The next victim was Jacqueline, from France, whom Enrica bound laying
on her back on the floor, with her head encased in a kind of gold fish
glass bowl, where a rubber-padded opening had been added on one side
for the slave’s neck. We had been forbidden, that very morning, to
refrain from producing piss or shit for the whole day, and on that
occasion we had to empty ourselves into the clear glass bowl, almost
drowning Jacqueline in a sea of excrement, most of which she was forced
to gulp down in order not to suffocate.
The following night was dedicated to torturing Bettina, who was the
only other guest of the mansion who seemed to be as sincerely
masochistic as I was. Bettina was so young that I was pretty sure she
was still a minor, and I had first noticed her a few days before that
evening, when we were both assigned to kitchen duties at the same time.
I was dusting a shelf, and she was doing the dishes. At some time in
the afternoon Enrica came into the room, and she had started checking
upon my work, intent on finding some leftover dust or any other excuse
for punishing me: I had briefly paused, casually turning my head
towards the other slave. Bettina had taken a plate she had just washed,
she had winked at me, and she had quite deliberately thrown it down on
the floor, shattering it and provoking the supervisor’s fury. The young
slave had been dragged to the punishment room without further ado, and
when she came back almost half an hour later, her ass had been turned
into an angry red mass of burning flesh by Enrica’s whip.
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