Chapter 26: I've Got You Under My Skin

MEMO (Confidential)
From: Jo and Charlotte
To: Corinne

Charlotte and I agree: we have to talk through this business. The good news is that Fifty seems to be coming round, so to speak, with no sign of damaging after effects. One thing bothering us is that no one can have failed to notice the whip marks on her back, bum and legs. This does not look like some ham fisted interrogation beating. It looks exactly as though it has been done with erotic intent. Ylena would have been proud of it. If the Authorities are at the bottom of this business, it's not only outrageous but it's grotesque as well. If you combine that with everything else then we both share your suspicions of Larry and the explanations he has offered.

Course 8 / Day 47: Course Progress Meeting
Participant Notes: Fifty

Jo: Observation of Fifty overnight confirms that she found yesterday's sessions particularly challenging. Her recent experiences have been very traumatic for her and she has found confronting her feelings about administering punishment distressing. Actions for today include further work on Fifty's tattoo.

Jenny's Recollections:

I had a dreadful night. Tossing. Turning. Fretting about yesterday. It's not often since I've been here that I haven't slept well. Which is odd given all that's happened. I finally manage to get to sleep but it seems like its only moments before the lights come on again and the shutters on my cell go up.

It's the morning. Charlotte comes for me. She clips a lead to my nose ring and I silently follow. I pass by Judy's cell. She's on her knees obviously waiting for someone to come for her. I can't bring myself to look her in the face, because even though I was richly paid back by Judy for my efforts, I still feel uncomfortable about punishing a fellow slave. Nevertheless, this is part of our education, Judy and me

Pretty soon, I realise that we are going to the medical room, which means Celia or Jonathan or both of them at once, I suppose. I'm not sure how well I will cope with this. I still feel tired.

She swipes her key card through the door lock and we are greeted by Jonathan.

Well, I say "we are greeted", actually Jonathan only speaks to Charlotte. "Hi, Charlotte. Great to see you. I see you've brought Fifty for her next session."

I guess that they must have arranged this before hand. I realise that I have become used to being spoken about as though my feelings or concerns were not important. Or actually, now I come to think about it, being spoken about as if I were not even there.

Charlotte smiles and nods. Jonathan carries on talking to her. "OK Charlotte," he says. "just to keep you informed of what's going on ... Today I am going to carry on with the in-filling of the design. I won't be able to finish it, though. It's quite a large design."

I know. I think, it's a lot larger than I thought it was going to be, but of course he's not talking to me.

"Actually, there is too much to do in the time that Fifty is here with us. I shall have to see Fifty in my Studio in another month or so. I guess that will be all right with you, Charlotte?"

All right with you?? All right with Charlotte? What about me? It's me that's getting the tattoo. It's my back! I can hardly believe that I thought that. After all this time. Of course, I'm a slave and I'm having this done to me to please Charlotte. At least I guess that it's to please Charlotte. Or is it that Charlotte thinks it will please me, eventually? Or is it that they just think that it's good for slaves to have them submit to being marked? Or?

My thoughts are interrupted. Charlotte responds to Jonathan. "Sure. There'll be no problem with that. Come along, Fifty."

Charlotte leads me over to the plinth and I lay on it, face down, obediently, like an offering on an altar. Finally Jonathan speaks to me as he arranges his needles in their sterile packs and sets out his inks, getting ready for the task. "So, Fifty how are you today?"

"I'm good, thank you, Sir," I reply. As I speak it sounds almost robotic. It's a curious response, almost automatic, answering with what I know he wants to hear rather than actually saying what I feel. It's not an exchange between two equals. I'm not even sure it feels like an exchange between two human beings. It sounds like that special way a friend of mine talks to her cat. And Jonathan is taking less notice of my reply than she does of the cat's purrs and meows. Am I still human? Have I become some sort of "other"? Is that what being a slave does to you? That you adapt to the way you are treated and your status as a slave hardens around you like a new skin? Actually, they don't stop my asking what's going on. I do it to myself, I realise. Time to re-assert my humanity, I think. Time to re-engage my ego, even if I make my response in the respectful tone that is expected of me. "May I ask what you are going to do today, Sir?"

Charlotte and Jonathan both start to reply and say different things. I start to giggle. We all dissolve into laughter. It breaks the tension. Suddenly, I feel a lot better.

"OK, I'll go first," says Jonathan, taking charge. I hear him snap on a pair of latex gloves. He is running his fingers gently across my back as though he is tracing the areas he is going to work on.

He helps me to stretch out on the plinth. "How are you feeling about this?" he asks.

"Good," I say nodding with a smile. "The other girls are jealous."

"And so they should be, young lady. Your back is just the perfect canvas for this. You ready for some more?"

I nod again. He starts to sponge my skin and lays down some Vaseline over the area he will work on... "This time, Fifty, we start to fill in some of the detail. I won't do too much but we'll try to fill in here," I feel him touch me just below the shoulder blade, "and here," he touches me again, this time just around where he'd put the barcode, "I want to put some decoration around this. Look, you can watch." He points to a mirror just in front of me. It's angled so that I can see another mirror. In it, there is my back with the design outline spread across it.

The tattooing process is still a bit scary. Perhaps if it had been my idea in the first place or if Joe had asked me to get it done, it would be something I would be looking forward to with delicious anticipation. As it is, it's all mixed up with learning to trust someone else — my owners - to have my best interests at heart.

"I'm going to do some of the filling in on the areas where we need blocks of colour," says Jonathon. "This will be a bit faster than what I've done so far, because I will be using a larger needle, but I'll be covering a larger area." The apprehension is obviously showing in my face, because Jonathan continues, "But, its OK, Fifty, it will not feel any worse than the last bit, really.You heard me say to Charlotte that I don't think we can realistically have everything finished before you return home, so I will see you again on my home ground. My studio is in London. Will that be a problem?"

I find it difficult to think about things after I leave here. Will that be a problem? I don't know. I'm so used now to not making decisions. Why is he asking me to make a decision like that? Suddenly, I feel it's all getting too much. Then I get a grip of myself. "No Sir," I reply. "I will be able to manage London. It won't be a problem." Thinking about things after being here raises another question. "Erm, Joe — that's my husband - might well want to come. Will that be OK with you?"

"Of course. It's fine by me but, well, I guess it depends on what he thinks about what you have been up to!"

Yes, it does and, for the first time in quite long time, I start to think seriously about what Joe actually will think. After all there is a limit to everyone's credulity and there is only just so much that I can reasonably explain under the heading of "selfless devotion to research".

"So," Charlotte takes up the conversation, "as you will not be going anywhere for an hour or two..."

"Or three!" chips in Jonathan. My anxiety levels start to rise again.

Charlotte continues, " ... I thought this would be a good time to have you tell me how you thought you have progressed and if your IWB experience has been good for you."

She's sounds the way the Prof does when she quizzes me on work I've been doing but this is very different. There's no question in my mind about whether she has any right to know how I feel. No question of trying to keep my thoughts and feelings private. "Yes, of course, Mistress," I say. I'm almost surprised at myself. Goodness, how easily the right response for a slave comes to me now and how correct it sounds. I'm not sure how I'll get on when I'm no longer here. I'm damned if I'm going to talk this way to Angela, though, much as she would enjoy hearing it from me!

"Exactly, so let's begin. Well, not quite begin. First..." Charlotte sits on a low stool and slips her feet out of her flip flops and puts them to one side. She lifts her feet and placing them on the plinth right in front of my face. I remember the beautiful cowboy boots she was wearing when we first met. I can still see the stitching and the decorative punching in my mind's eye. The sandals are just as nice as the boots were. I try to think if I have seen similar in the shops, but I don't think so. She must have them made up specially. Hmmm. Money well spent. Her sandals are perfectly shaped to fit. The soles are nice and thick, but also look soft to walk on. The thongs are just a touch wider than you would see on sandals in the shops. Perfect.