The warm breeze barely made the flag flutter on classic 36foot yacht the “Empress.” as she swung at anchor fifty yards or so off the quayside of the only town on a tiny Carribean Island while two vacationing university students, blonde haired blue eyed Lynnie and dark haired brown eyed Jo lay sun bathing in their swimsuits on the sun drenched polished pine foredeck.
They lazed and idly watched as a speed boat burbled past and slowly approached the islands only slipway, “I guess there’s a storm coming?” Lynnie surmised as she looked around and out to sea where another of the tourist speedboats was approaching and storm clouds could be seen creeping over the far horizon
“I guess,” Jo agreed as she looked across at the shore and waited for Pablo and Anton to return with supplies for their voyage.
“Why didn’t they stock up in Key West,” Lynnie sighed, “We could be stuck here if the storm comes in.
Jo wondered if agreeing to act as crew on the yacht was such a good idea, she told her folks she was working at Disney but she they sneaked a weeks vacation to go sailing with two guys they barely knew. But who wouldn’t? “Empress,” was beautiful, a vision in glossy black with red lead below the waterline and a full set of pure white sails.
“Maybe we should go look for them? Lynnie suggested but they were moored fifty yards off shore and the boys had taken the dinghy.
“Yes, lets go look,” Jo agreed, “Swim?” she suggested.
“Yes lets,” Lynnie agreed and they dived gracefully into the crystal clear water and swam ashore.
They swam past the speedboat and climbed the narrow iron ladder to the quayside.
The speedboat was tied it up to a stout mooring post and it’s ‘Captain’ spoke into his radio phone and then waved at someone on the quay and almost immediately a team of sleek tanned muscular young women appeared dragging a boat trailer, eight naked young white women barely out of their teens or even younger, naked that is except for a leather collar and a leather hood with holes for their eyes ears, mouth and nostrils as they worked with sweat glistening on their evenly sun -tanned torsos.
“Oh gosh!” Lynnie exclaimed as the girls dragged the trailer along the quay and then reversed it gently down the slipway, while a man in leather jacket and trousers with a Black Sabbath tee shirt shouted instructions, an occasionally cracked a long leather whip.
Lynnie and Jo watched as two of the women dived into the crystal clear water and started to manhandle the speed boat towards the slipway to guide it between the trailer’s guides.
“How can they Lynnie?” Jo asked as the girls began to heave the sleek speedboat up the slipway on its trailer, the boat was heavy ,the girls struggled and suddenly the whip cracked,
“Hola!” the man shouted
“I don’t know Jo,” Lynnie replied, “Maybe they like it?” she added, “Maybe slavery is still legal in the Cuban zone.”
“Well just be glad it isn’t us,” Lynnie sighed as she watched the girls drag the boat up the slip ad along the quayside, “Lets find Anton and Pablo.”
Lynnie followed Jo as she walked along the quayside looking for a food store or somewhere Anton and Pablo might be, they retraced their steps after a few minutes and saw another group of naked ‘slave’ girls were walking back with a boat trailer as another speedboat glided up to the quay.
Lynnie and Jo watched the girls struggling as the Latin American guy with them warned “Silence!” in American if they spoke and cracked his whip menacingly.
“How could anyone let themselves be treated like that?” Lynnie asked.
“Beats me?” Jo agreed, “Shall we try this side street? it looks like a Shipwrights or Chandlers or something down there.”
They had barely gone fifty yards before a policeman stopped them, “Papers por favor?” he asked, “Americanos?”
“We are from the “Empress,” Jo pointed, “The boat.”
“This is Cuban territory,” the policeman said, “Americanos need permit, you have permit?”
“Back on the boat,” Jo lied.
“Tourist visa?” he asked.
“Yes,” Jo lied.
“We not issue them since 1948,” he said, “Work permit?”
“Yes,” Jo agreed, “That’s it, work permit.”
“You work on “Empress?” he asked.
“Yes,” Jo agreed.
“What as prostitute?” he asked.
“No, deck hand!” Jo said forcibly.
“Sorry I thought you were prostitutes,” he said, “You dress like prostitutes.”
“It’s a swim suit!” Jo protested, “It’s wet,” she said but she wasn’t as she had already dried off in the afternoon sun.
“Not allowed under Cuban Law, you come to the Police Station I think,” he insisted.
“We have to get back to the “Empress,” Lynnie explained.
“No, you must come with me, it won’t take long,” he explained and with an eye on his colt 45 revolver tucked into his belt Lynnie and Jo didn’t argue.
The police station was down a side street leading from the quayside street, a non descript building which would pass for a book store or drug store in America, and even inside it was not much different to a fast food joint with chrome and plastic chairs and tables and a high wooden counter.
Two police officers sat at tables reading, a sergeant and a female officer, “Dos Americanoes,” the first policeman explained as they walked in, “No papers,”
“Prostitutes?” the older policeman asked as he turned showing his sergeant’s stripes.
“No boat girls,” the first policeman explained.
“Why do they think we are prostitutes?” Lynnie asked.
“You flaunt your bodies in your underwear.” the policewoman replied.
“What about the slaves?” Jo asked, “They are naked!”
“Naked is natural,” the policewoman explained, “Is beautiful, you dress like prostitutes, like cheap tarts.”
“Look, we need to get back to the “Empress,” Lynnie explained, “Can’t you let us go?”
“No, prostitution is illegal.” the policewoman insisted.
“But we are boat girls!” Lynnie protested.
“Ah boat girls,” the policewoman said, “Why did you not say?”
“You didn’t, like. ask?” Lynnie explained.
“Americano boat girls,” the policewoman nodded, “Then we will send word to the “Empress for them to collect you.”
“So what do we do?” Lynnie asked.
“You can wait, sit in the sun,” the Sergeant said, “By the window, or in the shade.”
Jo and Lynnie sat by the counter and were surprised when Pablo and Anton walked in after a few minutes, “What the hell are you doing here?” Anton asked
“We came looking for you.” Lynnie explained.
“You fools, you’re American citizens, you shouldn’t be here!” Anton explained, “I said stay on the boat!”
“We never thought,” Jo explained.
“Obviously,” Pablo added, “We have dual citizenship you see, Mexican American so we’re fine.”
“Can you get us out of here?” Jo asked.
“Yes, but you said you’re not prostitutes,” Anton explained, “American whores can get work permits but have to agree to sex with anyone with $20 American.”
“No way!” Jo insisted.
“Or you can be registered as boat girls,” Pablo explained, “That’s right officer isn’t it?”
“Yes, if these gentlemen will sign for you as boat girls then that will be in order,” the first policeman explained, “Just as long as you countersign and give your finger prints.”
Jo looked at Lynnie, “I guess that’s ok?” she said hopefully, “Will you sign for us?”
“Sure,” Anton agreed, “Where’s the forms?”
“Twenty Dollars American,” The sergeant demanded, “Each.”
“Gee,” Anton complained, “That’s steep.”
“Pay the man,” Pablo insisted and Anton handed over four crisp ten dollar bills.
“Sign here,” the policewoman demanded,
“It’s in Spanish,” Lynnie protested.
“But of course, this is Cuba,” the policewoman explained.
“It’s just a regular form,” Anton said reassuringly, and he signed his name with a flourish.
Pablo took Anton’s pen and signed and Jo shrugged and added her signature finally Lynnie signed and then they took Lynnie and Jo’s fingerprints and added them to the forms.
“Can we go now?” Lynnie asked.
“Dress code,” the policewoman explained, “You still can’t dress like a whore.”
“But we don’t have anything else!” Jo protested.
“No,” the policeman agreed, “but you need a haircut.”
“Hey, surely you can make an exception!” Pablo exclaimed.
“No, the code says no long hair, American boat girls go swimming and get dragged down by their waterlogged long hair all the time and drown,” The sergeant insisted, “It is a health and safety precaution, or are you just pretending to be boat girls,?”
“There is ten years in prison for Americans entering Cuban territory illegally,” the policewoman said seriously.
“Haircut?” Jo asked as she looked at Lynnie’s beautiful shoulder length blonde hair.
“Yes, just a rough cut, you can tidy it up after, only ten dollars American each” the sergeant suggested.
“Can you get it done now?” Anton asked.
“Oh yes Carla will do it,” he said, “Get the clippers Carla.”
“Gee,” Lynnie said, “Disney corp will go ape!”
“Better than ten years in jail,” Jo suggested, “Ok we’ll do it.”
“I’ll do the dark one, ” the sergeant suggested, “To speed things up.”
Lynnie and Jo sat at individual chairs facing the counter while the policewoman and the sergeant took their scissors and electric hair clippers ready to start work, neither Jo or Lynnie thought it odd that a police station would have electric hair clippers, especially two sets so they sat passively as the officers began to cut.
“That feels very short,” Lynnie complained as she tried to look at Jo.
The policewoman held her head down, already there was a bald strip running from Lynnie’s forehead to her neck and her remaining hair was cascading down around her even as she tried to look at Jo.
“That must feel much cooler and lighter,” the policewoman exclaimed as she carved a second wide swathe of Lynnie’s gorgeous blonde hair away to leave a second bald strip, a third and a fourth strip appeared and the hair cascaded to the floor, and then Carla started to trim around Lynnie’s ears
“Can I see?” Lynnie said, “When I have finished the policewoman explained and admiring the even quarter inch American Marine corps hair style Lynnie now sported she lathered up Lynnies head with a shaving brush an began to shave the remaining hair away until Lynnie’s scalp glistened in the sunlight and she was entirely bald .
“Are you shaving my head?” Lynnie finally asked.
“A very short style,” the policewoman suggested, as she polished Lynnie’s bald scalp.
“Lynnie, she’s shaved your head!” Jo exclaimed, and raising her hands she squealed, “She’s shaved mine too!”
“You look like a pixie!” Lynnie cried , “Oh my god!”
“Now don’t make a fuss, just your underarms and bushes, hold still!” the policewoman warned and she buzzed at Lynnie’s underarm hair.
“No, please!” Lynnie protested, “You can’t!”
“And now your bush,” the Policewoman ordered. “So strip!”
“Look I’m out of here,” Lynnie snapped but the click of a Colt 45 safety catch brought her back to reality.
“It’s ok,” Anton said gently, “It’ll be ok,” and the policewoman not so gently pulled the one piece swimsuit from Lynnie’s shoulders and ripped it down showing her 36D breasts and on down to show her small triangle of blonde pubic hair and her small pink labia.
“You see, is easy,” the policewoman insisted, “I do same for you?” she asked Jo and she dragged Jo’s swimsuit down as well.
“No please!” Lynnie pleaded but the policewoman continued and shaved off her blonde pubes as Lynnie cringed in fear that she would cut her as the policewoman set down her clippers and started to use the foam and razor to get a perfect smooth finish.
“Beautiful,” the sergeant exclaimed.
“Can we go now?” Lynnie exclaimed.
Anton had a job to stop laughing as Lynnie looked like some strange albino pixie with no hair.
“You need dog tags,” the sergeant explained, “Five dollars each,”
“Pay the man Anton,” Pablo suggested and the sergeant produced a stamping machine and stamped out two aluminium discs with the girls registered numbers on.
“So where do we put there?” Lynnie asked.
“On a ring,” the policewoman explained, “Out of the way.”
“Where?” Lynnie asked.
“Through the skin, we have piercing machine it will not take long.” the policewoman explained.
“Where?” Lynnie asked.
“Your cunt lip, shut up!” the sergeant insisted, “Carla just do it!”
Carla the Policewoman motioned for Lynnie to spread her legs, she wasn’t happy but with a Colt 45 probably pointed at her she didn’t refuse, “It won’t hurt a bit, “said the policewoman as she spread Lynnie’s Labia before freezing the left lip and punching a hole with a device like a pair of pliers and easing a key ring with the dog tag through.
“Aggghh, your right it doesn’t hurt a bit it hurts like hell!” Lynnie replied.
Jo just sobbed as Carla froze her sex and fitted the dog tag through her cunt lip and finally Jo asked, “Can we go?”
“They need hoods,” the sergeant said “And collars and leashes.”
“How much?” Pablo asked.
“Fifty dollars American?” the sergeant tried, “Top quality brand new?”
“Don’t you have something cheaper?” Anton asked.
“Worn out second hand ten dollars,” he replied.
“The pair?” Anton asked.
“Each,” The sergeant tried, “Ok for the pair.”
Anton paid the officer and he gently buckled the collar around Lynnie’s neck and the hood over her head carefully adjusting the eye holes, before attaching the leash while Pablo did the same for Jo.
“Can we go now?” Lynnie asked.
“Can we?” Anton asked
“Indeed, welcome to Cuba!” the sergeant laughed,”Come again soon!”
Lynnie reached down to pull up her swimsuit
“Sorry,” the policewoman ordered, “We have a dress code and you cannot wear ladies underwear in the street”
“But you can’t” Jo wailed, “You can’t make us walk the streets like this!”
“Then don’t wear anything, bare is legal here.” the Sergeant leered, “But you cannot wear that underwear, Carla, confiscate it.”
The policewoman pulled Lynnie’s swimsuit off her feet and threw it over the counter and Jo reluctantly slipped hers off as well and handed it to the sergeant.
“Very nice, very beautiful, natural is just fine,” the first policeman explained,
“Can we go?” Lynnie demanded.
“Oh yes, enjoy your stay!” the sergeant agreed, “Adios!”
Lynnie staggered out into the dusty street horribly aware if the people she thought were staring at her, and with Anton and Pablo following they turned towards the quay and the ‘Empress,’ which they could see swinging at anchor.
They stopped by the slipway as a team of sweating naked girls struggled with another speedboat, “Eh Juan” Anton shouted, “You want more girls?”
Lynnie stared, “Swim for it!” she cried and she ran for the edge of the quay and dived gracefully into the sea and struck out for the Empress, Jo followed.
“Very good,” Juan agreed, “Top quality,” he added, “Look at them go!” he grinned, “What they fuck like?”
“Don’t know, if they’re no good you can have them.” Anton said.
“Look I need strong swimmers, strong girls like them, ten thousand American the pair!” Juan offered.
“Done!” said Anton, “Ok Pablo?” Pablo nodded.
“As long as they fuck ok.” Juan insisted and they watched as Lynie and Jo tried to climb aboard the Empress but couldn’t climb the yachts highly polished sides as the ladders and scrambling nets were still stowed and so reluctantly they swam back to the shore.
“A grade pussy man,” Pablo lied, as Anton clipped leashes to Lynnie and Jo’s collars as they emerged from the water and he tugged the leashes and dragged them back to where Pablo and Juan were waiting with the other girls.
Anton handed Juan the forms from the police station and they shook hands on the deal and Juan laughed and started handing over fifty dollar bills from a roll.
Lynnie looked on and tried desperately to remove the collar and leash, and hood, but the buckles were patent self locking bayonet fixings and need a tool to release them.
“It’s hopeless!” Jo protested.
“So you want work for me?” Juan asked.
“Oh no, no way!” Lynnie protested.
“Looks like we got some new workmates girls,” one of the naked girls said as they paused to watch,”I’m Louisa from Vermont, this is Harriet, from LA, Monica, she was at Harvard, Millie, Sam, Clara, Mary and Jena, and we all crewed for those bastards!”
Anton and Pablo just grinned and did a high five, “Adios Amigos!” Anton laughed and they walked away still laughing.
“Right, we eat,” Juan announced, “Come and he carefully looped all ten leashes to a singe leading rein and as the girls formed up in twos her led them down the quay and down the side street to the police station.
The sign saying Police was gone, the smell of cooking filled the air and Carla stood behind the counter in a waitress outfit while the sergeant cleaned tables in his shirt sleeves and the policeman also in shirt sleeves cooked tortillas on a stove.
“Sit!” Juan ordered he let go of their leashes so they could sit down.
“Jo,” Lynnie said quiety, “You know how we couldn’t figure how girls let themselves work naked and get treated like slaves.”
Jo stared back at Lynnie, “I guess we know now!”
To be continued?