheerful. The waiter brought their drinks and some food. The food looked like an assortment of burritos on a large plate that was shared among the group.
As a slave Melissa wasn’t allowed to take anything from the table, but Arbek gave her her cup of coffee and she placed it on the ground next to her where no one would accidentally knock it over. Then, he handed her one of the burritos and she munched on it while kneeling on the ground. It was absolutely delicious, especially after the bland food she was used to from the Health Office.
"And when these ten days of slavery are over, we can get rid of this?" Melissa asked, tugging at the collar around her neck.
"Yep, in ten days, your release from the Health Office will be official," Arbek replied. "Then I can swap it for one I can actually take off."
"Can't we just have someone cut it off now?" Melissa inquired.
"Oh no, that would be illegal," Tariq said. "Even though Arbek's your owner, you're still technically the state's property until he puts his own collar on you. Only then can he do whatever he wants, like set you free. But cutting off the collar? That'd be seen as an escape attempt, which is a crime. And anyone helping you would be charged with facilitating an escape, which is also a crime.”
"But you guys already broke the law to get me out of the Health Office," Melissa pointed out. "Why's this a problem?"
"Melissa, you told me what they were doing to you there," Arbek said. "Think about the chipping and the ear tag. Who knows what else they might have done?"
Melissa knew exactly what else they wanted to do—lots of unwanted swabbing.
"We had to get you out," Arbek continued. "If breaking the law was the only way, then so be it."
“And this is a steel collar, Melissa,” Tariq said, ”You can’t just ‘cut’ through it. You would need someone with special tools and who is skilled. And think about it: He would be sawing into steel close to your neck. It is risky and if you get injured it can be very dangerous. It is not worth the risk.”
Melissa tugged at her collar and sighed. This hated thing was harder to get rid of than she had thought.
"But nobody's hurting you now," Tariq added. "We'll take you home, and you can just wait out these ten days. You can stay in, watch movies, or even study online if you don't want to be seen naked in public."
“True,” Melissa conceded.
“Just wait the ten days and they will take it off you. No need to risk your life."
Melissa nodded.
“Most masters don’t allow slaves to access the internet or phones,” Tariq added. “But I have a feeling your owner will make an exception.”
“Oh, and they want the collar back,” Arbek said.
“What do you mean?”
"It was in the paperwork I got at the airport," Arbek explained. "Remember, I was violating the slave code because I didn't have a collar for you. That's why they put this one on. I have thirty days to get you a new one and do the exchange at a police station, or there'll be fines. So I have to show up and you have to be in that collar for it."
Melissa ran her fingers along the collar. So, having it cut off wasn't an option. Even if they could, they'd still get into trouble because she had to appear at the police station with the collar intact and locked.
"But after the ten days, the collar gets taken off at a police station, right? Why not go there now and bribe someone to take it off?"
"Melissa, if they check your collar ID, they'll see you should still be at the Health Office, remember?" Tariq reminded her. "If the officer isn't open to bribes, we'll all be in hot water for getting you out. They can't know about this."
"Oh, right, I forgot," Melissa said.
"And bribes are expensive," Tariq continued. "The collar would be removed by a judicial officer. That'd be an expensive bribe."
"Yeah, and we don't have that kind of money," Arbek admitted. "I took out a loan for the Health Office bribe. There's no way I can swing that again."
"You're right," Melissa sighed. "Thanks again, Arbek, for doing this for me."
"I still don't get how a bank would give you that much money," Tariq remarked.
"Well, I used my Arbek charm!" Arbek replied with a laugh. "I can get what I want. That's how I snagged a hottie like Melissa in the first place!" Melissa gave him a playful punch on the leg, and Arbek laughed again.
"Don’t worry, Melissa. We'll have fun. Those ten days will go over in no time," Arbek reassured her.
"Oh man, I'm so looking forward to that. I can't wait to get this thing off me," Melissa said, pulling at the collar.
"Oh and that means I actually have to buy you a collar," Arbek remarked. "We'll have to go collar shopping one of these days."
“Collar shopping,” Melissa repeated. In a sarcastic voice she continued “Oh, you are so romantic again Arbek. Yes, I would love to go collar shopping with you. I hope you will get me a really nice one. Like, one made of gold?”
Everyone laughed.
"Yeah, right," Arbek chuckled. "I think I'll get a steel one that says 'Beware: Contains Sarcasm'."
More laughter.
“Or ‘Don’t feed after midnight’,” Markus interjected.
Everyone burst into laughter.
Melissa felt much better; she needed this. She felt like she was among friends again. The fact that she was naked and collared, not sitting like everyone else, didn't bother her as much. She was with friends, and freedom was just ten days away. The worst was over, and maybe she could have some fun with this absurd situation.
She took a sip of her coffee.
"Runs on coffee and attitude," Amina suggested.
"I would like 'Not a Morning Person' inscribed on my collar," Melissa mused.
More laughter.
"Guys, I really want to thank you for doing this for me. I know it wasn't easy, but you all came together to get me out of there. It was hell. And for that, I am really grateful."
"Of course, Melissa. You're not just a slave to us, you're a friend."
"They really put the Hell in Health Office," she said.
Melissa wasn't used to kneeling for so long. Without a chair to lean against, her spine arched awkwardly and her lower back began to hurt. She adjusted her position in an attempt to ease the strain. In addition, she started to feel her lower legs going numb as her weight was impeding blood flow.
"So what are you doing here, Markus?" The question was blunt and maybe a bit rude, but Melissa had been wondering and wanted to know why this guy was here.
"They invited me to come with them," Markus answered. "They'd been talking about Grabesh, and I thought it would be cool to see it for myself."
Melissa recalled that after she had turned Markus down, he still seemed to pop up wherever she was. He frequented the same cafes, attended the same student parties. She wasn't sure if it was just a coincidence or if he was still drawn to her. She remembered seeing him chatting with Tariq, Amina, and Zahara at one of those parties. She hadn't paid it much mind then, but now she wondered if he might have been stalking her. It seemed too coincidental that he would befriend the same African group she'd met through Arbek.
“Was there anything in particular you were interested in?” she asked.
"Yeah, they talked about the amazing beaches, great food, and all at really affordable prices," he said. "But mostly, I was curious about the slaves. I've never seen slaves before. And then they said the slaves are kept naked. I didn't believe it, I thought they were pulling my leg. So they invited me to come next time they went and see for myself. And here I am. Man, was I proven wrong!"
They all laughed.
“And when Arbek told us on Thursday that you had been enslaved I thought he was messing with us,” Markus continued. “But here we are!”
More laughter.
"But how did you get a visa on such short notice?" she asked.
"That's easy," Markus replied. "They issue e-visas online. It's really fast. I got mine an hour after applying."
"E-visas?" Melissa said in disbelief, turning to Arbek. She couldn't believe it. A quick check online before they had left could have spared her this whole ordeal. "Did you know there were e-visas?"
"Hey, why would I know these things? I have a passport; I've never had to look into their visa system."
"How did you know about these e-visas?" Melissa asked Markus.
"Tariq told me. It's also on their website," Markus said. "It's super easy. You just scan your passport with your phone."
"You couldn't have just checked their website?" Melissa asked Arbek, her tone accusatory.
Arbek looked down, his face showing genuine regret. "Melissa, I'm so sorry. I had no idea it would cause such problems. I should have checked this. It's my fault for not looking into it."
Melissa sighed, the anger she felt mingling with relief at his apology. "Hm, ok," she said, her voice softening but still edged with resentment. "I should have checked the visa rules on the website too, but... I trusted you with this, Arbek. And look where it got me. I went through hell, and I’m a slave now."
Arbek nodded, the weight of his mistake clear in his eyes. "I know, and I'm truly sorry for that. I never meant for this to happen to you. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Melissa looked away, the experience still fresh and her trust shaken, yet she knew that holding onto anger wouldn't change what had happened. "We'll see," she replied, her tone indicating that forgiveness would take time.
"Hey, isn't it time for the bus?" Markus interjected.
They finished their food and drinks. Arbek handed her a glass of tap water and she drank it. Then they paid, and headed out.
Melissa's legs were stiff after kneeling for so long and her feet were tingling with numbness from the lack of circulation. As she rose, the blood rushed back into her limbs, sending a sharp, tingling sensation through her legs and feet like a thousand tiny needles. She wobbled as she got to her feet and grabbed the table for support.
Arbek and Markus noticed her struggle and quickly moved to her side to hold her for balance. After the relative privacy of the cafe, Melissa dreaded being naked in public again. Arbek supported her on her way out. The feeling gradually returned to her legs, and once they were outside she was able to walk on her own again.
They made their way to the bus stop where only a few people were waiting. One man caught Melissa's attention; he had a female slave kneeling submissively beside him. Both of them were black. The group joined them.
The people looked at them and especially at Melissa. Melissa knew it wasn’t her nudity that drew their attention. They looked at her because she was white and it was rare for people here to see a white slave.
Melissa glanced at the kneeling slave and knew that the same was expected of her. She didn't want to kneel, but she was aware that in this society, she was a slave just like the woman next to her master. The social pressure was palpable. She caught Markus's eye; he was looking around, seemingly unaware of her internal struggle. As his peer, she felt she shouldn't have to kneel while he could stand. Then her eyes met Tariq's, who understood her hesitation and gave her a slight nod. Remembering her promise to be a model slave, she overcame her reluctance and knelt on the sandy ground. The sand initially hurt her knees, but by sitting back on her feet, she distributed her weight more evenly, making it bearable though not entirely comfortable.
She avoided eye contact with her group. The other people waiting for the bus soon lost interest and turned their attention to the passing traffic.
The road wasn't busy, but Melissa noticed the eclectic mix of vehicles: from horse-drawn carriages to male slaves pulling carts, to the occasional car or jeep. One donkey was pulling a carriage loaded with crates and bags while its owner walked alongside.
Finally, a bus came into view, but it wasn't what she had expected. It was an old, rugged vehicle with oversized, tough tires meant for rough terrain, deep treads, and extended side mirrors. An unusual pipe protruded high from one side of the bus, reaching towards the roof, and another that was slightly bent.
"Man, I really hope this bus has air conditioning," Markus said, wiping sweat from his brow, "it's so hot out here."
The bus stopped, and the people began moving towards the entrance. Melissa stood up and followed her friends. When they reached the bus, Tariq bought tickets for everyone, and they boarded. Melissa attempted to follow, but the bus driver halted her. Slaves were not permitted to board unless they were service slaves. Melissa didn’t know what a service slave was, but it was clear that she wasn’t one and she was not allowed inside. Tariq turned to her, explaining that she'd have to go in the back and follow the driver. Markus stayed outside too, curious to see what would happen to her.
Thus, Melissa waited outside with the female slave. Once everyone was on the bus, the driver led them to its rear. There, she discovered a full cage trailer attached to the bus, which she hadn't noticed earlier due to the bus's rugged appearance. Melissa estimated it to be around six feet wide and twelve feet long, or two meters by four meters. It was a white cage on wheels connected to the bus. She saw two black slaves inside, middle aged, a man and a woman, and sighed in disappointment. She had hoped her days of being caged were over now that she was with her friends, but her collar didn’t just mean she had to be naked but also that she would be travelling in this cage trailer like livestock.
She didn’t like that she was being separated from her friends and she hoped it would not be for too long.
The bus driver opened the cage at the back. The two slaves stepped out, and Melissa noticed their collars were locked to a long chain, one end of which was padlocked to the cage.
The slaves exited and stood next to each other, facing the driver. They spread their legs to shoulder-width and held their hands beside their shoulders, palms forward.
Melissa sighed again, understanding she would also be chained to that line. And this idiot Markus still stood there, witnessing her being locked into the slave coffle. She wished there was some way out of this. She looked at the slaves' posture and recalled what Nala had taught her about slave positions. They were designed to control them. The wide stance ensured nothing could be hidden, and the open hands showed they carried no weapons.
It pained her that she had to display her submission so openly, especially with Markus watching. She was furious at the system that subjected her to this, but she knew she had no choice but to line up with the other slaves.
The chain drooped between the two slaves; the man at one end, with the chain extending five meters to the woman, and another five meters to where it connected to the cage, hanging loosely.
The female slave beside Melissa knew the drill. She moved into position between the man and the woman, standing behind the chain with her legs spread shoulder-width apart and her palms at her shoulders facing forward, ready to be locked to the chain.
Melissa followed suit, positioning herself between the woman and the cage. She stood behind the chain and spread her legs, raised her hands next to her shoulders and turned her palms forward, waiting in the hot sun for the bus driver to chain her.
She could feel Markus's disbelieving gaze on her, certain he was eyeing her breasts and vagina. She did not want him to see her this way. His stare added an unwanted sexualisation to her nudity and subjugation. But she could not cover herself from him while she stood and awaited chaining. She tried to avert her eyes, hoping he'd leave, but she couldn't help but look back at him. Their eyes locked; he tilted his head, frowning, scanning her from head to toe, his arousal evident by the bulge in his pants. He had wanted her to be his girlfriend. He probably had fantasized about seeing her naked. If she had wanted him to see her like this, she wouldn't have rejected him. Now he was getting his wish anyway. Although his stare made her uncomfortable, she knew from Nala that once in a slave position, she had to wait to be released from it or she would be punished.
The bus driver grabbed a padlock and first approached the female slave, fastening the chain to her collar.
Then, he approached Melissa. He stood closer than she would have permitted as a free woman. The smell of tobacco was thick on him, intensified by his sweat, which was like the pungent aftermath of a kitchen where onions and garlic had been left to overcook. It was a dense smell that made her feel a wave of nausea as the scent enveloped her. She resisted the urge to step back, knowing she had to hold her position.
She kept her eyes averted and stared forward at his chest hair showing through the open buttons of his shirt. Making eye contact wasn't forbidden, but she didn’t want to risk provoking him. She noticed the sweat shining on his forehead, little beads tracing paths down his temple.
The driver lifted the chain to her collar's D-ring with one hand, and she felt the intimate brush of his hand against her throat. With the other hand he threaded the padlock through both the D-ring and the chain. She heard the click of the padlock locking her to the chain, as he snapped it shut.
Then he stepped back to check the slave coffle. All four slaves were now locked to the cage by the chain, standing in the same position. Melissa glanced up to see Markus watching with disbelief. She wished more than anything that she didn’t have to be here like this, but now she was chained and couldn’t leave her position anymore even if she tried.
With a shout of "Get in!" from the bus driver and two sharp claps of his hands, they were freed from their rigid stance. They shuffled towards the cage with Melissa, being closest, entering first. She climbed in, feeling the warm, nearly hot metal of the white steel cage. She shifted to the left to make room for the others to enter, and they arranged themselves around the cage in the same order they were chained. The cage allowed them to sit or kneel but was too low to stand; the ceiling was a lattice of bars, the floor a solid sheet of steel. She glanced through the bars to her right at Markus, whose eyebrows were raised in astonishment. She broke eye contact and turned to look back, just in time to see the bus driver slam the cage door shut and secure it with a heavy padlock.
She was now caged with two other women and a man, all black and all chained together. She felt like livestock about to be transported. Although her friends had just freed her, it felt like she'd merely exchanged one form of captivity for another.
Markus and the bus driver moved to the front, out of her sight.
The bus's engine roared to life, and their journey began.
In the steel cage, there was nothing to shield Melissa from the sun.
She looked out to her left, causing the chain to wrap around her awkwardly, so she lifted it over her head and adjusted her position so the chain hung in front of her. She then knelt, gripped the bars and peered through them as the bus moved through the village of Zawadi.
Fortunately, there were no exhaust fumes inside the cage. Melissa recalled the pipes she'd noticed on the vehicle before being locked in; they must have directed the exhaust upwards. Regardless, the cage allowed plenty of fresh air, but it was hot and carried the scent of sweat from the slaves sharing the cage with her. Despite its white paint, the cage was exceedingly warm, making it feel like they were slowly being cooked inside.
They drove for only a short while before the van came to a stop. It backed up and turned, moved a few meters, and halted again. Karel exited the vehicle. Melissa could faintly hear voices, but she couldn't discern any words. After some time, the cargo door opened, and Karel entered. He unstrapped her cage, placed it on the dolly, and wheeled her out of the van down the ramp. The brightness outside was overwhelming, and the sun's warmth enveloped her.
"Melissa!" A familiar voice called out from behind her. She turned in her cage as best she could.
"Arbek? Arbek!" Melissa was in disbelief. She shifted to a kneeling position to get a better view, though the cage's height prevented her from sitting upright and gripped the cage's bars. She saw Tariq standing beside him.
“Tariq! You’re here too!”
"I see you all know each other," Karel laughed, beginning to move Melissa's cage off the dolly. Arbek and Tariq quickly stepped in to lift it, ensuring it didn't hit the ground.
"Hey Amina, Zahara, come quick, she's here!" Tariq shouted.
"They've come to see you too," Tariq informed Melissa. "They went into the shop over there. I'm so glad we got you."
Melissa watched as two young black women crossed the road. Then, a third figure joined them, and she was stunned at the sight.
"Markus?" she said in disbelief. Melissa felt her muscles tense up involuntarily. She wanted to hide, but caged as she was she could not prevent them from witnessing her in her unfortunate state.
Tariq turned to look at the approaching group.
"Oh yeah, he came with us," Tariq explained.
Markus had dated Melissa a few times before she met Arbek. They had never been intimate, and despite Markus's desire for her to be his girlfriend, his similarity to her ex had prompted her to gently reject him. He hadn't taken the rejection well, especially not when she subsequently started seeing Arbek. Now, here he was, at a low point of her life, witnessing her being delivered—naked, chained, and caged—in what seemed to be a parking lot.
Why was she still locked in the cage, she wondered, why wasn't anyone letting her out? She tore her gaze away from Markus to see what Arbek was doing. He was showing Karel his passport and then signing something on a notepad that Karel held before him, treating her like a package delivery. Which, she realized, was exactly what she was right now. A package delivery by a courier.
Karel pulled an envelope from his shoulder bag and handed it to Arbek.
Meanwhile, Amina, Zahara, and Markus approached. Melissa looked up at them from within her cage.
“Hey guys,” she said, looking at them shyly.
Amina, with her slightly plump figure, had shoulder-length curly hair and a gentle face that reflected her kind nature. Zahara, on the other hand, was slender and athletic. Her hair was braided and went down to her waist. Both were Black Africans from Grabesh. Markus, a German of average build and height, stood by them. They all congregated around Melissa's cage.
Sweat formed on her skin from the stress of their gaze on her naked skin. At the same time she was grateful that her friends had come to her rescue. Yet, she remained shackled and caged, unable to actively participate in her own liberation, waiting for them to let her out of the cage. The women expressed their concern and joy.
"Oh, Melissa, I’m so glad we got you back."
"It is so great to see you again!"
"Are you okay?"
“We were so worried about you!”
“You have to tell us everything that happened to you!”
Markus stood there, his eyes fixed on Melissa as she sat helplessly in the cage, her hands gripping the bars. Melissa felt her stomach clench under his gaze as he was scrutinizing her naked skin, with no place for her to hide within the confines of her transport cage.
“Whoa, Mel, I’m glad they got you out of there,” he said, not really knowing what to say.
“Markus? What are you doing here?” Melissa was befuddled.
"May I, ladies?" Karel interjected gently, stepping between the two women and the cage. He unlocked it and swung the door open.
“Ah, finally,” Melissa sighed and crawled out on all fours, mindful of the tight travel chains to avoid any painful yank on her wrists. She felt the warm sand beneath her hands and legs. Her muscles were stiff as she rose up. She was grateful to finally be able to stand like everyone else even if she was a bit shaky. As she stood up, the central chain pulled her hands down to her pubic area and left her breasts exposed with relaxed nipples and pink areola.
"Is that an ear tag?" Amina asked, reaching to touch the plastic on Melissa's ear.
Melissa instinctively tried to lift her hands, but they were instantly caught by the central chain of her travel restraints.
"It has a number," Amina noted. "And there's something written here," she tilted the ear tag to see the other side.
"Ouch!" Melissa winced as the ear tag moved, pulling the central chain tight once more.
"Unlawful to remove," Amina read aloud.
"Careful, it hasn't fully healed yet. It's still swollen," Melissa explained.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't know," Amina released the ear tag.
"It's ok," Melissa replied.
"Do you guys need the cage?" Karel inquired.
"No, you can take it back," Arbek responded.
"Alrighty," Karel said, loading the cage and dolly back into the van.
"Can you get these chains off me?" Melissa snapped, her patience clearly exhausted as she stood surrounded by her friends, still bound by the confining travel restraints.
"Yeah, about that," Tariq started.
"We discussed this earlier," Arbek continued in a hushed tone. "Listen, Melissa, we took a huge risk getting you out of the Health Office like this, and we've broken several laws in the process. I'll go into the details later, but for now, it's critical we don't attract any attention. And that means you need to act like a slave."
Melissa tugged at her chains, frustration mounting. Arbek had the keys. Why wasn’t he releasing her from these tight chains? Why keep her in these restraints in front of everyone?
She heard Karel's van engine start and then drive away from the parking lot.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice laced with confusion.
“We need you to behave like a slave would,” Tariq explained. “I know it is hard for you to be naked, but if people see you with a collar and wearing clothes, this is illegal and people might notify the police. If the police are on our case they will find out that you should be in quarantine at the Health Office. Then they will find out that we got you out of the Health Office and we will all be in really big trouble. It is important that we don’t act suspiciously. And for that it is important that you behave like a slave. Ok? Don’t put on clothes and generally behave like a slave, ok?”
Melissa closed her eyes, letting out a sigh, overwhelmed by the influx of information and emotions. She was free from the Health Office, but standing naked in the sand of some parking lot felt surreal. And for some reason Markus was here, which added to her confusion. She tried to concentrate on what Tariq was saying. Her friends had got her out of the Health Office early, just as she had hoped, but they had risked a lot. They had even broken the law, and now they were asking her to not jeopardize their efforts by behaving in a way that could draw attention. She had to act like a slave because her collar marked her as one. She longed to wear clothes like her friends, but doing so would violate the local laws, potentially summoning the police. If the police came, they'd discover that she was supposed to be in quarantine, and her friends' actions would come to light, landing them in trouble because of her. She understood the rationale, but it was disheartening to realize that even now, among friends, she was expected to maintain the facade of being a slave.
“I see,” she finally said. “Ok, I will pretend to be a slave.”
"You really are a slave," Tariq said with a smile. "We're just asking you to behave like one for the time being."
“For now?” she asked.
“You're supposed to be at the Health Office for fourteen days,” he explained. “So you have ten more days to go. After the ten days your record will show that you have been released from the Health Office. After that, Arbek can free you from your enslavement.”
"Okay, I see," Melissa responded. "I'm really grateful you got me out of that awful place. You guys shouldn't get into trouble because you helped me." She sighed before continuing, "I promise I'll be a model slave for these next ten days then. And thank you for getting me out of the Health Office."
“Awesome. Sorry I had to be so pushy, but it is very important,” Tariq said.
She looked at Arbek. "Can you get these off me now?" She lifted her chained hands as high as they would go, just above her pubic area.
“Right away,” he said and started unlocking her travel restraints.
"What's the big deal with Melissa wearing clothes?" Markus asked.
"If slaves cover up, they could pass as free," Tariq said. "It's illegal."
"Oh, right. But can't she wear something that shows the collar?"
"Slaves were originally kept naked to stop them from hiding weapons," Tariq explained. "But over time nakedness became a sign of being a slave. Even with the collar visible, clothes are seen as trying to hide what they are."
"Interesting," Markus said. "Can't they wear clothes for work, though?"
"Yeah, if there's a good reason," Tariq replied. "Normally, they're supposed to be naked unless they need clothes for something specific."
"That makes sense," Markus nodded.
By then, Arbek had freed Melissa from her restraints. She stretched her arms, enjoying the freedom. She hated being naked in front of her friends, but it was something she had to deal with for the next ten days. She was annoyed that they'd kept her chained until she agreed to play along, feeling like they were treating her as their actual slave. This felt like Tariq's doing; he, Amina, and Zahara had grown up in Grabesh where slavery was normal. None of them had ever spoken out against it. And what did Tariq mean by 'You really are a slave'? Surely, he didn't think her current situation made her a real slave, even for a short time.
“These look fun. They might be useful later tonight,” Arbek grinned as he stowed the travel restraints into his backpack.
“Arbek!” Melissa exclaimed indignantly while her friends laughed.
“Let’s get out of here,” Tariq said. “We can sit down somewhere and have a drink.”
They left the parking lot and ventured onto a street that wasn't paved, covered in sand with simple, rudimentary buildings around.
People were going about their daily activities along the street. Melissa kept her eyes down, feeling self-conscious and as though all eyes were on her nudity.
She absorbed her first outside impressions of Grabesh: The road was merely a well-trodden path of compacted earth, dusted with sand, lined with basic wooden structures and mud huts. Palm trees dotted the landscape.
Melissa strolled with her friends under the scorching sun as its rays warmed her naked body. A gentle breeze brushed over her skin and reminded her of her nudity as she felt it on her breasts, where it made her nipples harden, between her legs and stirring the delicate curls of her pubic hair. Underfoot, the warm sand shifted and crunched at every step.
Her emotions were in turmoil; relief at being rescued was mixed with the burden of having to continue the charade of slavery to shield both herself and her friends from legal trouble.
“Where are we?” Melissa asked.
"This is a village called Zawadi," Tariq answered. "We only came here to pick you up."
“And where are we going?”
"We've rented places in Ngalawa Bay. We'll take a bus there later."
”Ideally the courier would have delivered you all the way to Ngalawa Bay. But that would have taken him too far off this normal route and caused suspicion,” Arbek explained. “But Zawadi is on his way, so he could stop here to drop you off without conspicuously losing time on his normal route.”
"Okay," Melissa responded, feeling disoriented. All these place names were foreign to her. She'd never heard of them, but the explanation made sense.
She had been naked for five days now, but this was her first time in public. She was anxious and wanted to cover up, though she had nothing to do so with. She could use her hands to shield her breasts and private area, but she knew that in this culture, seeing naked slaves wasn't uncommon. Covering up would just draw more attention. People would notice her less if she acted like she was used to it, so she decided to resist the urge to hide herself and pretend it was normal for her.
"So, where are we going now?" Melissa asked in the general direction of Tariq and Arbek.
"Back home, now that we've got you," Tariq said. "There's a bus every hour, so we've got some waiting to do. I thought we could hit up a café. Are you hungry?"
Coffee sounded amazing to her; she hadn't had any since she was enslaved, except for the few sips from Killian's cup. And even though the heat had dampened her appetite, the thought of real food, not the bland meals from the Health Office, was starting to get her excited.
"Oh, that would be great!" Melissa replied. Then she paused for a moment. "I had to call everyone 'Sir' at the airport and the Health Office. Do I still have to do that for my slave cover?"
"There's no regulation that says you have to," Tariq answered. "But it's kind of expected. People might think you're rude if you don't."
Melissa figured she could deal with that. She didn't much care what these slave owners thought of her.
"And, even worse," Tariq continued, "it reflects badly on us. If we can't even keep our own slave in check, it makes us look like we don't deserve respect."
Melissa nodded in understanding.
"So if you don't act respectfully towards us, it's like you're making us look bad. I know this isn't what you pictured when you thought about getting out of the Health Office, but while you've got that collar on, you need to play the part. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," Melissa said, still trying to wrap her head around this bizarre culture. She'd promised to play the slave role for them, and they had gotten her out of that hellhole. She couldn't be ungrateful now. "Sir," she added.
"Yes, Sir," she repeated.
"Good, Melissa. Think of it like this: In the West, if someone's walking their dog and it's barking at everyone, running off, not listening to commands, who looks bad? It's not just the dog; it's the owner. In fact, people would mostly blame the owner for the dog's bad behavior, right?"
"Yes, Sir," Melissa acknowledged, realizing once again she was being equated to an animal, just like at the Health Office. Some things never changed.
"And if that dog causes trouble or damages something, who do you think the police will fine? Not the dog, but the owner."
“Yes, Sir.”
"So if you misbehave, it's us who will get in trouble, Melissa. When we ask you to behave like a slave, it's not because we're being mean; it's because we have to adapt to how things work here. We're asking this out of love and care for you, especially when dealing with others. You need to show the respect expected of a slave."
"I get it, Tariq," Melissa said. "It's just for a few more days, and I'll be the best slave girl for you guys." She glanced at Markus, who was watching her with a look of disbelief. This seemed even stranger to him than it did to her. Turning back to Tariq, she added, "Sir."
"Wonderful. I knew you'd understand."
Melissa’s initial feelings of relief from their rescue began to be overshadowed by all these demands made of her. She didn’t like that she had to maintain the facade of subservience. Especially in front of Markus, who she had turned down when he wanted her to be his girlfriend. She had expected freedom upon her rescue, but she understood Tariq and she would do as he had said out of fear of drawing attention to them. Just ten more days, she reminded herself.
They walked along what seemed to be the main road.
Some of the huts had small gardens. A few plants looked decorative, but most were likely herbs or something useful.
Melissa noticed chickens pecking about and the occasional goat sauntering past.
Zahara put her arm around Melissa's shoulder and asked, "So, what's the deal with that ear tag? Slaves don’t normally get those."
"I have no idea. Those sickos at the Health Office just stapled it onto my ear!" Melissa replied, her tone full of outrage.
"Yeah slaves don’t normally get ear tags," Tariq chimed in. “I think they are normally only used in facilities that closely monitor slave health. I thought they were only attached to slaves as-needed.”
"I told them that I don’t want it, but they didn’t care! They just stapled it on my ear right after those bastards chipped me!" Melissa added with outrage in her voice.
"What, they chipped you?" Amina asked, sounding shocked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"They injected a chip between my shoulder blades," Melissa explained. "You might still see the injection site if you look. It still itches sometimes."
Arbek stopped and held Melissa gently. The group paused as well. He turned her around so her back was to him, moving her hair over her shoulder to look. He brushed his hand across her back.
"There's some redness here," he noted, touching a spot between her shoulder blades. Everyone else gathered behind to see.
Melissa felt a twinge, like someone pressing on a bruise.
"Yeah, that's it," she confirmed. "That's where the vet put the chip."
"The 'vet'?" Markus echoed, disbelief in his voice. "You were treated by a veterinarian?"
"Yes, Markus. A vet. They treated me like I was livestock," Melissa said, her irritation clear. It bothered her that Markus was learning about her dehumanizing treatment.
"That is so odd. I thought slaves were only chipped in larger facilities that have the technology to make use of them. I've never heard of slaves being routinely chipped before," Tariq remarked. "Interesting. I mean, I'm really sorry for you, of course."
They walked a few more minutes until a café appeared at the side of the road.
"Let's go in here," Arbek suggested. "We can hang out until the bus comes."
The café had a sign with a pictogram showing a person kneeling, a lock, a leash, and an arrow pointing downward.
"That means slaves need to be leashed inside," Tariq explained.
Melissa sighed. No way, she thought, she wasn't going to be leashed. That was just too much. Being naked in public was already more than enough. She'd rather skip the coffee than deal with that. It could wait until they got home.
"Maybe they have outdoor seating where that isn't necessary," Zahara suggested, checking around the back of the small wooden building.
Indeed, there was outdoor seating with low tables and chairs under a shade. The group settled around one table. Melissa went to sit on a chair.
"Uh, no," Tariq said, holding her arm. "You can't sit on a chair."
Melissa paused, half-standing, then stood back up. “What now?”
"You can't sit on the chair, Melissa," he clarified. "For hygiene reasons. You're naked, remember?"
Melissa was irked by that. She didn't need to be reminded of her nudity, she rarely thought of anything else. But she wasn’t naked by choice. Now, they were making it out like it was her fault.
"So I have to stand the whole time?"
“No, you can’t stand either. Not, while we are all sitting. You have to kneel next to the table,” he said.
Melissa sighed in frustration and knelt beside Arbek. The table was low enough that she could still see over it.
They ordered drinks and some food.
Melissa was kneeling next to the table, not exactly thrilled about her unique status in the group. But she reminded herself that just half an hour ago, she had been caged and chained in Karel’s van, and now she was on her way to freedom. Without her friends, she'd be stuck in that restraining device in the white room now with Killian shoving cotton swabs where they didn't belong. So, she decided to feel grateful and accept that she'd have to endure ten more days of nudity as her penance for getting roped into this slavery mess.
"How did you guys get me out of the Health Office?" she asked, looking around at everyone.
"Tariq found out where you were, which is how I could visit you on Thursday," Arbek started.
"Yeah, I asked my parents for advice on how to bribe you out," Tariq added. "My parents couldn't believe your story. I had to explain it to them three times!" he said, chuckling. "Anyway, they guided me through it. The only hiccup was getting enough cash for the bribe."
"Which I managed on Friday," Arbek jumped in. "I didn't have that kind of money, so I took out a loan at the bank.
"Then I went back to the Health Office. I got there right before closing and followed Tariq's parents' advice. The head veterinarian took the bribe. It was too late to release you on the spot; they needed to forge the papers and all, but by Monday morning, it was all sorted. As far as anyone knows, you've been sent off to some remote outstation, and in ten days, your records will magically say you're in perfect health and 'A-grade breeding material.'"
"Arbek!" Melissa exclaimed in mock outrage.
"I was just messing with the head vet. I wonder if he'll actually write that in your assessment," Arbek laughed.
"I can't believe it," Melissa said, punching him again, but then she couldn't help but laugh. Her nudity and collar didn't matter at that moment; this was just too hilarious. She laughed and leaned against Arbek's leg.
"'A-grade breeding material,'" she said in an exaggerated, romantic voice. "No one's ever complimented me like that before. You're such a romantic. I've always aspired to be A-grade breeding material."
The group burst into laughter and the atmosphere was light and cheerful. The waiter brought their drinks and some food. The food looked like an assortment of burritos on a large plate that was shared among the group.
As a slave Melissa wasn’t allowed to take anything from the table, but Arbek gave her her cup of coffee and she placed it on the ground next to her where no one would accidentally knock it over. Then, he handed her one of the burritos and she munched on it while kneeling on the ground. It was absolutely delicious, especially after the bland food she was used to from the Health Office.
"And when these ten days of slavery are over, we can get rid of this?" Melissa asked, tugging at the collar around her neck.
"Yep, in ten days, your release from the Health Office will be official," Arbek replied. "Then I can swap it for one I can actually take off."
"Can't we just have someone cut it off now?" Melissa inquired.
"Oh no, that would be illegal," Tariq said. "Even though Arbek's your owner, you're still technically the state's property until he puts his own collar on you. Only then can he do whatever he wants, like set you free. But cutting off the collar? That'd be seen as an escape attempt, which is a crime. And anyone helping you would be charged with facilitating an escape, which is also a crime.”
"But you guys already broke the law to get me out of the Health Office," Melissa pointed out. "Why's this a problem?"
"Melissa, you told me what they were doing to you there," Arbek said. "Think about the chipping and the ear tag. Who knows what else they might have done?"
Melissa knew exactly what else they wanted to do—lots of unwanted swabbing.
"We had to get you out," Arbek continued. "If breaking the law was the only way, then so be it."
“And this is a steel collar, Melissa,” Tariq said, ”You can’t just ‘cut’ through it. You would need someone with special tools and who is skilled. And think about it: He would be sawing into steel close to your neck. It is risky and if you get injured it can be very dangerous. It is not worth the risk.”
Melissa tugged at her collar and sighed. This hated thing was harder to get rid of than she had thought.
"But nobody's hurting you now," Tariq added. "We'll take you home, and you can just wait out these ten days. You can stay in, watch movies, or even study online if you don't want to be seen naked in public."
“True,” Melissa conceded.
“Just wait the ten days and they will take it off you. No need to risk your life."
Melissa nodded.
“Most masters don’t allow slaves to access the internet or phones,” Tariq added. “But I have a feeling your owner will make an exception.”
“Oh, and they want the collar back,” Arbek said.
“What do you mean?”
"It was in the paperwork I got at the airport," Arbek explained. "Remember, I was violating the slave code because I didn't have a collar for you. That's why they put this one on. I have thirty days to get you a new one and do the exchange at a police station, or there'll be fines. So I have to show up and you have to be in that collar for it."
Melissa ran her fingers along the collar. So, having it cut off wasn't an option. Even if they could, they'd still get into trouble because she had to appear at the police station with the collar intact and locked.
"But after the ten days, the collar gets taken off at a police station, right? Why not go there now and bribe someone to take it off?"
"Melissa, if they check your collar ID, they'll see you should still be at the Health Office, remember?" Tariq reminded her. "If the officer isn't open to bribes, we'll all be in hot water for getting you out. They can't know about this."
"Oh, right, I forgot," Melissa said.
"And bribes are expensive," Tariq continued. "The collar would be removed by a judicial officer. That'd be an expensive bribe."
"Yeah, and we don't have that kind of money," Arbek admitted. "I took out a loan for the Health Office bribe. There's no way I can swing that again."
"You're right," Melissa sighed. "Thanks again, Arbek, for doing this for me."
"I still don't get how a bank would give you that much money," Tariq remarked.
"Well, I used my Arbek charm!" Arbek replied with a laugh. "I can get what I want. That's how I snagged a hottie like Melissa in the first place!" Melissa gave him a playful punch on the leg, and Arbek laughed again.
"Don’t worry, Melissa. We'll have fun. Those ten days will go over in no time," Arbek reassured her.
"Oh man, I'm so looking forward to that. I can't wait to get this thing off me," Melissa said, pulling at the collar.
"Oh and that means I actually have to buy you a collar," Arbek remarked. "We'll have to go collar shopping one of these days."
“Collar shopping,” Melissa repeated. In a sarcastic voice she continued “Oh, you are so romantic again Arbek. Yes, I would love to go collar shopping with you. I hope you will get me a really nice one. Like, one made of gold?”
Everyone laughed.
"Yeah, right," Arbek chuckled. "I think I'll get a steel one that says 'Beware: Contains Sarcasm'."
More laughter.
“Or ‘Don’t feed after midnight’,” Markus interjected.
Everyone burst into laughter.
Melissa felt much better; she needed this. She felt like she was among friends again. The fact that she was naked and collared, not sitting like everyone else, didn't bother her as much. She was with friends, and freedom was just ten days away. The worst was over, and maybe she could have some fun with this absurd situation.
She took a sip of her coffee.
"Runs on coffee and attitude," Amina suggested.
"I would like 'Not a Morning Person' inscribed on my collar," Melissa mused.
More laughter.
"Guys, I really want to thank you for doing this for me. I know it wasn't easy, but you all came together to get me out of there. It was hell. And for that, I am really grateful."
"Of course, Melissa. You're not just a slave to us, you're a friend."
"They really put the Hell in Health Office," she said.
Melissa wasn't used to kneeling for so long. Without a chair to lean against, her spine arched awkwardly and her lower back began to hurt. She adjusted her position in an attempt to ease the strain. In addition, she started to feel her lower legs going numb as her weight was impeding blood flow.
"So what are you doing here, Markus?" The question was blunt and maybe a bit rude, but Melissa had been wondering and wanted to know why this guy was here.
"They invited me to come with them," Markus answered. "They'd been talking about Grabesh, and I thought it would be cool to see it for myself."
Melissa recalled that after she had turned Markus down, he still seemed to pop up wherever she was. He frequented the same cafes, attended the same student parties. She wasn't sure if it was just a coincidence or if he was still drawn to her. She remembered seeing him chatting with Tariq, Amina, and Zahara at one of those parties. She hadn't paid it much mind then, but now she wondered if he might have been stalking her. It seemed too coincidental that he would befriend the same African group she'd met through Arbek.
“Was there anything in particular you were interested in?” she asked.
"Yeah, they talked about the amazing beaches, great food, and all at really affordable prices," he said. "But mostly, I was curious about the slaves. I've never seen slaves before. And then they said the slaves are kept naked. I didn't believe it, I thought they were pulling my leg. So they invited me to come next time they went and see for myself. And here I am. Man, was I proven wrong!"
They all laughed.
“And when Arbek told us on Thursday that you had been enslaved I thought he was messing with us,” Markus continued. “But here we are!”
More laughter.
"But how did you get a visa on such short notice?" she asked.
"That's easy," Markus replied. "They issue e-visas online. It's really fast. I got mine an hour after applying."
"E-visas?" Melissa said in disbelief, turning to Arbek. She couldn't believe it. A quick check online before they had left could have spared her this whole ordeal. "Did you know there were e-visas?"
"Hey, why would I know these things? I have a passport; I've never had to look into their visa system."
"How did you know about these e-visas?" Melissa asked Markus.
"Tariq told me. It's also on their website," Markus said. "It's super easy. You just scan your passport with your phone."
"You couldn't have just checked their website?" Melissa asked Arbek, her tone accusatory.
Arbek looked down, his face showing genuine regret. "Melissa, I'm so sorry. I had no idea it would cause such problems. I should have checked this. It's my fault for not looking into it."
Melissa sighed, the anger she felt mingling with relief at his apology. "Hm, ok," she said, her voice softening but still edged with resentment. "I should have checked the visa rules on the website too, but... I trusted you with this, Arbek. And look where it got me. I went through hell, and I’m a slave now."
Arbek nodded, the weight of his mistake clear in his eyes. "I know, and I'm truly sorry for that. I never meant for this to happen to you. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Melissa looked away, the experience still fresh and her trust shaken, yet she knew that holding onto anger wouldn't change what had happened. "We'll see," she replied, her tone indicating that forgiveness would take time.
"Hey, isn't it time for the bus?" Markus interjected.
They finished their food and drinks. Arbek handed her a glass of tap water and she drank it. Then they paid, and headed out.
Melissa's legs were stiff after kneeling for so long and her feet were tingling with numbness from the lack of circulation. As she rose, the blood rushed back into her limbs, sending a sharp, tingling sensation through her legs and feet like a thousand tiny needles. She wobbled as she got to her feet and grabbed the table for support.
Arbek and Markus noticed her struggle and quickly moved to her side to hold her for balance. After the relative privacy of the cafe, Melissa dreaded being naked in public again. Arbek supported her on her way out. The feeling gradually returned to her legs, and once they were outside she was able to walk on her own again.
They made their way to the bus stop where only a few people were waiting. One man caught Melissa's attention; he had a female slave kneeling submissively beside him. Both of them were black. The group joined them.
The people looked at them and especially at Melissa. Melissa knew it wasn’t her nudity that drew their attention. They looked at her because she was white and it was rare for people here to see a white slave.
Melissa glanced at the kneeling slave and knew that the same was expected of her. She didn't want to kneel, but she was aware that in this society, she was a slave just like the woman next to her master. The social pressure was palpable. She caught Markus's eye; he was looking around, seemingly unaware of her internal struggle. As his peer, she felt she shouldn't have to kneel while he could stand. Then her eyes met Tariq's, who understood her hesitation and gave her a slight nod. Remembering her promise to be a model slave, she overcame her reluctance and knelt on the sandy ground. The sand initially hurt her knees, but by sitting back on her feet, she distributed her weight more evenly, making it bearable though not entirely comfortable.
She avoided eye contact with her group. The other people waiting for the bus soon lost interest and turned their attention to the passing traffic.
The road wasn't busy, but Melissa noticed the eclectic mix of vehicles: from horse-drawn carriages to male slaves pulling carts, to the occasional car or jeep. One donkey was pulling a carriage loaded with crates and bags while its owner walked alongside.
Finally, a bus came into view, but it wasn't what she had expected. It was an old, rugged vehicle with oversized, tough tires meant for rough terrain, deep treads, and extended side mirrors. An unusual pipe protruded high from one side of the bus, reaching towards the roof, and another that was slightly bent.
"Man, I really hope this bus has air conditioning," Markus said, wiping sweat from his brow, "it's so hot out here."
The bus stopped, and the people began moving towards the entrance. Melissa stood up and followed her friends. When they reached the bus, Tariq bought tickets for everyone, and they boarded. Melissa attempted to follow, but the bus driver halted her. Slaves were not permitted to board unless they were service slaves. Melissa didn’t know what a service slave was, but it was clear that she wasn’t one and she was not allowed inside. Tariq turned to her, explaining that she'd have to go in the back and follow the driver. Markus stayed outside too, curious to see what would happen to her.
Thus, Melissa waited outside with the female slave. Once everyone was on the bus, the driver led them to its rear. There, she discovered a full cage trailer attached to the bus, which she hadn't noticed earlier due to the bus's rugged appearance. Melissa estimated it to be around six feet wide and twelve feet long, or two meters by four meters. It was a white cage on wheels connected to the bus. She saw two black slaves inside, middle aged, a man and a woman, and sighed in disappointment. She had hoped her days of being caged were over now that she was with her friends, but her collar didn’t just mean she had to be naked but also that she would be travelling in this cage trailer like livestock.
She didn’t like that she was being separated from her friends and she hoped it would not be for too long.
The bus driver opened the cage at the back. The two slaves stepped out, and Melissa noticed their collars were locked to a long chain, one end of which was padlocked to the cage.
The slaves exited and stood next to each other, facing the driver. They spread their legs to shoulder-width and held their hands beside their shoulders, palms forward.
Melissa sighed again, understanding she would also be chained to that line. And this idiot Markus still stood there, witnessing her being locked into the slave coffle. She wished there was some way out of this. She looked at the slaves' posture and recalled what Nala had taught her about slave positions. They were designed to control them. The wide stance ensured nothing could be hidden, and the open hands showed they carried no weapons.
It pained her that she had to display her submission so openly, especially with Markus watching. She was furious at the system that subjected her to this, but she knew she had no choice but to line up with the other slaves.
The chain drooped between the two slaves; the man at one end, with the chain extending five meters to the woman, and another five meters to where it connected to the cage, hanging loosely.
The female slave beside Melissa knew the drill. She moved into position between the man and the woman, standing behind the chain with her legs spread shoulder-width apart and her palms at her shoulders facing forward, ready to be locked to the chain.
Melissa followed suit, positioning herself between the woman and the cage. She stood behind the chain and spread her legs, raised her hands next to her shoulders and turned her palms forward, waiting in the hot sun for the bus driver to chain her.
She could feel Markus's disbelieving gaze on her, certain he was eyeing her breasts and vagina. She did not want him to see her this way. His stare added an unwanted sexualisation to her nudity and subjugation. But she could not cover herself from him while she stood and awaited chaining. She tried to avert her eyes, hoping he'd leave, but she couldn't help but look back at him. Their eyes locked; he tilted his head, frowning, scanning her from head to toe, his arousal evident by the bulge in his pants. He had wanted her to be his girlfriend. He probably had fantasized about seeing her naked. If she had wanted him to see her like this, she wouldn't have rejected him. Now he was getting his wish anyway. Although his stare made her uncomfortable, she knew from Nala that once in a slave position, she had to wait to be released from it or she would be punished.
The bus driver grabbed a padlock and first approached the female slave, fastening the chain to her collar.
Then, he approached Melissa. He stood closer than she would have permitted as a free woman. The smell of tobacco was thick on him, intensified by his sweat, which was like the pungent aftermath of a kitchen where onions and garlic had been left to overcook. It was a dense smell that made her feel a wave of nausea as the scent enveloped her. She resisted the urge to step back, knowing she had to hold her position.
She kept her eyes averted and stared forward at his chest hair showing through the open buttons of his shirt. Making eye contact wasn't forbidden, but she didn’t want to risk provoking him. She noticed the sweat shining on his forehead, little beads tracing paths down his temple.
The driver lifted the chain to her collar's D-ring with one hand, and she felt the intimate brush of his hand against her throat. With the other hand he threaded the padlock through both the D-ring and the chain. She heard the click of the padlock locking her to the chain, as he snapped it shut.
Then he stepped back to check the slave coffle. All four slaves were now locked to the cage by the chain, standing in the same position. Melissa glanced up to see Markus watching with disbelief. She wished more than anything that she didn’t have to be here like this, but now she was chained and couldn’t leave her position anymore even if she tried.
With a shout of "Get in!" from the bus driver and two sharp claps of his hands, they were freed from their rigid stance. They shuffled towards the cage with Melissa, being closest, entering first. She climbed in, feeling the warm, nearly hot metal of the white steel cage. She shifted to the left to make room for the others to enter, and they arranged themselves around the cage in the same order they were chained. The cage allowed them to sit or kneel but was too low to stand; the ceiling was a lattice of bars, the floor a solid sheet of steel. She glanced through the bars to her right at Markus, whose eyebrows were raised in astonishment. She broke eye contact and turned to look back, just in time to see the bus driver slam the cage door shut and secure it with a heavy padlock.
She was now caged with two other women and a man, all black and all chained together. She felt like livestock about to be transported. Although her friends had just freed her, it felt like she'd merely exchanged one form of captivity for another.
Markus and the bus driver moved to the front, out of her sight.
The bus's engine roared to life, and their journey began.
In the steel cage, there was nothing to shield Melissa from the sun.
She looked out to her left, causing the chain to wrap around her awkwardly, so she lifted it over her head and adjusted her position so the chain hung in front of her. She then knelt, gripped the bars and peered through them as the bus moved through the village of Zawadi.
Fortunately, there were no exhaust fumes inside the cage. Melissa recalled the pipes she'd noticed on the vehicle before being locked in; they must have directed the exhaust upwards. Regardless, the cage allowed plenty of fresh air, but it was hot and carried the scent of sweat from the slaves sharing the cage with her. Despite its white paint, the cage was exceedingly warm, making it feel like they were slowly being cooked inside.
