Chapter 3: The Traditional Dress

Sylvia, having just emerged from the shower, stood in her underwear. Contemplating the recent traumatic events, the echoes of the assaults lingered in her mind. The isolation of the island accentuated the stark reality of her situation. When she saw what the bullies left for her to wear, she was shocked. It was nothing more than two narrow strips of fabric. The memo claimed it was a traditional crop top and a skirt, but they were simply too narrow to be considered clothing that provided adequate coverage.

Despite the shock and discomfort, she knew she had no choice. Fear gripped her, especially after the brutal punishments inflicted the previous night. The three bullies had subjected her to countless beatings, followed by an additional 25 paddles on her pubic area. The humiliation reached its peak as she was forced to ask them to insert a thick dildo into her anus. As Sylvia faced the harshness of survival, she grappled not only with physical pain but also the emotional scars of an unimaginable ordeal, trying to reclaim control over her now-upturned life on the unforgiving island.

Sylvia, grappling with intense humiliation and the knowledge that she had no choice, too frightened of the bullies to resist, struggled to don the so-called traditional dress. Every movement felt like a battle against her own dignity. Meticulously adjusting the top, she attempted to ensure it covered her nipples, though concealing much else seemed an impossible feat. The bottom, however, posed a more agonizing dilemma. Faced with the choice of exposing either her vulva crevice or the unshaved upper pubic mounds, she reluctantly chose to lower it, opting to cover the more private area. It felt like the slightly less humiliating option, though the weight of vulnerability lingered.

As a result, a significant portion of Sylvia’s hairy pubic mounds was left exposed above the fabric. Sylvia had never shaved her pubic hair, a decision rooted in an early lesson from her mother about societal perceptions of women who flaunt their private areas. In this moment, however, she wished she had a razor. Forced to leave a substantial part of her pubic area exposed above the narrow fabric, the raw vulnerability of her situation intensified. The absence of a razor, coupled with the risk of the bullies noticing any sudden changes in appearance, led her to abandon the idea. Sylvia was desperate to avoid giving them additional reasons to torment her, especially after the degrading events of the past night.

Sylvia, grappling with the impracticality of the narrow strip of fabric, wondered how she could possibly cover her ample buttocks. The dilemma was perplexing, but the low placement on the front, covering her vulva crevice, resolved the issue. The fabric naturally extended to the lower portion of her buttocks, and with careful adjustment, she positioned it just where her anus was nestled between her plump buttock cheeks.

As she examined herself in the makeshift dress, Sylvia couldn’t fathom going outside in such revealing attire. The narrow fabric left her where any movement risked exposing her private parts. In any other society, she pondered, she would likely face arrest for such attire. Would the same hold true in Aprico Island?

The uncertainty added to her anxiety as she dreaded each step. However, the relentless fear of the bullies loomed over her, leaving Sylvia with no choice but to face the outside world in this vulnerable state.

As Sylvia emerged from the cabin, the cruel trio awaited her outside, their menacing presence casting a shadow over her already heavy heart. “We thought we would walk with you to Hakyo,” their tone carried a sadistic glee, a desire to witness their boss’ first public shaming firsthand, ensuring they wouldn’t miss a moment of the impending spectacle.

“Please don’t try to cover,” Marimba’s command cut through the air, and Sylvia instinctively placed one hand over her pubic hair, awkwardly exposed above her skirt. Reluctantly, she lowered her hands to her sides, following Marimba’s directive. “Yes, that’s more natural, just walk natural, no one will notice you. Don’t worry, Matumbo said,” Marimba attempted reassurance, but how could anyone ignore the presence of the only white woman in the area, with a voluptuous figure, walking in public, almost naked?

As Sylvia ventured towards the school, each step felt like a cruel reminder of her vulnerability. Onlookers’ eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul, their stares etching into her sense of self. The air thickened with lewd remarks that reverberated in her ears, intensifying the already overwhelming humiliation.

“Hey, look at that, white trash, walking naked!”,

“Look at that hairy cunt!”,

“Hey, look at her fat buttocks juggling!”,

“Is that how you walk around in your country?”

Sylvia tried to push past the hurt, attempting to ignore the verbal assault, but with every crude remark, she felt a fresh wave of shame washing over her, intensifying her embarrassment. Each word seemed to carve deeper into her sense of self, leaving behind scars of humiliation that she struggled to conceal with each painful step. Sylvia fought desperately to block out the taunts, attempting to shut out the cruel words that clung to her every step. With each insult, her internal struggle to maintain composure grew more challenging.

A yearning to shield herself, to at least try with her arms or her bag, overwhelmed her. Yet, Sylvia resisted against the instinct to shield her exposed body. She kept her hands at her sides, obediently following her bullies’ command. As the school yard finally came into view, a wave of dread washed over her. She knew another impending ordeal awaited her inside – facing her students, marking the beginning of a long and shamefully dreadful day.

Sylvia stood in front of her classroom, facing 16 students, 3 of whom had forced her into wearing such revealing clothes—the boys whom she was terrified of. The others, she was deeply embarrassed to be in front of.

Despite her attempts to focus on teaching, Sylvia found herself constantly interrupted by the barrage of questions, jeers, and mockery from her students. The relentless stream of disruptions made it nearly impossible for her to maintain any semblance of authority in the classroom.

Eventually, Matumbo, one of her tormentors who had already earned a reputation as the meanest bully, stepped in and commanded them to be quiet. The other students immediately complied, their compliance a testament to Matumbo’s intimidating presence.

“Please proceed, Mrs. Sylvia,” Matumbo’s veneer of politeness, the very person who coerced her into this degrading situation, somehow heightened the humiliation in both his tone and demeanor for Sylvia.

Sylvia, struggling to regain control of the classroom, attempted to redirect the attention back to the lesson. However, the weight of embarrassment lingered heavily upon her. The revealing outfit, imposed upon her against her will, exposed more than just her body—it laid bare her vulnerability to the relentless scrutiny of her students.

“Mrs. Sylvia, do you realize you’re showing us your cunt?”, “Look at that bush, don’t you shave, Mrs. Sylvia?”, “Wow, look at her titties!”, “Mrs. Sylvia, if you want to show us your body, just get naked, why are you wearing those strange things?”

Every utterance from her students felt like a relentless barrage, striking her with stones of shame. Sylvia struggled to dispel the overwhelming embarrassment, especially as their words unveiled a disturbing assumption – that she willingly chose to don these absurd, lewd clothes of her own accord. In their eyes, she was labeled an exhibitionist, intensifying the humiliation of an already degrading situation.