„You want some?,“ Chandra asked. Hanna didn’t look up. She was
massaging her bare feet after a hard day’s walk. Her soles
weren’t used to being naked 24/7. They would soon be. They had to.
Hanna had met the American girl with the dark skin and the black
curly hair on the ferry that went from the south of Spain to the
north of Africa. With her lighter shade of black, she seemed only a
little less usual between all the African women. Hanna was a wholly
different case, though. She seemed to glow in the dark, just like
the few other white girls she had seen up to now. Not that there
were not enough white female tourists in this country – it was
just that they stayed to the coasts and the tourist resorts rather
than the prisons and the labor camps.
“I can’t eat that shit,” Hanna said. The stench from the
wooden bowl in Chandra’s hands was awful. Hanna found the way in
which the other women were devouring the sticky grey soup amazing.
“Do you want to starv to death?,” Chandra wanted to know.
“Is that such a bad idea, considering the alternatives?,” Hanna
The chains between the prisoners’ ankles were so long that they
had to wear them with a rope tied around the most central of the
links. The other end of the rope was bound around the waists of the
enchained. It made walking easier. Now, Chandra’s chains made a
clangoring sound as she sat down next to Hanna. She put her arm
“We’re gonna stay through this together, honey”, Chandra said.
The way in which the American girl sat fakir-style, Hanna could see
the sole of her foot. Due to the dark skin, it looked not nearly
half as dirty as Hanna’s.
“Don’t your feet hurt?,” Hanna asked.
Chandra smiled at her sadly. “I’m all about alternative
lifestyles, you know. Dreadlocks, pot, no shoes ‘n’ stuff.”
Hanna felt anger raising her pulse. Chandra’s pot was the reason
they were here. “Yeah,” she said, trying to maintain her
patience, “now that you say it, I can’t remember having seen you
wearing shoes more than a couple of times in the two months that
we’ve travelled together.”
“My soles are tough. Don’t you Germans ever walk barefoot?,”
“No,” Hanna answered briskly. “We live in a civilized
country.” It felt strange that the topic came up between them now.
Back before they were prisoners, like three days ago, Hanna hadn’t
found her American friend’s most of the time bare feet mentionable
just once. It was like now that she was surrounded by soles and toes
– twenty-five women shared each wooden cage in the camp, and there
seemed to be no such thing as a shoed prisoner in this country –
it seemed to pop up naturally as a matter of conversation.
“Not even in summer?,” Chandra insisted.
“No,” Hanna said one more. “I mean, I don’t know, some
probably do. Who cares? I don’t. If it’s hot and I sit down
somewhere, maybe I take off my flip flops. But I don’t walk around
in my bare feet. It’s disgusting. Just like that shit
In the exact moment that Chandra took a look at the bowl in her hand,
a worm protruded from the cooked leaves in it. “Ugh”, she said
and put it on the floor. She seemed to be fighting against throwing
up for a second. Then she said: “So, welcome to the club. I mean,
you’re gonna be barefoot for quite a while now. Just like me.”
Hanna gave Chandra a look as if she was about to bite her head of.
“I’m sorry,” Chandra said and bent her head as she couldn’t
stay Hanna’s glare. “That wasn’t funny.”
No, Hanna thought. Forty years of prison time just because you
didn’t want to miss your precious weed on this trip are not funny,
you damn bitch. Forty years is a life, and we’re gonna spend
it in a place where you work on a field and have a whip cracking
over your back every now and then, like we saw it when we arrived
here early in the evening. After a nine hours walk on our
naked feet, by the way. Feet that will probably not be put
into shoes for the rest of our lives, damn it. Which maybe
isn’t that much of a problem to you, as you’re “all
alternative and no shoes” and shit. But I am a student of
economics, I goddamn hate being barefoot, and I was dreaming about
probably being a senior at some consulting company in ten years from
now, spending my evenings after a long day of work in a sushi bar or
getting myself some Turkish massage. Instead, I’ll be
sitting on the floor in a cage, pulling the splinters out of my
naked soles after my day’s share of slave work. Or maybe
I’ll be taking a shit in a wooden bucket, or masturbate, or lick
some other slave bitch’s cunt, or actually eat that stinky slime
that they call food in here in a way as if it was the most divine
shit I’ve ever eaten. Or whatever else it is that you see
our now roommates around us doing. So actually no, it’s not that
funny, you know?
“I wonder how long we will stay here before we look like
them,” Chandra said apologetically, as if she had been able to
read Hanna’s mind. Is she talking about the clothes now, or
what, Hanna thought. The from the beginning dirty, sac-like pants
and shirts had been given to Hanna and Chandra by one of the guards,
a massive woman who had broken out laughing when Hanna had
complained to her that the shoes to her uniform were missing. “You
are a prisoner now, girl”, the woman had said in broken English.
“I tell the younger guards to keep shoes ready for the day you get
out, because I don’t think that I’ll still be alive then.”
Then she had laughed some more, talking to other guard women in the
language of the country, pointing at Hanna’s bare feet and making
her colleagues laugh, too.
The clothes of the other prisoners in the cage were torn to various
degrees, indicating how long they had been members of the gang.
Three older women were close to naked, with nothing but a dirty rag
hiding some but not all of their private parts.
“You’ll see,” Chandra said. “We’re gonna get out of here.”
“You’re not,” one of the old women said as abruptly as to make
Hanna and Chandra cringe. “You are going to do your time and there
is nothing that you can do about it,” the woman said. “The
sooner you get used to the thought, the better.” She was
ebony-black, but her accent sounded British. She was a bit out of
breath as she had just finished doing it to herself. “How many did
you get?,” she asked.
“Forty”, Chandra said. “But that must be a mistake. All we had
was a little weed.”
“All that most of the foreign ladies in here had was a little weed.
“What do you mean?,” Chandra asked.
“You did not get life. That is rather unusual. In forty years, you
will walk out here as free women, skirt, shoes, unchained. The best
you can do now is make the time as pleasurable as possible by being
nice to yourself.” She petted her vagina like a good dog.
Chandra and Hanna turned away, disgusted. One of the guard women
suddenly appeared from out of nowhere and cracked her whip. She
shouted something in the country’s language, then she put her
desire in English for the foreign prisoners: “Sleep, now, all of
you! You work hard tomorrow!”
“We better do what she says,” the woman with the British accent
whispered. “She means it.”
It took hours before Hanna could sleep. Though she had been close to
rip her heart out more than once today, she was happy to have
Chandra’s arm around her. And somehow, it was actually
pleasing to have her bare feet touch Chandra’s – a feeling that
she was sure would have made her puke only a few days ago.
Hanna awoke to
shouting and the cracking of whips. She decided to keep her eyes
closed as she was probably still asleep and dreaming. She said
something in German and turned around on the hard wooden floor of
the cage. As she was gaining consciousness, the clanking sound of
chains grew louder. When Chandra shook her at the shoulder, she
became aware that she did not have a nightmare in which she had been
sentenced to a decades-long period of hard labor in an African
country that people out there in Europe probably didn’t even know
existed. It was her reality.
“Common,” Chandra whispered to her. She sounded frightened. “I
don’t want to be the last to leave the cage. I have a feeling that
that would mean trouble.
Hanna rose and said: “I need to pee.”
“Hold it,” the black woman with the British accent said.
“What?” Hanna asked. She was not exactly an early in the morning
person. For a second, her feet were searching the ground for her
slippers. Then the sound of naked soles on wood reminded her that
she would not find any.
“What do you mean, hold it?”
“They expect you to fertilize the fields with it,” the woman
with the British accent said.
“It’s true. Get caught wasting your pee in the morning and you
are in trouble. Get caught taking a shit in the bucket and you are
in real trouble.”
A prisoner was sitting on that bucket right now, farting and
seemingly searching something between her toes as she was carefully
examining her feet with her hands.
“What about her?” Chandra asked.
“That’s something else. She’s from here. The rules are
different for foreign prisoners. Common out now, I explain it to you
The women were led to a vast field and given tools to work on it.
They were so small that the women had to plough the earth kneeling.
“Actually, I think that’s better for our backs,” Chandra said.
Hanna was sure that she would go crazy if she didn’t have Chandra
around her any longer, but the American girl’s naive comments were
seriously getting on her nerves.
“You can pee now,” the woman with the British accent said.
“It’s the only thing that you can interrupt your work for
without getting the whip. It’s good for the soil.”
“Why can’t I just pee into that damn bucket like the other girls
and then …” Hanna gestured to some prisoners who were pouring
out their cages’ buckets. The smell was intense and you could tell
the newly arrived prisoners by their disgusted faces.
“The humiliation is bigger if you do it out here in the open with
everybody to look at you. It’s one of the things that make it even
harder for the foreign prisoners.”
“The African women don’t look exactly as if they are being
treated that much better.”
The woman with the British accent shook her shoulders. “Chains,
rags, being barefoot, that’s normal for prisoners in this country.
But there are ways in which our time here is made even worse.”
“How?” Chandra asked disbelievingly.
“Small things that add up,” the woman with the British accent
said. “We get the whip more often, we are taken out of the cage to
have some fun with on non working days … if you look closely you
will realize that our chains are heavier than those of the African
“But why?” Hanna asked. “What did we do to them?”
“They know you are from places in which even prisoners are far
better off than some honest, hard working people over here. They
simply enjoy standing in front of you in their black prison guard
shoes while you are barefoot. You, somebody who comes from a country
in which taking off your shoes is something that you do with
pleasure in your free time. The thought seems outrageous here.”
“You must have had a hard time then ... what’s your name anyway?”,
Chandra asked the woman with the British accent.
“Call me Keira. It’s okay nowadays. I look like as if I was from
here, and sometimes I can fool the girls among the guards for a
while, because they don’t know me. Some of them must be younger
than the two of you, which means I had been a barefooted prisoner
for some ten or fifteen when they were born.”
Chandra and Hanna were giving each other frightened looks. “How
long have you been here for, then?” Chandra asked.
“What’s the year?” Keira asked back.
“2008,” Hanna answered.
“They gave me life in court in 1975.”
“Oh, my god …” Chandra put her hand in front of her mouth.
“That’s 33 years,” Keira said in a surprised, almost happily
amazed tone. “Trust me on the mathematics. I worked as an
accountant before I came here and decided to change my career path
to barefoot field slave.” She laughed attentively, and Chandra
smiled a scared smile.
“What are your names, girls?” Keira wanted to know.
“And I am Chandra. From the US.”
“Where are you from, Hanna?”
Keira gave her a respectful look. “Look at the bright side of it,
Hanna from Germany. There is a lot more sun here than at home.
It’s barefoot weather 365 days a year.”
“Great,” Hanna said without meaning it and pulled down her
pants. Most prisoners ignored her as she started to pee and then, as
her intestines seemed to loosen up, emptied her bowels on the field.
One of the guards came to her and displayed a big grin when she saw
the shame in Hanna’s face.
“You finish fast,” the guard said. “The field doesn’t plough
itself.” Then she made a gesture as if to push the smell of
Hanna’s excrement back to the prisoner.
“Damn, you barefoot whore stink!”
After her first
day on the field, Hanna felt like crying. Forty years. The thought
kept on roaming through her head. Forty years! It just couldn’t be
of the prisoners were leaning on each other while they were walking
back to their cages under the shouted commands of the guards. Most
of the older, practically naked women were in an incredibly good
shape. The decades of slave work had either kept them in a good
condition or their constant fear of being whipped made them act as
if they could plough another field for another fourteen hours.
“Are you alright, honey?” It was Chandra. Her clothes were
soaked with sweat just like Hanna’s. “What about your feet?”
Hanna said: “They’re still bare. What about yours?”
Chandra smiled at her: “Common, honey, you just can’t tell me
that you would actually feel better wearing shoes in this weather.
The guards will be getting all kinds of fungus on their feet.”
“That’s what you wash feet for, so you don’t get fungus,”
Hanna said. Chandra put her arm around her German friend.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t look we’re going to shower,” she said
and gestured towards the cages, where the first prisoners entered.
“Why am I not surprised?” Hanna said to herself. “When will
they let us wash?”
“2048,” Keira said from behind them. “When you’re released.”
Hanna felt stinky as she had never before in her life. Her body was
one sticky, dirty mess.
“Could you imagine the smell of sweaty feet in there if all these
women wore shoes during a day like this?” Chandra asked and drew
Hanna closer to her. “We’re so much better off barefoot, believe
The words didn’t have the calming effect on Hanna that Chandra
most likely had intended. The American girl with her fanciness for
barefoot walking just couldn’t understand Hanna’s dislike of
naked feet. When Hanna saw bare feet, she had to think of all the
movies she had ever seen in which being barefoot was the
“privilege” of the prisoners, the slaves, the inmates of galleys
and dungeons. And hippies of course, which Hanna normally hated.
Chandra had only been a compromise there as travelling alone was so
much less fun.
“I want to shower” was the only thought alive in Hanna’s head
as she entered her new home and walked through the row of bare soles
pointing towards her. She sank down on the floor, and now the
thought of being as dirty as never before got pushed aside by
another one: hunger! Hanna wanted a pizza, a steak with fries, a
hamburger or a couple of “Subway” sandwiches. What she got was a
wooden bowl of rice and something that smelled actually worse than
the sweaty, unwashed women with their humid armpits and fishy
vaginas. It was handed to her by a guard from outside the cage, who
had her hand protecting her nose and made a disgusted face as Hanna
could tell from her eyes.
After only one day, Chandra ate in the very same dog-like way as all
the other women. Hanna looked at the stuff in her bowl. Something
was moving in it, but she just didn’t care any more. She started
eating, and yes, it tasted like the dirty feet around her would
probably taste, but the only thing that seemed to matter now was
that it eased the hurtful hole in her stomach.
After everyone had eaten, one of the African prisoners sitting
opposite stretched her feet towards Hanna and said something in the
language of the country. Hanna looked helplessly at Keira, who had
taken a seat next to them that night and was already busy “being
nice to herself,” as she put it. Hanna tried to ignore the two
fingers sticking in Keira’s vagina.
“She wants you to rub her feet,” Keira said.
“What?” Hanna asked helplessly.
“You’re new in here, plus you’re foreigner. It’s customary
for you to be slave among the slaves. If you resist, she will tell
it to the guards and you will be punished.”
The demanding prisoner – a woman of Keira’s age, but ugly and
rather small – repeated her order, louder than the first. Some of
the other prisoners grinned, some turned away in what seemed to be
shame, and some were busy with other things like being nice to
“Do it,” Keira proposed. “If you’re lucky, you will get away
without having to lick her cunt after the foot massage.”
Hanna felt outraged. “I will not … do that for her!”
“But you’re here for what seems to be a major part of the rest
of your life, and sooner or later you will want somebody to do that
for you,” Keira said in the usual conversational tone in which she
talked about the abnormities of prison life in this country. “The
fingers just get boring after awhile. And the girls will know if you
want to be licked without ever having done something for it. And
then they won’t do it for you. The few who are willing to degrade
themselves that much, that is.”
“To lick a foreign slavegirl, the lowest of the low.”
“Well, fine then,” Hanna said, demonstratively taking
Chandra’s bare feet and rubbing them while looking the African
woman into the eye provocatively.
Keira laughed and stopped her masturbating for a moment.
“What’s the matter?” Hanna asked, shying away shortly when
Chandra took her feet and started to return the favor to her German
“You two are so funny together,” Keira answered. “It’s only
been two days and I can’t imagine how I stood through the last 33
years without you. Have you ever tried to do it with each other?”
“No!” Hanna shouted.
“You will”, Keira said calmly and stuck her fingers back to
where they belonged at that time of the day. “Rubbing each
other’s feet is nice, but you will want more soon.”
Hanna was looking at the pair of dirty bare feet in her hands
disbelievingly. When she looked up at Chandra, the American girl was
“Could you have imagined yourself doing this a week ago?”
“She wasn’t a slave a week ago,” Keira said, out of breath due
to her work.
“I’m not a slave,” Hanna said.
“Of course you’re not,” Keira laughed. “It’s just that
when I was working on the field today there was this girl in chains
who looked just like you. But it couldn’t have been you, as she
was barefoot and you … oh, wait a minute,” Keira said in a
mocked amazed voice, “You’re barefoot, too!”
“Fuck you,” Hanna said.
The guards started shouting that it was time to go to bed. “Sleep!
You work hard tomorrow! You, Keira, get your fingers out your
English slave cunt and sleep!”
“Good night, barefoot slavegirl from Germany,” Keira whispered.
“Good night, Hanna,” Chandra said.
“Night.” Hanna wiggled her toes as she always used to do before
sleeping. Never before had she been so aware of the fact that they
were naked while she did it.
thought that she had probably been a convict for some two months now,
but this was only the fourth day without work that she witnessed.
The guards seemed to make them according to their own rules, maybe
when it was too hot for them to shout orders at the chained women or
to whip them. Anyway, the fewest foreign prisoners were allowed to
enjoy their free day the same way as their fellow slaves, dozing in
their cage all day with their fingers in their own or some other
The last three days without work, Hanna had spent the time with two
other white girls, one from Holland and the other from Switzerland,
recently arrived here just like her. They had had to dig holes and
then, after they had finished, the guards had buried them in the
holes so that only their heads protruded. The girl from Holland,
Meitje, had been on the verge of tears constantly, having had time
to adapt to her new life for a few days only.
The other girl, Sara, had almost been laughing and telling Hanna all
the time that this had been a mistake, that she would sure as hell
not stay here any longer than a few days, though the court
translator had told her that she had been sentenced to life with
hard labor for drug possession. “I look like somebody from out of
a film about deported convicts in Australia during the 18th century”,
she had said. “These clothes! And leg irons, goddamn it! And why
do we have to be barefoot, for Christ’s sake! What year is it that
these people are living in?”
Sara had gotten on Hanna’s nerves after awhile. Buried up to her
chin in dirt or not, a day without field work was a day without
field work, and she wanted to enjoy it as much as possible. Luckily
today, the guards had locked her with her hands and feet in stocks
that were designed to hold up to four prisoners. But only one other
girl was sitting next to her, a good looking red haired one of about
thirty years that Hanna had seen before. Her hair hang down to her
ass, of which you could see the left buttock because her clothes
were already torn to a considerable degree.
Suddenly the dirty, once probably milky skinned girl looked at Hanna
and asked: “Where are you from?”
Hanna looked back and answered: “Germany.”
The red haired one nodded. “What did you do to end up here?”
“My travel mate had some pot with her.”
The red haired one smiled. She knew the story. “Have you ever
thought about what they would have given you for that in Germany?”
“A fine, most likely”, Hanna said.
“Yeah,” the red haired one said. “Makes you go crazy,
doesn’t it? When you’re kneeling on that field, barefoot and in
chains, getting the whip if you pause ploughing for a second only?”
Hanna thought about saying that she didn’t think that thoughts
like that would make the life of field slaves like them any easier,
but instead she said: “Yes.”
“I’m Hilde. From Norway.”
“Nice to meet you. Sorry for not shaking your hand.”
Hanna laughed sadly and looked at her hands and feet locked in the
wood of the stocks.
“How long have you been here for?”, Hanna wanted to know.
“They put me in these stocks this morning, just like you, don’t
Again, Hanna had to laugh.
“Well,” Hilde continued, “I don’t know. They gave me life in
1996. I was 18 back then, travelling the world after I had graduated
from school. With my marks and my father’s connections, the best
universities were waiting for me at home. I think I would have
studied law, going out with rich boys and laughing at the hippies in
the amnesty international workshop who tear their asses open to help
people in prisons in some third world country. Instead, I will be
one of those prisoners now for the rest of my life, sweating
fourteen hours a day on some damn field.”
Hanna didn’t exactly know what to say. Hilde’s humour seemed
cynical and helpless.
“Did you walk barefoot a lot at home?”
Hilde looked at her disbelievingly: “In Norway? Hell, no, what are
you thinking? But you’re right, that’s another outrageous point.
Which Norwegian girl would ever think that she would spend the
biggest part of her life in naked feet?”
“But have you gotten used to it? It still feels so strange for me
“What year do we have?”, Hilde asked.
“2008”, Hanna answered.
“Well, I would say that after 12 years, you get used to it. I’m
only a bit afraid of the day that my clothes will start falling
apart. I mean, for good. I don’t want to run around practically
naked like some of the others, with the guards making fun about my
tits and my ass on exhibition. The next thing I would be afraid of
is the day that you lose the last bit of dignity like some of the
Hanna nodded understandingly and thought of Keira, who sat on the
field with twenty other prisoners around her, talking about how
lucky she had been to find a fat caterpillar in her lunch yesterday
and then spread her legs while talking and starting to masturbate as
if it was the most normal thing the world.
“But that’s still a while for you”, Hilde said, obviously
having the feeling that she as the older one had to solace Hanna.
“You still feel humiliated by being barefoot, which means that you
used to wear shoes until … give me a hint …
“It must have been some two months since they brought me here.”
“Only two months! That’s impressive! You’re a real lady among
“I’ve got forty years.”
“You got away with forty years! You’re a queen! What did you do,
give the judge a blowjob?”
Hilde was practically screaming now, and Hanna saw how two of the
guards gestured into their direction.
“You should not be so loud”, Hanna whispered. “I think one of
the guards is coming.”
“Oh my god”, Hilde said. “What will she do? Put us in
chains and turn us into barefoot prisoners? Will we have to labor
like slaves on a field? That would be horrible!”
The whip of the around fifty year old guard woman hit the soles of
Hildes bare feet with a loud crack.
“OUW!” Hilde screamed.
“What are you laughing about, crazy girl from Norway?” the guard
asked demandingly. “If you think this is a funny place, then maybe
it would be best if we left you in these stocks for a week or so.”
Hilde bowed her head submissively, so the guard could only see her
“Does that mean yes or no, slavegirl? I’m talking to you, you
barefooted cunt! Do you need another hit on those smelly white soles
“No”, Hilde said.
“No, what, Norwegian slave cunt?”
“Please don’t leave me in the stocks for a week.” Some sincere
begging had crept into Hilde’s voice.
The guard unlocked the stocks and opened them. Hanna’s first
reflex was to draw her hands and feet away, but she knew better and
waited until the guard allowed them to.
“Your lazy day is over”, the guard woman said. “Get back into
your damn cages and stick your fingers into your cunts like you
bitches always like to do. The work on the field tomorrow will
remind you that you’re not on some shopping tour in Norway or
Germany. Where you giggle at each other about the new shoes you’ve
just bought. No shoes here, in case you haven’t realized it.
You will spend the rest of your life barefoot, and if you ask me,
that’s just what you deserve, slave bitches.”
hot afternoon was burning down mercilessly on the prisoners
ploughing the field on their knees, and Hanna was just pausing to
pee. While she fertilized the field with her urine, she saw two
guards with a prisoner she had never seen before. Her appearance
though gave her away as somebody who must have been a guest of this
country’s penal system for quite a while.
was a white woman that Hanna estimated to be in her late fifties.
She had long, greyish brown hair that hang over her buttocks. Her
beautiful, tight body had obviously been kept in shape by hard labor.
Hanna could tell because the new prisoner went stark naked. Her feet
were shackled with chains different from the ones that Hanna and her
fellow prisoners wore, shorter. Around her neck, Hanna could see an
iron collar, to which a chain was fastened that again was dangling
from a carriage pulled by horses. The guards sat on that carriage.
The naked woman had to walk.
When the newly arrived saw that Hanna was looking at her, she gave
her a smile. Obviously, it did not occur unusual to her in the
slightest way that Hanna was just taking a piss, another hint at her
long time imprisonment in this country.
“Who is she?” Hanna asked Keira. The black girl from England
looked up at the good looking white woman and said: “I don’t
know, but luckily she looks as if she will not have any problems
with using her tongue for what it’s good for.”
Hanna rolled her eyes. “Will you ever make it one day without
talking about your damn … down there?”
“Maybe if you finally get used to the thought that you’re a
slavegirl now and lick me I will give it a thought.”
“How am I supposed to know? She looks like she got transferred
here from one of those harsh places where prisoners are kept naked
and chained to each other by a collar around their neck. So this
place must appear to be paradise for her.”
“You mean there are prisons in this country that are actually
worse than this place?”
Keira looked at Hanna disbelievingly. “Of course. You could be
sent to the mills and get chained to some grindstone for the rest of
you life. And you’re still thinking you’re bad off because of
your poor bare feet.”
Hanna gave Keira the middle finger. Four guard girls were now
standing around the naked woman. It was obvious that they were
making fun of her. One of the guards told the woman in English that
this was not a holiday camp just because you couldn’t see any
collars around here. “If I ever catch you playing with your naked
little slavecunt when you’re supposed to work, I will whip you
senseless, do you understand?” The woman nodded her head
dismissively, while one of the guards used her whip to point at the
prisoner’s naked vagina. “Then get to work now, slave bitch”,
the guard said.
That evening, while Chandra was trying to convince Hanna that some
of the living insects in their stew were probably even healthy, the
new prisoner was brought into their cage. She was still naked and
wearing the chains in which she had arrived except for the handcuffs
that had held her hands behind her back. The chain had been
unfastened from her collar. She saw Hanna, smiled enthusiastically
and sat down next to her. When she sat, she put two of her fingers
up her genitals, just like Keira always did.
“Where are you from?” she asked Hanna in German. Hanna
hadn’t heard her mother tongue for such a ling time that she
“Bielefeld”, she answered. “My name is Hanna.”
“I knew you were German! I’m Rebecca from Hamburg”, the woman
said and as a greeting, she gave Hanna an opened mouthed kiss.
“What … why did you do that?” Hanna asked shocked.
The woman looked at her as if she didn’t understand what all the
heck was about.
“Don’t be mad at her”, Keira said wisely. “She’s from a
place where prisoners have their hands chained behind their back
whenever they’re not working, so it’s customary to say hello
“That’s awesome”, Chandra contributed in her typically naïve
way and put a squirming caterpillar in her mouth.
“Is there some left?”, Rebecca asked. “I’m starving. I think
I walked through this whole damn country today, and one of the
guards, a girl of probably 19, was a real bitch. At one place, we
could see the coast of Spain far away. ‘Strange, isn’t it?’
she said to me. ‘To think of all those German tourists these few
kilometres away, bathing in the sea and having lunch in their hotels
while you are trotting naked through the dirt with your bare feet,
chained to a carriage?”
Chandra gave Rebecca the rest of her stew, not without saving a fat
cockroach for herself.
“You mean … you were naked while they brought you here?”,
Hanna wanted to know.
Rebecca smiled. “You haven’t been here for too long, have you?
You know, it’s been some thirty years since I have worn clothes
for the last time, so it didn’t seem that unusual to me. Only the
damn kids dancing around you laughing and shouting drive you mad
after a while. It was a fisher town that we stopped in for the
guards to have something to eat. The young guard said that it was
hard to tell whether the smell came from the foul fish or if it was
my unwashed German slave cunt. They could have just let me chained
to the carriage, but they had stocks in the town in which you faced
the Spanish coast if you were locked in them. So the young guard
insisted on putting my feet into them. Then she allowed the damn
kids to tickle my soles and hit them with a cane. Little
While ravenously licking Chandra’s bowl, Rebecca asked Hanna:
“What about you? How long have you been here for?”
“It must have been three or four months now “, Hanna said.
“Oh! A freshman”, Rebecca laughed out. “So you can be happy
that you haven’t been in my place today. Sitting locked up in
stocks with a horde of brats having a great time with your naked
feet while you could see the coast of the civilized continent
you’re from would have driven you insane.”
“Yeah, I’m so lucky”, Hanna sighed cynically.
“Why are you still wearing that collar?” Chandra asked.
“It’s welded. Has been for decades now. It was put around my
neck right after they had given me life in 1974. It would be too
much work to get it off again. The same is true for my leg irons. I
don’t care. I’ve spent my whole sentence up to now chained with
my neck to a gang of ten women, so this place here is almost like a
holiday resort to me. It seems to be the guards’ understanding of
mercy with respect to my age and the time I’ve spent as a guest in
the wonderful prison system of this country. A nice place to spend
the rest of my life.”
“So you’re not planning on ever getting free again?”, Hanna
Rebecca smiled and took one of Hanna’s bare feet in her hands.
“Your feet are dirty, but your soles look almost like those of a
free woman used to wearing shoes. Only somebody like you can ask a
question like that.” Keira smiled and nodded approvingly.
“Here” Rebecca said and pointed at her own naked soles. Hanna
touched them and was surprised when she realized that she did so
“Like leather”, Rebecca said. “A real slavegirl’s feet, just
like yours will soon be. So …” With angled knees, Rebecca spread
her legs wide apart. The stench of fish was nauseating and Hanna put
her hand before her mouth.
“Let’s be friends, Hanna from Bielefeld. You first, as I’m
“She won’t do that”, Keira said in a sorry voice.
“What? What do you mean by that? When I arrived here this evening,
you were taking a piss on the field like a real slavegirl, not
caring much about anybody looking upon you while doing something
that those tourists at the southern coast of Spain would probably
refer to as private business. This is no hotel in Southern Europe,
but a prison in North Africa, so please be a good girl and kiss me
down there. I was so happy when I saw you first, you are such a
beautiful young girl …”
Hanna turned away in disgust. “Kids,” Rebecca sighed. “What
about you, slavegirl?” she asked Keira. “Are you too good to be
nice to fellow prisoner’s pussy, too?”
“Can’t resist that smell,” Keira said smiling and came over to
Rebecca, her chains clinging.
Hanna watched while Keira got her head between Rebecca’s legs and
opened her mouth as if for a kiss. With her fingers, she spread
Rebecca’s vaginal lips apart and started licking them. Rebecca
closed her eyes and turned her face towards the ceiling of the cage.
Her toes spread apart as if in cramps. Hanna lay down and tried to
sleep despite Rebecca’s sounds of lust that finally rose to a
had just gotten the whip by one of the younger guards who was now
shouting at her that she was working too slowly. Rebecca’s face
was a grimace of pain for moment, but soon she was smiling her
obligatory wise smile, the smile of somebody who had spent half her
life naked and in chains.
“Hach”, she said, talking German as Hanna was
digging through dirt next to her. “Another girl who could have
been my student.”
The day before, Hanna had sworn to herself that
she would never again talk to Rebecca for asking her to lick her
between the legs. But then what the heck … it was slave life that
had turned the poor woman into what she was now, not any inherent
“What do you mean?” Hanna asked.
Rebecca said: “I came here as a teacher of
German and English when I was twenty three years old. It was
supposed to be an abroad year, my little secret. An adventure,
working in a town in some African country that nobody in Europe had
ever heard about. However, when I handed back a grammar test one day,
one of the students who had failed it was the twelve year old son of
the mayor, which I didn’t know and probably wouldn’t have paid
much attention to if I did. Two days later, I was arrested and
accused of being a spy. I was kneeling in front of the judge wearing
rags like yours, barefoot, heavily fettered and my collar chained to
an iron ring in the ground. It was so damn unbelievable I almost had
to laugh. The day before I had been teaching the definite article,
24 hours later I looked like a galley slave in some period movie. I
didn’t feel like laughing any more when I remembered that my being
in this damn country was my, well, little secret. The mayor’s son
told the most outrageous lies about me, things that he had probably
seen on TV. When I thought that it was my time to speak and end that
whole outrageous farce, a guard hit my naked feet with her whip as
to make me stop. The judge said that he had heard enough. The
translator sitting next to him told me that I had just been
sentenced to life in prison with hard labor. He said it
matter-of-factly, as if it that was nothing. Looking back I’m
wondering why I didn’t scream, because that’s definitely what I
Rebecca paused shortly to scratch her vagina.
“Then they brought me to a camp like this, took
away my clothes and forged this collar around my neck and these
irons around my ankles. In the ensuing years, while I was growing
older and the guard girls were more and more often younger than me,
sometimes ten, fifteen years, I often had to think about how strange
it was that one single mistake could change your life that much. I
could have been these girls’ teacher, with them looking up to me
respectfully and asking my advice in dealing with German grammar.
Instead, they walked me around like a dog on a leash and shouted at
me in their broken English to move my lazy ass faster. Get on my
smelly bare feet and work, work, work.”
Rebecca sighed. Then she asked Hanna: “And what
would have become of you?”
“A business consultant is what will become of
me once that I get out of this ridiculous third world show and
finish my studies back in Germany”, Hanna said with anger in her
“Hanna, the barefoot business consultant”,
Rebecca laughed. “Specializing in field work.”
“That’s not funny”, Hanna exclaimed. “I
will find a way out of here.”
“Yeah, Keira told me that you lucky bones got
only forty years. Still, you would be too old to study, then.”
Rebecca giggled. “Given that there will be a guard around in 2050
or so who remembers that you are one of the very few foreigners who
are not lifers. Which I think is unlikely. Will you go to those
guards who aren’t even born yet and tell them that you’ve done
your time? They will laugh their asses of, put you in the stocks and
give your soles a few blows for leaving your work. Oh, and just when
they’re at it, leaving work is sabotage, so even if your sentence
has run out, they will inform you with their happiest grins that it
has just been prolonged by some thirty-five years. So you’re up
for parole sometime next century. Believe me, that’s how it works
in these places. I’ve seen it happen many times.”
“There has to be a way”, Hanna said. “Maybe
I will try to go to court again.”
“Oh yeah, that’s probably the best thing you
can do. Go to one of the guards and tell them you want your case
revised. See, being a prisoner in this country means you’re fucked,
but do you really think this place is that bad?”
The expression on Hanna’s face showed that she
did not understand what Rebecca meant.
“Well, then look at me”, the teacher of long
ago continued. “Maybe you will take my place where I’m from. You
think you’re bad off because your feet are bare? What about not
wearing anything but chains for the rest of your life?”
She pointed at her vagina. “Calling that the private
parts is a popular running gag in that place. What about a nice
heavy iron collar around your neck, do you think that would suit you?
Chained together with ten other women? Emptying your bowls and
bladder standing because it is not aloud to interrupt your work for
it? Your hands cuffed behind your back at night? Sleeping in a tiny
dungeon instead of a nice cage out in the open like they have here?
And how do you think masturbation works in a place where nobody can
touch herself at night? The girls there won’t let you off the hook
as easily as the ones here. You have a mouthful to do there every
Hanna looked down on the earth she was ploughing.
“I’m sorry for what happened to you. But there is no reason for
intimidating me out of my will to be free again. Maybe you’re just
jealous because you have already wasted your life in here”, she
“Now listen to that”, Rebecca sighed. “You
could have been my student, too. Next thing I know you will lock me
in stocks and allow some kids to tickle my smelly bare slave feet.”
She petted Hanna’s soles.
“Get away from me”, Hanna said and crawled away
from Rebecca on her knees.
“Sorry for interrupting you, barefoot business
consultant Hanna. But a slavegirl like me has to get back to work
“Fuck you”, Hanna said.
“You’re right. I should,” Rebecca said. Then she
watched for the guards, and when she didn’t see any too close to
their group, she continued ploughing with one hand and put the
fingers of her other into her vagina.
It wasn’t long before her playing with herself
was detected by one of the guards – the same 19-year old that had
made her life so hard yesterday. She came running and already from
far, Hanna could see the joy of sadism in her face. The whip hit
Rebeccas naked back twice and she screamed.
“We told you to stick to your work, damn
slavebitch”, the guard said. “Some of the old guards were
actually planning on giving some loin cloth to you because they
thought it was unfair for you to be the only one running around with
her cunt on exhibition for everyone. You get up on your stinky bare
feet now and follow me.”
Hanna watched the guard pushing Rebecca in front
of her. For the two hours that the teacher was gone, she asked
herself what they could do to her that was actually a worsening of
the circumstances under which she had spent more than half of her
When Rebecca returned, her collar had been put in
use again. There was a long and heavy looking chain connecting it to
her leg irons now. The guard was with her once again and pushed
Rebecca to the floor. “Only a warning,” the guard said. “There
are a lot more chains where that one came from.” Then, she went
“Are you alright?” Hanna asked.
Rebecca touched the link of the chain that was
connected to the iron ring dangling from her collar. Hanna
couldn’t see a lock that held it in place.
“Forged”, Rebecca said. “Means that they
have no intention of ever taking it off again.” She sighed.
was a day without work and Hanna spent it the same way as the former
one, locked into the stocks together with Hilde from Norway. Two
young guards in their early twenties passed by and made fun of the
way the two prisoners tried to shy away their bare feet, afraid of
getting hit on the soles. “Bitches”, Hilde whispered when they
were gone, at which Hanna gave her we're-in-this-together-smile.
there were visitors to the camp. An old and a young woman who had
arrived in a Mercedes were walking the area, shown around by the
guards and nodding every now and then.
“Who are they?”, Hanna asked. Hilde, who sat with her head
hanging so that her long red hair hid her face, looked up.
“Oh”, she said. “The good guys. Sometimes, at least.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t now how it works exactly, but they’re
some kind of African aristocracy, making parts of their wealth with
the slave labor of the camps. They come here to visit every now and
“Are they sisters?”
“Mother and daughter. She’s your age and I don’t know whether
she’s a bitch or just plain stupid, but she likes to talk to the
foreign prisoners about how great her life is and how she has just
been on a holiday to the country they used to live in as free women.”
“But you said they’re good guys?”
“Her grandmother is said to have been one. It is said that this
place used to be like the one the new German woman in your cage is
“You mean Rebecca?”
“The naked one. If that’s her name, yes. The old prisoners
sometimes talk about how this place used to be like the one
Rebecca’s from, with no clothes at all for the prisoners, iron
collars and everybody chained to everyone else. Then, clothes were
introduced and the collar became some kind of … outfashioned. This
became a moderate prison.”
“Moderate?”, Hanna exclaimed. “Look at us! Wearing the same
rags day in day out, leg irons forged around our ankles, and no
shoes on our feet! These are stocks we're locked in, for Christ's
“Moderate by this county's standards, I suppose”, Hilde said and
The young black girl looked over to Hanna and Hilde and began
“Oh no, here she comes …”, Hilde said with an annoyed voice.
The girl wore expensive looking sports clothes and seemed to be in a
great mood. She took the cane leaning against the stocks in case any
passers by should feel the urgent need to give the trapped slave
girls’ feet a few blows. It hit Hilde’s soles not too brutal,
but in no way lightly either. Hilde sighed a sound of pain. Her
tormentor didn’t react to it in the slightest.
“Hey Hilde, how’s it going?”, she asked. Her accent was
recognizable but far from being as thick as those of the guards.
Obviously, she had gotten around a bit.
“Good, Sharina, thank you”, Hilde answered.
“Do you think my shoes fit my pants?”, Shirina asked.
“They look great”, Hilde said, sadly looking at her own bare
“You know, sometimes I admire you slavegirls for never having to
worry about shoes”, Shirina said and tapped Hilde's soles with one
end of the cane. “Just remember what it would be like for you as a
free woman in Norway. You would have the same problem! As a prisoner,
you're always barefoot, and you can concentrate on you field work.”
“I’m so lucky”, Hilde said.
Shirina frowned. “Are you trying to make fun of me, slavegirl?”
“No!”, Hilde almost shouted, obviously regretting the cynical
tone now that had crept into her voice.
“I would advise you not to”, Shirina said
and gave Hilde’s soles another blow with the cane. This time, it
was more forceful and, according to Hilde’s reaction, a lot more
“Oh, stop it, Hilde”, Shirina said in a tired voice. “You've
been a prisoner for so many years now and you behave as if this was
the first time somebody whips your feet.”
turned to Hanna. “Who are you, slavegirl?” Hanna's toes crumpled
as she was in expectation of a blow, but nothing happened.
“My name is Hanna.”
“New on the chain, Hanna?”
“I got here a few months ago.”
Shirina laughed. “Yes, a few months ago. You slavegirls always
loose track of the time after awhile. How long have you been here
for, Hilde? Ten, fifteen years? My god, I was still playing with
dolls when they enchained you.”
Hilde said nothing, seemingly eager to avoid getting hit on her
“Where are you from, Hanna?”, Shirina asked.
“Oh, Germany! I spent an abroad term therer during my
studies in Hamburg. Great city, great country! You must be sad
you’ll never see it again.”
“I’m not a lifer”, Hanna said, as she didn’t really know
what else to answer.
“Oh, common, you slavegirls are always trying to kid me. Just
because I've never had my tongue in some other girl's pussy like you
doesn't mean I'm naive.”
“They gave me forty years.”
Shirina looked like the man on Edward Munch’s “The scream”.
“Now ain’t that one lucky slavegirl, Hilde? Forty years only!
She will be a free old woman when you still have the rest of your
life to crawl around that field.”
Shirina paused, seemingly thinking.
“You know what, I would like to go on a little trip.”
Hanna heard Hilde sighing. She seemed to know what Shirina’s words,
cryptic to Hanna’s ears, meant.
“Guards”, Shirina shouted, and two of the women dressed in black
came. “Chain these and another two slave girls to the middle sized
carriage. We are going on a little excursion.”
With a humble nodding, the guards did as they had been advised. One
of them was the very young one that had enjoyed teasing Rebecca so
much. When she unlocked the stocks, she smiled at Hanna.
“Your first time drawing the carriage. Hope you like it.”
middle sized carriage was designed to be drawn by four girls. Hanna
and Hilde were chained to the first row, by their hands and by the
neck. Hilde suggested whisperingly that they would get the whip a
lot less often than the two girls in the back row, who would be
closer so Shirina sitting on the carriage.
When the young guard came back with the two additional prisoners,
one of them was Rebecca. Hanna was not surprised as the girl seldom
let a chance pass unused to mistreat or even further humiliate the
stark naked long time prisoner from Germany. The other girl was
“Hey honey, how are you?”, she said to Hanna, while the other
guard that Shirina had ordered to get her slaves to draw the
carriage locked the irons around her wrists and her neck.
“You know, they dug me up from a cozy hole in which they had
buried me up to my neck for this. Such a shame. How was your free
day so far?”
“The stocks”, Hanna answered. “Again.”
“Enjoy the ride, slavegirl”, the young guard said to Rebecca and
hit her on her bare buttocks with a wooden cane.
Shirina said ascended the carriage. “What’s you name, naked
Rebecca answered with her name, in normal tone of voice, after
decades of imprisonment used to the fact that being called ‘girl`
by women 25 years her minor was only one of the countless
humiliations that she had to live with day after day.
“Well, Rebecca”, Shirina said. “As I see it, you’re the most
experienced slave here. Surely, this cannot be your first time
drawing a carriage.”
“I was once chained to a harvest carriage for a few years.”
“Great!”, Shirina exhaled. “Somebody with job experience!
Where are you from, Rebecca?”
Shirina laughed out loud. “What is it with all you German girls
ending up in our prisons? Do you like chains being barefoot that
The guards were laughing too, now. The young one gave Rebecca
another blow on her buttocks.
“That place where they chained you to that carriage was a bit
different from here, wasn’t it, Rebecca?”, Shirina asked.
“It must be strange to come here, where some slavegirls actually
whine about being barefoot, from a place where prisoners wear
nothing but chains?”
Rebecca said nothing.
“I tell you what Rebecca. With your experience and your tough
slave soles, used to being naked for decades, I expect you to leave
the best impression of all four. If you live up to that expectation,
I’ll see to that you get some rags to cover your smelly German
At this point, the young guard who liked to tease Rebecca stopped
smiling and looked at Shirina in a disappointed way.
“Maybe even something for your tits. Wouldn’t that be something?”
For a question mark, Shirina used her whip on Rebecca’s back.
Rebecca screamed in pain. Then, she said: “Yes, that would be nice.”
She covered her vagina with one hand, as if she had forgotten up to
this moment that it was on public display.
“Then go!”, Shirina shouted happily, and with another blow on
Rebecca’s back, the ride started. First, the girls were walking.
Then, after each one had gotten the whip once, they were running
slowly as if jogging.
Hanna found that it was not easy to draw the carriage but not as
difficult as she had expected. With the power of four girls, she was
sweating like hell under the blistering sun but still, it was far
from impossible. Her feet were what worried her. The way on which
they were riding right now consisted of gravel, but it was so fine
that it did not hurt her soles. But what if the stones got any
bigger along the way?
They encountered another carriage. it was drawn by two bulls. The
man sitting on it greeted Shirina friendly, spending as much
attention to the enchained girls as Shirina did to the bulls.
“Nothing he hasn’t seen, before”, Hanna thought, and
Rebecca’s calm voice came to her mind. “I was chained to a
harvest carriage for a few years”, she had said. As if she had
been talking about having played tennis once and then stopped it
because of a sprained ankle.
arrived in a town in which it was market day. Children were dancing
around the carriage and shouting. The oldest boys had sticks which
they used to hit the girls on the buttocks. The centre of attention
“Hoh”, Shirina said, as if you would say it to a horse. She got
of the carriage and walked around the market.
“I know this place”, Rebecca said. And when Hanna had her eyes
wandering around, she saw what she meant. It was a bright and clear
day, an in the distance, close and yet far away, she could see the
shores of Southern Spain.
A man who seemed to have something to say in the
town talked to Shirina. She came to Hanna and said: “He asked me
if you should be put into the stocks during my stay. I told him hat
I will most likey not stay too long.”
Then, Shirina gestured towards towards the horizon. “That’s
Spain, Hanna. Have you ever been there when you were still free?”
Hanna, thinking about the fact that only a few weeks ago, she had
probably been swimming on the very same shores, nodded.
“A wonderful country”, Shirina said. “Only those tourists get
on your nerves after awhile. I like my Germans much better barefoot
and in chains like you are.”
The children who were not teasing Rebecca were now dancing around
Shirina and begging for something in the language of the country.
Finally, Shirina said in English: “Oh, for Chrit’s sake,
okay.” She looked at the man who had proposed to lock the foreign
slaves in the city’s stocks. “Put them in the stocks. All of
The man said something in the country’s language and the
children’s cheer rose. Shirina gave the keys to the girls’
chains to two of the city’s policemen.
“Great”, Rebecca sighed.
“What’s going on?”, Chandra asked.
“They’re givin our bare feet to these sadist beasts to
play with, that’s what’s going on”, Rebecca answered.
“We’ll be locked in stocks with a nice view on the South Coast
of Spain, so that we can see a place where Europeans like us spend
their holidays while we are locked in wood and get our soles tickled
Shirina looked at Rebecca and said: “Well, even if that place was
so close that you could actually see your fellow citizens there, it
wouldn’t make any difference, because you couldn’t get there. An
honourable court in this country sentenced you, and you will serve
that sentence in his country. I’m a bit disappointed, Rebecca. You
having been a slave for such a long time now. You should know better
than complaining about how people in the country you’re from would
not understand our ways of punishing criminals. Now, get your stinky
bare feet in those stocks, all of you.”
stocks were the same as in the prison camp, holding the feet of a
prisoner in the middle and her wrists to the left and right of them.
Four prisoners could be locked into it, and four they were. Local
girls were standing around the stocks, laughing at the prisoners.
One of the girls had a wooden stick, and she approached Rebecca’s
naked feet. “Don’t you dare to, you tart”, she said. The young
woman clearly wasn’t impressed. She gave Rebecca’s soles a blow,
and as she let out a sigh of pain, the girls were laughing louder.
The young woman approached Rebecca’s feet, then made a
disgusted face, protected her nose with one hand and pretended to be
choking. The laughter rose again.
“Our feet don’t stink!” Chandra said in a protesting voice.
Although the girls probably didn’t understand her, that was a
mistake. The young woman grinned at the American prisoner, then made
a gesture towards two other girls. The girls had a little sac of
“What is that?” Chandra asked, wiggling her feet nervously.
“Itching powder”, Rebecca said. “They get it from the fruit of
some strange tree. Drives you crazy.”
“No!” Chandra screamed. “You’re not going to put that on my
feet, stay away, I warn you …”
Hilde was looking at the Horizon apathetically. Hanna was sure that
she would soon go insane by the outrageousness of the situation.
Spain looked as if it was only an hour away with a fast boat. Maybe
closer. An yet here they were, locked in stocks barefoot and left at
the mercy of girls. Rebecca was naked, for Christ’s sake, with an
iron collar around her neck! How could she stand this without
screaming and screaming and screaming?
When the two girls were finished with Chandra’s feet – they had
put the itching powder on her soles and between her toes, and now
they were washing their hands in a bucket as if their life depended
on it – it took the yellow stuff a while to kick in. Then, Chandra
said: “Oh my god!”
“Pull yourself together”, Rebecca said. “Don’t do them the
favour and show how …”
“It itches!” Chandra screamed. “Oh my god, how it itches!”
She was trying to move, harder and harder, but the stocks held tight,
and the girls laughed at her. “It itches, it itches!”
An woman of maybe fifty came to them. She shouted something at the
girls in an angry tone. The girls looked at her for a moment, then
she shouted at them again. The girls ran away, everyone in a
The old woman had a bucket full of water and a sponge, and she
started cleaning the itching powder from Chandra’s feet.
“Foreign prisoners”, she said. “To our own people, they’re
not like this when they’re driven through here in chains.”
“So you used to be prisoner?” Rebecca asked.
“How come you know?”, the woman asked, smiling.
“Because you help us”, Rebecca said. “Nobody helps a prisoner
in a situation like this, except maybe if she knows what it’s
liked to be locked in the stocks. And you speak English.”
The woman nodded. “I learned it from foreign girls in the prison
camp where I spent 25 years of my life. I had met them at the beach
and they had joints with them. They were Americans, and I wanted to
know everything about America. We got locked up together, only they
were given life. I felt so guilty the day I left the camp, in my
clothes and shoes and passing the millstone that they had been
chained to from the day we were brought to the camp. They waved me
good-bye, smiling, as if it was nothing to be naked and enchained
when they had been crying most of the time in the first few weeks.
Bye, Amilania, they said. Don’t forget us. Then they got the whip
for interrupting their work.”
Amilania shortly looked on the ground sadly. Then, she started
putting cold water on the other girl’s bare feet. When it was
Hanna’s turn, she said: “Your soles look as if they’re not
used to being bare. You haven’t been a prisoner for long?”
“No”, Hanna answered.
“Poor girl”, Amilania said.
tarts”, Chandra said, now that she was able to breathe again.
“Don’t do that”, Amilania said.
“What?”, Chandra asked.
“Don’t blame it on the girls.”
“Theses little bastards convinced the guards to put us here, damn
it. As if seeing us pulling that carriage like a bunch of damn
horses wasn’t enough for them. No, they wanted us locked in these
damn, humiliating thing with our feet for them to play with.”
“It’s satisfactory for them to see you like this.”
“Yeah, we got that, thank you.”
“But still, it’s not their fault. Normally, when Europeans or
Americans come here, they wear expensive clothing, heavy boots or
sport shoes. They look around and make faces at everything, like oh
my god, these poor people, look at the rags they have for clothing
and those ridiculous pieces of trash they call shoes. The girls
dance around them, begging for sweats and sometimes, they are made
to do tricks like dogs. And then you come here. Arrogant Europeans
and Americans. So arrogant that they thought that they could come
here and break our country’s laws. And
that’s what they get for it. Now, look at their clothes. You can
see the lice and the fleas dancing around on it. If they have any
clothes, that is”, she said and looked at Rebecca, who looked down
at her naked snatch, ashamed.
“You can see the fleas and the lice on the hair between their legs
as well. And they will not say anything bad about your footwear,
girls, because they’re prisoners now and prisoners are kept
barefoot. See them drawing that carriage? Not such big shots now,
are they? Now they are the ones who are begging you, maybe for a
piece of hard, old bread without worms in it, which is a
delicatessen to them now. Let them sit in those stocks and let them
go crazy by the thought that they’re somebody now who is locked in
wood at your will and has to to beg for his smelly feet to be left
“Our feet don’t stink”, Chandra said.
Amilania laughed. “But you’re getting my point, don’t you?”
“Aren’t you afraid that they sent you back to prison if they see
you helping us”, Hanna suddenly asked.
Amilania looked at her in a negatively surprised way.
“Maybe you’re right, slavegirl”, she said and took her bucket.
“I wish you all the best.”
“Same to you”, Rebecca said. Amilania smiled, took her sponge
once more and used it to clean Rebecca’s cunt. Hanna saw some tiny
animals fleeing along the insides of Rebeccas thighs.
When Amilania was finished, Rebecca said “Thank you” like a a
child who had gotten exactly the right bike for Christmas.
“It still smells, but it’s the best that I can do for now”,
Amilania said and went away.
they returned to the camp late in the evening, most of the girls in
the cage were asleep. Snoring, crying. Some farting. “Bye,
Hanna”, Shirina said as the group of four was let into its prison.
“See you next time?”
Tonight, for the first time, Hanna ate her porridge without
hesitating, not caring about the caterpillars and worms squirming
around in it. It had been a hard day, and she was starving in a way
she had never been before. Rebecca asked for the loin cloth that
Shirina had promised to her.
Shirina smiled. “You were a good slave today, but I think that
would be a bit too much”, she said. She had an apple in her hands,
half eaten. She gave it to Rebecca through the bars of the cage.
“Here, take this. You are naked because an honourable court in
this country thought that it would be a just punishment for you. Who
am I to interfere with that?” Without looking back, she turned and
went away. The guards giggled.
“Bitches”, Rebecca said when the guards were gone.
“What did you expect”, Keira asked and started to kiss Rebecca
between the legs.
“Did this pussy actually see some water today?”, Keira asked,
looking up at the proudly smiling. “It smells like a real lady’s
crotch”, she said and went back to work while Rebecca was having
the half eaten apple.
Hanna massaged her feet.
“Bad day for being barefoot, huh”, Chandra wanted to know, who
took care of her feet the same way as Hanna did.
“I itch”, Hanna said. “Everywhere. My feet hurt and my crotch
itches. It drives me crazy.”
“Lice”, Rebecca said. Her breath had become faster as Keira was
working on her more energetically. “Was about time that you get
‘em. Makes you horny doesn’t it? The constant movement down
Hanna rolled her eyes. “No. Makes me wish for a shower. Or a bath.”
Chandra lay her arm around Hanna and put one of her naked feet over
“Everything alright, honey?” she asked.
“No”, Hanna said and went to sleep, dreaming of swimming across
the sea and arriving at the coast of Spain.
In her dream, she wore her prisoner’s clothing. The tourists on
the beach were looking at her. Many of them were Germans. She
recognized some familiar faces, but as she went to them for help,
they turned away in disgust. The Spanish police finally came and put
her into an interrogation room. They told that they had gotten a
letter from the governor of some North African state, stating that
she was an escaped convict. They put her into a cage in the boiler
room of a ship loaded with tourists. Under the curious eyes of the
passengers, she was dropped off board, greeted by Shirina who had
her chained to a carriage. “This time, it’s for life”, Shirina
said giggling, while the passengers applauded and the ship took off,
back to Spain.
Hanna awoke and encountered trouble falling asleep again. In the
evening, she hadn’t wanted to give in to the fact that Keira had
been right. The lice teasing her hairy bush were making her angry.
How long had it been since she had had an orgasm? She let her hand
slip under her pants, scratching her bush. Then she let two fingers
slip into herself. Only for a second, she thought. But once that she
had started, she found that she couldn’t stop. When she finally
came, she had to press her other hand into her mouth so as not
scream. For a second, she considered going to the bathroom in to
clean herself of her liquids. Then she remembered where she was and
how this was only one more body sediment that would dry on her and
in her rags, adding to the overall stink of the smelly barefoot
slavegirl that she had become.
When she opened her eyes, she was shocked to see that Chandra was
awake and looking at her. She wanted to take her hand out of her
pants as if that would minor the humiliation, but Chandra grabbed
her by the wrist and hold the hand in place.
“It’s okay, honey”, she said smiling. “There is nothing to
be ashamed about. You have to do it now and then, and if this is the
only place to do it, then what are you supposed to do?”
Hanna found it hard to look Chandra into the eyes. “I’m sorry”,
she said, feeling that that would be an appropriate thing to say.
“You don’t have to be”, Chandra said.
Keira and Rebecca were smiling at her in a knowing way the next day.
Hanna tried to concentrate on her work, and she got the whip a few
times for not succeeding in doing so. Finally, she asked Rebecca:
“What’s going on?”
Rebecca looked up, the chain that connected her collar to her leg
irons clinging as she did so.
“Nothing”, Rebecca said. “You got the whip. Nothing unusual
for a slave.”
“That’s not what I meant”, Hanna said. “What are Keira and
you grinning about?”
Rebecca’s smile widened. “Keira was awake last night when you
Hanna looked to the ground, ashamed.
“Oh, common now”, Rebecca said apologetically. “When will you
finally get some sense into you? We will spend the rest of our lives
in this godforsaken place, doing field work in the blistering sun,
forged in chains. As a little extra torture, they just yesterday
made us draw a carriage like some damn bulls along the coast so we
could see the nearby shores of our home continent, where we could be
sitting in a hotel drinking martinis if we were not here, busy
begging the guards to not allow the children to play with our bare
feet while we’re locked in stocks. How can you still insist that
there’s anything wrong with having some fun by forgetting this
nightmare we’re living only for the second of an orgasm?”
Hanna looked at Rebecca and saw that she was not trying to tease
her. Once again she felt pity for the naked woman. She pictured
Rebecca in a lesson in some school in Germany, wearing clothes and
shoes, a respected teacher of languages. How often did she imagine
herself like that, Hanna asked herself. Maybe in her dreams. And
what was it like for her to wake up then, stark naked, knowing that
she would never leave this place where to guards and inmates alike
she wasn’t a respected teacher but Rebecca, the smelly German
day, Hanna was separated from the other convicts. A collar, lighter
than Rebecca’s and not forged but held shut with a padlock was put
around her neck. By it, a guard chained her to a carriage drawn by a
mule that a black woman roughly Hanna’s age had arrived on.
Hanna’ hands were put in cuffs on her back. Not modern cuffs. Like
most of the restraining devices that had become such an integral
part of her life, they looked like something out of a museum.
The woman and the guard were talking in the language of the country.
To Hanna, it sounded as if they were arguing over something. Finally,
the woman gave the guard a bundle of money. When Keira passed
balancing a basket full of dirt on her head, Hanna whispered
frightfully: “Keira, what’s going on here?”
“Nothing to worry about”, Keira promised. “You’re being
rented. If I saw that amount of money correctly, you should be back
in a few days.”
Rented, Hanna thought. I can’t fuckin’ believe this. Nothing to
worry about. It’s just that somebody rents me. Rent-a-slave. Pay
for two, get one free.
The woman who had rented her got on the carriage. She gave Hanna a
strange smile. Her clothes were a bit shabby but luxurious compared
to Hanna’s rags. And of course she wore shoes. Look like a
beggar’s boots though, Hanna thought. She became shamefully aware
that that was a thought of her past as a free girl. Where she was
now, those beggar’s boots differentiated the one sitting on the
carriage from the one who was chained to it like an animal, walking
the dirty road in bare feet.
The carriage was big enough for both of them to sit on. For a
moment, Hanna thought about just sitting down on it and seeing what
would happen. How long would they put her in the stocks for such an
audacity? Ten years?
The voyage began. The mule moved slowly and Hanna found that walking
next to the carriage was not that much of a problem, even in her
fetters and with her hands cuffed behind her back. It was so slow
that she could spend an eye on the road and watch out for anything
that might hurt her soles. The girl on the carriage watched her
dancing around big sharp stones and laughed.
After an hour or so, slowly moving carriage or not, Hanna was
bathing in sweat and felt thirst. The girl on the carriage seemed to
have seen that. She stopped the mule, took a big gulp from a canteen
and then poured water out of it over Hanna, who greedily drank. The
girl watched her smiling. When the bottle was empty, Hanna looked up
to her sitting on the carriage and said “Thank you” in German.
The girl got a small piece of bread from out of her pocket and fed
Hanna with it like you would do it with a dog. The bread was hard
and tasted old, but since she had become a prisoner, Hanna knew what
it really meant to be starving and not just saying it like so many
people did in Europe.
“Do you must pee?”, the girl asked in broken English. “The way
is still far.” She held up three fingers. “This much hours.”
Hanna shook her head no.
The girl on the carriage smiled. “I saw you first, I am shocked.
She white, I say. I thought maybe is a dream. First time I get
prisoner not from Africa. First time I see white girl like you.”
The girl grabbed her own neck. Hanna understood that she meant the
collar she was wearing. “White girl with this. And no shoes on
feet.” She pointed at Hannas naked feet. “Is really strange for
me. Will be strange for people in villages we come through.” She
laughed and shook her head.
Hanna didn’t quite know what to make of this. The girl was not
trying to be sadistic. She knew quite well by now when somebody was.
But don’t you recognize you’re talking about my life here, Hanna
thought. When you go from travelling student to barefoot field slave
in a few hours, ‘strange’ is probably the least you could come
up with. That’s what I am. A slave. You just rented me, for
Christ’s sake. I eat a porridge of moldy potatoes and cockroaches
twice a day that you would probably not dare to give to that mule
that draws your carriage. And you think it’s a big laugh that I
have “no shoes on feet”.
“You Germany?” It took Hanna a moment to figure out that that
was a question. She nodded.
“Bad place for going to prison, Africa, yes?” Hanna nodded again.
“Yes”, the girl said. “I in Germany long time ago. They say I
illegal. Before I go back here, I go in Germany prison. I afraid,
but I find prison is so different in your country. I keep my clothes.
Even my shoes.” She smiled and shook her head as if that was the
most ridiculous thing to think of. “I eat food in prison, three
times a day. I must leave cell one day for other, because in my was
…” She made a strange face and scratched her head as if her life
depended on it.
“Lice”, Hanna said.
The girl nodded thankfully and said: “Yes, lice. You have lice?”
“Yes”, the girl said as if “Of course” was what she wanted
to say but didn’t know the word. “You prisoner. Prison is dirty,
prisoners is dirty, prisoners have lice. It’s normal here. But in
Germany, oh no, they say, lice. I wash every day. Here, prisoners is
happy if water to drink.” She held up the canteen. “Prison like
hotel in your country.”
Hanna looked down on her toes. Some strange insect was crawling over
her bare feet. She shook it away with a disgusted face. The girl on
the carriage laughed.
“You prisoner here”, she said, as if Hanna had probably
forgotten. “No hotel, no shower, no shoes on feet. Animal think
shoeless feet are cheese. How long police say you must go in prison?”
“Forty years”, Hanna answered. Like each time she said it, it
made her feel like crying out.
The girl on the carriage sighed and fed Hanna with another piece of
bread as if for consolation. “Long, long time”, she said. “You
made bad crime?”
“I didn’t do anything”, Hanna said.
“I not believe”, the girl said. “You think you Germany, this
county law is not for you.”
“Even if I had done anything, the way in which you treat prisoners
here is absolutely inhuman.”
The girl shook her shoulders. “You be prisoner for long, long
time, is all I know.”
“Where do you bring me?”, Hanna asked.
“I work in place for rich man, big place. Has many horses. Many
animals make many shit. Make it gone is hard work and you stink very
much, so he pay money for prisoner to do it. Prisoner must do
everything you tell her.”
She looked at Hanna as if she expected some complaint. Then she
asked: “What your name, Germany girl?”
“I Lahanda. I be telling you your work. You hit a lot with whip in
prison place, Hanna?”
“Yes”, Hanna said.
Lahanda smiled and nodded. “Then you is like holiday now. I use
whip almost never. Boss often say Lahanda, you use whip more for
prisoner. They all lazy. But I no use whip more than two or three
times a day.”
She looked at Hanna as if she expected her to let out some cries of
joy at this prospect. When it became obvious that Hanna had not
quite gotten over the fact that there used to be a time when she had
shoes on her feet and did not get the whip at all, Lahanda made the
mule continue their way.
“Come, Hanna”, Lahanda said, as if the German prisoner was not
chained to her carriage and actually had a choice. “There is many,
many work for you.”