Stephanie smiled at the slavegirls kneeling under the neon sign
of Pompeii's Cafe, the favorite hang-out of her master and the
other slave-owners. They smiled back at her. None of them said
anything. An exchange of smile was all the greeting the slavegirls
were allowed among themselves.
All the girls were naked, like herself. Some of them were
chained or bound, others were not restrained save for the chains
around their necks, but they also rigidly crossed their wrists
behind their backs, as if held by their masters' magic spell.
Stephanie walked to the end of the row and fell on her knees.
Sitting on her heels, she threw out her chest and knelt with the
grace of a Greek statue, while her master locked the chain on her
collar to a ring in the wall and disappeared into the cafe.
Her arms and hands were tied tightly behind her back, so tightly
that it was hurting her. But she had decided not to complain. Her
master was not in a very good mood that day. In fact, just before
they left home he had whipped her severely for some extremely
trivial mistake. Her back and breasts were still burning from the
pain.
The street was crowded as usual. A constant flow of legs and
feet moved to and fro before Stephanie's eyes. Some of them stopped
in front of her. Then there would be a hand touching her at
different places on her body, and maybe even a few flirting words.
But over the last few years, Stephanie had learnt to simply ignore
them. The armed security guards standing by the door of the cafe
were her insurance that these passing menaces would not be any
serious threat to her.
A pair of young lovers appeared around the corner, and Stephanie
could not resist the instinct to glance at them a few times. The
young man, rather gloomy-looking in his dark grey rain- coat, did
not attract much of her attention initially. But his girlfriend, a
cheerful little blonde wearing a bright red and white sport jacket,
tight-fitting blue jeans and a pair of white leather boots, who
walked in a way of dancing and talked in a way of singing, reminded
Stephanie very much of herself before that fateful day in the slave
market.
The girl stopped in front of each of the slavegirls and giggled
brief remarks on them like an art critic appraising art- works on
an exhibition, while her boyfriend hemmed single syllables from his
nose either in agreement or disagreement. Vaguely, Stephanie found
his voice somewhat familiar.
The white leather boots danced over to Stephanie, and the girl
exclaimed in a raised voice: "Oh look! This one has all the
elements of a Degas!"
"Now there you got it, darling. She's a real piece of art." The
young man finally spoke.
Immediately, Stephanie realized whose voice she was hearing. On
an uncontrollable impulse, she raised her head and called out:
"Eddy!"
Stephanie felt like in a dream. Towering over her pitiable
kneeling figure was indeed her younger brother Eddy.
Eddy was the only family she had in the world. Orphaned at a
early age, she practically raised him by herself, although she was
only a year older. Having always demonstrated a strong talent in
art, Eddy aspired to go to an art school in Paris. Five year
before, when he graduated from high school, Stephanie withdrew from
her own college to work as a waitress in order to help him save the
money. A few months later, when it became clear to her that they
would never be able to save enough money with the kind of jobs they
could find, she made an ultimate self-sacrifice for Eddy. She went
to a nationwide slave dealer and signed up for an upcoming slave-
auction, designating her brother as the sole beneficiary of the
proceeds from her sale. The evening before she was taken away to
the auction, Stephanie and Eddy locked each other in their arms and
cried well into the night. The next morning, the men sent by the
slave dealer had to literally tear her away from Eddy's arms. When
the van moved down the road, Stephanie saw her brother running
frantically after it, while she hit the barred windshield until her
hands bled. Eddy's distorted voice had been echoing in her mind
ever since then: "Stephie! Stephie! I'll come and get you out as
soon as I return!" ...
It seemed to have happened only the day before, but in reality
Stephanie had not seen or even heard from Eddy for well over four
years. She knew Eddy should be back from Paris by now, and she had
been praying day and night that he would come to her the very next
minute. And now when her dearest brother suddenly appeared before
her eyes like a miracle, Stephanie could not contain herself.
Looked up at Eddy, her whole body was shaking violently, and her
eyes were filled with passion and expectation.
A complex expression flew over Eddy's face. He had apparently
recognized his loving sister, too. He stepped forward to her, but
stopped instantly. Instead of throwing himself down to her and
relieving her of her bondage as Stephanie expected, he stood
motionlessly, mouth half open and eyes staring blankly beyond her,
as if stricken by a lightning.
The little blonde looked up and down between Eddy and Stephanie,
and asked him curiously: "You know each other?"
"Huh, what? Oh no, no, not really. I don't think so." Eddy
seemed to have finally gathered himself together. He turned to his
hapless sister, and asked: "How do you know my name, slavegirl?
What do you want from me?"
"Eddy..." Now it was Stephanie who felt like stricken by a
lightning.
"What? Do I know you?"
The cruel question came upon Stephanie like a dagger piercing
through her heart. She let her chin sink on her chest, leaned back
against the wall, and breathed deeply.
"You have forgotten, Ed...Master Eddy," after a long while,
Stephanie managed to say in a small voice, without raising her
head. "My master used to be your next-door neighbor...and I used to
help you with your housework when you were young..."
"Ah, I see," Eddy quickly played along. "Now I remember ---
Stephanie, right?"
"Yes, Master Eddy..." Stephanie felt as if something had been
stuffed in her throat.
"It's been a long time, Stephanie. How have you been?"
"I'm fine...I guess. Thank you, Master Eddy."
"Where's your master, Mr., eh..."
"Mr. Van Dyke, Master Eddy. He's in the cafe. I have a message
for you from him." In her shocked state of mind, Stephanie did not
realize the illogicality of her last statement.
"Oh? What's the message?"
"My master wishes you all the best in you career, Master Eddy."
"That's...very kind of him," Eddy said after a long pause.
"Please thank him for me, Stephie."
"I will, Master Eddy."
Both of them fell silent. They stared at each other for a time
without saying anything.
Finally, Eddy's girlfriend broke the awkward silence. "I don't
want to interrupt your little reunion, Eddy," she whispered, "but
I think it's time for us to get back to the airport now. I don't
want my parents to wait for us too long."
"Hm," Eddy replied, and slowly turned away from Stephanie like
a dream-walker. Then abruptly he turned back to her and asked:
"Stephie, is your master treating you well?"
"Yes, Master Eddy, very well." Tears streamed down from
Stephanie's eyes.
"Good...now take good care of yourself, OK?" With the words, he
walked away quickly.
"Hey, wait for me!" The little blonde bounced along after him,
while waving to Stephanie. "Bye-bye, Stephanie!"
"Why do I have the feeling that you knew each other much better
than just neighbors?" Stephanie heard her asking Eddy teasingly
once she caught up with him.
"Oh, just those silly childhood things. You don't want to know."
"Yes I do! Tell me!"
"Nah. Leave me alone."
"No, I won't, till you tell me. Tell me tell me tell me..."
They disappeared into the crowd.
Stephanie spent the rest of the evening crying to herself. The
other slavegirls watched her with great sympathy. Some even
accompanied her in tears, but none of them said anything.
The security guards standing around also looked at Stephanie
sympathetically.
"Poor girl," said one of them. "Must have had a crush on that
little boss man."
"Hopeless," another guard commented. "That's why I always tell
these girls: never get wrapped up in those romances."
Stephanie just cried.
Stephanie's master was astonished to see her tear-covered face
when he came out from the cafe.
"What's wrong, Stephie?" He squatted down to wipe her face with
his silk handkerchief and caress her bruised shoulders. "Did I beat
you too hard this evening?"
"No, my Lord...not at all." Stephanie threw herself into his
broad chest and cried like a child.
"Please...my Lord," she murmured between sobs, "please whip me
again...whip me right now, my Lord; I want it...and whip me harder
than ever..."
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