Without her handbag a woman feels she is immediately at a disadvantage; maybe being
without money, credit cards, personal effects, memories or mementos makes her feel a
little lost and helpless. Worse, without clothes a woman loses all of her identity, her
camouflage; she has no image to project to the outside world, she has nothing. She is
totally vulnerable and helpless. Tabitha had neither her bag nor her clothes.
Being naked with a lover or husband is often sensual, exciting; being naked in a bath is
wonderfully relaxing. In a doctor’s surgery it can be embarrassing but is largely
clinical, and it is possible, indeed it is necessary to endure, as there is a purpose to
the shame and indignity. However, there was no benefit to Tabitha being naked as she was
now; it was almost impossible to endure - yet somehow she must. She stood undressed,
stark naked before strangers, harsh men and women who didn’t care one jot whether she
lived or died, people who could cause her such pain. These people, these awful horrid
people, stood fully clothed, eyeing her exposed body with cold yet excited eyes, making
her feel even more shamed and vulnerable. It wasn’t helped by the fact that she had to
stand unmoving before them, hands clasped to her head as if she was a prisoner of war,
allowing their lustful eyes to roam at will over the hollows and curves that she so longed
to cover. Totally helpless and exposed, her fate and future were in the hands of her
captors; she was controlled by people who hated and despised her, wanting only her
She knew she would do anything, absolutely anything, for them if only she could avoid
this, avoid them hurting her as they had already demonstrated they could. She guessed,
rightly, that this was the object of the exercise; to break her down, make her compliant.
If only she could tell them that she’d obey, that she’d do anything they said and not
cause any trouble – but she knew that talking was forbidden. Only suffering and
humiliation were now allowed her.
How, she pondered, had this happened? How had she come to be in this awful predicament?
Hours earlier, Tabitha luxuriated as the hot Mediterranean sun wrapped her lithe,
tanned body in its warm golden rays. She stretched, moving outside the shade of the
parasol for a few minutes to alternate her tan. The reassuring touch of Pete’s hand draped
casually across the small of her back, a couple of fingers splayed across her bottom,
added to her contentment. She knew from the number of compliments she normally received,
not least the many admiring glances afforded her on this welcome Greek break, that she had
a good body. This year she had dared to expose more of it than usual with a thin pink
thong, the strap of which covered her intimacies whilst cleaving between the cheeks to
leave much of her perfectly proportioned bottom on view. The small top clinging to her
smooth shoulders beneath her fan of tousled blonde hair simply uplifted her 36B boobs,
which were perfectly shaped for a woman of twenty-four.
The feel of Pete’s hand across her bottom also gave her a secret thrill of pleasure.
She loved him and it showed others that she was with him, allowing her to tantalisingly
expose her body a little bit, secure in the knowledge that none could take advantage, that
Pete was there, she was his. That evening she knew that she would end up wrapped in his
arms in bed, their nude bodies locked together… and then his hands would do a lot more
than just rest on her bottom.
She remembered last night - and the night before that - when his hands and lips had
explored almost every square inch of her trembling body, inside and out. His tongue had
circled her nipples into two hard peaks of desire, then travelled down to the demanding
liquid heat between her legs, lapping delightfully and thoroughly before he replaced his
tongue with something else. Her shiver of pleasure was involuntary. This was, she
decided, heaven; she was with Pete relaxing in the sun and in the company of her friend
Lucy and her boyfriend. Could life get any better, she wondered?
Hassan, the teenage Arab barman, controlled his temper and his excitement of
anticipation as he answered yet another curt summons from one of the Western tourists on
the holiday resort hidden away in the tiny Greek island. She was a brown-haired beauty
in her mid twenties wearing a skimpy bikini, brusquely demanding that her cocktail be
freshened up. Because of her beauty he could almost overlook her demeaning attitude. He
knew that his time would come.
He knew that he looked streetwise; a bit like a skinny young thug, he had been told.
Even his attempts to grow a moustache to enhance his years did little to alter that, and
so the likelihood of any of these rich Western bitches finding him attractive was remote.
However, soon he would call the shots; he smiled inwardly in lurid anticipation.
Lately he had been trying to memorise the names of the most beautiful of the
holidaymakers. This one was called Lucy, he recalled. She was English as was her friend,
the even lovelier (if that were possible) blonde Tabitha. Her lush good looks made it
easy to recall her name. Both Western women were delicious, making his young loins stir
in frustration. However, he knew that they were presently out of bounds to him. If he
allowed his feelings to come to the fore and made any kind of play for them, they would
squeal away to their boyfriends, who would probably come on all macho, cause a
disturbance, and possibly even ruin the plans he and his Father had for them.
“Hurry up, boy, stop daydreaming! You don’t want to keep a lady waiting if you want
to keep your job. And I can make pretty damn sure that you lose it, you know,” another
voice snapped out tartly.
He ground his teeth again as a woman in her late thirties, an English television
presenter, Carol, threw her weight around, snapping her fingers for another drink. She
too was very easy on the eyes for her age but treated him like dirt before the others. To
ease his anger he tried to imagine what it would be like to rip the clothes from her
supple body, break her and have her begging to fuck him. Maybe sometime, sometime soon,
he would be able to indulge that fantasy.
Casting a final glance at Tabitha’s blonde loveliness and the two perfect spheres of
her bottom divided by the tiny coloured strip of the thong, he walked toward Carol with
He knew he ought to feel grateful as he allowed his furtive, excited eyes to sneak
over the gleaming length of the many bodies, following the delicious curved spines to the
delightful swelling of hindquarters where they lay on sun-beds with partners or husband
and friends. Yet these Westerners treated him like dirt and he knew that if his glance so
much as lingered too long on their enticing and beckoning curves, or if he dared to answer
their curtness with the equal rudeness it demanded, it would cost him his job. Yet what
did he really care? He knew the sham would soon be over and then would come payback
time, when he would make these arrogant cows pay.
* * *
After a healthy salad lunch washed down with cold orange juice, Tabitha decided she
would have a chilled white wine to take advantage of the ‘all-inclusive’ terms of their
holiday. Then she would spend the last few hours of the afternoon reading a magazine and
maybe dozing. She had already read the papers but much of it was boring stuff like a war
somewhere, or about the Americans launching two new Star-war spy satellites, which could
apparently zap targets from space. If she had liked science fiction she would have bought
a book on the theme, she thought, throwing the paper aside with bored disdain.
She looked around for the barman, Hassan, she just about managed to recall that was
his name, who had always been around whenever she raised a hand for service. To her
irritation the boy was nowhere in sight, and then she realised that she hadn’t seen him
for an hour or so since lunch. Sometimes he gave her the creeps, with his small eyes
seeming to peel the clothes from her body whilst almost laughing at some joke known only
to him. If he dared to say anything or even try to lay one hand on her… Still, she
supposed he had his uses - to make her holiday even more relaxing. She sighed, not yet
realising that the delay in being served would be only a minor blot on the horizon of
paradise, a blot which was about to get infinitely and frighteningly worse.