Story: Window Shopping. Chapter 4.

By Jackie J

If keeping me locked in my room was to reinforce the helplessness, I was feeling it was working. Three days four I wasn’t sure my mind was in turmoil. A week ago this Princess Makabuku would have more likely to have been a client not my owner. Owner, this was ridiculous people can’t be owned, they just can’t, but I was?

The room I was in was obviously below ground level and through the barred window I could see the only light coming in was down a shaft through a steel grid some ten feet above. If I had to design a cell this would be it and I was in it. I found the closet and drawers contained more clothing, the same that I was now dressed in. Plain food was brought to me twice a day by a pretty blonde haired girl, collared like I was and dressed like I was. She spoke no English and from her accent I guessed Eastern European probably having come to England to chase her dreams only to end up here a slave to an African Princess.

What haunted me about the girl, when she shuffled into my room, being her hunched shoulders, her lowered head and the deadness in her eyes? She was obviously young, perhaps in her mid twenties, but there was no sparkle in her eyes was this the fate that awaited me?

What day was it? I didn’t know, but it was my first day of being put to work. Cleaning windows and scrubbing steps outside the mansion I gazed over at the high walls that surrounded the grounds, it would take a ladder to scale those. The only English spoken was to give me my instructions or berate me should I fall short of the desired performance of my duties.

Collared white girls scrubbing, cleaning and serving table was quite a status symbol in the closed community that the Princess inhabited. The mocking disturbed me at first but I knew I must learn to live with it. Time rolled on, routines developed and, my acceptance that no white knight was coming to extricate me from my situation, I learned to do what I was told when I was told without question.

Kept busy, thoughts of Paula Simons, the lawyer, the apartment, that life, were becoming more distant and infrequent, my new given name and beginning to learn and speak the new language accelerating that separation. How quickly one can pick up a new tongue when that is the only alternative, no English was now spoken.

Having been in the service of Princess Makabuku for many months, was it a year now? The weight of the collar around my neck was no less onerous serving as a constant reminder of my status. I had tried to escape the shackles of Kingston manor twice during the early days of my enslavement, but not since.  I doubted I could have retained my sanity given another week in the solitude and deafening silence of that cold lightless cellar I was chained naked in. 

In my previous life I had often wondered why slaves, worked so hard on the plantations of America and the Caribbean, in the main, accepted their lot offering respect to their masters without complaint. I wondered no more, I knew exactly why. Forgetting the beatings, whatever self esteem I had clung to in the early months it had been squeezed from me like deflating a balloon. I accept I am the Princesses to do with me as she wishes, I have no will of my own, I am clothed and fed with a roof over my head and I am given meaningful work, what more should someone worthless like me desire, I am grateful to be in the service of my black goddess, Princess Makabuku.

I am used in the Princess’s and her friends’ bed chambers along with the other white maids as and when they wish.  It is a privilege to be chosen, to be dressed as a harem girl to service their needs whatever they be.

Given a hijab to wear, when away from Kingston manor to cover my collar, I carry their bags when taken shopping.  Walking the same streets of London that Paula Simons frequented no one gives Aakifah, my new name; wearing her long black baggy shapeless dress and hijab a second look, shuffling anonymously following two steps behind my Mistress and her friends.  

Stood outside a high-end restaurant in the west end of London whilst the Princess and her friends took lunch I was approached by a couple seeking directions. I understood what they were saying but replied in my new tongue, I was speaking no other way now. To them nonsense, but to me I had answered their inquiry correctly. The abuse I took I understood and meekly cowered away.

The couple moved on muttering and I watched two smartly dressed ladies leaving a cab outside the restaurant that sent a cold shiver through me. Jacqueline Burns and yes it was her, it was Jenny, Jenny Downbridge. Two years had passed yet they looked the same, unlike me, for which much had changed, for me everything had changed. Briskly entering the restaurant they paid me no heed to the woman swathed in my nondescript garb of service.

I had almost forgotten the roots of my demise which was, in all truth, in the main, of my own doing, but seeing them laughing and holding hands skipping into the restaurant together, seeming without a care in the world, made me angry, an emotion I had been denied for so long.

My Mistresses entourage left the restaurant not long after the happy y couple had entered. We had passed like ships in the night and I was soon on my way back to Kingston Manor. Of all the cruel treatment I had received, to bring me to the servile meek creature I had become, seeing those two was perhaps the cruelest twist of all.

I was finding it hard to get over that chance encounter with my past, the Koran, which I had been encouraged to study, giving me little solace.  My distraction had not gone unnoticed. Sure I was a maid in the household and I was accepting of that and my treatment was fair, probably more than fair and it was  a concerned Princess, perhaps more for my reduced enthusiasm between her thighs, that brought her to question what was wrong.

Princess Makabuku had long known I was not just a wretch off the street, not that it changed anything about keeping me for her virtual slave in her household. Whilst it was never said no doubt she was pleased to have an educated professional white woman by her own misfortune, serving her needs.

Following a particular aggressive session in her bed, whilst I was cradled in her strong arms with her love juices and scent smeared fresh on my face, The Princesses tenderness encouraged me to confess all about the encounter with my past.

Stroking hair from my face Princess Makabuku smiled down at me.

“Aakifah I know it was not so when you came here at first, perhaps for the first year, but you have seemed happy and this troubles you now, I am so sad for you. All that you have told me may be true and why would you lie now, but you must not let this eat away at you. You have your life here now and I may have good news for you soon.”

It was two weeks later that the manor was full of chatter and excitement. My Princess was to be married. Summoned to her private study I stood before her. She smiled and had me sit. I had not sat in her presence in all the time since I had been taken into her service. Another surprise was in store and to my relief she stood, walked behind me and unlocked and removed my collar, an adornment I had worn since my arrival.

“Aakifah you know that I am to be married and there are to be changes. I will be leaving England and returning to my country. Abelle, my housekeeper, has documents to stay in this country and will not be returning with me.  You have been a good maid for me and much more and I wish that you come with me to be my personal maid when I marry.  Unlike the others you have learned my language and been most obedient. Whist you did not choose to be here to be my maid I believe it was your destiny, this is the life you wanted, perhaps deep down always wanted, to give yourself unconditionally into the service of a powerful woman such as myself.  There will be no collar, you will be my maid by your own free will but you will continue to live only to service my every need like you have here at Kingston.”

With the removal of the weight and discomfort that I had grown accustomed to my fingers stroked at my nape and I rotated my neck. My princess’s words were true I had been kidnapped to serve in her household but perhaps this was my destiny. I was not unhappy far from it. I took pleasure from serving my Mistress’s needs both within the manor and her bed chamber. I had over the years, become the perfect maid and I took pride from her words, that she would chose me to be her personal maid.

“Well Aakifah will you commit yourself to me.”

I had no other life now; I had been institutionalised during my time at Kingston I was a maid and no more than that.

Having agreed to travel with the Princess preparations were made and sat in the rear of a private jet I was on my way to a new country, to a new home.

The heat was oppressive leaving the plane and the cool of the limousines air conditioning was most welcome.

In the grounds of the palace I had my own bungalow which adjoined the Princesses quarters and my clothing now matched my new position. No scrubbing and cleaning I was quite privileged attending only to the princess’s personal needs, dressing and bathing her fetching and carrying. The marriage ceremony was elaborate and her husband was very handsome and although he was westernised the customs of the country were respected. He spent a lot of time away on business and for long periods I was not only her personal maid I was the Princesses companion and the bond between us grew.

Life was good and all was well surrounded by the opulence enjoyed by my princess. The more traditional maids, of which there were many, being somewhat surprised by the kindness shown to them by the princesses personal maid.

Two years and I had become accustomed to the cosseted life and traditions of a dutiful personal maid. Wearing my Hijab and the long conservative dresses of my uniform, apart from my pale skin, outwardly and increasingly inwardly I was no different to the other palace staff.

There was a large religious festival due and all was being prepared around the palace but it was a festival that did not take place.  Early morning and the sound of gunfire, shouting and screaming woke me and I ran into my Princesses apartments.

The grounds of the palace were filled with military vehicles and cowering with the princess in her bed chamber the door was thrust open and a group of soldiers burst in pointing guns and shouting.

There had been a coup by the military and along with the Princess, her family and staff I was loaded with them onto a truck and driven away.

Separated from my princess at the barracks, along with the other staff, I was taken to be interrogated. The officer in charge quickly established I knew nothing of value and I was released with the majority of other staff.

Sporadic gunfire could be heard for the remainder of the day but then it was over, the military had taken control.  Riots and looting was rife in the city and two of the maids I had got to know well took me to a place of safety and I stayed with them for two days whilst the unrest continued. I was fearful for what had become of the princess and her family which proved to be justified.

The coup had been swift and brutal. Following a show trial and  despite their pleadings of innocence to the charges brought, the princess’s husband along with her father and three uncles were summarily executed for fraud and treason the princess and her mother sentenced to five years in prison.  I was destitute in a foreign land and I feared what would become of me now?

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