"The Naked Sisterhood" is the sensational novel of sex in the raw in an exotically feminine environment, which was a runaway best seller upon publication in Paris. When DeGaulle banned this novel "in the interests of public morality, the young author Pierre Delashe moved to Rome where he is currently working on a new book. Publication of the book was also forbidden in England, but this exciting story made its mark and became a sought after collector's item in modern erotica.
The queer, perverted behavior of the story's chief characters is perhaps best understood by the following statement by 0. Werfel, the prominent psychoanalyst:
"Lesbianism undoubtedly has an intimate connection with a deep subconscious desire to inflict and experience pain. Imagine a woman who for some mysterious reason unconsciously wants to be mistreated by a woman, though consciously unaware of this wish. Actually the lesbian is even more frantically fearful of her only alternative, the male penis.
"But retreat to sex with another woman never really satisfies the lesbian's conflict. Sooner or later she feels that the woman she has sought refuge with mistreats her, is unjust to her and deliberately tortures her by arousing her jealousy. She has no relief through her breasts and vagina and soon turns to other types of pleasurepain stimulation of her body to achieve a physical orgasm.
"The various instruments employed such as rubber hoses, thick whips become substitutes for the sex organ of the partner. This accounts for some of the most fantastic elements of perversion in the lesbian pattern. The relationship seems to become purely impersonal, with concentration exclusively upon the sex organs.
"The power to produce orgasm is transferred from the mother-image to another woman. Often the flight from the mother-image leads the lesbian to a quick succession of exchangeable females.
"The pattern of pain-collecting, with a woman as an antidote for the fear of men is visible in any analytic discussion with a lesbian patient. All of her "tortures and injustices" are always self created....."
These insights into the mainsprings of lesbian behavior should prove broadening and helpful in the general psychological understanding of the reader.
"The Naked Sisterhood" is presented in its complete and unexpurgated original version by Continental Classics. Due to the nature of its theme, it is recommended only for the graduate student or the mature adult reader.
Allan Saunders, M.A. New York City March, 1968
Archive Note: The truly amazing number of misspellings in the original pocketbook are faithfully reproduced in this text. No attempt whatsoever has been made to correct the misspelled or misused words.
CHAPTER ONE
The sharp snapping reports of leather against flesh echoed through the clearing, each one immediately accented by the choked scream of the naked blonde strapped to the whipping-post.
Julia Dawson watched the flogging with dread, instead of the exhileration of revenge that she should have felt. She winced as the big Arab lashed into tinwhite back with the long, vicious whip. The woman': body was streaked now; the thin red weals being raised without any pattern between the shoulders and the lower part of the jerking buttocks.
That same morning, Julia herself had suffered the pain and humiliation of having to bare her own buttocks to receive twelve strokes of the cane from this same blonde. With the thought of that ordeal so fresh in her mind, the smarting heat still burning her flesh, she should have been gloating over every agonizing stroke that bit into the wealed, sweating body at the whipping post. But she wasn't. Her only feelings now were fear and an overwhelming disappointment.
"I'm not liking this one darn bit," muttered the redheaded Amercian girl at her side.
Julia glanced at Sylvia Carter, the only friend she had. Both of them had been lured out to this remote island in the Bahamas in the belief that they were coming to highly-paid jobs; Julia as tutor to the two teenage children of Cynthia Briggs, the woman now writhing under the lash, and Sylvia as personal maid. The jobs were there, all right, but they had found that the island was being used as a base for slave-trading and that Cynthia Briggs was the cane-wielding boss, with two white men and a score of Africans to back her up. There were also fifteen golden-skinned girls imported from the South Sea Islands, whose main chore was to keep the Africans happy.
Now the whole population of the small island stood silently watching with varied emotion as their erstwhile dominating mistress was flogged. They were covered by the guns of the men in green battle-dress, who had taken over the island less than an hour before, under the command of a huge, English-speaking Arab, who now stood close to and dwarfing, the big Arab carrying out the punishment he had ordered.
Twenty lashes he had sentenced her to and now the punishment was nearing its end. Cynthia Briggs was exhausted, the maddened jerks under the earlier strokes had now degenerated to a painful swaying of her body from side to side; her screams to whimpers for mercy.
Sssswisshhh...Craaahhkk!!
Another red weal appeared across the top of the buttocks, disappearing over one wide, writhing hip.
"After all the times she's laid a cane across my backside, I oughta be cheering that guy on," Sylvia whispered.
"Me, too-and all I can feel is pity." Then Julia gasped as she watched another punishing stroke lash into the streaked back of the tortured woman at the post. "Oh, Sylvie-what are we going to do?"
Less than an hour before, the two girls had been hugging each other joyfully as they watched the two armed motor launches nose into the bay and men boarding the ocean-going yacht owned by Cynthia Briggs and her gang of slave traders. Then had come the two helicopters and the swarm of Arabs in green battle dress, headed by the huge Arab in the resplendent uniform. They had watched from the window of Sylvia's room as the whole of Cynthia's gang had been rounded up. Then they had heard footsteps as the big ranchhouse was searched. Joyfully, thinking that this was an army contingent sent in by the authorities and that they were being rescued, they had thrown open the door and welcomed them with open arms.
Then had come the fear and shattering disappointment as they were ushered outside and made to line up with the rest; learned that, far from being rescued, they were being "taken over" by an even more highly organized and ruthless gang of slave traders. The flogging of Cynthia Briggs had been ordered as an act of vengeance because she had apparently been operating in opposition to them.
Another searing weal was laid across the sweat-filmed back and yet another to the full, squirming buttocks. Both Sylvia and Julia sighed with relief as the brutal flogging came to an end and the naked woman was released from the whipping post.
As soon as the thongs were untied, she slumped to the ground and by motionless, her back and buttocks a mass of weals. She lay prone, legs sprawl, her sex exposed to the whole company. The massive leader stood looking down at her, then inserted the toe of his jack-boot between her thighs and nudged roughly.
"Get up," he barked. "He hasn't killed you. Get up before I order him to give you another dose."
She stirred, then, and srtuggled to her hands and knees, her head hanging. She tried to rise, but hadn't the strength.
"Here-give me that whip." He grabbed the whip and lashed it down across the kneeling woman's taut buttocks, bringing a weak sob of pain as she sagged forward. "Want some more?"
"No-no," she choked. "No more-please-no more -you-you'll kill me."
She crawled forward and got her arms about the whipping post, hauled herself up painfully, and stood on shaky legs, her body pressed against the post that had held her for the whipping.
Julia glanced at the woman's two teenage children, not in the least surprised at the mixture of awe and excitement on their faces as they watched the pain and humiliation of their naked mother. These were the two she had been brought here to teach; the same two who had engineered her own punishment of twelve strokes of the cane. They were cast in the same mould as their mother; Julia had seen the unholy joy on their faces as they watched the frequent canings inflicted on the South Sea Island girls, knew the same look would have been on their faces as they had watched her being caned that morning. The punishment was made all the more embarrassing when the unfortunate woman to be caned had to expose the necessary parts on the spot, lifting and tucking in her skirt, unfastening suspenders from stockings and drawing down tight panties, an ensemble Cynthia Briggs insisted on them all wearing.
Julia's caning that morning had been her first taste of corporal punishment. To make matters worse, Sylvia had been forced to hold her down across the table while Cynthia Briggs seared her bared buttocks with the cane. Afterwards, Sylvia had been allowed to help Julia away, Cynthia and her two children losing interest as soon as the humiliating chastisement had been inflicted. Sylvia had taken her to her own room and done what she could for the wealed flesh. Julia had been in such a state, mentally and physically, that Sylvia had offered to make love to her, having found it had helped her when she had accepted it from one of the Island girls after her first caning two years before. Julia had been the injured party in a divorce only a few months previous and neither woman was lesbian, but she had accepted Sylvia's offer, and found that, after the initial shyness had been overcome, it not only helped take her mind of the shame of being thrashed as she was and the fiery agony of her bottom, it had also dranied off a lot of the pent-up sexual desires that had been accumulating since the break-up of her marriage. Knowing that Sylvia was in almost the same boat as herself sexually, Julia had insisted on returning the favour.
Then had come the short-lived joy when they thought they were being rescued. Poor Sylvia, thought Julia; she had hung on and suffered the shameful canings and other humiliations for the last two years, instead of rebelling and refusing to work as several other white women had done. They had been taken away and presumably sold as slaves; Sylvia hda preferred the devil she knew to the devil she didn't know and taken whatever came. Now, it seemed, it had all been for nothing -they would both soon be sold as slaves to God knew what monsters.
The invaders began to shepherd the Africans and the golden-skinned girls back towards the big house. Julia looked quickly at the two white men who had been Cynthia Brigs's lieutenants; one of them, the Englishman, George Westley, had been the woman's lover. His face showed no emotion whatever as he moved away with the German, Fritz Schroeder-the one who used to visit Sylvia when he felt like it, generally satisfying his own desires and leaving Sylvia's unsated.
"You two-come over here."
The two women, stomachs turning over, went across to the new boss standing by Cynthia Briggs at the whipping post, the whip still dangling from his hand.
"Sylvia-he-he's not going to whip us, too, is he? We haven't done anything," whispered Julia.
"I shouldn't think so, honey." Nevertheless, Sylvia's voice trembled.
They stood before the big Arab as he looked them up and down, idly nicking the whip. He flicked it suddenly at Julia, catching the hem of her dress and tossing the skirt up, laughing as she jumped back with a startled yelp.
"What's your name?"
"Julia Dawson-Mrs. Julia Dawson."
His eyes flickered with interest. "Mrs. eh? Where is your husband?"
"I'm divorced." Julia's eyes were fearfully following the swaying whip, like a rabbit following the undulations of a snake.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-seven."
"And you?" he turned to Sylvia, letting the whip rest on her left shoulder.
"Sylvia Carter-I'm twenty-eight; not married."
"Twenty-seven and twenty-eight,' he said, nodding thoughtfully. He walked round them, taking the whip from Sylvia's shoulder and leaving a bloody streak where it had rested on her dress. "Good build; goodlooking-good age. Should fetch a good price!" He gestured towards Cynthia Briggs, still clinging, moaning, to the whipping post. "Take her down to the beach and put her in one of the boats."
Sylvia looked at the whipped, naked Cynthia and at the tattered remnants of clothing strewn on the ground.
"Shall we dress her first?"
"What for? Anyway, those rags won't be much good to her. Come on-hurry up and take an arm each over your shoulders-I want to be miles from here before nightfall."
As gently as they could, the two women took Cynthia's arms and supported her between them. Now they had seen the full extent of her punishment at close hand; the skin had been broken in several places, especially across the buttocks and high up on her shoulders. They turned her away from the post, feeling the heat of her sweating body and the heaving of her breasts.
Carefully, they stepped down from the low platform and moved off through the trees, taking nearly all her weight. They had gone about a dozen steps when he called after them to wait.
"Now what?" groaned Sylvia.
He caught them up and the two girls had to hold the drooping Cynthia while he inspected her with a new interest. Julia blushed and looked quickly away as he bent and thrust a hand in between the blonde's thighs and felt at her sex. Then he lifted the big breasts, squeezing them, before telling the girls to turn her round. He pinched and prodded the sore backside and pried open the cheeks to peer at her anus. His hands stroked down her thighs and went in between them again.
"Funny what a whipping does to some women," he mused. "Her cunt's soaking wet -and it's not with piss!" He forced Cynthia mouth open and looked at her teeth. "She's not bad, either-how old is she?"
"Should fetch a fair price. I had intended taking her out to sea and dumping her overboard, but that would be throwing good money away."
They watched the dark hands wandering over the white, glistening body, both of them shuddering as they realized that the same thing could happen to them. Cynthia hung uncaring between them, mind only on her hurts.
"I suppose we'd better do something for her broken skin, in that case. Take her into .the house and patch her up temporarily." He looked at his watch. "You have half an hour, that should be long enough."
"Are you taking us away, too?" asked Julia.
"I'm certainly not leaving you here-why?"
"May-may we take some things with us?"
"Whatever you can get into a small suitcase." He paced slowly beside them as they struggled with Cynthia Briggs, almost a dead weight between them.
When they got to the house, he beckoned one of his men and told him to keep a watch on the three women.
They went to Sylvia's room and laid Cynthia on the bed to attend to the red welts on hre body, both of them doing the best they could for her, although unable to forget the fact that they still bore the marks of severe cartings on their bottoms, suffered at the hands of this same woman, Sylvia having been caned by her the previous day.
The guard stood watchfully just inside the door as they worked on the wealed flesh. Sylvia poured a stiff gin and made Cynthia drink it, then had to pour a generous measure for the guard.
"I think you and I could use one as well." Sylvia put the bottle to her lips and took a good swallow, then handed it to Julia. She handed round cigarettes, again reluctantly including the guard. These luxuries she had paid for herself, Fritz Schroeder bringing them for her as his only return for the pleasure he obtained between Sylvia's beautiful, but reluctant thighs on his occasional visits. She lit Cynthia's cigarette and put it between her hps. The woman looked up at her.
"I suppose I should say thank you," she whispered.
"Not if it hurts too much!" Sylvia shrugged. "I don't know if you heard back there, but our great ape of a new boss said we could take a small case with us-shall I pack one for you?"
"If you would."
Sylvia went to the door, but was pushed back by the guard, his snob-nosed machine gun digging pain fully into her breasts. She pressed her hands to them.
"OK, so it ain't allowed-did you have to be so rough about it?" She turned back to Julia. "Guess we'll all have to go from room to room in one lump. I'll pack first, then we'll go to yours and then Cynthia's." She pulled a case from under the bed, then brushed close to Julia as she went to a cupboard. "I have a couple of bottles of gin and a few cartons of butts," she whispered. "Give him what's left in that bottle while I get 'em in my case, or he'll want the lot."
Sylvia packed her case, then they had to go to Julia's room for hers and then to Cynthia's, supporting the latter the whole time. They managed to slip a light dress on her to cover her nakedness, the guard breathing down their necks all the time they were in their ex-mistress's room.
Half an hour later, they were staggering down to the beach, having to carry the three cases between them as well as supportnig Cynthia, with no help from the guard. They noticed that the Africans were still standing in a bewildered bunch under the guns of half a dozen green-clad Arabs.
They were rowed out and put aboard the yacht, where they were lined up on deck with the coloured girls off the island and two others-one coloured and one white woman. Their new master walked up and down like a general inspecting troops. Finally, he had the four white women separate and taken down to a narrow cabin with two bunks, one above the other.
"Preferential treatment, huh?" muttered Sylvia, as she and Julia dumped the cases and helped Cynthia over to the lower bunk.
"They can get more money for us, sweetie."
Sylvia looked at the lovely, full-breasted girl with the chestnut hair, her lips curving into a pleased smile. "Say-where you from?"
"Brooklyn-and I wish I were back there now!"
"I'm not far away-Trenton, N.J. How'd you get into this fix?"
"I'm a dancer-thought I was coming out to Nassau to dance in a plush club." The girl looked at Cynthia Briggs, lying face down on the bunk. "What's with her? She's the one who met me at the airport and brought me aboard-even gave me a contract."
"And I suppose whoever hired you State-side made sure you had no friends and relations who might get curious and come looking?"
"That's right. Came to the club I was dancing in one night-I thought I'd hit the big time at last."
"When did you find out what they'd really got you here for?"
"Right after I came aboard couple days ago. Now we seem to have been hijacked. What's the matter with her? Say-what's that coming through her dress?"
"Blood, honey!"
Sylvia lifted Cynthia's dress up to her waist at the back to expose the marks of her punishment.
"Jeepers! She been whipped!"
"And then some! Twenty lashes-and a bonus one after she fell down when they released her from the whipping post and she didn't get up quick enough."
"Whipping post! What is this place-Devil's Island?"
"I don't know if it had a name-but that one's better than most. Talking of names, this is Julie Dawsonshe's from England-and I answer to Sylvia Carter."
"Margaret French-uh-hi, Julie," the girl said, her mind still preoccupied with the woman on the bunk. "They really whipped her, didn't they? I've got no love for the dame-but why take the skin off her back?"
"It seems she's been lousing up a few deals for this new-er company."
"So they brought along their own whipping post to get even?"
"No, honey." Sylvia smiled faintly. "That was Cynthia's own-she used to put it to good use, too."
"You mean she whipped people as well?"
"You just don't know! Her favourite weapon was the cane, though." Sylvia ran her hands down over her thrusting bottom and glanced at Julia. "As Julie and I well know, eh Julie?"
"It's true, Margaret," said Julia quietly.
"And you've been help her? That's ointment she's got on her backside, isn't it?"
"What the hell!" Sylvia shrugged. "Julie's got some on hers and I've got some on mine-we're all in the same boat. What worries me is-this new bunch seem to be as whip-happy as she was. How long did you say you'd been aboard? Two days? You haven't had your derriere warmed up yet, then."
"Hell, no!" Margaret really looked alarmed. "Isn't it enough to sell us as slaves? I didn't know we got whupped as well! You mean to say they caned you two?"
"Julie's first time this morning-she's only been on the island a couple of weeks. Me, I've lost count of the times I've had to peel the pants off my ass to have a cane wrapped round it -I've been here a couple of years."
All three looked over at the bunk as Cynthia stirred and pushed herself up on to her elbows.
"Well, Mrs. Briggs?" Sylvia went on. "Know anything about these new guys who've put you out of business-are they as whip^happy as you used to be?"
"I treated you with kid gloves compared with this lot," she whispreed, ending with a groan as she stretched the skin on her wealed back.
"Isn't there some way we can get out of this?" Margaret's voice was frightened.
"Do you mean to tell me that the thought of being caned scares you more than being sold as a slave did?"
"I-I don't know-they both scare me, I guess. This just makes it awhole lot worse. I mean-I don't suppose I've really thought about what happens to someone who's a slave, but I do know what pain is!"
"You never thrashed anybody aboard, then?" Julia asked Cynthia.
"We only kept them about a day, unless there were any hold-ups-we didn't want any marks on them when we handed them over."
"And now you're in the same boat," mused Margaret. "Do you know this guy who's taken over?"
"I know of him-Hakim The Sheik, they call him. He's an educated savage who would think nothing of blowing a man's head off or flaying the skin from a woman's body. He's a much bigger operator than we were and can afford to hang on to merchandise as long as he likes, so God knows what might happen to you between now and the time you're sold."
"I think us would have a better word, Cynthia," said Sylvia quietly. "Don't forget that you're part of the merchandise now." She looked round the small cabin. "Well, now-et's see what we can make of this. Any idea how long we're going to be at sea, Cynthia?"
"I believe he has a base somewhere along the coast of Venezuela-that's something like seven or eight hundred miles from here."
The three girls investigated the cabin. There was little in it apart from the two bunks, except a table and a flat leather couch, both fixed. The port holes were blacked out and one bulb gleamed overhead.
"At least there are plenty of blankets," remarked Margaret. "Hey," she said suddenly. "You two walk kinda stiff."
"So would you if you'd had a cane across your bottom-and Cynthia has quite a strong arm," said Sylvia drily.
Margaret shivered and looked incredulous. "It's all so hard to take ;all sort of unreal, like a bad dream."
"This is no dream, honey!" Sylvia's hands went under her skirt and she eased the tight panties down to her thighs; she lifted the skirt and bent forward, presenting her full, rounded bottom to Margaret.
Margaret swore sofdy as she looked at the pinkstriped buttocks.
"She gave me eight strokes yesterday." Sylvia straightened and pulled her panties up again. "You should see Julia's poor bottom-she had twelve this morning."
"And she did it?" Margaret turned to where Cynthia lay on the bunk.
"With her own fair hands! Strange .thing is, neither of us got any kicks watching that great Arab flogging her."
"Why did she beat you like that? What had you done?"
"Nothing, really," Sylvia shrugged. "She got peculiar little sex kicks out of it. She liked watching the girls' bare bottoms jumping as she caned them, I guess." "Is-is she a lesbian?"
"I wouldn't rightly know, honey-think she's a little bit of both. Are you Cynthia?"
But the blonde, exhausted after her whipping, had fallen asleep. Sylvia opened her eyes and took a carton of cigarettes and one of the bottle of gin she had managed to smuggle aboard.
"At least we've got one or two home comfortswhile they last." She uncorked the bottle and handed it to Margaret. "No glasses, I'm afraid."
They smoked and passed the bottle around for a while, Julia and Sylvia increasing Margaret's amazement as they recounted happenings on the island under i Cynthia Briggs' regime.
"She has two kids-Julia had the job of teaching them. Two horrible little creeps just like their mother -they used to be around when their mother was dishing out most of the canings."
"And you should have seen their eyes sparkle!" put in Julia. "They forced me into doing something so that I should be caned and stood watching while Cynthia gave it to me."
"Incidentally-I wonder what's happened to them?"
"I saw a boy and girl -about sixteen, seventeen, maybe-being put on one of the launches, when I was on deck."
"They'll be the ones. There was a sort of poetic justice back on the island when our big hunk of an Arab took over-Cynthia was flogged in front of them."
"It wouldn't have been a bad idea if he'd reversed the process and had them flogged afterwards-it might have done them a power of good," said Sylvia darkly. "There's a nasty kink in those two kids. Apart from getting kicks out of watching women being whipped, I'm sure they used to play around with each other."
"You mean incest?" Margaret asked, looking round quickly to see if Cynthia had been listening.
"I don't mean pinnockle, honey! Sure-I've seen them sneaking out of one of the empty huts back there."
"Some family!"
"You can say that again-I even had Cynthia touch by little cherry once, after she'd caned me."
"You mean she tried to-er-make you?"
"Not exactly. I was still bending over at the time and she always stroked her hand over our welts afterwards. That time, her hand sorta got lost. She only just touched me there and I pulled away-she looked all confused, like a kid caught stealing apples."
Later that evening, a guard brought tinned corned beef, hard biscuits and black, sugarless coffee. Julia woke Cynthia and fed her, afterwards pulling her dress up to her shoulders for Sylvia to treat the welted back and buttocks with the ointment she had packed.
"While we're at it, Iguess I'd better see to your stripes, Julia-that is, if you have no objection to Margaret seeing your behind in the raw?"
"Mmm -no objection," Julia smiled, colouring a little.
"Right, then," Sylvia said briskly. "Skirt up, panties down and kneel up on the couch."
Julia hoisted her skirt and with little wriggles and gasps of pain, eased her panties down from her sore bottom. She knelt up on the couch, hearing Margaret's exclamation as she leaned forward and displayed the angry stripes.
"Just-just as though you had been a schoolgirl," muttered Margaret behind her.
"But much painful than any schoolgirl ever got, I'll bet," said Sylvia, applying the ointment to the red weals on Julia's full, rounded bottom. "Still hurt, kid?" she asked gently.
"Oooooh-yes," whispered Julia. "It burns like fire. And it-ouch!--it feels all stiff and stretched." She got off the couch and pulled her panties up again. "Thanks, Sylvie-can I do the same for you, now?"
"Wouldn't do any harm, although the fire's gone out of mine-I've just got the stiffness."
Sylvia bared her bottom again for Julia to smear the ointment on with gentle fingers, while Margaret looked on with incredulous eyes.
"You poor things," she murmured. "What you must have gone through."
"I don't want to worry you, sweetie," said Sylvia, wriggling into her pants again. "But it looks like what we went through was a Sunday-school outing to what we can expect from this bunch."
"Oh, God!" Margaret covered her face with her hands, on the verge of tears. She looked up at Sylvia after a while, her eyes brimming. They-they'll put stripes on my body like that..."
"And more on ours. All we ca ndo is try and keep our noses clean until..." Sylvia broke off, biting her lip.
"Until they sell us," Julia finished. "And then what? More beatings?"
"It won't do us much good speculating-let's get to bed." Sylvia started to sort out the pile of blankets on the top bunk. "Any preference for where you want to sleep, Maggie?"
"None -guess I won't do all that much sleeping, anyway."
"OK -Julie and I'll share that couch, it's a mite wider than the bunk. All right with you, Julie?"
"Suits me." Julia's heart fluttered a little when she remembered what had happened on Sylvia's bed that morning after having her whipped buttocks attended to.
Margaret stripped off her dress and loosened her suspenders before climbing into the top bunk in panties and bra. Julia and Sylvia wore only panties beneath their dresses. Sylvia pulled off her dress and patted her pantied hips with a rueful grin.
"Guess we'd better keep our pants on-those blankets would be a bit rough on tanned fannies."
"F-fannie?!" Julia looked startled.
"Sorry," grinned Sylvia, bare breasts swaying as she threw her dress on to the table. "Fanny as Americanese for ass-bottom. Means something else in Limey-land, doesn't it?"
"My ex-husband used the word quite extensivelycome to think about it, he used the object quite extensively, too. It means-er-a woman's..." Julia broke off and looked across the cabin at Margaret.
"Don't be scared you'll corrupt me, Julia," she smiled. "I'm twenty-four, now, and I have been around just a leetle."
"I know what it means, all right," said Sylvia, spreading a couple of blankets on the couch. "It's what a woman has between her legs. And I don't think you need to worry that they'll whip us there-that sort of fanny is far too useful and valuable a commodity for them to risk damaging. It might knock .the price down!"
Sylvia climbed carefully on to the couch and Julia was even more careful getting in after her.
"If we lie on our sides facing each other, honey, there'll be less chance of rubbing our behinds."
As Julia pulled the blanket up to cover them, the light went out.
"And how about that for service!" came Margaret's voice through the darkness.
"All favours bestowed on this boat are entirely coincidental and bear no intention of any kind of service," misquoted Sylvia, turning towards Julia. "Snuggle up, honey."
Sylvia's arm went lightly about Julia's waist as her breasts touched. Despite herself, Julia's heart quickened its beat as she remembered the last time they had touched like that. What the dickens is wrong with me? she asked herself. I'm not a lesbian and neither is Sylvia. What she did for me this morning-what we did for each other-was-was-what was it? An act of kindness on Sylvia's part and a repayment on hers? She thought about it. Yes, that was it-it had to be -But...
"Hey, honey!" came Sylvia's soft whisper. "What gives? Those hot little nipples of yours are poking hopes in my titties!"
"I-I'm sorry, Sylvie," she whispered back. "Iooh-got to sleep!"
CHAPTER TWO
If the three white women had had any lingering doubts about the sort of treatment they could expect under Hakim The Sheik, they were dispelled on their first morning aboard The Lady Jane.
The day began with black coffee and more of the hard biscuits they had been given the previous night. Then came a bucket of sea water and a tablet of seawater soap to be shared between the four of them.
Cynthia was so stiff she could hardly move; Sylvia examined her back and buttocks.
"That guy sure knows how to lay on with a whipI hope he never gets the chance to have a go at me! I .think you'll live, though. Those welts need bathing where the skin's broken."
Julia inspected the angry weals, wincing as she remembered the contortions and screams of pain when they had been administered.
"We can't use salt water on them."
"I'll ask the guard the next time he comes round this way."
"Be careful, Sylvie," warned Julia. "You don't want to risk getting the same sort of treatment yourself."
"They've got sense enough to know I'm really protecting their interests. If she cashes in her cheques with blood-poisoning she won't be any use to them..."
"Except for the couple of dollars we'd get from a soap factory!"
The three swivelled towards the door as Hakim came in followed by one of his men.
"Quite right-I'll have some fresh water sent down later." He came over to the bunk and looked down at Cynthia's striped body. "Hh-she could have taken quite a few more. But there will be plenty of time."
He looked round at .the other three girls. "For you, too, perhaps?" He laughed at their stricken faces and went back to the door. "Bring them up on deck; you can leave the whipped one where she is-I don't think she'll get away!"
They were prodded roughly out of the cabin and up the companion-way to the narrow deck to join the golden-skinned girls lined up facing the sea. The yacht had been under way for some time and land was just a smoky smudge on the horizon.
Julia stood at the end of the line and her heart lurched as she looked round and saw the big Arab who had flogged Cynthia approaching her, his whip coiled in his meaty fist. She nearly made a run for it to dive over the side when he stopped at her elbow and nudged her shoulder with his whip, turning her to face him. What had she done? Or did one have to do anyting to get a whipping? Then someone was calling for the whole line of women to turn and start walking.
For the next fifteen minutes, the line of women shuffled up and down the short, narrow deck, watched by three green-clad guards and the man with the whip.
"Exercise to keep us in good condition to go to market!" Sylvia whispered.
There was a swell on and all three white women had difficulty in keeping their balance in high-heeled shoes, the only footwear they had with them. Julia kept a constant nervous watch on the whip, uncoiled, now, and rippling with a seeming life of its own, as though impatient to be biting into helpless flesh.
Just as they came to the end of one short run, Julia heard a gasp behind her and turned in time to catch Sylvia as she sprawled forward into her arms. Somehow, Julia managed to keep her balance and hold her up. But, even as she did so, there came a low-pitched thrumming, air fanned past Julia's nose and she felt Sylvia's body jerk in her arms as the whip lashed across her back. Sylvia stiffened with a choked cry of pain and Julia held her close to comfort her for a moment. She looked round at the Arab with hatred, hot words bubbling up to her lips instinctively. She checked them as she saw him raising the whip for another stroke at Sylvia. Quickly, she straightened the American girl up and turned her round, pushing her forward to start the line moving again before more punishment could be meted out.
Sylvia staggered on, tears stinging her eyes and the Arab reluctantly lowered his whip, making Julia shiver in dread at the vindictive look he threw her.
Up and down they went; one of the Island girls staggered and had the whip wrapped agonizinly round her legs, just above the knees. She fell to the deck and received two more lashes across her bottom before she could get to her feet. Another girl helped her to rise, looking round angrily at the Arab and spitting something at him in her own language. For her pains, she was grabbed by two of the guards and her back turned, arms stretched out on either side, to be given three strokes of the whip over her dress. As they continued to walk up and down, an ever-redding line seeped through the material, where one of the strokes had broken the skin.
Another unfortunate Island girl staggered sideways as the yacht rolled, and she cannoned into the whipmaster. He turned her round and sent her stumbling back towards the others, getting in three quick lashes across her back before reached them.
When they had been exercised, the Island girls were herded like animals to a small hold for'ard and the three white girls below to the cabin.
As soon as they were locked in, Julia went straight to Sylvia, who had thrown herself face down on the leather couch which they had shared as a bed the previous night. Gently, she unzipped the dress and drew it up to her shoulders, grimacing at the long stripe across the middle of the smooth white back.
"Oh, darling," she whispered. "What a bunch of bloody sadists." She turned to get the ointment and found Margaret already holding it out to her. "Thanks, Maggie."
"I may be in need of some quick repairs myself pretty soon." She attempted a smile that didn't come off.
When she had treated Sylvia's weal, Julia pulled Cynthia's dress up to her shoulders to bathe her whipped flesh with the fresh water that had been left in the cabin while they were being exercised up on deck.
As she turned away, Sylvia got slowly to her feet and eased her dress down. She came across to the bunk and stood looking down at their ex-mistress's weals.
"Like a goddam hospital in here. I wonder if they have a doctor where we're going to? With that whip maniac up there, we're going to need one."
"There's isn't just one up there, either," said Margaret soberly. "I saw that other maniac, the Sheik, watching us-that guy just loves seeing women being whipped!"
"Yeah-I saw his face when they gave that girl her three lashes."
"No one has ever laid a whip across my back-or taken a cane to my backside. I don't know if I'd be able to stand it-I don't think I could."
"Julia and I have both felt the cane on our rearsme more than somewhat. And now I've felt that whip -only once-but I can tell you it's murder. I had mine over a dress-God knows what it must be like to take it on the bare flesh!"
"Murder, too, I can promise you!" groaned Cynthia, wincing, as Julia bathed her wealed back and the upthrust globes of her buttocks.
"You're hardly the one to comment on that," said Sylvia drily. "I've seen a few women being whipped at your orders. Remember one of your own children's teachers? She had twenty lashes as well. You left her with me for a couple of days to patch up before you shipped her off to be sold-I saw her stripes and they weren't any different from yours."
"She attacked me!" muttered Cynthia Briggs.
"After you'd caned her! I can't say I feel deliriously happy at what you got-but you sure had it coming!"
"Has everybody gone mad except up," exclaimed
Margaret. "I don't mind telling you -I'm scared silly!"
"You and me both! Say-I could do with going to the can again, but I don't take to the idea of being taken to that pokey little latrine by one of those green devils. How about using the bucket?"
"What would we do with it afterwards? I can't see the guard emptying it-unless it's over our heads!"
"Yeah," said Margaret nervously. "They would most likely use the whip on us."
"At least we could pee in comfort back on Cynthia's island! Right now I have a full bladder." Sylvia walked over and banged on the door.
"We might as well all go while we're at it," Julia decided. "Come on, Cynthia."
She and Margaret helped her off the bunk as the guard opened the door. They went through the same humiliating procedure as before, the guard propping open the door while the three women took it in turns to use the toilet.
Just as Julia stood up, Hakim stopped outside the open door and stared, his eyes glinting, as she pulled up her panties. She flushed and kept her head lowered as she came out. He laughed at her.
"It won't be so embarrassing When we get to base; you'll be able to do what you want in comfort-you will have women to watch over you there."
"So we'll be having women guards where we're going-bet it's just like a pen!" Julia said thoughtfully. "Wonder why they haven't been sold?"
"Probably more homely than my grandmother! Hope they're not as cane-happy as Cynthia was."
"I'll bet they're a bunch of sadists! If they aren't prisoners, then they must be doing the job because they like it."
They were taken up on deck again later that day to join the coloured girls for another fifteen minute shuffle up and down. Wistfully, they looked at the plume of smoke from a vessel a few miles off on the port bow.
"We're heading almost straight for it," whispered Margaret, as they were herded below.
"Bound to veer off soon, I'm afraid-I can't imagine the captain being invited to dine aboard!"
The sun was slipping redly below the horizon when then were taken on deck again, this time complete with cases and the limping Cynthia. Their hearts fluttered when they saw the tramp steamer hove to less than a quarter of a mile off, two boats rowing towards the yacht.
They were split up and divided between the two boats, being joined by Hakim and his whip-master, before being rowed back to the tramp. Their last sight of the yacht was to see it turning to head back the way they had come.
Aboard the tramp steamer, they were all put down into a dark hold together.
"Mmm-coffee," murmured Julia, sniffing.
"Yeah-that's probably his cover-up." Sylvia looked round the cavernous hold as light came on. "We don't seem to have the same comforts, but there's at least plenty of room."
"Plenty of blankets, too," observed Margaret, pointing to a mountain of them.
"And that's about all."
"Not quite all-look."
At one end of the hold were a line of buckets.
"Don't need three gueses to know what they're for." Sylvia wrinkled her nose. "Hope we're not aboard too long-it's gonna stink like hell!"
One of the Island girls detached herself from the group sorting out blankets and came over to them. She, like most of the others, was tall and full-breasted, with golden skin and blue-black hair.
"Lala!" Sylvia smiled with pleasure and put an arm round the girl's shoulders. "We've been through some rough times together," said Sylvia ruefully, introducing her to Margaret.
"I think this going to be much worse-I have many fears." Lala eyed Cynthia, moving stiffly off to one corner with some blankets. "We all watched while they flogged her," whispered Lala, "but some of the girls think it was not enough-I think they would like to give her more. One or two of them would even kill her if they got the chance."
"It wouldn't be worth it, Lala-Hakim would have they flayed laive. He's going to sell her, too--tell them that huh?"
Julia spread her blankets, with the two American girls on either side of her. Sylvia produced her cigarettes, tossing a couple of packs to the Island girls, all now in various stages of undress, most of them lookrelieved as they wriggled out of the tight suspenderbelts and panties Cynthia had always insisted on them wearing.
"Poor Lala-she was on that island longer than I was."
Sylvia lit their cigarettes and stretched herself out on her blankets. "The times we've had to hold each other for canings-Cynthia even made her cane me, once. I hope they don't get those sort of ideas where we're going to."
"Caning each other-God! I'm beginning to think it might be a better idea to try and slip over the side the next time we're on deck and end it all!" Maggie looked serious.
"I shouldn't honey-while there's life there's hope. Besides-the guy who buys us might be a good joe."
"I can't think of any good joe buying a woman for a slave!"
"That's true, Sylvia-just ask yourself what use he would want to put us to," Julia said practically. "Oh, I'm not thinking of throwing myself over the side, or anything!" she added hastily. "But you can imagine anyone paying the fabulous price these slavers must obviously get for a woman, just to keep her as a servant? No, the whole accent is on sex. Remember the way he inspected Cynthia after she'd been whipped? He had intended taking her out to sea and dumping her over the side, until he realized she had quite a good body."
"I know, Julie-I always figured on winding up in some Eastern brothel, that's why I let Cynthia light into my backside with her cane whenever she wanted to without kicking up a fuss." Sylvia sat up and pulled off her dress, her full, firm breasts swinging free. "That's better!" She turned over and lay on her stomach, the single weal livid across her white back.
Julia and Margaret looked at it, wondering how long it would be before all three of them carried the marks of the medaeival punishment across their backs.
"Like me to put some more ointment on for you, Sylvie?" asked Julia.
"Naw-it'll be OK. I see Cynthia won't be requiring our services any more." She nodded towards where Cynthia lay naked on her stomach, having one of the Island girls treat her weals.
"I thought they all hated her," whispered Maggie.
"That's the special one I always suspected."
"The one you said she used to go to now and then back on the island?" asked Julia.
"The same. I had that one figured for a lesbian from way back. I think Cynthi gets spasms of hankering for her own sex and this is the one who takes care of it for her."
"But won't the others come down on her?"
"Could be. They're strange girls in some waysthey'll take up with a lot of things, but they're awful touchy about others. I wouldn't be surprised to see a private whipping carried out before long."
"She must be mad-Cynthia has no hold over her now."
"Ah, but a sex urge is a very strong thing. Probably none of the other girls are lesbians and that one has to get her kicks somewhere."
"Uh-talking of sex urges," murmured Margaret. "I have pretty strong ones myself. I'm not the type who'll take on all comers as a rule, but it's quite a time since I had me a man, and, well-I just hope it doesn't get out of hand."
"Fingers, honey," Sylvia suggested quietly. "Every time you get the urge, if you have it that strong. Otherwise, you'll be throwing yourself at one of those blacks and, to put it crudely, begging him to fuck you!"
"That's what I'm afraid of." Margaret shuddered. "I should hate myself afterwards."
"You'd probably be sore afterwards-I should think
Hakim would have something to say if you let one of those animas poke you. As far as they are concerned, we're not for use-just for selling!"
* * *
The captive girls lost track of the passage of time during the next few days; except for two parades on deck to empty the latrine buckets, they were confined to the hold for the remainder of the voyage. Many of the girls were sea-sick and, with the constant use of the latrine buckets, the air became foul.
There came a time when the engines stopped and the boat remained motionlss for long hours. Then the battens were removed from the hold covers and they were all brought up on deck. It was night time, with few stars and no moon, land looming as a dark, forbidding mass to starboard.
They were rowed ashore, handcuffed in twos, and put aboard two covered lorries, also smelling strongly of coffee. The lorries headed inland, bumping and bouncing over what could have been little more than tracks.
"At least it's a relief to get out of that cess-pit!" Sylvia commented, filling her lungs with the coffeeladen air.
"Wish we could see where we were headed," came Margaret's voice from the darkness.
"We'll know soon enough, I'm afraid. Got any ideas, Julie?"
"If this is where the base is, I should imagine we've skirted down the coast of Venezuela, almost to the borders of British Guiana, where the population averages out at only one or two people to the square mile he wouldn't want any publicity!"
The journey continued for almost an hour, for the most part in silence, each woman wrapt in her own thoughts and fearful speculations on what the future might hold for them.
At last, the lorries slowed, turned, continued at a crawl for some distance and finally stopped. The captives heard voices-mostly women. They had arrived.
The canvas was pulled aside and the girls got their first glimpse of their new home as they descended. They were in a big, brightly-lit building like a bus garage with many other vehicles besides the two lorries.
They were drawn up in one line to have their handcuffs removed, when they came face to face with their new keepers.
"Oh, lordie!" exclaimed Sylvia in a whisper. "They look vicious!"
"Something like I imagined they would be-only a bit worse," Julia whispered.
They were all coloured to a greater or lesser degree, though the type ranged from negress to Indo-European. They had two things in common-all were big, mannish types and all were hard-faced. They wore a uniform of sorts-khaki drill tunics and skirts, with flat-heeled shoes. All were armed with pistols in Sam Browne type holsters and belts and carried canes of slim malacca.
After being marched from the garage to one of the low, veranda-fronted wooden huts, of which their prison mainly consisted, they were issued with bankets and then spit into three groups, each group being housed in a hut, locked in and left to their own devices prison mainly consisted, they were issued with blankets and then split into three groups, each group being housed in a hut, locked in and left to their own devices for the rest of the night.
"At least we have electric light," observed Sylvia. "Not that I'm all that bothered right now-I'm pretty bushed."
There were three wood and plaited string beds on other side of the room, Sylvia, Julia and Margaret took the three on one side, Cynthia and two of the Island girls-Lala and Moolah-on the other. In the centre of the room was a long, plain wooden table, but no chairs.
"I see Cynthia has managed to stick with her little girl friend," grinned Sylvia. "We should have some fun and games going on when she gets really desperate! Those stripes of hers have been healing quite nicely, so she'll be feeling energetic pretty soon."
"By the look of those sadists who took us in tow, no one will be without stripes on their bodies for long," said Margaret, with a worried frown.
"Well, like I said-all we can do is try to keep our nosese clean." Sylvia spread her blankets on the bed and climbed in. "Let's get some shut-eye and worry about it in the morning."
"I wish I could take things as they come like you do, Sylvia."
"Aw, I'm just a good actress-I'm more scared than you are! And I cry when someone whips me!"
CHAPTER THREE
They woke the following morning to the staccato rapping of a cane on the table and opened their eyes to see two of their new female guards, one banging her cane and the other standing just inside the door.
The rapping continued as they tumbled out of their beds; Cynthia's friend was a little slower than the others and received a sharp cut of the cane on the bare backside as she got out.
"Everybody outside! Quickly, now!"
Sylvia reached for her dress, but had it snatched from her hand and tossed on the floor.
"What about clothes?"
"You won't need clothes -and get those knickers off." The big negress looked round at the others. "I want you all outside-naked!"
Knowing better than to argue, Sylvia slipped off her panties and Julia followed suit. Margaret had a slightly more embarrassing manoeuvre to get out of panties, brassiere and suspender-belt.
"This is awful," whispered Margaret as they went out into the hot sun. "I've always felt a little more secure with something on since I landed in this fix." She kept one arm thrown across her beautiful, high-set breasts and a hand covering her pubic mount.
The six of them were lined up at one end of the hut, with their backs to it. Julia and Sylvia groaned and crossed their arms in front of them as the two guards paused in front of them, their eyes glinting at the nude beauty of the white women.
Julia, on one end of the line, had a hand planted in her chest to be sent staggering back against the wall. Frightened, she looked round wildly to see what was going to happen to her.
"No!" she yelped, when she saw a third grinning wardress with a long hose attached to a fawcet at the end of the hut. She instinctively tried to escape, but was shoved back again.
Stand still-unless you want the skin taken off your backside!"
She cowered back against the wall as the other guard aimed the hose at her. Shuddenly, an icy jet of water hit her right between her shaking breasts. She gasped and brought her arms up.
"Keep your arms at your sides!"
She dropped her arms and the hose played all over her naked body. It dropped to her stomach, then down to her thighs and legs, then up again. The powerful jet was concentrated on each of her breasts for long, agonizing seconds, hurting the tender nipples. It went up to her neck and splashed briefly over her face, filling her mouth.
"Now open your legs-wide!"
Fearfully, her legs parted.
"Much wider than that-let's see your cunt!"
Squirming with shame and discomfort, Julia obeyed, crying out a moment later as the ice blast of water was directed between her thighs, hitting her sex squarely. Just when she thought she could stand it no longer, the hose was switced off and she was told to turn her back.
Once again, she felt the cold jet ,this time playing over her back, working down over her jutting bottom and down the backs of her legs.
"Bend over, now-legs open!"
Julia shuffled her feet apart and bent over, to have a jet of the ice-cold water force its way between her buttocks, numbing the anus.
Dripping water, she was made to fall back in line while Sylvia was put through the some ordeal One by one, all six underwent 'the water torture,' before being herded back into the hut. There, they found food, in the form of bread, fruit and black coffee which had been placed on the table.
by that time, all were thoroughly dry except the last girl to be hosed and before starting breakfast, they reached for their clothes. Again, they were stopped.
"From now on all you coloureds just wear your drawers-and that's only so you don't give any men around ideas by letting them see your cunts." She turned to Sylvia and stroked a big, meaty hand over one of her breasts. "You whites can dress-we don't want the sun tanning that lovely white flesh and cutting the price. Besides -white skin shows up welts better!"
After breakfast, Julia, Sylvia and Margaret were separated from the others and marched across the compound. Now they could see the whole lay-out of their prison and what they saw looked far more grim than any part of Cynthia Briggs's island, including the whipping-post in the clearing.
It was bounded on all four sides by high walls with spiked tops; one of the walls was split by two huge wooden gates, through which they had come after leaving the lorries.
On one side of the compound stood six of the huts in which they were quartered, with several larger buildings of a similar type at right angles to them. Opposite was the largest structure of all, running almost the entire length of the wall. It was towards this that they were heading, to be halted some twenty or thirty yards before they reached it. Now they stood in front of the most frightening object in the whole compound.
"Take a good look, white women," grinned one of their guards. "You'll be seeing it in use often enough."
"I hope it won't be long before they are trying it out for themselves," said the other. She had a much lighter skin than the almost black negress, though still having the broad nose and thick lips of that type.
They were looking at a huge triangle of gleaming chromed steel, mounted on a three-foot high platform. At each corner of the triangle hung stout leather straps with buckles. Even if they had not known it was a type of restraint used in penal floggings, they could not have failed to guess what it was there for.
"I'd much rather take Cynthia's whipping-post," gulped Sylvia. "At least one could have one's legs closed while they were being whipped."
They were moved on towards what proved to be the Sheik's living quarters, into a wide, cool hallway, hung with expensive tapestries and brass and copper brica-brac of Eastern origin.
The negress knocked on a door at the far end of the hall and went in, leaving her mate to guard the three girls.
"Are we allowed to ask what happens now?" Sylvia asked diffidently.
"You're not allowed anything! Besides-you'll soon find out."
"I'm scared," whispered Margaret.
"That makes three of us!"
The negress came out and motioned them to go inside. The decoration of the room was similar to the hall, except that the big desk and other functional things such as chairs, couches, radio and electric fan were European. The Sheik himself dominated the room as he stood with folded arms in front of the desk.
The three white women were lined up before him, a guard standing at each end. He waved a hand.
"You may go-I think I can handle three women by myself!" he grinned. "I'll call you when I'm ready."
When the guards had gone, the big man leaned back on the desk and surveyed them in silence for a while. Then he beckoned to Sylvia to step forward.
"Strip!"
Sylvia hesitated and he reached behind him and picked up a short cane. "Strip-naked!"
She hesitated no longer, but unfastened the zipper at her waist and pulled the dress off over her head. All three saw his eyes gleam as they fastened on her bear breasts, since she still wore nothing except her panties under her dress. A little more slowly, she wriggled out of the tight panties and drew them down her shapely legs, showing her full, thrusting bottom to the two girls behind her and her exciting, red-haired mount to Hakim.
He kept her standing for a long time like that, feasting his eyes on her nakedness, before telling her to turn round.
"I always like to inspect our white merchandise," he told them, his eyes running up and down her back and dwelling on her buttocks. "So that I know exactly what I am selling."
Sylvia stood facing her two companions, now, her head averted, as Hakim came closer and ran his hands over back and bottom.
"Hm-only a faint pinkness across your back from that stroke you got aboard the yacht. Still-we can soon alter that, can't we?"
Margaret and Julia saw Sylvia screw her face up in disgust as the big hands pinched and kneaded the softly rounded flesh of her buttocks. She gasped as a finger slipped into the deep, warm cleft and prodded at her anus.
She was made to face him again and open her legs while his hand went between her thighs to fondle and probe the tender softness of her sex. He furthered her shame by crouching to look directly up between her thighs, his fingers parting the lips of her vulva.
Her breasts were investigated, then, and he grinned evilly as he kept tweaking and pinching the nipples, forcing them into relucant erection.
Sylvia's eyes swam with tears and she kept blinking to keep them from spilling over, when he finally told her to stand to one side. He looked from Margaret to Julia, finally pointing to Margaret.
"You next."
With a stifled sob, Margaret stepped forward. Hers was an even worse ordeal than Sylvia's had been to start with. Getting her dress off was only the beginning; she had a bra to remove, panties, suspenders had to be unclasped from stockings, the stockings rolled down her long, well-shaped legs; high heeled shoes were kicked off, suspender-belt was removed.
The eyes of the sheik were upon her the whole time, not missing even the tiniest embarrassed wriggle as each article of clothing was removed. When she finally stood naked and blushing, her full, high breasts thrust out nakedly, the big Arab applauded.
"Charming! Charming! I think I shall have you four white girls wear your full set of underthings-it is so much more interesting to watch you strip."
Then Margaret was subjected to the same examination that Sylvia had suffered, the big dark hands wandering all over her white body, invading the most secret places. Before he had finished with her, Margaret was crying openly.
"If you are crying after a mere inspection, what are you going to be like after you've been caned or whipped -as you will be sooner or later?"
He made her stand beside Sylvia and turned to Julia. Julia's flesh crawled at the thought of having those hands pawing her, but she had decided to strip quickly and get it over with.
She removed her dress and panties and kicked off her shoes, standing naked before him. Julia had very white skin and very dark hair, making a striking contrast, enhanced by the two large splashes of colour on her big, but firmly up-tilted breasts.
She stood with her fists clenched, biting her lower lip as her body was violated by the probing, seeking fingers, parting her legs when told to do so and fighting down an urge to bring her knee up into his face as he crouched in front of her, thick fingers prising open the pink lips of her sex, to look at the inner softness. She gasped and almost closed her legs as his fingers touched her large, sensitive clitoris. He grinned at her.
"I shall have to remember that!"
She, too, was made to turn and have her bottom examined, the cheeks being pulled open and a finger poked at her tight anus.
"All right-you can dress, now. All three of you should fetch a record price."
They picked their Clothes up off the floor and began to dress. Sylvia had her panties half way up her thighs when he interposed a hand between them. Sylvia looked up in alarm and saw his eyes focussed on her red thatch of pubic hair.
"Not you-get them off again."
Trembling in fear of what might be going to happen to her next, Sylvia obeyed and stood holding the panties in the hope that she might be putting them back on again after he had taken another look at her. Then her heart thumped wildly.
Calmly, as though he were alone in the room, Hakim unbuckled his belt and dropped his white slacks, stepped out of them and threw them over a chair. All three girls gasped in horror at sight of the huge black penis that stuck out in semi-erection from beneath his shirt. He turned back towards Sylvia, big prick swaying, and snatched the panties from her fingers. A large dark hand closed over her upper arm and she was dragged over to the desk.
Sylvia's buttocks came in contact with the edge of the desk and she was forced backwards. He leaned over her, pushing a knee between her thighs, parting them enough to get his other knee in to force them wide. His massive penis was now rampant and lying like a great black torpedo up along her quaking belly.
Her panic-srticken face twisted away from the thick, brutish lips and Julia and Margaret saw the terror in her eyes. Julia started forward, but Sylvia shook her head and waved her back. There came a visible relaxing of her body and her legs widened of their own accord as her arms went about the big Sheik.
He grinned, his hands shifting down to the American woman's buttocks as he drew back and thrust his prick between her thighs. She gasped as the fat, bared glans touched her cringing sex, but held herself open.
Julia nudged the almost petrified Margaret and they headed quietly for the door.
"Come back here!" roared Hakim. "Stand there and watch your friend get the best fucking she's ever had! See-she wants it! Look how she's holding herself open for my prick." He looked down at the white-faced Syvia. "Now that little red-haired cunt of yours is going to get a real prick up it."
His hips jerked forward and Sylvia screamed with pain as the great shaft of hard flesh was driven into her in one brutal lunge. He gave her no chance to recover from the first onslaught; even while her body was still rigid from the pain of the first thrust, he was withdrawing to plunge the next one up her agonized passage.
She cried out again as he forced his way into her vagina and Margaret and Julia stood trembling as they watched the beautiful red-head being brutalized by the huge Arab.
He tore in and out of her now, his ham-like hands holding Sylvia's naked bottom-cheeks like two melons, jerking her up to meet him each time he penetrated her. Her head was thrown back, tears running from her closed eye-lids, her mouth open and slack under her slobbering kisses.
Backwards and forwards black male loins rode between snowy female thighs, black penis battering a way up into the tight heat of a ravaged vagina.
"Lovely white meat to fuck," he muttered, giving her another deep thrust. "Take it, white slave!"
Then he gave Sylvia the most brutal thrust of all, knocking the breath from her body, as he sagged, jerking, on top of her. She squealed as he bit the side of her neck and she felt the thick, hot jets of semen spurting into her belly.
Suddenly, her eyes opened wide, and, with a soft gasp, her arms slid about his neck and her legs came up to lock themselves about his hips, her body jerking uncontrollably under him, as she reached an unlookedfor, but shattering orgasm.
Then her arms slid limply to her sides and her legs fell from about his hips; she lay back across the desk, breasts heaving, the nipples still passion-red and erect.
He withdrew from her and turned away indifferently, leaving her where she lay. He picked up his trousers, pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his glistening penis, then drew the trousers on. As he was buckling his belt, Sylvia roused herself enough to turn over and slide off the desk.
She stood swaying on shaky legs, milky spunk, mixed with streaks of blood, oozing from her open slit and running down the insides of her thighs. Julia picked up her panties and put an arm about her quivering body.
"Let me help you get your panties on, dear," she whispered. "We'll clean you up when we..."
"I'll tell her when she can dress!" Hakim pressed a buzzer on his desk and the two guards came back. He jerked a thumb in the direction of a door behind the desk. "Give her a douche-I don't want her pregnant."
With a joyful grin, the big negress grabbed Sylvia by the arm and hauled her away, while the other ushered Margaret and Julia out of the room and back across the compound.
Cynthia, Moolah and Lala were lounging on their beds when they got back, but all three sat up with anxious eyes when they saw the two grim faces.
"What-what was it-a flogging?"
Julia sat on her bed and held her head in her hands, deaf to Cynthia Briggs's enquiry.
"What's happened-have they whipped her, or something?" asked Lala.
"No-she might have preferred a whipping to what she did get," said Margaret quietly.
Julia looked up, her eyes wet. "That-that great beast-he-he raped her!"
"Where is she now?"
"One of those-those monsters they call women..."
"Ssshh, Julia," Margaret warned. "I think the other one is only just outside the door."
"What the hell'.They'll do whatever they want with us, anyway. The blackest one-she took her away somewhere to give her a douche." Julia shuddered in remem brance of the scene. "He-he made us stand and watch while he did it to her. He was huge-he must have nearly killed her."
"The whole thing was a nightmare," said Margaret. "He made us strip one at a time and we had to stand while he pawed us all over. It was when we started to dress again that he took poor Sylvia."
The door opened and Sylvia came in; she walked slowly on slightly splayed legs over to her bed and threw herself on it. Then, her head on her arms, she burst into tears.
Julia went to her and sat on the side of the bed, an arm about her shaking shoulders until the tears had ceased to flow.
Sylvie," she whispered. "Are you all right, dear? Is there anything we can do?"
"No-I'll be all right," Sylvia sniffed, pulling herself together and sitting up. "I'll live! And it's for sure I won't have a baby-the negress saw to that! It was almost as bad as what he did to me! Oh, well, I suppose that's the penalty for having red hair with guys like him around."
"Red hair?"
"Sure-it's not because he thought I was nicer than you two! Those guys have a thing about red hair-they dye their hair red when they go to Mecca. Isn't it something in their religion that makes it lucky or holy to have red hair? It wasn't lucky for me, and that's for sure!"
"Poor Sylvie."
"Yeah-pass my smokes, Julie, I could use one." Sylvie handed them round and lay back, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I feel better already. I hope for your sakes he doesn't decide to try you out-that prick of his is a monster! I thought he was trying to get it into my mouth-up through my stomach! I'm as sore as heck down there!"
"Sylvia," Julia whispered. "There was some blood running down your thighs with the-the other stuff."
"Was there? I was too gone to notice, but I'm not surprised."
"Shouldn't we find out if there's somebody around qualified to see if you're all right?"
"Now-I'll slip a hankie under my panties. It'll only be a little tear. Don't worry about it." Then she smiled up at Julia affectionately. "And by the way, sugar-thanks for starting to pitch in on my account, but you scared me silly. If you hadn't taken any notice when I waved you back, you'd have been stripped and flayed at the bloody triangle before you could have said Franklin Delano Roosevelt! And I reckon getting myself fucked by that great hunk of an Arab was better than letting a woman be flogged half to death. You wouldn't have helped any, either."
"No, I realized that-I just saw red at the time."
"You know the worst part of it? The animal made me come! Right at the last moment-took me by surprise. I suddenly felt it hit me and there wasn't anything I could do about it. Right then, I hated me as much as I hated him! Well, it's over and done with, now -I just hope there won't be any repeat performances!"
"I've never thought about killing anybody before in my life, but I don't think I'd have the slightest compunction about wiping out the whole gang."
"I'm beginning to think it might not be so bad when they sell us-at least it can't be much worse than this." Sylvia looked over at Cynthia Briggs. "Cynthia-if we could get back to the old days on the island, I should never complain about being caned! I might even come along now and then to offer my bare bum for it!"
The woman smiled sourly but made no reply. Sylvia grinned suddenly.
"Be a queer twist of fate if you got sold to one of your own customers, wouldn't it?"
"Seriously, Cynthia," said Julia. "Couldn't you tell us what's likely to happen, where we're likely to go, after they sell us? It won't make any difference to you, now, will it?"
"I suppose not. I'm afraid I haven't much idea myself, though. I never asked what use they would be put to when I sold them-it wasn't my business."
"You must have had a pretty good idea, though."
"They went all over the world..."
"But mostly East?"
"I should think so. Some to brothels; some were sold to rich people who would probably keep them to indulge in whatever sexual inclinations they had. The richest always bought the most beautiful, of course, so they were certain to use them only for sex purposes, but many were bought as servants, who could also serve as sex partners. Men from out of the way tribes, especially from North Africa, used to buy girls for that purpose. Rich Sheiks used to like to buy a good-looking white girl to include in a harem from time to time."
"And I suppose most of the new masters beat their slaves?"
"I wouldn't know-I didn't ask them. I told youit wasn't any of my business." Cynthia obviously wanted to finish the conversation.
"Didn't you ever hear of what became to any of them afterwards?"
"None-I didn't ask for a progress report! I've told you all I know."
Food was brought in later by two very dark-skinned African girls with proud bearing and tall, well-developed bodies. They, like the Island girls, had been ordered to do, wore only brief panties, showing off their firm-fleshed, swaying breasts and strong, black satin thighs.
Later, the group from the Island were able to talk to them and discovered that there were six of these African girls left over from the last consignment. They were being utilised for menial tasks until a buyer could be found.
Hakim had been right in one thing, the toilet arrangements were better and they did not have the embarrassment of a male guard propping open the door. The lavatories were at the end of each hut and could be reached from the inside.
Except when their food was brought, they were left completely alone for the rest of that day, but whenever they looked through the window, there was always one or both of their guards sitting on the veranda outside the door.
Two different girls brought the last meal that night, one of them bearing the marks of a recent whipping across her back.
Julia asked where the other two were and found that these two did not speak very much English. However, the girls themselves conveyed what they meant very well, by one of them turning her back and thrust ing out her bottom, while the other drew lines across it with her forefinger, then pointed to the dark, healing weals on her companion's back.
"The cane, eh?" said Sylvia, patting her bottom.
The girl nodded and patted her own plump buttocks, then both of them scampered towards the door as the negress guard poked her head in and barked something at them in their own language.
"I wish I had the chance to lash a cane across that bitch's backside," muttered Sylvia, as the guard closed the door after the two girls. "That douche she gave me was murder! She made me kneel while she gave it to me-kept pushing the nozzle in and out like she was fucking me with it."
"I hope they're not allowed to get their filthy paws on us in private," said Margaret worriedly. "I'm sure they're all lesbians."
"The nearest you'll ever get to a guy with a pairs of tits and no cock! Butch lesbians, or dykes, we call 'em back in the States."
Lala had been walking up and down, clad only in her tight briefs and hig-heeled shoes, her shapely golden body gleaming with a soft sheen under the electric light. She stopped at the table and looked down at herself; she covered her firm, pear-shaped breasts with her hands for a moment, then lifted them and contemplated the large, dark nipples.
"That is what frightens me-being forced to walk around almost naked like this -us girls are just just..."
"Tempting them?" prompted Julia. "Something like that."
"She means they're sitting ducks for whatever takes their fancy," put in Sylvia. "That goes for all of us, except that your goods are a little more on dispay than ours, honey. And whether getting their little sex kicks with us is allowed or not, Maggie, won't make much difference, I'm afraid-which one of us would dare report it if we had a pass made at us? Even if k was against the rules and she got the sack, her mates would take the hide off the girl who reported her. And what do you figure would happen if she didn't get the sack?"
Leaving them with that grim thought, Sylvia undressed and climbed into bed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Their second morning was a repetition of the first, being wakened by the rapping of the cane on the table. As they tumbled out of bed, their wardresses' eyes flitted from one to the other, hoping to find an excuse to crack a cane across a bare bottom.
Margaret had gone to bed in all but her panties, which she quickly stripped off. Naked, the six women lined up in front of the veranda, to be turned and marched round to the end of the hut for the water treatment.
Then came the cries which became all too familiar: "Stand still; open your legs...turn round...bend over" -accompanied by gasps and squeals from the girl under the hose and threats of sadistic beatings from the guards.
As soon as the last girl had had her hosing, they were made to line up in single file and trot once round th compound, during which time, they saw the girls from the other huts getting their hosing.
As they staggered, panting, into the hut again, Sylvia cupped her large white breasts in her hands and groaned.
"Whew! My tits ache with the bouncing around they got-they mean to keep us fit for market, don't they?"
"My feet ache!' exclaimed Margaret.
"You whites are to wear suspender-belts and stockings from now on," interrupted the negress guard, who seemed to be the spokesman for the two. Then they both stood watching while the four white women struggled into their full underwear.
They watched voluptuous white breasts being forced into flimsy bras, hips and bottoms into evn flimsier panties; watched until the last suspender was clipped to stocking top and the bare feminine charms were covered by dresses, then they went out.
"Well, at least you don't have to go through all that business, Lala," said Sylvia disgustedly. "In fact, I'm not so sure I wouldn't prefer to go bare-flesh-naked in this heat!"
When they had eaten, they were taken to an annexe of Hakim's quarters. This was what the guards were pleased to call 'the hospital', but which the inmates had nicknamed 'the anti-beatal clinic'. It smelt like a hospital and there were two typical guard types dressed up as nurses in the waiting room. Through glass topped swingdoors could be seen a row of beds, some occupied, with a nurse bending over one of them, tending the occupant.
In the waiting room, two African girls sat on a bench, both a mass of thin, painful looking weals across their brown backs. One of them was receiving treatment to her back from one of the 'nurses' as she sat with bowed head.
The newcomers were lined up outside a door and .taken in one at a time by the negress. The two Island girls were taken first, each one being inside about five minutes. As Lala came out, the girls from the other two huts arrived with their guards and they, too, were seen separately, leaving the four white women until the last. Those seen were given no chance to warn their companions of what to expect, being lined up under guard against the opposite wall and forbidden to talk.
Cynthia went in and came out, wooden-faced; Margaret followed and came out, pulling up a zip at the side of her dress. She tried to whisper something to Julia, who was going in next, but received a shove from behind, sending her staggering towards the growing line of those who had already been in.
Julia found herself in a room equipped as a doctor's surgery and felt she could have been somewhere in England, except for the big, armed negress at her side and the African youth in khaki shorts and flowered shirt sitting beside the desk, a pen poised over a ledger.
The young African looked her up and down, then bent over the ledger, his eyes still on her from under his eyebrows. "Name?"
Julia hesitated and had her bare arm prodded with the guard's cane.
"Dawson-Julia Dawson."
"Married or single?" He was obviously making a special effort to sound bored and professional. "Divorced." "Your age?"
"Twenty-seven." Julia glanced nervously round the room as he wrote down the information and caught sight of a light-skinned woman in a white coat standing beside an examination couch, eyeing her cautiously, lhe couch was in an alcove on one side of the door and not visible to anyone coming through.
"Height?"
"Five feet six."
"Five-six." He wrote it down, then looked up with a brief flash of white teeth. "Take your clothes off!"
"What!" Julia felt her face go hot.
"You've been told to strip!" rapped the guard, her cane poking painfully into Julia's hip. "Quickly now!"
Julia took a quick look and saw the cane being drawn back for a cut at her bottom, as the negress turned towards her. She stepped back and reached behind her for the zipper of the dress.
As she stripped, she felt the hot eyes of the African youth on her the whole time, as were the eyes of the guard. She turned sideways to the desk as she removed her bra and exposed her lush, coral-tipped breasts, and looked at the guard.
"Do-do I have to take everything off?"
"We want you naked for weighing and examination."
It was the woman in the white coat Who answered her. Julia didn't argue, having seen the state of the backs of the two girls out in the waiting room. She slipped her panties down quickly and unfastened her suspenders, trying to ignore the presence of the watching youth. She forced the suspender-belt down over her hips, holding her breath and keeping her head up as she went through the unavoidable wriggles, in an effort to keep her breasts taut and stop them from shaking about.
When she had rolled down her stockings and kicked off her shoes, the white-coated woman beckoned her over. Leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor, she went through the ordeal of walking across to the examination table, almost feeling the two pairs of eyes on the heavy jiggle of her buttocks and the voluptuous undulations of her wide hips.
Julia saw that the woman was Eurasian and probably in her late thirties; she was not bad looking, but had a hard set to her mouth and a cold, calculaitng look about the eyes.
She drew a stethoscope from her pocket and sounded Julias' chest, turned her silently, with a hand on her shoulder, and listened to her back. Professionally, she took the earpieces from her ears and let them hang from her neck, while she placed a hand here and there on Julia's chest and back and tapped.
"On the scales, now." She slid the weights along the bar and read off to the youth. "Hundred and thirty-six." She took a tape measure and passed it round under Julia's armpits and across her breasts: "Thirty-eight"; the tape went to her waist:' 'Twenty-four, waist; hips, thirty-seven."
Julia had her teeth inspected and her breasts lifted and pressed all round the perimeter of the nipples. "No lumps?" "No-I don't think so." "Lie on the couch."
Julia climbed on to the couch and lay back to have her stomach pressed and prodded. "Had any contagious diseases?" "Only the usual measles and chicken-pox." "Any of a venereal nature?" "How dare you!"
The woman smiled faintly, slotting obstetric stirrups into place on the end of the couch. "I do dare-that's what I'm here for. And I happen to be a doctor." She finished tightening up the screws securing the stirrups to the couch. "Put your legs in the stirrups."
Julia lifted her legs and placed them in the stirrups, letting them bend where the padded fitment caught the backs of her knees. She glanced quickly over at the desk, suddenly remembering the youth and the guard, squirming with embarrassment as she saw their eyes glued to her nakedness.
Her attention was brought back to the woman doctor as she felt her legs moving apart. She was turning a handle at the bottom of the couch and ratcheting the stirrups apart, forcing Julia's legs open wider and wider, until she gasped with the painful stretching of her thighs. Her legs were as wide apart as they would go by the time the doctor stopped turing the handle.
Julia now lay with her sex laid completely open, her bottom lifted slightly from the leather couch, the cheeks spread. The doctor drew on rubber gloves and Julia was put through a thorough, if shameful, examination.
She lay with her thighs stretched wide, while the rubber-covered fingers probed her vulva; she kept her face to the wall as the labia was pulled open, laying bare the inner tender membrane, clenched her fists as a finger slid into her vagina and twisted.
"Any soreness?"
She shook her head and the examination went on. She even had her buttocks spread wider; a finger-tip touched her anus and she tensed herself, fearing she was going to have a finger pushed up there, but the tight opening was merely pressed gently.
"No piles?"
"You may get down now."
As Julia removed her legs from the stirrups and climbed down from the couch, she was asked the approximate date of her periods, her face flaming when the information was called out to the youth, to be entered in the ledger. She was then allowed to dress.
"You must tell your guard when menstruation starts and she will supply you with sanitary articles, if you are still here."
Julia was ushered out of the surgery and could do no more by way of warning Sylvia of what to expect than wrinkling her nose and raising her eyes to the ceiling.
Their medical inspection took up the whole morning and lunch was brought to them as soon as they returned to the hut. It was brought by the first two African girls.
"I'm told they caned you," said Sylvia sympathetically.
Instead of answering, both girls unashamedly turned their backs, leaned forward and drew down their tight knickers, baring their full-blown, dark-fleshed buttocks. Sylvia clucked her tongue in pity. They had both received a number of strokes which had broken the skin in several places and still looked desperately sore.
"You poor things," murmured Julia.
"Oh, we were lucky-we were only caned."
"Lucky?"
"Three of us were ordered to be punished -the other girl is going to be whipped this afternoon."
"You mean at that triangle affair across the compound, I suppose?"
"Yes-ten strokes."
"What happens about these punishments -do the guards decide a girl is to be beaten and just go ahead when they feel like it?" asked Julia. "That's awfulwhenever they felt they..."
"No. The guards are allowed to give us anything up to six strokes of the cane, but if they think that wouldn't be enough punishment for what they call crimes, they report it and the girls are taken before Hakim and he decides. Then he and the doctor are present when the punishment is carried out."
"How about that! They have our welfare at heart!" exclaimed Sylvia sarcastically. "What about those girls in the hospital-is that where they take up afterwards to heal our torn skins?"
"If the punishment has been very severe. Sometimes a girl is given fifteen, even twenty strokes of the whipwe have even seen twenty-five lashes being given." The African girl shivered. "Once, they gave a woman thirty lashes; she fainted after twenty-five and the doctor had her carried into the hospital. They brought her out an hour later and gave her the other five. She was in the hospital for three weeks and the day she came out, one of the guards found an excuse to give her six strokes of the cane on her buttocks."
"What happened to her eventually?"
"Oh, she was sold like all of us will be. Well, we'd better go, before we get another beating."
"Well, at least we know what to expect," said Sylvia, trying to keep her voice light. "Is that woman a real doctor?"
"Yes-or she was. She was-er-what do you call it when a doctor is forbidden to heal?"
"Struck off the register," said Sylvia. "That figures."
The African girls went out and left them to their meal.
"Didn't mind a chilli dish now and again back home," Sylvia pushed her plate away. "But that stuffs too darn hot for me!" She lit a cigarette. "So our doctor's unfrocked!"
"I nearly died of shame going through that 'medical' with that young African." Julia, too, pushed her plate away and took the cigarette Sylvia offered her. "I'll bet he knows nearly as much about women's bodies as she does! Did she ask you what date you had your curse and call it out to him?"
"She did!"
"But why do they treat us like this? Why all this brutality and humiliation? Isn't it enough that they're going to make money out of us? Couldn't they just sell us and leave it at that?"
"No-I think they have two reasons for treating us like this. One: we are being indoctrinated at the moment, we haven't got the slave mentality-we need taming. We have to be beaten and cowed and humiliated so that we face up to the fact that whoever buys us are our masters; so that we come to realize that there is no escape and that the only way we make our existence at all tolerable is to knuckle under and jump when we're told to jump."
"And the second reason?"
"Because they're a bunch of sadists and just love treating helpless women this way! And I'll tell you something else-if we don't give them an excuse to give us a thrashing before long, they're going to make one!"
CHAPTER FIVE
In the full heat of the early afternoon, they were taken out of the hut and marched across the dusty compound to the ominous triangle to join the girls from the other huts. Nearly thirty strong, they were lined up in front and to one side of the platform, with their guards behind them. Directly in front were the rest of the female guards and on the other side a score of more of the men in green drill battle-dress who had invaded Cynthia's island and escorted the prisoners over.
"I suppose this is the whipping coming up," Sylvia whispered. "See? It all figures-the humiliation kick thrown in with it."
The woman doctor came out with Hakim and both mounted the platform. Then one of the wardresses, a hefty negress, climbed up beside them and uncoiled a shiny black whip, some four feet in length.
Finally, the victim was dragged on to the platform by two guards. She was a slim, lithe-limbed mulatto, with breasts like over-ripe peaches that quivered as she was hauled before the doctor. She had a pretty face, with large dark eyes, frightened, now, at the coming ordeal.
Like the rest of the coloured girls, she wore only tight briefs now she was turned with her back to the doctor and made to take them off. As she drew them down and stepped out of them, the doctor ran her hands over her back and down over the round, firm buttocks of her thighs. The girl was turned again and stood quietly while the doctor drew a stethoscope from the pocket of her white coat and sounded her heart.
The doctor nodded and then the girl began to struggle futilely as she was dragged across the platform to the triangle. A third guard came up to help and her wrists were held up to the apex of the triangle to be bound with the leather thongs that hung from it.
Julia and Margaret gasped as they watched the girl's legs being forced apart until her ankles reached the two corners of hte base to be similarly bound. Now she was stretched taut, in the shape of an inverted 'Y\ the sinews of her thighs taut and strained. The very position was a punishment in itself. With the triangle being three feet off the ground, the unfortunate girl's sex was exposed to the entire assembly, the lips pulled open with her wide-legged position.
The woman doctor had one more chore before the beating began. She took a bottle and a wad of cottonwool from her pocket, soaked the cotton-wool with the contents of the bottle and wiped it all over the girl's back and shoulders, the side of her right breast and all down her right flank, then she shook some more liquid on to the pad and anointed hips and buttocks. When she stepped back, she nodded to the guard who was to carry out the punishment.
The negress unbuttoned her tunic and took it off, revealing a massive pair of breasts that strained the white hammock-like aertex brassiere she wore to the limit. Powerful muscles rippled under the shiny black skin as she picked up the wrip and slashed it through the air experimentally.
Hakim and the doctor stood back, then, out of range, as the guard half raised the whip and positioned herself behind the girl she was about to flog.
The pretty mulatto twisted her head and looked back with frightened eyes, quickly turning her head away with a scared, hopeless whimper, as she saw the whip lifted and ready to begin lashing her naked body.
There was a deathly hush as the girl waited for her punishment to begin. Hakim seemed in no hurry as he stood watching her, prolonging the fearful anticipation as long as possible. Finally, he looked at the guard.
"Ten good lashes. Save the last four for her backside. Begin when you're ready."
The shapely body tensed, the guard's arm came back, then swept forward. The whip whistled through the hot, dusty air and lashed into the cringing olive-skinned back with a sickening force. The choked scream was an anti-climax as a long weal appeared from the top of the girl's right shoulder to her left armpit.
She jerked forward in agony as the second stroke sank into the sweat-filmed back, the tip of the lash biting in under the right armpit. Another lash seared her flesh and she writhed as the flogging went on, moving down her back. Each full-blooded lash brought its own cry of anguish and branded the smooth back as it was laid on with the full power of the negress's muscular arm.
One lash licked at the side of the straining right breast and the resultant contortions shook even the stoutly erected triangle.
Julia's eyes went from the tortured girl's wealed back to the tense, excited faces of those watching. She looked at the woman doctor's face and found it quite impassive she showed no emotion whatever, though her eyes were on the mulatto girl's writhing body the whole time. She looked back at the girl and saw the lips of her vulva now hanging open between the stretched thighs.
The sixth stroke was inflicted, landing across the top of the buttocks and spanning both twisting hips. The female flogger paused as the girl's head drooped sideways on to an upper arm. The doctor held up her hand and went to her. She examined the whip-marks, then stepped round in front to look at the girl's face. She lifted one eyelid with her .thumb, then slapped the girl's cheek sharply, so that her head jerked erect again and her eyes opened. She held her hand against the sweating body, just blow the left breast for a moment, then nodded to the guard and joined Hakim again.
Up went the whip again to crack loudly across the still unmarked buttocks, a vicious stroke straight across the centre of the two rounded spheres. She jerked her hips frantically, sobbing with pain, and the sadistic guard timed a backward jerk of the hips to lash in another brutal cut.
A third stripe cut the skin on the right cheek of the poor, tortured bottom to the fleshy underside, where bottom curved inward to meet the stretched thighs.
Only then was the lash lowered, to leave the flogged girl hanging limp in her bonds, back and bottom shiny with sweat and streaked with the red stripes of punishment.
They released her from the flogging triangle and two of the guards held her drooping body between them. Her breasts heaved as the doctor came forward and sounded her heart again and cursorily examined the weals on her back and buttocks.
"Take her into the hospital and have one of the nurses bathe her back-I shall be along shortly." Then she walked away with Hakim towards his quarters.
The guards responsible for the girls in the huts took over and marched them back across the compound.
"The beasts!" Margaret choked when they were back in the hut. She sniffed and dabbed at her wet eyes with a handkerchief. "They-they can't be human!"
"They're human-only they oughta be in straightjackets!" growled Sylvia.
Cynthia and Moolah were strangely silent for the rest of the day and kept to themselves most of the time. When they went to bed that night, Sylvia whispered to Julia and Margaret.
"I don't know if you saw the faces of those two as that poor kid was being whipped, but I did, and I'm certain Cynthia almost had an orgasm. Five'll get you ten one of 'em sneaks into the other's bed tonight!"
"You think they actually enjoyed it?" whispered Margaret. "I felt sick. T thought the whistle and crack of that awful whip was never going to stop."
All three lay awake that night, until long after the light had gone out, they heard the creaking of a bed and saw the shadowy figure pass the window, moving towards the opposite corner bed...Cynthia's. Then fol lowed more creaking, hushed whispers and stifled gasps. A faint thumping was heard, followed by a moan, quickly choked off.
There was a silence for a while, then it all started again. There came a sharp whimper, as of pain, quickly converted a into cough, followed by heavy breathing and urgent movement...a soft gasp...a sigh. Then silence.
Presently, after a short whispering, the shadowy figure stole back to its own bed.
CHAPTER SIX
As they assembled, naked, for their morning hosing down, the three girls saw the result's of Moolah's nocturnal excursion to Cynthia's bed. Cynthia bore a large and unmistakable love-bite over her left breast, close to the nipple. Seeing their eyes on her breasts, she looked down and flushed hotly, her hand coming up to cover it.
As she turned and bent over to have the hose played on her bottom, she showed further evidence of the painful pleasures she had indulged in. Deep-etched nailmarks scored the white flesh of her buttocks and the inside of one thigh.
They watched Moolah closely while she was under the hose and saw scratches where Cynthia's nails had quite obviously raked down her back in the height of her passion.
They were not the only ones who spotted it, either. The guard who was doing the hosing noticed and pointed it out to the negress, who waited until the hosing was finished and the six were lined up ready for the run round the compound.
Before they moved off, Cynthia and Moolah were inspected thoroughly, made to bend over, felt between the legs, and underwent a general mauling. Cynthia's white breast was lifted in a large black hand, thick fingers touching the love-bite and taking the opportunity to pinch the large nipple.
Nothing was said until they got back to the hut and began to dress. Cynthia picked up her knickers to have them flipped from her hands and on to the floor by the point of a cane.
"You won't need any clothes for a minute, white woman. Turn round and bend over-I'm going to give you three strokes for damaging property."
"Wh-what property?" Cynthia looked with puzzled and frightened eyes at the lighter skinned of the two guards.
"The Sheik's property!" The woman pointed at Moolah's back as the negress spun her round, tapping the scratches with her cane.
"I don't know anything about it," Cynthia protested. "Are you suggesting that I... ?"
"And this one gets it for the same thing," the negress cut in. She reached out and slapped the under-side of Cynthia's left breast, making it wobble like a large white blanc-mange.
The two women protested hotly, denying all knowledge while the other four girls stood silently by. The negress swung on them.
"What do you know about this?"
"Nothing at all." Sylvia held up her hands. "If that sort of thing went on, they must have waited until we were all asleep."
"All right." The negress grinned wolfishly. "We shall take you before the Sheik-we may even be able to get you both a flogging out of this."
"Oh, what's the use, Cynthia," muttered Moolah. "I don't want to be flogged. Yes-I went to her bed last night and we made love."
Resignedly, she turned her back to the negress and bent over, presenting her round, golden buttocks, taut and naked, to be caned.
There was silence as the negress stepped back and tapped the girl's bottom, measuring her for the first stroke.
Zzzzzzziippp.. .Crack!
Moolah's breath hissed as the cane belted into her dusky flesh, leaving a weal very low down across her buttocks.
Zzzzzzziippp.. .Crack!
She groaned and staggered forward from the force of the blow, half straightening. "Bend down at once, or I'll give you more!" Moolah bent again and gripped her ankles. Zzzzzzziippp.. .Crack!
Moolah stumbled forward again against a bed and remained there, half bent, her hands supporting her, as she tried to contain the pain of the three dark weals that ridged her buttocks.
The negress looked at Cynthia, who had been standing watching the punishment with fear and embarrassment.
"Do you still deny it?"
Wordlessly, Cynthia shook her head, stepped forward and bent over in front of the guard. Her white bottom was broad and not nearly so campact as Moolah's; it stick out nakedly, the nail-marks standing out redly, low down and close to the deep cleft on each cheek.
"I think we'll have this one across the table-I can get at her backside better that way."
The two guards gripped Cynthia's arms and pulled her over to the table. She was too scared of further consequences to struggle, and allowed them to haul her over the table, face down. The negress measured her for the cane while the other held her by the wrists, holding hr arms stretched out.
In that position, the buttocks were relaxed and soft, wobbling even with the light, measuring tap.
The cane was lifted and brought down in a fullblooded stroke, that dented the soft flesh and left the cheeks shuddering as a red weal bisected the division of the fleshy buttocks.
Cynthia took it with a tensing of her body and a grunt of pain. Her head jerked up sharply as the cane cut into her a second time, raising a weal much lower and on the fleshier part of the white cheeks. She gave a sob and her hips jerked from side to side on the table.
Zzzziippp.. .Splatt!
"Aaaargh!"
Her legs kicked in agony as the third stroke was aimed accurately, falling right into the crease below the buttocks.
Her wrists were released, but she still laid across the table, her bottom jerking about as though trying to cool itself. The two African girls came in with breakfast and Sylvia and Margaret helped the groaning woman from the table.
"Things are getting closer to home, I'm afraid," Sylvia observed. "Pretty soon they'll be caning us for going to the lavatory!"
"Is there no Chance of someone coming out this way-police, maybe-and wondering what this great compound is doing in the middle of nowhere?" Margaret asked one of the girls.
"It isn't in the middle of nowhere-we are right in the middle of a coffee plantation owned by Hakim."
"So we have no chance whatever of getting out of here."
"When somebody buys us. Armed guards patrol the compound all night; they have big floodlights at every corner. Even if we got out of the compound, we'd have to get past the guards outside and then find our way out of the plantation."
"Anybody tried?"
"Yes." The girl shuddered. "Two girls tried to get out together one night. They tied blankets and threw them up to the wall so that they stuck on the spikes, then they climbed up them and dropped over the other side."
"And then?"
"They were caught and brought back in less than five minutes. They got twenty-five lashes each the next morning."
"God! Have you heard how your friend is? The one they whipped yesterday?"
"Her skin will heal. She came back from the hospital this morning."
"I should have thought they'd keep her in after a terrible beating like that."
"They don't think that ten strokes is severe enough for that."
Sylvia went to her case and produced a pack of Chesterfields. She pressed it on ttte African women.
"Give some to your poor friend as well," she said kindly.
They looked delightedly at the cigarettes and then one of them shoved the packet down the front of her panties and in between her thighs, so that it was held tightly against her sex by the crotch of the briefs.
"The guards would take them off us if they saw them," she explained.
* * *
"Hey-what gives?" Sylvia beckoned the others over to the window later in the afternoon. "Don't tell me we have another invasion!"
The others crowded round the window and looked out across the compound. Coming through the gates were a motley collection of burnoused Arabs and one European.
"Looks like a Persian Market!"
"That could just be what it is, too! A market, I mean," said Sylvia. "Yeah, look-there's the big boss himself coming out to meet them. It's no invasionlook at the smile flashing through that moth-eaten beard!"
The party of some dozen Arabs disappeared into the cool shadows of Hakim's quarters, the European having the "honour" of entering first, with the Sheik's arm across his shoulders.
"He must be the big wheel in that lot."
"He is," said Cynthia in a tense voice. "He's the buying agent for half of North Africa."
"You used to deal with him?"
"A lot."
"Know any of the others?"
"Only a couple of them-they aren't so big as
Carter."
"So I suppose they're here to do business." Sylvia looked round at her companions. "Guess we'd better keep our fingers crossed, girls, and pray the best man
Margaret choked back a sob as she looked at Julia and Sylvia. "And we'll all be split up-we'll never see each other again."
"Don't take on, honey." Sylvia put an arm round her. "Maybe one of them will buy us all up in one job lot!"
"Well, you'd better pray that it isn't Cartel-tie was the only one who never complained about a girl haying whip marks on her body," Cynthia warned them. "He likes to amuse himself that way en route and, like Hakim, he can afford to take his time."
An hour went by, mostly spent in speculation and efforts to get information about their likely future from Cynthia.
"I've told you I didn't concern myself what happened after the women left my hands," she said at last. "But obviously sex is going to be the main function. Whether it's in a brothel or a harem or with some tribe out in the desert somewhere-sex will play the biggest part. And I should think that most people who buy slaves whip them pretty regularly."
Shortly after that, the two guards came in, one of them rapping her cane sharply across Lala's pantied bottom as she stood nearest the door.
"Get those drawers off." As Lala, with a scared look round at the rest. "That goes for the rest of youget your clothes off -I want you all naked in two minutes!"
"I think this is it," whispered Sylvia as she undressed.
"That's how slaves are usually sold-naked-isn't it? So that all our best attractions are fully displayed to the customer,' she added bitterly. She looked down at her lovely white body and pressed her hands to her red pubic hair. "I suppose this will be a great attraction for them-just listen to the bidding!" She looked up at Julia for a moment and smiled, but her lips trembled and her eyes were unnaturally bright.
"If you all have high-heeled shoes, put them on," ordered the black wardress.
They all had them and were soon lined up and being marched across to the Sheik's house. They were taken into a dressing room where they found all the other coloured girls standing before mirrors combing their hair and putting on lipstick, the lighter-skinned ones using eye-shadow.
Sylvia, Julia, Margaret and Cynthia were handed combs and brushes and a box with tubes of make-up.
"Paint up those white skins-and make a good job of it, if you don't want to feel the Sheik's whip."
They brushed and combed their hair and then selected the rouges and lipsticks to suit their colouring.
"God!" muttered Margaret. "My hand's shaking so. I can hardly hold the darn tube, let alone put it on!"
When they had made their faces up, they looked at each other.
"Wow! Sexy!" grinned Sylvia.
"That's what I like about you, Sylvia," said Margaret. "You're as scared as the rest Of us, but you almost stand on your head to keep our spirits up."
"Talking about spirits-I still have quite a lot of gin left. If we ever get back to that hut, we'll have a little party."
A guard came over and inspected them without any comment, then all four had to stand still while she painted their nipples with a red lacquer. They had their hair sprayed with a setting lacquer and lastly they had to stand with their arms in the air, while they had a heavy, cloying perfume squirted over them.
Everybody in the dressing room was carefully inspected, several receiving sharp slaps on their bare bottoms and being made to alter some part of their make-up.
As each one was passed, she had to hold out her wrists to have silver manacles, connected by a slim, silver chain, snapped round them.
Julia was the first white woman to be passed and she automatically held out her wrists to be shackled.
"No-not you whites. We have something else for you."
All the coloured girls were taken out, leaving the four white women with the two guards. The negress opened a cardboard box on the trestle table and brought out some folded, unidentifiable garments of a white, diaphanous material. She handed one to each of them.
"Put these on quickly."
They opened them out and discovered they were pantaloons of the type worn by Eastern women. They drew them on and found that the material was like transparent gossamer, their legs and the dark shadowy places between their thighs showing through clearlySylvia's red pubic hair especially. They were loosefitting from waist to ankle, but were not left wondering for long how they would keep them up.
In turn, they had to breathe in deeply to have a sixinch wide chrome steel belt locked about their waists, keeping the pants up and forcing their bodies to remain straight-backed. Silver manacles, similar to those worn by the coloured girls, were clamped about their wrists and also their ankles. The short chain allowed a certain amount of movement of their arms, but forced them to walk with short, mincing steps in their highheeled shoes.
They were led out, then, taken along a corridor, and into a large hall buzzing with voices, above which could be heard the tinkle of Eastern music. The air was blue with smoke that had the aroma of incence and dimmed further the subdued lighting around the walls.
The hall was like a miniature theatre, with a velvetcurtained stage at one end. The Sheik and his guests lounged on piles of tasselled cushions on the floor, brass and silver trays of sweetmeats and hulva, goblets of wine and other exotic foods before them.
The white women were brought in through a door at the rear of the hall and taken to a long table on one side laden with bottle of sweet wine and large silver carafes.
"You are to fill the carafes from the bottles and stand behind the guests. When you see an empty glass, or one of them calls for wine, you serve it. We shall be watching you the whole time, so do it properly and no tricks, or you'll pay for it with skin!"
They waited while the carafes were refilled from the bottles, then sat in chairs on either side of the rear door.
"Wish I had a little phial of poison!" muttered Sylvia, as they stood behind the Sheik's guests. "Boydo we pong!"
"That worries me," Margaret whispered. "They'll be after us like dogs after bitches, with this scent! Ooops-there's a guy calling for booze!"
Margaret threaded her way through cushions to the Arab holding out his glass. She bent and refilled it and as she did so, he suddenly realized she was white. With a grin of delight, he reached for her, is hand going straight between her thighs. She squealed and tried to step back, but the large, hot hand gripped her at the crotch. He put down his glass and grabbed her arm, pulling her down in a sprawl of white, shapely legs on to the cushion beside him.
Hakim looked round, laughing, and wagged a finger at him. "Now, Abdul-behave yourself. She's not for sale tonight, not unless you're worth a lot more money than I think you are. You came here to buy four African slaves-this one comes more expensive than any four of them. You've had your feel at her, so be content."
Grumbling, the man released her and let her get to her feet. She had kept her hold on the handle of the carafe, which fortunately had a heavy ornate top, so that little wine was spilt.
All eyes followed Margaret as she made her way back and there were murmurs and exclamations of appreciation when the other three white women were spotted.
More glasses were held aloft, then, and all four of them were kept busy for some time topping them up, having to suffer the exporing hands of several at once.
Julia bent to pour wine for one and had a dark hand from two different pairs close over her full, naked breasts as they hung swaying from her chest. She gritted her teeth and ignored it, only to have a hand slip between her thighs from the back.
She straightened from filling the glass and saw her companions undergoing similar treatment. She gasped and jerked forward as someone pinched her bottom, stumbling in the high heels and sinking to her knee before another bearded Arab, who promptly closed his mouth over one breast and sucked hard on the nipple. She wrenched the breast away and staggered to the back again.
She turned and saw Sylvia trying to pull away from a man who was making frantic endeavours to get her pants down. The chrome steel was locked far too tightly about her waist and he eventually gave up, clasping her hips and pressing his lips to her thinlycovered bottom as a consolation prize.
Someone else called for wine on Cynthia's side. She went back, picking her way through the cushions and reaching hands. She poured the wine and turned to start back through the crowd, when a hand grabbed her arm and spun her round. The watching girls at the back her her stricken expression as she was brought face to face with Carter, sitting next to Hakim.
There was a short conversation between the two men, then Cynthia came back, looking really worried.
"What happened, Cynthia?" Sylvia asked, not very sympathetic. "Have a word with your old client?"
"He recognized me. Now he-oh, Lord-he wants to buy me!"
"How about that! You should be all right, then."
"All right! He wants to buy me for himself! He's just here to buy half a dozen coloured girls for someone, but he said if I was up for sale, he's have me. His favourite sport is whipping women-having me should give him extra kicks!"
The other three had not the heart to make the obvious comment.
"What did Hakim have to say about it?"
"He said they could talk after the auction."
"So if the price is right it's sold to the gentleman in the panama!"
"The price will be right! He's richer than most of his clients and if he wants something badly enough, he'll pay whatever price is asked-and he wants me! I saw the look in his eyes."
For another half an hour, they continued to serve the wine, refilling a carafe from time to time, when one guard immediate came over to supervise.
As soon as they had to move amongst Hakim's clients, hands came out to grasp and feel at them; a white breast was squeezed or mouthed at; a soft, warm vulva was held fleetingly in a palm. There was an occasional startled yelp as a jutting bottom was pinched or a nipple tweaked.
"If this goes on much longer, I'm going to demand danger money!" gasped Sylvia.
At last, Hakim stood up and clapped his hands loudly. Two floodlights lit up the drapes in front of the stage as he climbed up some steps at the side.
He spoke at some length in Arabic before breaking into English.
"Now, for the benefit of my friend, Mr. Carter, and those of you who understand English. I have some twenty girls on offer, who will be brought on one at a time for your appraisal. If you wild all come close to the stage you will be able to see all their most inter esting -er -details! Most of you nave been here before, and you have a good idea of how much these girls will fetch, so we need not waste time by starting off with any frivolous bids-I have a little entertainment for you afterwards. The deal is the same as always -you make your bids, your name is written on a piece of paper and stuck on the girls knocked down to you and you inspect them again later before any money is handed over."
There were several enquiries about the four white women who had served the wine.
"No-no, I'm sorry, gentlemen." Hakim held up his hands for silence. "I had them serve the wine just as an added entertainment for you, but I'm afraid they are not for sale. They have already been spoken for. He repeated it in Arabic and made a sign to someone offstage. "And now-on with the auction!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Footlights came on and added their strength to the two floodlights as the curtains parted and the first of the girls was brought on.
"They sure do things in style here, don't they!" whispered Sylvia. "This is straight out of the Arabian nights!"
The first girl was one of the Africans who had been left over from the last batch and she walked on with the silver shackles about her wrists, accompanied by the big Arab who had flogged Cynthia back on me Island. This time, however, he wore shimmering pantaloons, crimped in at the ankles and held up by a broad, brass-studded leather belt. To complete the outfit, he wore curl-toed slippers and a large turban. In his hand was coiled hps inevitable black whip.
Hakim stood on the other side of the girl with a pad of labels and a pen. Bidding was loud and enthusiastic, in several different currencies, but mainly dollars and French francs.
The first girl was duly sold, the client's name written on a label, which was torn from the pad, licked and stuck on the girl's chest.
As soon as she had been labelled, the Arab led her off and brought on the next one, standing beside each girl, coiled whip in hand, massive arms folded across his chest, like the European idea of a harem eunuch, all the time the bidding was on.
All six of the tall, strongly-built African girls were sold quickly, but the first three girls from the Island were withdrawn when the bidding did not reach Hakim's reserve price, although the girls were quite pretty and had nice bodies.
"Looks like this crowd is after the staying type rather than glamour," Sylvia whispered.
"Yes, when sales are arranged like this, the vendor generally has a batch of either the strong working type or the softer, more glamorous," Cynthia told her. "He probably put it out 'that he had some hefty ones going and the ones who are here tonight are looking for that type-I don't suppose he'd decided to take us over when he put the word round."
"But now 'they've seen us, they'd like, is that it?"
"Yes, but they wouldn't be prepared to pay the price for us-especially if their people were expecting several. Hakim will charge as much for one of us as he would for four or five of them-we'll be sold purely for sexual purposes."
"And perversions thereof!" Julia put it. "But what about Carter?"
"Carter? He can afford to buy anything he's commissioned to-and still be able to afford us. He only wants me, though. Apart from the kick he'll get out of owning me and being able to do what he wants with a woman who had always dictated the terms-he once tried to get me to sleep with him and I turned him down flat."
"I see-he's been gunning for you." Sylvia suddenly pointed to the stage. "Look-Lala!"
All three held their breath as Lala was led on in her shackles, her golden body gleaming in the lights. She, too, was a pretty girl, her body slender, but with wide hips and well-developed, pear-shaped breasts.
Bidding started briskly enough, then slowed and the three friends breathed a sigh of relief when the reserve price was not reached and she was withdrawn.
"What happens to all the rejects?" asked Sylvia.
"They'll be held over until he organizes another auction. The next one will probably be glamour type only."
"Didn't you ever do that sort of thing?"
"Our sales were already organized and we had a middle man. We obtained a few ourselves, but mostly, they were obtained for us, handed over and we passed them on to someone else, sometimes to the client himself, sometimes his agent or another trader."
"You mean you were the middle man."
"Mostly, I suppose. Hakim has a really big organization -he gets them, holds them and sells them. It makes little difference whether he makes a sale this month or next month-he can afford to hang on to the women until he gets the price he wants."
"Why did he bother with you, then?"
"Well, for one thing, I was taking trade in that area; two, I didn't deal in vast quantities of slaves at a time, but the few I did were the cream and I was getting business from Carter-one of his best clients. And three-my island is a very convenient place to trade in slaves. I've been operating there for..."
Cynthia broke off as Moolah was led on to the stage. Moolah was quite good-looking, though her skin was a little darker and her body built on more powerful lines than most of her island companions.
The bidding started and exceeded Hakim's reserve price, for she was finally sold-to Carter.
"There's a bit of luck for you, Cynthia."
Cynthia flushed, then shook her head. "Only for a time-he will have bought her for a client of his own."
They watched as the rest of the naked girls were brought on one by one, each girl having to stand while she was bidden for, occasionally being roughly turned round by the Arab when someone called for a rear view, sometimes being made to open her legs, while the crowd around the front of the stage looked up between them. From time to time, Hakim would squeeze one of their breasts, lift it and let it fall back into place, or slap the softly-rounded under-curve, as a test of firmness.
One girl had had both her rather large breasts slapped in turn, then the Arab had pushed his whip between her thighs to make her open them. With a sob she tried to run from the stage, breasts and buttocks bouncing voluptuously. In a flash, the whip was uncoiled and sent, hissing, across the stage to wrap itself round her legs and bring her down. Even as she rose, the whip was lashed twice across her back before the Arab grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back to the centre of the stage.
Oddly enough, this excited the bidders and the price rose rapidly, until she finally went to Carter.
"I dare say she'll be with me for a While," said
Cynthia. "She's just the type he'd go for-he'll have a great time taming her before he lets her go."
The pretty mulatto who had been whipped at the triangle the previous day was brought on. The bidding went up desultorily, then Hakim turned her round to show the whip-weals on her back and more at once joined in, raising the price until she, too, went to Carter.
"See what I mean?" Cynthia murmured.
When the auction ended, twenty-two girls had been displayed on the stage for sale, seventeen of them being sold. The clients went back to their cushions and Hakim came to the front of the stage again to make another announcement.
"The financial transactions can be completed in the morning, gentlemen. So, business over for the evening, we can relax and enjoy a little entertainment. There will be a little delay while things are prepared backstage, in the meantime, my-er--special slaves will circulate among you to dispense wine."
"That guy should have been in show business," said Margaret sourly. "He's loving every minute up there."
"He should be-he's just made a packet!"
"He'd get a job anywhere in the States announcing cabaret acts."
"Yeah-like concert parties in Alcatraz! Let's go, girls-the customers are calling for wine!"
As Margaret refilled a glass, she heard a rip behind her and then a hot, sweaty hand slid over her bottom and between the backs of her thighs. She wriggled frantically as a predatory finger wormed its way in between the lips of her sex, slipped high and touched her clitoris. An arm came up and wrapped itself round her hips, holding her so that she couldn't move away.
She slid to her knees as the finger steadily frigged her, trying to crawl away, but she was held too tightly. She whimpered, her bottom wagging from side to side as she fought to dislodge the hand between her thighs. Hot lips were glued to the bare flesh of one of her buttocks, exposed by the tear in her pants. She twisted her head and pleaded with the bearded Arab to let her go, but he only masturbated her more furiously.
The men around him started to clap and egg him on to greater efforts. Someone else took her shoulders and pulled, so that she sprawled forward, her upper body across his lap. Then his hands were beneath her, squeezing her naked breasts. Her pants were ripped further, so that the whole of her bottom was bared.
She felt her legs being forced apart, and all the time, that mouth slobbered at her bottom, the finger frigged her inexorably.
The wine carafe had fallen from her hand and she sobbed with hopeless shame as a dozen hands pawed her.
"Sylvie -we've got to do something!" Julia said desperately. "They could kill her!"
"You're right, honey-like clobbering that guy who started it with our carafes! Come on-let's see if we can create a diversion, anyway!"
The two girls fought their way through the growing crush round the helpless girl.
Margaret's head swam, an unwanted, tingling excitement starting in her belly and pulsing in the now stiffened nipples of her breasts. The hand between her legs was driving her mad. Her hips began to move of their own volition. She cursed them and herself-she was catually helping them to masturbate her.
"Look at that!" gasped Sylvia as they got close. "The bastard's got his prick out at her!"
The hand was suddenly removed from between Margaret's thighs, the mouth from her bottom. Someone was straddling her hips from behind; hands seemed to come from all angles, feeling her, prodding her, pinching her.
She jerked madly as her buttocks were forced apart. Something warm and hard pressed at her anus, hurting her. She twisted her head and saw the massive black penis, the knob between her buttocks.
"NO!" she screamed.
Then Arabs were falling rapidly away from her; the hands left her and the man straddling her hips toppled sideways as Hakim strode amongst them, roaring with laughter and tossing them easily from either side of her.
Finally, Margaret was left sprawled on her own on the floor, her white bottom thrusting up nakedly from the huge rent in the seat of the pantaloons. Hakim reached down and hauled her to her feet, still laughing.
"You all right," he chuckled. "He only wanted to bum-fuck you! I wouldn't have minded, only the man who buys you might want to use that little virgin hole himself!" He picked up the carafe and handed it back to her as she stood, still panting and hot with shame. "Get it filled up again." He looked down at the man who started it all, shaking his head in mock despair. "Habib-that prick of yours will be the death of you! You will try to fuck someone's wife one day and end up in an alley with your throat slit!"
Sylvia tucked the torn patch in the seat of Mar garet's pantaloons under the leather belt, so that her bottom had some covering. Margaret was shaking so much she slopped the wine down the side of the carafe.
"Here-let me." Julia filled the carafe for her.
"Julia-I-..." Margaret choked and tears began to run down her cheeks.
"Ssshh-not now, sweetie," whispered Sylvia. "Wait until we get back to the hut. At least we're not split up yet-we can have that little party."
They re-charged more glasses without anything more serious than the hands touching fleetingly at the erotic zones of their bodies. Then Hakim announced that the entertainment was about to begin.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Floodlights and footlights came on again and the curtain rolled hack. Hakim's "entertainment" was crude in the extreme and without any pretence at artistry or proper presentation; it is doubtful if it had even been rehearsed. But it was effective, and, as far as the audience was concerned, an unequivocal success.
Two very light-skinned girls, almost European in feature, stood beside a bed. They were fully dressed to begin with and stood close, their arms at their sides. No thespians, they, the two stood awkwardly and seemed to suddenly realize they were in view of the audience when the curtain was almost fully open. Then they went into their "act."
Their arms went about each other and they kissed lingeringly. When they drew apart, one of them sat on the bed and drew the other down beside her. Then began a fondling of each others breasts over their dresses, until one unbuttoned the front of hers and allowed the other to slip a hand down inside. The movement of the hand fondling the breast it clasped could be seen under the dress. There were more kisses and the hand came into view again to wander down and slip under the girl's skirt. up to that point, although lapped up in complete silence by the audience.
Then the hand went up high under the skirt, rucking it up and exposing shapely, nylon-clad thighs and white suspenders. The thighs widened and the hand darted right up to the crotch, there was quick, urgent movement then a gasp floated clearly across the hall and the girl who was being to intimately fondled fell back, wrigglingf her hips and tugging the skirt up and up until she had it around her waist.
Her thighs splayed wide, then, Showing the audience the brief, pale green panties she wore, the crotch a slim bridge that allowed the plump vulva to bulge out on either side.
The other girl knelt on fhe stage and slowly drew the panties down her legs, slipping them over the highheeled shoes and turning to wave them at the audience. She opened them out to show the slightly stained crotch, then ardently pressed her lips to it.
Discarding the panties, she slowly undressed her partner, touching and kissing various parts of her body as she uncovered it. By the time she was naked, the girl on the bed was obviously thoroughly aroused.
She got up and lesiurely stripped the girl who had roused her, fondling and kissing her as she did so. Her taller partner stood still, letting her do everything, only turning now and then to display herself to the audience as the more exciting parts were exposed. A bra was slipped off and her breasts were revealed, not as large as her lover's, but firm and round, with small, dark crests.
The panties were taken down and given the same treatment as those of the girl who was stripping her, a very damp-looking crotch being kissed and a tongue coming out to lick at it with evident relish.
Nude, they stood breast to breast, kissing and embracing. Their bodies began to move, rubbing one against the other. Both girls seemed to have forgotten they had an audience by then, for they just stood with their bodies undulating, arms tightly about each other, mouths jammed together. The main features of the tableau were two jutting bottoms moving back and forth and from side to side.
A hoarse stage whisper came from the wings which was ignored. Then the spectators gasped as the Arab made a brief appearance to wrap his whip with a loud report round the two girls' squirming bodies.
They both scremaed loudly and jerked apart. The Arab turned and walked back towards the wings amid a loud burst of applause. Before disappearing, he turned and bowed solemny, bringing a further storm of clapping and remarks shouted in Arabic.
The girls, after twisting to look at their unexpected hurts, continued with their act. One of them had a weal right across her back and over her left shoulder, the other one had the continuation of it across her right upper arm and half-way across her back.
One knelt and loved the other with her mouth, the standing girl holding her head and keeping her legs well apart, her pelvis thrust forward, to receive the homage of lips and tongue at her open, glistening slit.
Her lesbian lover gammed her until her hips began to move rhythmically and she shuffled her feet forward, to get the girl's head right in between her thighs.
The kneeling girl drew back and rose to her feet to lead the passion dazed girl to the bed.
One climbed on to the bed and lay on her back, legs wide, while her mate climbed on top of her, knees on either side of her shoulders. The one on top lowered herself until her cunt was poised above the other girl's mouth, her own head about to disappear between the wide-spread thighs at the start of the conventional "soixant-neuf" position.
Then the dark head disappeared between the bronzed thighs, knees slid wider apart to lower the excited vulva to the waiting, open mouth.
All the audience saw after that were the two naked bodies squirming and wriggling together ,the bottom of the girl on top moving faster and faster. They could hear the stifled gasps as the two nude females heaved and jerked in orgasm, working out their erotic passion for each other in full view of the audience.
At last they were still, arms locked about each other's hips. There was no further movement and the onlookers didn't realize the act had finished until the spotlights went out and the curtain was drawn across the stage once more, when they clapped and stamped loudly.
Julia and Sylvia moved among them to pour more wine, finding the seking hands more bold and urgent as they were fired with the wine, the performance on the stage and not a little by their own presence.
"How much of this stuff can they take before they pass out?" Sylvia sniffed at the wine. "We've doled out enough to float a battleship!"
"They'll propably keel over when they hit the air," Julia told her. "When the alcohol fumes are mixed with oxygen-of which there can be very little in this place-it will really hit them."
"Too bad the guards aren't drinking as well!"
The curtain opened on the second act. In presentation and artistry it did rank a few degrees higher than the first and had obviously had a little rehearsal at some time in the past, for things seemingly went according to plan to begin with.
Two Eurasian women stood about six feet apart, facing each other. They were completely nude, their coffee-and-cream breasts standing high and fullsome, the peaks, which had obviously had previous recent manipulation, seeming to strain towards each other. They stood perfectly still, the rising and falling of their breasts in breathing their only movement.
They faced each other like duelists and between them stood one of the girls in the previous act, holding a polished wooden box. She opened the box, leaning forward to let the audience see the red velvet-lined interior. Murmurs of excited anticipation went up as two short leather whips with thick, plaited stocks were revealed.
Their faces expressionless, the two women reached in, each taking a whip, holding it trailing at her side. The girl closed the box and stepped back, holding up a white handkerchief. The two women tensed, whips half-raised. There was dead silence for several seconds, then the handkerchief fluttered towards the ground and the girl turned and left the stage.
Even before the handkerchief landed, there came two sharp cracks, the tips of the whips flicking scant inches from soft-fleshed breasts, as the girls darted back out of range of each other. The taller of the two moved forward again quickly, Whip cracking. There was a loud gasp from her opponent as she jumped even farther back, though the whip had, in fact cracked just in front of her stomach.
As she jumped back, the shorter one brought her own whip up to snap dangerously between the taller girl's legs. She cried out, her face screwing up with pain as she leapt away from a second stroke. Again, the whip had not actually touched her.
The "duelists" circled each other, whips at the ready, waiting for an opening. The shorter one snapped her whip round and the crack it made brought another cry from the tall girl, who staggered back, clutching her left breast. As though sensing a quick "kill," the short one danced in, arm raised to bring her whip across the other's shoulder. She side-stepped as it came down and cracked her own over her rash opponent's left hip. Then it was the shorter girl's turn to stagger back with a gasp of pain, her hand rubbing the hip.
"I once saw an act like this in cabaret," whispered Margaret. "Though the girls wreen't naked -they wore those brief, sequined costumes."
"How'd you come to get into a place like that?" Sylvia looked round at her sharply. "You don't look the type to be mixed up with a joint like that."
"I was dancing there-and it was quite an expensive club. The girls were dressed and they did it to music. They don't really whip each other -it takes a lot of practice to be able to do it. They make the whip crack inches from each other's body-it never actually touches the flesh. Of course, they didn't cry out or pretend to be in pain, like these two -and they did it much more expertly."
On the stage, the whips continued to sing and crack at intervals, interspersed with gasps and cries of simulated pain as the two women darted about the stage, lunging forward to get in a stroke, or jumping back as one was delivered.
Then, somewhere along the line, whether by accident or design, things began to get out of hand. The shorter girl jumped back quickly as the tall girl cracked her whip close to her body, then, as she was still coming froward, the other lashed her whip sharply round in a back-hand stroke.
There was a choked cry and the taller woman staggered back, her spread fingers pressed to her stomach as she looked down almost stupidly. Her hand came away to expose a long red weal right across the nearly white stomach, cutting across the navel.
The shorter girl, in her excitement, had leapt forward and slashed her whip down again, bringing another cry of pain from her opponent, who stumbled backwards, her arms down at her sides, defenceless, a livid welt running downwards over her left breast.
The other woman was still coming into her, whip already comnig round again in another back-hand stroke. The tall girl took it across her right hip and there was a sharp crack as it wrapped itself round her buttocks.
Her hand covering her wealed breast, the girl gave a sob of pain, but, with the slashing back-hand stroke she had just delivered, the shorter girl's arms were wide, leaving the entire front of her body exposed, her legs braced apart. With a sudden snarl of rage, the taller woman brought her whip-arm straight up from her side between her opponent's parted thighs.
There was a scream of agony as the audience saw the whip lash upwards from between the backs of the girl's legs and lick up along her buttocks. Her legs snapped shut, then opened and she hopped backwards, her face twisted with pain. She dropped the whip and both hands went between her thighs to clutch at her vulva.
Her taller adversary, still smarting from the three lashes she had taken in quick succession, went for her -whip flashing. It sang and snapped across the defenceless naked woman, raising weals across her shoulders and arms and the front of her thighs.
Her hands came from between her legs and she made a half-hearted attempt to regain her whip, but she was beaten back before she could reach it. She jumped back and received a stroke straight down between her shaking breasts, leaving a stripe from her chest to her navel.
With a sobbing cry, she turned to run from the stage, the taller woman following her, lashing the whip indiscriminately across her back and plump, jiggling buttocks.
As she disappeared into the wings, someone must have been waiting for her, for she came staggering backwards on to the stage, to fall flat on her back, legs sprawling.
The whip started to fall again and she twisted quickly, avoiding it. Then the taller one seemed to suddenly some to her sense. She looked at the whip and down at her fallen opponent. Her whip-arm dropped to her side and she reached down to help the other girl to her feet.
"Go on-lash into her," bellowed Hakim. "Whip her -or I'll have you both flogged in the morning!"
The girl still hesitated as the other struggled to her knees, looking from her to Hakim.
"It'll be thirty lashes apiece at the triangle!" he shouted.
Then the whip rose and fell across the unprotected back as the girl knelt wiht bowed head, arms at her sides, her body jerking with each stroke that bit into her, leaving long, painful weals.
She went on to all fours and started to crawl away, but she was followed up, the whip lashing into her plump, rounded bottom and the backs of her thighs. She fell forward on to her stomach as she was whipped, her body shaking with sobs of pain.
Her partner's face was stricken as she whipped her; the first few strokes they had given each other had obviously only been in the heat of the moment.
Abruptly, the tall girl gave a choked little sob as her fallen opponent looked up at her. She stopped whipping her and stepped back, kicking the other whip towards her.
"For God's sake-pick it up and try to defend yourself," they heard the hoarse whisper. "You know I don't want to whip you!"
The girl grasped the whip and got slowly to her feet, while the other one waited. Her body bore a dozen weals and sweat glistened on both of them.
"Keep whipping her!" yelled Hakim and there was a roar of approval from the rest of the audience.
The taller one stepped in again and lashed her whip down as the shorter woman raised hers.
"Come on-whip me back!" urged her partner.
As though to encourage her, she came nearer, holding her arms out from her sides, gasping but not jumping back as she received a fresh weal across her stomach.
She continued to move forward as she took it, lifting her whip arm, though slowly, as if to give her more injured opponent a chance to get another stroke in.
"Come on," she urged again. "Whip me!"
She received a sideways slash across her swaying breasts, wincing and stifling a cry as a stripe was laid across the softly-rounded globes, catching one of fhe tender pink crests.
There was a pause again, as they slowly circled each other, the long, slim gashes of their dark-haired slits plainly visible to the onlookers. The shorter girl's breasts still heaved with sobs of pain, though she had herself sufficiently under control to make a fight of it.
The tall one lashed out with her whip at the plump shoulders, but her opponent ducked beneath it and darted in close, bringing her whip up and returning a compliment by getting in a deadly upward stroke between the parted thighs.
It was the tall girl's turn to drop her whip, as she sank to her knees, hands clutching at her smarting sex.
"Keeping whipping her!" shouted Hakim.
The lash sang and cracked across the bowed back, while the kneeling girl fought to assimilate the pain between her legs. , The lashing of her back must have over-ridden the other pain, for she suddenly threw up an arm to ward off a blow. The whip wrapped itself round her forearm and by the time her standing opponent had got it clear, she had managed to regain her own. She slashed up at the soft thighs above her, making the woman leap back and giving her time to get to her feet again.
She went after her, getting in another stroke to the soft under-belly and receiving one just below her breasts.
Both women were tiring now, their bodies dripping with sweat, as they whipped each other with less and less power. Their panting, laboured breaming was loud through the hall, the whistle and snap of the whip no longer crisp and vicious. Their mouth hung open as they faced each other, hardly able to lift the whip, their arms were so weary.
"All right-that's enough, girls." Hakim's clapping started off the roars and stamps of appreciation of the performance.
The two nude women, bodies sweat-soaked and wealed, stumbled from the stage, their arms about each other's waist for support.
"Savage!" shuddered Margaret.
"Burtal!" exclaimed Julia.
"Why couldn't they have gotten a couple of the guards at it?" complained Sylvia. "Imagine our two in the nude, those bloody great tits of theirs bouncing all over the place like great black beach-balls! I might just get up there in the nude with one of them myself if I had the chance-provided she was naked as well."
"Sylvie!" Julia threw her a horrified look. "She'd half kill you!"
"I don't know. I'd be smaller, sure-but I'd be a lot quicker. I could jump about and get in half a dozen cuts to her one."
"Yes, but her one would level the score every time and she'd be so much stronger -she could last out longer than you could," said Margaret..
"I don't agree-I'm pretty fit. And it would be worth it to see her face every time I sunk one into her."
"Ooh, Sylvia -that excites you, doesn't it? Two women facing each other in the nude with whips?" Cynthia had gripped her arm, her eyes shining with excitement. "Lashing each other's body-oh, if only you'd mentioned it to me back on the Island, we could have..."
"Hey-back off!" Sylvia pulled her arm from the clutching fingers. "Don't get carried away! No, it doesn't excite me that way-I'd just like the chance to even things up a little, is all." Then she looked thoughtfully at Cynthia. "Yeah, of course-you're right. I wish I had thought about it now. I hated you back on the Island as much as I hate these guards. Still, you'll be getting it all back soon enough, I guess. Incidentally -who do you figure the performers are -I haven't seen them around?"
Cynthia realized she had made a mistake and let her own twisted emotions run away with her. She reddened and turned her head away.
"They'll be Hakim's own personal slaves," she said shortly, wrapped in her own thoughts. That last scene had stirred her emotions to the depths; two naked women whipping each other had been an erotic dream she had cherished for a long time. There were times when she had wanted to be whipped, wanted it so much that at intervals it bubbled up to the surface, not to be denied, as strong as the sex urge. On those occasions, she had given in to it back on the Island, and taken the short walk through the trees to where Moolah had her hut. She shivered as she recalled it; walking to receive the punishment she craved at the hands of the coloured girl, half shamed, yet wholly eager. She would present herself, seeing the knowing look and the half-smile on Moolah's lips. She would strip naked and wait for the girl to decide what instruments to punish her with.
She remembered the slim cane that had so often seared her buttocks, the long whip that had flogged her back as she stood bound to one of the roof supports. She shivered in remembered pain and ecstasy, the light leather strop Moolah had used to breast-whip her, searing her nipples with the hot, exciting pain.
The punishment sessions had generally lasted an hour, sometimes two, and always ended in orgasm. She did not know why she had these urges; whether it was a guilt complex she had about her way of life, or a perversion for extra sex kicks, she didn't attempt to analyse-when the urge built up to an irresistible force she gave in to it.
As she turned to look at the parting curtains on the stage, she realized she was almost looking forward to at least her first whipping from Carter.
"They don't have a big outlay on props in this outfit, and that's for sure," murmured Sylvia.
One law-backed bench, like a shortened version of a park bench, the seat half turned towards the stage, was the only item on view.
Then on walked the second of the two girls who had taken part in the first lesbian scene. She was dressed in the same silk dress and high-heeled shoes she had worn before the other girl had stripped her. In her right and, she held a long, slim cane. Her face was tense as she walked up and down in front of the bench and she kept glancing at an imaginary watch on her wrist.
She paused after a while and came near the footlights, facing the audience. She lifted the cane and flexed it almost double, letting it spring back, to show how willowy it was. She walked back to the bench and leaned her weight on the seat, shook the back-rest, testing the strength of it.
She turned, then and looked towards the wings, gasped softly, and took a step back as Hakim's whip man came on. He stopped in front of her and held out his hand. The girl was no actress and the tense, frightened look on her face, although obviously intentional for the scene, was quite genuine as she handed over the slim cane.
She half-turned from him, then, and began to undress, slowly and seductively. The dress came off and she stood for a moment in her filmy undies, then she bent and unclasped the suspenders, letting the stocking sag. The bra was removed, letting the cuddly-looking breasts hang bare. Without removing the panties, she slipped her hands niside the waist and undipped the suspender-belt, pulled it out and threw it on the bench with the bra and dress.
Now all she had on were the tight green nylon panties, the stockings hanging like concertinas about her calves and the high-heeled shoes.
With another frightened glance at the cane, she knelt up on the bench and slowly, with many undulations, she slipped the panties down from her hips to let them hang about her knees.
She gripped the back-rest of the bench and slowly bent forward, arching her back and thrusting out her plump bared buttocks, presenting them to the big Arab standing behind her.
He ran his hands over the rounded flesh, giving it a light tap and making it wobble. He stepped back a pace tapping the girl's bottom with the cane, measuring his distance. She looked round at him once, then bent her head and waited.
There was a tense silence as the wollowy cane was lifted high and the girl's bottom was the object of all eyes.
There came a thrumming as the cane flashed down and landed with a report like a pistol shot across the soft buttocks. The girl's head came up and her back straightened, as a hoarse cry rasped from her throat. The tinted cream of the full-fleshed bottom was cut across the centre with a dull red weal.
Her buttocks shook and wobbled as she jerked them about in an effort to ease the burning pain. But it was only for a moment; with a visible effort, she forced herself to be still as she bent over again and pushed her behind out to receive the net stroke.
It zipped into her flesh with the same force as the first and produced a similar result. The tortured girl cried out as she jerked hre hips from side to side, her bottom scored by another weal just below the first. But again, it was only moments before she bent obediently to allow her punishment to continue.
The cane thrashed the plump, shapely bare bottom with ferocity, its flexibility allowing it to literally wrap itself round the shaking globes, although it looked very thin and harmless in the meaty fist of the big Arab.
Each time she received a stroke, the girl always bent herself over again, holding her bottom out for the next, after a few moments of agonized contortions.
When it was over, she had received eight strokes. He took her arm, then, making her get off the bench and walk stiffly backwards towards the front of the stage, to give the audience a full wiew of her wealed bottom. She stood like that for a while, her body shaking with sobs, then she turned to the man who had caned her and sank to her knees before him, kissing his hand and the cane he had thrashed her with.
She stood up, then, and limped back to the bench. Her panties had slipped down to her ankles and she bent painfully to fumble with them. Everyone thought she was about to pull them up and that that was the end of the act. But no-she stepped out of them and put them with the rest of her clothes.
Kneeling up on the bench again, she gripped the back-rest as before, arching her back and making her striped bottom jut out, but this time, she opened her legs wide, showing the open, glistening lips of her sex.
Standing behind her, the Arab unbuckled his broad leather belt and dropped his trousers. Any impression he may have given by his appearance that he was a typical harem eunuch were quickly dispelled by the massive black prick that thrust outwards and upwards. It throbbed with power, as though straining to get into the naked girl kneeling so submissively on the bench.
At the gasp from the audience, she turned and gasped herself at sight of the huge penis. He moved up close to her jutting backside, but made no attempt to touch her.
Then on came two of the big negress guards, to stand one on either side of the kneeling girl. She looked quickly round at them and everyone saw her body tense as they reached for her.
Taking hold of one sofely-wealed buttock each, they dragged them roughly apart, making the woman gasp with pain. There for all to see, was the tiny, crinkled orifice of her anus. This was brought into sharper focus by a spotlight being played directly on it.
The Arab's mighty prick was in full erection as he moved froward and planted the big, bared glans between the girl's wide-spread buttocks. She had the cheeks pulled back harder and one of the guards took hold of the Arab's prick and centred it on the anus.
He grasped her wide hips and lunged, brutally. There was a sharp, agonized scream and the woman jerked madly, as the great prick tore up into her rectum. The guards held her steady as, with another hard push, he sank the rest of his huge fleshy shaft into her bottom.
All four were still for a moment, the girl sobbing quietly as she was fully impaled. Then began the brutal bottom-fuck. The bench shook with the mighty thrusts he gave her, each one burying his prick to the hilt in her rectum. He slowed once or twice, evidently remembering instructions, to let the audience see the withdrawal of his penis, with the tender muscles of the girl's anus clinging to it. But he was raging with lust by then and too anxious to get on with fucking the lovely bottom to bother about who was watching.
His hands shifted up to grasp the woman's shaking breasts as he leaned right over her back. One of the guards bent and whispered something to her and she began to move her body, pushing her bottom back as he went into her.
His thrusts became faster, moving more smoothly, as the woman's body released some sort of lubrication to ease the passage. He was grunting and muttering in Arabic as he bottom-fucked her with increasing energy.
He suddenly shouted something and gave a maddened jerk of his loins, making the woman cry out as he hugged her to him in a crushing embrace.
The jerking of his loins at her bottom were only spasmodic, now, as he squirted his semen deep into her bowels. The guards held her buttocks open until he had finished spending.
He withdrew from her and stepped back a little shakily, pulling his trousers up to cover his softening penis. The two guards held the woman's buttocks well apart long enough for all to see the spunk come slowly dribbling out of her anus to run thickly down her thighs.
Applause started as the Arab walked off, growing as the two guards released the woman and followed him, leaving her still kneeling on the bench, her head drooping with weariness, near-white bottom showing up the stripes of her punishment, spunk glistening on the insides of her splayed thighs.
The floodlights went out and the curtain whispered across as the footlight dimmed, covering the darkened stage.
CHAPTER NINE
The clients were accommodated in quarters on the outside of the compound, and as they started to move from the hall, the four white women were taken back to the dressing room.
There, they found Lala and the few other girls who had not been sold waiting with two more guards. They were given a cloth dampened with something to remove the red lacquer from their nipples, then their shackles were unlocked.
As they took deep, relieved breaths after the removal of the tight steel belts, one of the guards spotted the large tear in the seat of Margaret's pantaloons.
"How did that happen?"
Margaret explained, though she knew the guards had been watching what was going on the whole time.
"You know you could be punished for that, don't you, white woman?" The negress loved using the expression "white woman" as though it were a swear word.
For an unfortunate moment, Margaret forgot herself. "Heck! Don't tell me you're going to use that as an excuse-you saw the whole darn thing!"
The guard's eyes gleamed. "But I am! In any caseI don't need an excuse to punish you." She grabbed Margaret and bent her over across the trestle table. Maggie tried to struggle away, but the other guard pressed down on her shoulders.
Then the cane came into play. Margaret was given four sharp, rapid strokes across her round white bottom. She jerked as each one hit her, but took them in complete silence.
They released her and she straightened, four pink lines spanning the white e;ip.uise of soft flesh. They had not been as severe as the ones given to Cynthia and Moolah that morning, but as she turned towards Sylvia and Julia her face was red and her lips trembled.
She suddenly gave a little sob and pressed herself tightly against the naked red-head, burying her face in the hollow of her shoulder.
"Ssssh, sweetie-it's all right, now. Don't cry." Sylvia hugged her close, suddenly realizing that Margaret had never been caned or thrashed before in her whole life.
Julia stroked the quivering back. "It's over, dear," she whispered. "And Julia will give you a good swig of that gin of hers-won't you, Sylvie?"
"You bet I will!"
"Sorry-I-I've never had it done to me before." She gave them a tremulous smile. "I'm not a baby, reallyit was the embarrassmnet with all those others looking on more that the hurt." She stepped out of the filmy pants, folded them as Sylvia and Julia did, and put them back in the cardboard box.
The guards were just lining them up to take them back to the huts when Hakim came in with Carter. They went straight over to Cynthia, both of them smiling.
"Ah, Mrs. Briggs." He gave her a long, appraising look. "Good-quite naked, I see."
"Mr. Carter and I have come to an amicable arrangement about you. He was so eager to examine what he has bought, he couldn't wait until morning. Carry on, Mr. Carter-she's all yours, heh-heh!"
Cynthia's mouth tightened, but she stood quietly, knowing the consequences if she didn't, while she was subjected to a thorough inspection. The man felt at her all over, her breasts, her thighs, between them-even making her sit on the table with her legs open while he felt and peered at her sex. He made her lie back while he called a guard over, wanting to humiliate Cynthia as much as possible.
"I want you to open the lips of her sex..."
"Don't mind the guard, my friend," grinned Hakim. "She knows what it's all about-you mean Mrs. Briggs' cunt, don't you?"
The man smiled as he watched the guard pull Cynthia's legs open and draw the delicate pink lips of the woman's vulva apart, making her squirm with pain and embarrassment as her fingers tightened, pinching the tender flesh.
"Well, a cunt by any other name would still smell as sexy!" he murmured, smffing. "Turn her over."
Cynhtia allowed the guard to turn her over without protest, though she squirmed inwardly.
"Ah-I see she has been caned recently. Not very severely, though, eh? We'll alter that-when I cane a woman it is always severe, otherwise -what's the point in caning her?"
Cynthia's buttocks were hauled apart and a finger urgently into her anus. It hurt her, but she stifled her groan and lay still until the inspection was over.
"Fine, Hakim-it's a deal. Perhaps you'll have her brought to my quarters tonight?" He looked at Cynthia as she stood docilely in front of him. "Perhaps you could have a cane sent over as well, eh?"
"Anything you like-a whip, if you prefer."
"A cane will do admirably-the whip will come later. I want her warmed but travel-worthy tomorrow!"
Then he noticed one of the guard's malacca canes, and borrowed it to examine, nodding approvingly.
"Effective. Let me try it out. Turn round, Cynthia."
Fear, shame and excitement chased each other in her mind as she turned and bent forward a little, resting her hands on her knees.
"No, not that way. I want your buttocks relaxed for this. Stand up straight .that's right. Now raise your arms above your head. Hold it there."
Cynthia Briggs stood with raised arms and closed her eyes, large breasts taut. The malacca tore into the soft, relaxed flesh, leaving a blood-speckled weal across the snow white skin. She staggered but kept herself erect.
Margaret bit her lips and turned her head away as a second stroke cut into Cynthia's bottom, this one forcing a cry of pain.
A third stroke belted into the trembling buttocks and brought a full-blooded yelp. Her arms dropped, her hands going round to try to ease the scalding weals.
Carter, a slim, bronzed man in his mid-forties, grinned humourless as he tossed the cane back to the guard.
"Yes-a most effective instrument. I should like to borrow one tonight." "You shall have it," promised Hakim. "I shall give you a couple to take back with you."
The two men went out, leaving Cynthia standing with bent head, her hands gingerly touching her aching bottom, amongst the other silent women, most of whom had been her prisoners back on the Island.
Presently, an Arab in the green batle dress worn by all Hakim's gang, came in and took her away. Once again, the rest of the women were lined up and taken back to their huts.
CHAPTER TEN
"And then there were four!" Sylvia looked at th two empty beds. "Wonder how long it'll be before there are six empty beds again?" Then she turned to Margaret and put her hands on her bare shoulders, looking into her eyes. "All right now, honey?"
Margaret's hands went to her bottom and she grimaced.
"Oh, I'm all right, now. It wasn't that she hurt me so much-although it stung enough! I just haven't ever been caned before-and having it done to me in front of all the others and by that great hulking negress who calls herself a woman."
"I know, sweetie-I know. I've been through it all myself."
"Poor Cynthia, though-I felt terribly sorry for her. And fancy being bought by a beast like that Carter!"
"It's tough on her, I know. But let's not lose sight of the fact that if it hadn't been for Cynthia Briggs, we wouldn't be in the mess we are. It's all her fault that we are here at all. She was a slave trader, too, don't forget."
Julia suddenly shivered. "I'm feeling chilly."
"That's not surprising-so am I." Sylvia grinned, "We're standing here in our nothings nattering. Nights get chilly in these parts sometimes-especially when one goes about naked. Come on-how about that little party?"
Sylvia opened her case, tossed a pack of cigarettes on to the bed and took out the half-empty gin bottle. She held up the full one, then put it back.
"We've got enough here to get real high on-maybe it wouldn't be a good idea, though. I'd hate to bring the guards in to see what the row was about." She took the stopper out and handed the bottle to Margaret. "Here you are, Maggie-first swig to you."
Julia went to her clothes. "I'm going to slip a dress on."
"Why bother? The light will be going out any minute -let's get cosy in bed and pass the bottle."
"What about Lala on the other side of the room?"
Sylvia climbed into bed and settled herself, took the bottle from Margaret and tilted it against her lips.
"Lala doesn't have to stay over there-she can get in with one of us, can't she?" She looked round at Margaret, climbing into her own bed. "Maggie-you're just a leetle bit slimmer than Julia and I. You wouldn't mind taking Lala in with you, would you?"
"No, of course not." Margaret smiled over at the pretty Island girl. "Come on over, Lala."
Lala came across and got into bed beside Margaret. Syvia, in the middle bed, looked at her companions on either side of her.
"That's much more cosy." She handed the bottle to Julia. "Your turn."
"Thanks." Julia took a swallow and handed it back.
"So long as the guards don't walk in on us."
"Not at this time-they let all their armed green-1 jackets loose at night."
The four friends lit cigarettes and talked, mainly I about their present situation, as they passed the bottle round.
"Wonder how long those poor girls he had performing tonight have been in captivity?" Julia asked.
"Must be quite some time to do what they did without putting up a mighty struggle."
"It was revolting! They-they just took it," said Margaret with a shudder. "I'll have nightmares over what that Arab did to the last one."
"What went with you while we were out front, Lala?"
"We were separated after the auction; those who had been sold were taken away-I think they keep them somewhere in Hakim's house overnight."
"You missed what he called entertainment, then?"
"I saw the state the girls who took part in it were in afterwards. We were kept in the dressing room and those girls came there when they left the stage. I saw the two girls who had had to whip each other-they bot needed treatment. That doctor was there with one of the nurses. Then the last one came in-I think she was in an even worse state-one of the guards was half carrying her. You say an Arab did all that to her?"
"Hakim's whip man-the one who flogged Cynthia on the Island."
"That beast! He cut that poor girl's bottom in several places. She could hardly stand up-they had to lift her on to the table for the doctor to see her. Then-then I saw the other thing. The nurse pulled her buttocks open for the doctor to give her a douche there -I thought they were giving her an enema, saw all the semen oozing out. Ugh! Then she had to stand over a bowl while she was given a douche in the other place. I heard that they were Hakim's own slaves."
"Yes-Cynthia told us," said Sylvia. "And is that the way all these people treat their slaves?"
"I don't want to worry you, but you saw the 'clients' back there. When the whips came out they went crazy. Look, kids-let's no talk about it now, huh? Drink up-I'll get the other bottle out when this is gone. Here, Julie-your turn." She held the bottle out.
"Thanks, Syl..."
The lights went out as Julia reached for the bottle. "Well, that's out," sighed Julia. "I can't even see the bottle."
"That's all right-you don't have to see to talk, drink or smoke. Come on, Julie-hop into my bed."
Julia came over and got in beside Sylvia as she moved over, the soft warmth of their bodies touching, one smooth thigh sliding against another. Sylvia slipped an arm about her waist and pulled her closer.
"Great! Now, where was I?"
"Passing me a drink!" Julia smiled in the darkness as the bottle was pushed into her hand. She tilted it, once again being strangely thrilled as her arm brushed against Sylvia's ripe warm breast. She took a pull at the bottle and handed it back, trying to keep her arm from the upward-curving globe, a little worried by her own emotions. She had always led a normal sexual life, with never even a fleeting erotic thought about her own sex. Except for that one time with Sylvia back on the
Island, and then they had gone the whole way with each other, reaching the dizzying heights of orgasm. But they had been very special circumstances, when she had started off by grasping at anything that would take her mind off the intolerable humiliation and scalding pain after having her bottom thrashed with a cane for the first time.
So what was wrong with her? She remembered her nipples becoming so erect and hot at the contact of Cynthia's body when they had shared the couch on the yacht as to excite comment from the unwitting cause. Now she was getting the same feelings again. She wondered what sort of feeling, if any, Sylvia might have at the contact of her body, blushing at the thought of Sylvia getting to know what she was thinking. It was unlikely she was getting the same sensationsshe had sounded surprised and slightly amused at the state of Julia's nipples when they touched her breasts. She wondered what the reaction would have been if she had known that she was the cause.
"Why so silent, honey? You haven't said a word for the last ten minutes."
"Oh, just thinking."
"Brooding, you mean! Snap out of it-have another drink. We've killed this bottle-I'll break out the other."
"Not for me, Sylvie. I've had quite a lot-and we've been drinking it neat."
"Anyone else? No? Oh, well, there's always another day. We may need it soon, anyway-I don't suppose it'll be very long before one or more of us will find ourselves with our bodies all cut up with a whip...oh, what the heck am I saying? And after changing the conversation, too."
"Whipping is something one just can't get out of one's mind in a place like this," muttered Margaret from the other bed. "I have nightmares about it."
"Well, as we are on the subject-how's your bottom, Maggie?"
"Tingles a bit. that's all."
"Wonder how poor old Cynthia's geting on? That Carter guy looked real mean. I suppose she's getting her fanny striped right now."
"She has one thing in her favour, though," Julia reminded them. "We'd hate every minute of it, but whipping fascinates her."
"Yeah -she'll get a few kicks out of it." Sylvia laughed suddenly. "How about the way she sounded after the whipping duel! Thought I'd lapped it all up! Personally, I wish I had had the chance back on the Island-it's for sure I'd have done by darnest to take the hide off her if she'd challenged me to a whipping contest! I'd like to have been around when she used to get it from Moolah!"
"Is that what they did, do you think?'" asked Julia. "Whipped each other?"
"I guess there used to be some skin taken off someone. I should think it was mostly Cynthia's -that would explain the times she used to keep to her bedroom for two or three days at a stretch. Well-how about us getting some shut-eye?"
"Yes-must be getting late." Julia started to slip out of Sylvia's bed.
"Naw-let's keep it all nice and cosy-just for tonight, huh? You stay with me and Lala can keep Maggie company." Sylvia snuggled down under the blankets. She took Julia's arm and tugged gently.
"Come on, honey-let's forget about those rats out there for a few hours. No objections, you two?" she called over to the other bed.
There were two murmured "none's" and a rustle as Margaret and Lala lay down.
Julia lay on her back, not trusting herself. to turn towards Sylvia with her mind in its present state-the state of her nipples had given her away the last time. The gentle brushing of the soft, warm breasts against her arm didn't help, either; and things got worse.
An arm slipped across her stomach and another under her back, cuddling her closer. Now an arm was pressing along the front of Sylvia's body, the upper arm sweetly trapped in the valley of the breasts and the rest against the soft tummy, with the wrist against the crisp pubic hair and the back of her hand pressed to the plump tops of the American girl's thighs.
Her heart thumped as she lay perfectly still, hardly breathing, in case the movement increased the unwanted excitement. Sylvia's chin rested on her shoulder and she felt her warm breath on her ear and the side of her neck.
"What's the matter, Julie?" Sylvia breathed into her ear. "Why so stiff and unfriendly?"
"I didn't mean to be, Sylvie," Julia whispered back, trying to shift her hand away from the danger zone.
Sylvia wriggled closer again and nullified the effort.
"Well turn this way and snuggle up, like we did that night on the yacht."
Reluctantly, Julia turned towards her, to be immediately pulled in close. She manager to get her arms up, with her hands on Sylvia's chest to prevent their breasts from touching, knowing the condition her nipples were in. "Honey-what's wrong?" "Nothing"
"Then why...?" Sylvia suddenly unclasped her arms from about Julia's waist and before the English girl could do anything about it, two warm palms were pressed against her breasts.
"So that's it!" Sylvia chuckled softly! "Wow! Like two hot litde coals-they're almost talking!"
She kept her hands pressed to them and Julia tried to pull away, annoyed and embarrassed.
"All right!" she forced her voice down to a heated whisper. "So now you know why I didn't want to snuggle up. Let me get back to my own bed."
"Hold on, sweetie." Sylvia still cupped the rounded breasts in her hands. "I'm not poking fun-they're nice. Mmm-do they throb! Just like they did back on the yacht-and-and that other time." She squeezed the smooth globes gently. "Sexy!"
She let go of them and Julia moved back to get out of the bed.
"I wish you hadn't done that, Sylvia-from now on you'll be thinking of me as a lesbian, and-and I don't think I am. Good-night."
"Julie." Sylvia grabbed her arm. "I won't be thinking of you as a lesbian-any more than I'd think of myself as one." Sylvia moved closer to whisper in her ear. "Look, honey-you and I have been together and helped each other for some time, now. We've seen one another's naked bodies more than somewhat-we've been very close, you and I. I understand how you feel. You haven't had a man between your legs for goodness knows how long and with the mess we're all in, you have to try and think about something else or you'll go off your rocker-and what more natural thing than sex?"
"You missed your vocation, Sylvia-you should have ben a psychiatrist!"
"I don't have to be a psychiatrist to know those sort of feelings, sweetie. I wasn't really telling you about you-I was telling you about me! Here-feel mine!"
Sylvia clasped her hands and drew them up to press them against her breasts. Julia gasped as she felt the nipples throbbing hotly under her palms.
"Oh, Sylvie," was all she could find to murmur.
"Come close, honey." Sylvia drew her against her warm body. "Mmmm...lovely titties. Feel the little buttons throb against each other." Sylvia brushed her lips lightly across Julia's. "Want to make love, Julie?"
"Maggie and Lala are only a few feet away-they'd be bound to hear us when we started to get-get really excited.'
"They probably would -seeing that we can hear them at it." "What?"
"I've been keeping half an ear cocked. Listen."
Julia raised her head and listened. There was stealthy movement in the next bed, several soft sighs and cautious whispering. Then a gasp floated across, followed by a loud creaking of the wooden bed.
"Ooooohh...Lala!" came Margaret's breathy whisper. "Oooohh-that-that's lovely!"
"Ssshh!"
"There-you see?" whispered Sylvia. "We aren't the only ones. Come, sweetie-let's love each other."
No longer ashamed of her feelings, Julia's arms went about Sylvia as she was cuddled close, their breasts pulsing together. Sylvia raised her head once.
"Hey, you two-no love bites, eh? At least not where they'll show!"
Ignoring the surprised exclamation from Margaret, she turned back to Julia and pressed close again; two open, passionate mouths met and clung, tongues engaging in erotic battle. Sylvia's thighs parted and Julia slid one of hers between them.
"Sylvie," she whispered with a breathless little chuckle. "You talk about my nipples being sexy-you should feel what my thigh can just now!"
"Hot and wet, eh?" Sylvia wriggled further down the bed, rubbing her vulva against the thigh between her legs. "I do have a sexy little cunt!"
"Naughty word!"
"Huh-huh-I'm a naughty girl! What's your's like, darling?"
"Naughty-same as yours!" Julia drew her leg from between Sylvia's and lifted it. A hand stole softly between her legs and gently caressed the moist velvet loveliness it found there. "Oooh, Sylvie-darling," she breathed.
The two women clung to each other in complete abandonment, Julia squirming against Sylvia's warm body as the lovely red-head fondled her sex.
"Say-that perfume they sprayed on us is really hot stuff, isn't it?"
"That's the way we're feeling now, dear-we hated it to begin with."
"Sure is something now, though. Mmmm...you're just right for eating!"
"With some of those chilis they dish up?" Julia fondled one of the hot-crested breasts.
"Uh-uh-you're hot enough as it is!"
Sylvia's fingers slipped in the warm, abundant secretions being released bewteen Julia's soft thighs. Julia pressed her mouth avidly to Sylvia's, her upper leg lifting to rest on her hip, opening herself more to the loving fingers.
"Nice, sweetie?"
"Mm-gorgeous." Julia bent her head impulsively and pressed a burning kiss to the scented valley between Sylvia's breasts.
"Do it to me, darling," murmured Sylvia. "Frig me."
She gasped softly as Julia's hand stole between her thighs, long, slim fingers feeling delicately at the plump lips, middle finger sliding along the wet groove to find the pulsing clitoris.
The wo women frigged one another for a while, their mouths kissing wetly. Then Sylvia suddenly jerked and stiffened, stifling a little cry as she sagged against Julia.
"Darling-I-I.. .ooohh..."
Her hips jiggled wildly for a moment, then she went limp and Julia held her very close as she felt the increased moisture of her orgasm on her fingers. She pillowed the red-head on her breasts until the spasms had passed.
Then she felt the wet kisses covering her breasts and knew that Sylvia had by no means lost interest. She moaned her pleasure as Sylvia's mouth closed over each stiff, elongated nipple in turn, sucking, flicking her tongue tantalizingly at the sensitized peak until her breasts were two hungering mounds of passionate desire.
The head moved lower, kissing and nuzzling; a warm tongue-tip delved into her navel, then trailed wetly down to comb through the upper reaches of her pubic hair. She trembled, her thighs parting of their own volition. She heard Sylvia's murmur from way down the bed.
"May I go lower, darling-Iwant to kiss all of you."
"Do what you want to, Sylvia," she breathed.
The mouth and tongue moved down through the hair to stop at the junction of her parted thighs, directly over the clitoris.
"Yes, darling, there-oh, please-there," Julia suddenly burst out, her pelvis lifting.
Mouth and tongue foraged at her, penetrating the moist forest of Venus to get at her clitoris. It was licked to a throbbing, frantic erection and little stars spun and cascaded as her senses reeled, her heart hammering. Electric shocks pulsed up from her loins through her quaking belly, tingling through her breasts.
Sylvia's lips closed round the slippery clitoris and sucked it in, her tongue goading it. Julia sobbed her passion and clasped the head at her thighs as the pentup bubble of desire between her hips burst in a wrenching release, sending needle of ecstasy shooting through her body. Sylvia kept her mouth glued to her until she felt her relaxing, the clitoris going soft between her lips, before she let go and wriggled back to lie beside the panting Julia.
"Make you feel good, Julie?"
"Oh, Sylvie-it was heavenly."
"Still want to play? 'Cos I'm game!" Slyvia's hand wandered down Julia's back to stroke her bottom.
"So am I!" She wriggled as a finger traced with a feathery touch down the crease of her buttocks.
"Mmmm-that's nice." The finger went lower, the tip pressing gently at the entrance to her vagina. "Even nicer!"
Sylvia smiled in the darkness and patted the plump cheeks.
"You have a lovely bottom, sweetie."
"I rather like yours, too." Julia stroked the curve of one full, soft cheek.
"So long as you're not visualising it with red stripes across it!"
"Sylvia! Do I look like another Cynthia Briggs? I should hate to see any marks on you at all-punishment marks, that is."
"Moles and love-bites excepted, eh?" Sylvia chuckled. "Seriously, though-I know Cynthia would have gotten round to making us cane each other before long, the same as she made Lala and I cane each other."
"You don't think they'll do that here, do you?"
"Well -they had those two girls whipping each other tonight."
"I think that was something that got out of handthey would have stopped really using those whips if Hakim hadn't threatened them with a flogging."
"Yeah-they put the idea into his head, I guess. I hope it doesn't stay there! Supposing it did-would you whip me, honey?" Sylvia asked softly.
"No! Oh, Sylvie-I couldn't!"
"Suppose he threatened to flog you if you didn't?"
"Then he'd just have to flog me-I wouldn't whip you."
"And-and if he said he'd give us both a floggingwould 'you then?"
"No-I-oh, Syvia-twice you're brought the subject up again after you'd suggested we drop it. Don't tell me you want to be whipped!"
"No, honey-just loved. Morbid curiosity got me, that's all. C'mon, lovely-I'm feeling all sexy again."
She pushed the eager Julia on to her back and climbed on top of her, hugging her tightly as she kissed her lips.
"Ooooh-those lovely titties," she breathed as she pressed her own breasts down on Julia's. "Open your legs, honey-I'll make like a man."
Julia giggled and opened her legs to let Sylvia's hips sink between her thighs. Their pubic hair mingled crisply as mount was pressed on mount. Their hips pounded together as Sylvia moved energetically up and down and Julia lifted her loins to meet her. Their open mouths clung wetly, breasts rolling resiliently against breasts. Julia slid her hands down to the lushly curving bottom moving up and down on her, clasping the soft cheeks to pull her in.
They both gasped suddenly with the unexpected sensation as their mashing sexes jammed together and somehow the lips parted widely, allowing clitoris to slip against clitoris. Sylvia stopped moving so that they didn't lose contact, letting the two warm, slippery hubs pulse agains each other.
"Oh, Syvie," moaned Julia. "What -what a sensation!"
"Baby," whispered Sylvia, cautionsly moving her hips, both of them gasping again with the thrills that coursed outwards from the two stiff wet slivers of flesh.
Julia jerked her pelvis up eagerly, her fingers digging into Sylvia's buttocks to get her in closer.
"Steady, honey, or we'll lose contact. Just make it nice and slow-real slow."
They started to move again, their breaths catching as each bared clitoris slipped and slid against the other. Their lips met and clung softly, wetly, tongue resting against tongue as they moved their excited bodies, having to force themselves to move slowly.
"Oh, honey -I -can't hold out," moaned Sylvia against Julia's mouth. "I-I'm going to come, sweetie." The whisper was urgent and breathless. "Hold me now.. .now.. .ooohhh.. .naahhooww..."
Julia held the quivering, spending woman in her arms for only a moment, then the throbbing of the clitoris against her own pushed her over the edge into the seething maelstrom of orgasm and she clutched her tightly, locking her shaking legs over the backs of Sylvia's thighs.
"Jeepers! Was that something!" Sylvia rolled panting, from Julia's spent body.
"Marvellous-I've never felt anything like that before. It was so gorgeous I almost couldn't stand it. And we found it by sheer accident."
"Clitty to clitty-we must remember that."
"For as long as we're together, darling," Julia whispered sadly, wanting to bite her tongue off even as she said it.
"Aw, honey-did you have to bring that up?" "Sorry-it slipped out."
"Sylvia," came Margaret's voice from the next bed. "When we've-er-finished-hadn't we better get back to one per bed?"
"To hell with it-unless you want to get rid of Lala!"
"Oh, no," said Margaret quickly. "I was thinking about the guards in the morning."
"Afraid they'll get jealous? Julia's staying with me, aren't you, Julie?"
"Hm-hm."
"They can light out for their own beds early in the morning before the guards come in, anyway -I'm always awake."
"Well, so long as we don't get what Cynthia and Moolah got."
"I told you, honey-no love-bites or nail-marks and what have they got to kick about?"
"Sylvie," Julia whispered later. "Was it Lala who -who made love to you after your first caning?"
"That's a leading question, sweetie. Not jealous, are you?"
"No-I just thought it might be, that's all."
"It was Lala. That was one reason why I suggested she bed with Maggie-I figured she might start brooding over her first stripes, even though they weren't all that vicious, and Lala would know just what to do to make her forget them."
"Sylvie."
"Hm?"
"You're nice."
"I love you, too, sugar! G'night."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Hey! Julie-Lala-wake up!"
Julia stirred lazily, her head pillowed on the soft cushions of Sylvia's breasts. She kissed one of them and looked up.
"What? Oh, Lord-daylight already?"
"Better get back to your own bed, now honey-they'll be belting the table with their darn canes any minute."
Sylvia reached across to the other bed and poked at the huddled forms under the blankets.
"Lala-wakey-wakey!"
Two heads appeared above the blankets and blinked at her sleepily. Lala's lovely dusky body came into view as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Reluctantly, she climbed from the bed, still half asleep. Sylvia watched the girl's golden jiggling buttocks as she started to walk across to her own bed. She grinned.
"Lala-come back here."
Lala turned and looked at her somnolently, then started back again. She stopped by the bed and Sylvia peered at her body closely. She examined her breasts made her open her legs, then put a hand to her shoulder and turned her round to examine her back and bottom. She slapped the light brown cheeks playfully.
"Okay-you'll do. No bites, no scratches." Still not quite awake, Lala went back to her own bed, climbed in and pulled the blankets up. "How about you, Maggie?"
Margaret had been sitting up watching the inspection of her recent bed-mate. She grinned and turned over, getting her head down again.
"Clean-no scratches and she didn't bite me."
"I wasn't hungry!" came Lala's muffled voice, showing she hadn't missed anything.
"Well, I know you're all right, Julie-I wasn't hungry either! G'wan-scat!"
There was a long enough interval for them to doze off again, to be wakened by the usual banging of the cane on the table. Then came the hosing and the trot round the compound.
Instead of going back to the hut for breakfast that morning, they were taken straight past it towards the kitchens.
"Of course-there are so few of us left, now," said Julia. "We fend for ourselves."
"Only us and four in the next hut-well be getting our own food from now on." Lala told them. "I heard the guard telling them last night that they'd be helping in the kitchens."
"Oh, well, at least it breaks the monot... Oh, no! Not in the kitchen as well?"
Even as they entered the kitchen, they were greeted by the vicious thump of a cane on bare flesh and the cry of pain from the recipient.
The kitchen was a long, low building of wood, the roof supported by roughly-planed beams. Pressed against one of them, her arms wrapped tightly about it, was a girl from the Island, her panties down around her knees. Her bared bottom, already bearing several dark weals, was still wriggling and clenching from the previous blow, as the cane belted into her again. She gave a shout of pain and one shapely leg kicked back as another welt was raised low down on the fleshiest part of her bottom.
"And just look at the doll who's caning her!" whispered Sylvia. "No wonder the grub's so hot!"
A massive negress, dwarfing their own guards, who stood grinning as they watched the punishment being inflicted, was wielding the can. She wore a khaki skirt similar to the guards, but there the similarity ended, except for the colour of her skin. She was naked to the waist, her huge breasts shaking and juddering like two black jellies as she flogged the unfortunate girl at the post. To complete her "ensemble," she had a snow white chef's hat perched precariously on top of her head.
The slim malacca thrummed viciously again and splatted against the soft, golden buttocks. The girl couldn't stand it any longer. Her arms left the pillar and she hopped up and down, her hands at her scalding bottom, face twisted with pain.
"Get back to that pillar or I'll get you a flogging that'll make the blood run down your legs!"
The girl turned and almost fell against the post, her arms going round it. She didn't even have time ot steel herself for the next cut; it smacked into her agonized bottom, sinking into the soft flesh with a dull thump. She somehow clung to the post while she received another two strokes, then she sank to her knees, sobbing brokenly, the livid weals on her buttocks mute evidence of the brutal savagery of their captors.
"Get to your feet and pull your drawers up-you have work to do." The "cook" looked down with something like pride at the state of the woman's bottom.
There was silence as the girl slimbed slowly to her feet, hands trembling as she pulled her panties up. She gasped with pain as the stretch nylon snapped against her soft buttocks, holding in the intense heat of the weals. Then, on shaky legs, she went back to washing dishes, her breasts shaking with her sobs.
Their "entertainment" over, the guards ushered the four girls over to a trestle table, where they were obliged to stand while they ate the usual fruit and drank the black coffee.
All four girls from the other huts were working in the kitchen, the looks of hatred they cast at the cook almost a tangible substance.
Back in the hut, the four friends dressed in silence, Lala in panties and high-heeled shoes and the other three in full underwear. The guards watched them avidly until they started to pull on their dresses.
"That's enough-no dresses, you whites. You're going to work for your keep now."
They were taken across the compound to the hospital, where they were handed over to the nurses.
"Don't be afraid to lash the cane into their backsides if they get lazy."
When the guards went out, the three white girls had to suffer the two negress nurses' excited inspection of their bodies. Standing in their panties and bras, suspendered stockings and high heels, htey were pawed and felt at, Sylvia having to lower her panties while they bent and squinted at her red-haired mount, felt between her legs and pinched her thrusting white bottom.
Lust flared in the eyes of one of them as she roughly fingered the delicate tissue between the hps of Sylvia's vulva. She kept stroking it and she put an arm about her waist, holding her close. Sylvia balled her fists and clenched her teeth in revulsion, knowing she dared not protest.
Julia bit her lip and turned her head away, not wanting to look at her friend's humiliation. She turned back quickly, though, as she heard Sylvia's snorting breath and saw the thick lips of the negress clamp on Sylvia's delicately curved mouth. And all the time, the blunt fingers kept probing between Sylvia's parted thighs.
"I think I'll take this one into the ward and have her in one of the empty beds. I've never had any white cunt before-and I like her red hair."
Sylvia looked at her in horror and shuddered and Julia seriously contemplated making a fight of it, hopeless though it might be.
"Let her go-we have work to do," said the other. "And if the doctor comes in and catches you, you'll be in trouble -you'll find yourself working out in the plantation again."
All four breathed freely again as Sylvia was released and allowed to pull her knickers up again. They were given brooms and dusters and taken into the ward to clean it up.
"We'll be looking in on you, so no tricks-there's no way out of here, anyway!"
On closer inspection, the two "nurses" looked about as much at home in the hospital as the "cook" had in the kitchen. One of them snapped her fingers to a mulatto girl sitting on the side of the bed. She got up and came towards them, completely naked.
"Yes, sister?" she asked docilely.
"There isn't much wrong with you, now-help them clean this place up. I want the beds tidied as well."
"Very well, sister."
"You call them sisters? They couldn't tell a scalpel from a toothpick!"
"They're experts with a cane, though! So-we have to call them sisters." She took a duster from Sylvia. I'll show you round the ward while we clean up if you like. You may find it interesting -you haven't been her long, have you?"
"Three or four days," said Sylvia. "Lose track of time. What were you in hospital for?"
Silently, the girl turned her back and all three gasped. The skin was practically healed, but it was evident that she had been brutally flogged on the buttocks, though with neither whip nor cane. The marks were more like dozens of thin scratches, with the flesh scored here and there. She turned to face them again.
"I was birched," she told them emotionlessly.
"Birched! They have that as well?"
"They have just about everything in that line. I had twenty strokes of it."
"You poor thing," murmured Julia. "Why birching, though-we're only seen the whip and the cane since we came here."
"He runs this place like a military camp and he's the commanding officer. When you go before him for punishment or sentencing, it's like a court martial."
"Has anyone ever got off?"
The girl smiled without any trace of humour.
"Not that I know of-that's why I said 'when you go before him for punishment,' because that's all it means. He gets his fancies-mostly it's the whip, but sometimes he orders a woman to be beaten with the birch. They bring out the 'flogging stool,' then, and bolt it to the platform the triangle is on. It's something like a seat without legs. The woman has to kneel on the seat part and lean over the back; they strap her wrists to the back and her legs to the seat, then she gets her birching. I wasn't able to stand up after my twenty strokes-they had to carry me over here."
"I suppose you're waiting to be sold like us?"
"No-I'm what you might call 'permanent staff"! Now I think we'd better look like we're working-if they look in and see us talking like this, those canes will be out quicker than they ever got bandages out." The girl started to dust the long table in the middle of the ward, on which were set out covered trays of bandage and antisceptics. Looking over her shoulder, she said softly, "By the way, my name is Ricky."
The newcomers looked round the ward as they swept and tidied. There were only four other occupants besides the pretty mulatto, but these were all in bed and appeared to take no interest in them.
"Are these four girls all recovering from some form of punishmen?" asked Margaret.
"They are. We can tidy the beds up now, and I'll show you."
They moved from bed to bed, making the empty ones up first, before attending to those occupied by the four unfortunate women.
The first, a mulatto like their guide, was lying on her stomach, the bedclothes down to her thighs. She had been flogged on back and buttocks, the skin half healed.
"Twenty-five lashes they gave her nearly a week ago. How are you feeling, Leela?" The young woman looked up at them and grimaced. "Very sore!"
They moved on to the next bed where a young negress also lay on her stomach, though with the covers up to her shoulders. There was a hump just about where her bottom would be.
She took no notice as the clothes were pulled right down, to show an iron frame which kept the bedclothes from touching her bottom, which was swathed in bandages.
"This one doesn't understand English. One of the guards caned her and broke the skin-it turned sceptic."
"What happened to the guard?"
"What should happen?" The girl looked surprised as she drew the clothes up again. Then she shook her head and smiled sadly. "No-I'm afraid they don't whip the guards-I think the worst thing they fear is being sent back to work in the plantation."
She drew the clothes down at the next occupied bed revealing another woman whose back was bandaged as far as her waist and who also had an iron frame over her striped buttocks, the wels still an angry red.
"She mus thave been whipped the day before you came," said Ricky. "It was what Hakim calls 'a public whipping' at the triangle in the compound. Maybe you saw it? She got twenty-five lashes, too."
"No-we only saw one whipping. The girl got ten strokes-she was sold at the auction last night."
"I wish I could be sold-it couldn't be any worse than this. As soon as I get out of here, I have six strokes of the cane coming."
"How did you manage that?"
"As they were carrying me away, I called the woman who flogged me a rude name. Hakim was all for having me strapped down again and given a few more strokes of the birch, but the doctor examnied my behind and sounded my heart and told him he might damage me too much. So he promised me six srtokes of the cane as soon as I came out of hospital-I should think that will be tomorrow."
They moved to the last patient. This was a young woman with very dark skin, but pretty, almost European features and a very beautiful, firm-breasted body. She was lying on her side with the bed covers down to her hips, one arm under her head. She was sleeping, though her face had none of the peaceful repose of sleep.
Sylvia leaned over her and looked at her back. It was smooth and innocent of any stripes or other signs of chastisement."
"What's the matter with her?" she whispered.
"They birched her, the same as me, though only ten strokes. In a way, you might say she is still under punishment. She's sleeping now, because the doctor gave her a sedative-come round the other side of the bed."
They followed Ricky round and she gently drew the clothes down from the woman's bottom. She showed the scratches and tiny score marks of the birch, but faintly. Then Ricky mutely pointed to the deep cleft dividing the dark, velvety skin. Then bent and Margaret put her hands to her face with a little sob.
"Oh, no-they couldn't!"
"They could, F afraid."
Low down the cleft, the flesh was forced outwards by a thick rubber plug jutting from the anus and strapped across her hips.
"That goes about four inches or so up into her rectum."
"And that's another form of punishment they dish out here?" Julia was aghast.
"No really. There's a friend of Hakim's who comes here quite often-he took a fancy to her, so Hakim made her sleep with him. Apparently, he prefers to have intercourse with women by way of their bottoms, which must be agony for the woman, because she tells me he has a monster for a penis. She couldn't take it and came running out screaming. She was caught and Hakim himself held her while his friend tried to get into her bottom. He wasn't able to, so Hakim had her birched and promised his friend he would be able to use her bottom the next time he came. After the birching, she was brought here and that awful plug thing inserted in her rectum by die doctor."
"I can't understand a doctor-especially a womandoing the things she does, even if she was struck off."
"Shes' a strange woman-I've never seen her show any emotion whatever. You just can't tell whether she approves or disapproves."
"She never says anything against the diabolical things they do to women here."
"True-but she's very thorough about testing a girl's heart and so forth and rubbing that stuff on her back before she's whipped. And she's just as thorough in treating their weals after the punishment has been carried out."
"She put a plug in that poor girl's backside, though, didn't she?"
"Yes-after stopping Hakim from shoving a rough piece of wood in. There's something else, too-she has a record of every whipping or birching that's been inflicted, dates and all-even the name of the girl who was punished. I had to clean up her surgery a couple of days ago and I found the book."
The girl on the bed stirred and groaned. Her eyes opened and she looked up at them.
"Is it hurting?" Ricky bent over her and dabbed her handkerchief across the sweat-beaded forehead.
The girl nodded. "Terribly,' she whispered.
"I'll ease it for you again." She looked up at Sylvia and co. "If you'll stand between me and the door, I'll give her a little relief. One of you keep an eye on the glass panel for me."
She swiftly undid the buckle of the strap at the girl's hip, then, as gently as she could, she eased the rubber plug out of her bottom. The sufferer gave a deep sigh of relief and Ricky went over to the table with the plug to smear it liberally with vaseline. She came back and sat on the side of the bed for a while, holding the plug, while the girl moved her bottom and hips in their temporary freedom.
"Thanks, Ricky. Oooh-it's such a relief. The doctor came in very late last night and took it out for mecame back early this morning to put it back, but I was able to get some sleep. Then she gave me that sedative."
"She took is out?" exclaimed Julia.
"I told you she was a strange woman," smiled Ricky. "I'm going to have to put it back again, now, dear."
"All right," sighed the girl. "Thanks-it was wonderful while it lasted." She turned on to her stomach and parted her legs a little, relaxing her bottom.
"I've greased it well." Ricky bent over her and Sylvia gently opened the girl's buttocks, exposing her anus.
Her breath hissed as the plug slid back into her rectum. Ricky buckled the strap round her hips and the girl turned on to her side again. She smiled wanly up at Sylvia.
"You've never seen a hospital like this before, have you?"
"No, honey, I haven't-I only wish I could do something for you. As it is, I guess it won't be long before I'm in here myself-if I'm not sold first." Sylvia turned to Ricky. "So the doctor helped her out last night. How long has she been here?"
"Not all that long-few months, perhaps. She started off by running a sort of first-aid centre out on the plantation. Apart from that, I don't know anything about her-except that she was struck off."
Shortly after that, one of the "nurses" came in with their negress guard.
"Come on-you have an appointment with the Sheik after lunch and you've got to make yourselves look respectable. You're up for sale!"
The nurse was still eyeing Sylvia hungrily as they went out in their flimsy undies.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Immediately after lunch, the four women were once again twisting and shivering under the cold blasts of water from the hose. Then they were taken to the dressing room next to the hall in Hakim's quarters.
This time they merely had to comb their hair, put on a light face make-up and be sprayed with the cloying musky perfume.
Then came the silver shackles on wrists and ankles, the chain allowing them to take only short, mincing steps. Naked, they were led to the office they remembered with dread and kept standing outside for almost half an hour before the buzzer sounded and they were taken inside. They were lined up before the desk and the man they feared and hated most in all the world.
Hakim was standing, towering above the desk, teeth gleaming through his black beard. He nodded towards the other side of the room and they looked round quickly to see another Arab, dressed in a light European suit, but with a turban and nearly trimmed beard. The eyes above the hawk nose glinted on their nakedness as he moved towards them.
"This gentleman is going to be your new masterproviding we can come to an agreement on the terms."
"I don't see why not, Hakim-you and I have never quarrelled over business arrangements yet." His English was as good Hakim's, but the voice much higher in pitch.
"Well, go ahead and examine them-take your time, old friend." Hakim came around the desk and took Sylvia by the arm, turning her to face her prospective buyer. "I've examined them all and each one is a prize to grace any man's household. But this red-haired one I especially liked-I have even toyed with the idea of keeping her for myself."
"Which means, of course, that you have already tried her out!" As he spoke, he reached out and lifted one of Sylvia's cringing breasts, weighing it in his hand.
"Of course-and I can recommend her. She makes a wonderful fuck, and what's more-she likes it!"
Sylvia stood, breathing heavily, her skin crawling as two pairs of hands wandered over her body, prodding her, pinching her. Hakim bent her back across his thigh and the two of them pulled open her legs; the lips of her vulva were prised apart, exposing the pink inner membrane.
"Nice little cunt-tight, too! She'll liven your bed for you."
"Hm-I shall probably take her. Now what about this one?"
Margaret gasped and took a quick step back as he reached for her, but Hakim was there to drag her back and hold her still while she went through the same humiliating inspection as Sylvia had. She started to cry as she was bent backwards across Hakim's knee and her legs pulled wide.
"Ah-so this is the cringing virgin type, eh?"
"Yes-I think she would put up a struggle to protect that little tight slit."
"Good-I shall definitely take her, then-it amuses me to tame them. How does she stand up under punishment-or haven't you had her thrashed yet?"
"Not yet." He swivelled Margaret round and looked at her bottom, snowy white once more, the four quick strokes of the previous night having disappeared. "No -I don't think she knows what it's like to be whipped."
"And what about the red-haired one?"
"I should think she has tasted a little. If you would like to give them both a trial beating, I have no objection."
"I should like that," the voice was sibilant, the eyes narrowed, as he looked keenly from Sylvia to Margaret. He took hold of Sylvia's arm and jerked her forward, sending her stumbling towards the desk. Hakim went round behind it and took a mean-looking cane from the drawer.
"Is she submissive under punishment?"
"I wouldn't know," said Hakim, handing him the cane. "See for yourself."
The man eyed the lovely naked Sylvia for a moment then rapped the top of the desk with the cane. "Bend over here."
Sylvia hesitated and her friends looked on in fearful anticipation of what would happen next. Then Sylvia shrugged and moved in front of him, bending her hips over the edge of the desk and presenting her softlyrounded buttocks to be caned.
"Stretch your arms out in front of you-your buttocks are too soft like that."
Obediently, Sylvia stretched forward and waited. Then the three watching girls stood with tears in their eyes wincing at each sharp, snapping thump, as the beautiful bottom was seared with the cane.
The cane came down on the stretched buttocks, denting the flesh as it struck. Sylvia fought down the cry of pain, taking the second, even harder stroke, with a hissing intake of breath. Each successive stroke seemed to become harder and Sylvia's breath became a moan of pain. By a tremendous effort of will, she kept herself bent over in the humiliating posture, praying for the caning to end as each stroke bit into her.
Her body trembled with pain and the effort not to try and escape from the blows. She gave a little yelp as he gave her the seventh stroke. Her whole bottom was on fire-even Cynthia had not got the power behind the strokes that this sadiistic man had.
She gave a gasping cry as she took the eighth stroke and then the cane was mercifully lowered.
"Get up," he snapped shortly, turning to the other girls.
As Sylvia slowly raised herself from the desk, bottom scalding with pain, he lifted the cane and pointed it at Margaret.
"Now you!"
Margaret looked at him with wet, horror-filled eyes, then shook her head wildly.
"No-no. You -you have no right," she panted. "You're not going to cane me." She turned and ran towards the door, stumbling in her shackles.
"No, honey," Sylvia called after her, despite her pain. "It-it's no use. Take it and get it over-they'll only make it worse."
For all his bulk, Hakim moved with agility. He caught her as she fumbled frantically with the handle of the door and carried her, kicking and squirming, back to the desk. He set her on her feet facing the desk, but she turned as soon as she was freed, beating her clenched fists against the other man's chest, in an effort to get past him and to the door. He pushed her back to Hakim, who held her struggling body easily.
"What do you think of that?" he grinned.
"Excellent. Two marvellous foils for me to play with; the one submissive and the other a spitting bundle of fury. Taming this one is going to be exhilarating. Ah -bend her over for me, Hakim."
He waited as Hakim bent Margaret across the desk and held her down, naked bottom wriggling, legs kicking.
"Twelve strokes for this one, eh?"
"As they would say themselves -the customer is always right!" grinned Hakim, leaning on the struggling girl's back.
Then Margaret's caning began. It was even more sadistic than Sylvia's had been. For what seemed an age, the room with filled with the zip and thump of the cane on naked flesh, with Margaret's hoarse cries of pain. She jerked madly under the punishing strokes, as weal was laid on painful weal, until her whole bottom was one blazing agony.
She took ten searing strokes, then a little bead of red appeared on her right buttock and a rivulet of blood ran down the back of her thigh. He torturer peered at it, (hen unfeelingly raised the cane for the next cut."
"Stop it!" sobbed Julia, making for the desk .
"Easy, honey-she only has one more stroke to come."
The eleventh broke the skin again, also on the blazing right cheek.
"No more-stop it-you-you beasts." Julia wrenched her arm from Sylvia's grasp and rushed towards the desk. "You animals!" she shouted hoarsely, grabbing the wrist as it lifted for the twelfth stroke.
Hakim leaned over without a change of expression, planted a hand on her naked breasts and pushed, sending her staggering back into the arms of Sylvia.
Down thrummed the final stroke and Margaret slid from the desk to her knees as Hakim released her. She crouched there, whimpering.
Hakim and his client made for Julia as one and held her struggling between them.
"What would you suggest we do with this one?"
"Yes," nodded the man thoughtfully. "You really have found me a good batch this time, Hakim. This one also has fire-even prepared to attack. What was it she called us? Beasts? Animals?"
Julia looked from one to the other, frightened, now, though still defiant in face of the brutality she had seen meted out to Margaret. Defiant and contemptuous.
"Beasts and animals, I said. What else do you think you are, treating a helpless woman like that? You'd be gaoled for life in England for half what you've done."
"And you could be flogged to death for half what you've said!" Hakim left her in the other Arab's hands and went to the desk. "Ten strokes do you think? We must leave some skin on her if you're taking her away in the morning."
"Ten strokes should be sufficient here, I think-to keep her nicely warmed up for what I shall give her when I get her home."
Julia almost breathed a sigh of relief. But why two strokes less than Margaret? Then Hakim pressed the desk buzzer and the two guards came in.
"Get the doctor to be at the triangle in five minutes, will you-tell her there's to be a flogging."
Julia's knees went weak and she thought she was going to faint. It was to be ten strokes of the whip! She shuddered suddenly. She was going to be tied and helpless as she had seen the mulatto girl. They were going to thrash her naked body with a whip!
She struggled, trying to get away, then, her back already cringing at the thought of that brutal whip.
Then they were dragging her outside and across the compound to the frightful triangle. Up on to the platform they hauled her. The two Arabs held her firmly by her upper arms as one of the guards unlocked her fetters. She whimpered as she saw the doctor and one of the "nurses" climbing on to the platform. The doctor was standing in front of her and pulling the stethoscope from the pocket of her white coat. Julia gasped as it slid beneath her heavy left breast. Her heart was being tested to see if she would be able to stand the flogging, almost hoping the doctor would find something wrong with her. Futilely, she tried to catch her eyes, but the woman just glanced once curiously into her face.
Out of the corner of her eye, Julia saw the huge negress climbing on to the dais, the dreaded black whip coiled in one hand. She was being turned round, then; she felt the doctor's hand run down over her back, curving out over her bottom and her right hip, then down the backs of her thighs.
"How many strokes is she to have?" she heard the doctor ask.
"Ten strokes," came Hakim's voice.
"She's all right-she'll be able to take them."
They were pulling her towards the triangle, her arms were being lifted; a strap went round her wrists, tightening, and she began to struggle. She jerked and twisted, but the strap was buckled and her wrists were secured.
"No," she moaned. "No-don't whip me-please don't whip me."
Her legs were being forced apart, wider and wider against all the efforts to keep them together. Her left ankle was strapped, then her right.
Now she was stretched taut, painfully taut, her legs strained to their limits. She twisted her head and her stomach turned over. The big negress had removed her tunic, great breasts juddering with her slightest movement. The whip was uncoiled now, trailing on the ground, just waiting for the word to begin her punishment. She sobbed as, beyond the woman who was to flog her, she saw that several of the female guards and the men in green battle-dress had gathered.
Then her back was being rubbed with something wet and cold, she twisted her head again and saw the doctor with her pad and bottle. This would be to prevent the whipping from turning sceptic if the skin was cut-as it almost certainly would be. Her skin! Panic drove her to jerk wildly in her bonds, but the effort was fruitless.
The doctor moved away from her, leaving her taut and alone, ready for the whipping. She saw the massive breasts of the negress swaying as she moved closer, whip already half raised. "Begin the punishment!"
Close on Hakim's hated voice came a sob from the watching crowd. Sylvia. Julia looked down and saw a couple of the green-clad guards looking up at her, directly between her wide-spread thighs. Even with the imminent flogging, she made a pitiful attempt to twist so that they could not see between them, but she only succeded in hurting wrists and ankles. She was stretched so tautly that even her breasts ached and the sinews of her inner thighs were already beginning to cramp.
Then searing, almost unbelievable pain knifed across her shoulders. She screamed with shock and agony.
The first stroke and she hadn't even heard it coming.
She heard the sound of the second stroke, like a high wind whistling through trees. Madly, she jerked again as more fiery pain was painted across her back and just below her right armpit.
She screamed again as the third stroke tortured her flesh and again as the fourth stroke followed closely. Her well-built body shook the whole structure as the fifth thumped midway down her back and the tip of the lash bit into her side. She looked down and saw the bloody weal along the side of her right breast, setting it ablaze with hot pain.
She twisted and squirmed madly as the woman flogged her, working down her body, the tip of the lash curling round her waist to lay a blood-flecked whorl across her quivering belly and another over her right hip.
She jerked taut, her back arching, as the first stroke hit her buttocks. Her hips squirmed and sweat ran down her body. Another stroke lashed into her bottom, lower down. Another scream bubbled from her lips as the brutal whip cracked across her bottom for the third time, the tip whispering round to wrap itself round her right thigh.
Then the strokes were no longer coming. Her body was one massive, fiery pain; 'her head swam and everything was going black. She had had her ten strokes. Her flogging was over. Her body sagged with pain and exhaustion.
Fingers were undoing the buckles at her wrists and her ankles; arms were supporting her. Dazedly, she looked up and the doctor swam before her eyes. The stethoscope was out, pressing against her below her left breast. She was turned round. Her whipped back was being examined.
"Take her into the hospital-I'll see to her there... wait-just a minute!"
What now? Her right breast was being lifted, cool fingers touched the aching nipple. A hand touched her pubic mound.
"All right-take her away." As two guards hauled her towards the hospital, her feet trailing the ground, she heard the doctor's voice, strangely loud. "This flogging you ordered, Sheik Hakim, may have complications-one of the strokes cut into her right breast and touched the nipple and another went round her right hip, across her pubic region very low-I shall have to examine her further there."
"That's your job," growled Hakim.
"She's an English girl-her skin isn't as tough as..."
"That's your affair-you heal her skin. I'm not interested in ..."
Then Julia was out of earshot and concentrating on the pain of her whipped body.
Later, she was vaguely aware of her back and buttocks being bathed, her right breast being treated with something that stung. Then she was being held in a kneeling position, her legs wide apart, while the doctor examined her between the thighs.
"No-you're all right. The whip didn't touch any vital spot."
She was left to lie on her stomach for some time, then 'the doctor came again and gave her something to drink and she slept, having fitful bouts of pain-wracked wakefulness.
Towards evening, the doctor came again and sat on the side of her bed. She examined her back and bottom again gently lifted her upper body to look at the right breast and took her pulse.
"I'm sorry you had to undergo that brutal whipping -I couldn't do very much about it, but unknowingly, you have helped."
She went away, then, leaving Julia with a vague puzzlement at 'the back of her mind that she was too weary and in too much pain, to bring to the fore.
Late that night, the two guards came for her and took her back to Hakim's quarters.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Ah, my poor Julie," whispered Sylvia.
Julia burst into uncontrollable sobs as one of the guards gave her a push inside the door and sent her reeling across the room towards the big desk, where stood her three friends, still as naked as she was. Even in her pain, she noticed with sympathy the red-wealed buttocks of Sylvia and Margaret.
"There, sweetie," murmured Sylvia, turning to take her into her arms, unmindful of Hakim or of his friend perched on the side of the desk.
"Well-what do you say?" asked Hakim.
"I shall take these two." The man came over to look at Julia's wealed back. He lifted the injured breast roughly and grinned as she cried out with pain. "Yes this. And this one." He gave Margaret a hard slap on her sore buttocks, bringing a stifled sob of pain from her. "The other two-well, I'll think about it."
"Now then-the price."
For the next fifteen minutes the four girls stood listening to them haggling in Arabic. Finally, both beaming, they shook hands.
"Let me see-it's Margaret French and Julia Dawson, isn't it? Mrs. Julia Dawson. This is your new masterI think he 'has some little thing he wants of you, Mrs. Dawson. Call it your first act as a proper slave. My friend here suddenly realized he has never actually seen a woman being flogged-the cane, or sometimes a whip he has always used himself, but not such an ambitious whipping as you received this afternoon. He's pleased with you-he enjoyed it. So much so, that he wants to reward you." Hakim got up and came round to pull the weakened Julia over to the desk. She had not even the strength to struggle as she was bent across it, the whole of her scalding back and buttocks displayed to the man who had just bought her.
"He's going to fuck you, Mrs. Dawson-he wants to do it this way so that he can look down at the marks of your punishment while he is fucking you."
Weakly, Julia tried to struggle away, but she had not a chance.
"Aw, leave the kid alone-you want to kill her?" Sylvia suddenly flared. "Haven't you done enough to her for one day?"
"And that, my fiery little red-head, gets you ten strokes of the whip tomorrow morning!"
The "client" swiftly divested himself of his clothing and stood naked behind the bent Julia, big, darkskinned prick throbbing inches from her welted bottom.
She jerked and groaned as a hand was thrust between her thighs, the fingers forcing their way into the softness of her vulva.
"Her cunt is as dry as the desert!"
The watching girls shuddered with revulsion as he spat on his fingers and rubbed it against Julia's sex. Hakim holding her legs apart.
Julia moaned with pain as her breasts were pressed hard against the top of the desk. She yelled her pain as hands grasped her desperately sore buttocks and dragged them apart, exposing her anus.
"Would you like to bottom-fuck her? Or do you prefer the old-fashioned way?"
"Both. But now I want to fuck her cunt-they say a good whipping makes a woman sexy."
He grasped Julia's hips, the glans of his penis nosing under her buttocks and in between her thighs, to nuzzle at the soft opening of her vagina. She tried to pull away, but he held her, Hakim lending his weight on her beaten shoulders. Sadistically, the man looked down at the stripes of her punishment and rubbed his hand straight down her back, grinning when she sobbed with pain. He reached under her and found the sore right breast, making her yelp again as he squeezed.
"Aw, no-this is too much!" Sylvia jumped forward and belted the back of her hand across Hakim's surprised face. "You sadistic pigs! You lousy fucking bastards! Leave the girl alone!"
Her wrist was grabbed in a vice and held.
"Twenty strokes of the whip!" Hakim said as imperturbly as though he were asking for a cup of tea.
"No, Sylvie-go back, dear," sobbed Julia. "Let him do it. Don't say any more, or they'll kill you!"
Julia spread herself, stretching her legs wide, pushing her bottom out and lifting on to her toes, opening herself to the big prick that throbbed between her thighs.
"Go on, damn you-get it over with," she grated.
"I hope you get a double rupture doing it...OOOPH! Oooh...God!"
He had dragged back on her hips and belted his prick straight up her. In and out of her vagina he pistoned his black, fleshy shaft, fucking her like a dog fucking a bitch. She screamed as he suddenly scraped his beard across the weals on her back and his hands came up to punish her breasts. The pain maddened her.
Then, through pain-filled eyes, she saw the gleaming silver paper knife, resting close to her clenched fists on the desk. Her heart hammered even more wildly! she hesitated, screamed again as the beard tortured her back.
In a blaze of rage and pain, she grabbed the sharp paper knife, twisted with the fury of desperation, dislodging the thrusting prick, and plunged the knife to the hilt between the brown ribs.
There was a choked, gurgling cry; he stiffened, hands starting to come up to the punctured rib-cage. Then the eyes rolled back, blinked to brief awareness again, focused with shocked disbelief, then the whites showed and he slumped to the floor.
There was a deathly hush in the room for the space of several seconds, as they all looked down at the dead Arab, the shining knife sticking out of his ribs, a globule of blood just beginning to well up.
There was an Arabic oath from Hakim. He pulled open a drawer of the desk and pulled out a pistol. He turned, levelled it at the horrified Julia and a thunderous explosion shook the room. Then everything happened at once.
Sylvia screamed and rushed wildly towards Julia to find her still staring at Hakim, who was hurled back wards as though a giant hand had lifted and thrown him. He hit the chair and slowly slid to the ground, blood welling up from a hole in his chest.
Then the four dazed girls looked round to see the doctor standing in the doorway, a smoking Smith and Wesson .32 in her hand.
She walked into the room, still with that unreadable expression on her face.
"Well, girls-the show's over. You can all go home."
Behind her came Ricky, one of the nurses and two of the men in green, all armed.
"What-what happened?"
"Interpol," the doctor said briefly. "Incidentally, I am qualified and I was never struck off. We've known about his little caper for some time, but could never get anything on him." She shrugged and smiled that faint smile of hers. "Now I have enough to hang him and I don't need it." She looked at Julia. "I'm sorry about your flogging, dear, but I couldn't do much about it. I was getting it all down on tape-I've had this office bugged for quite a while."
She went over and examined the two Arabs.
"Both dead-well, it'll save a lot of trouble. And you don't have to worry about killing that one, either, Mrs. Dawson. You'll have the thanks and gratitude of a lot of people-including Interpol."
"But what about all those other guards -men as well as women?"
"Well, the ones with me here are all members of Interpol-the rest are being taken care of by the local police force. That was what I had to wait for-I had arranged this coup. If only he had held off your flogging until tomorrow, you would have got away with a whole skin."
Then she really smiled. "But I Should think you'll count it worth while, eh? Your skin will soon heal. If you wish, you can stay at the hospital-with proper treatment-until you feel well enough. In the meantime, I'll make some arrangements about getting you all home-and hundreds of other people all over the world."
Even as the four naked girls walked away, the nightmare was fading as light started to come back into their world again.
"You know, Sylvie," murmured Julia later. "I kept having awful nightmares-except for last night-about all this. I used to keep waking up dreaming that someone was flogging me, flogging me, all the time-lashing me into slavery."
"Well, I hate to make a horrible pun at your expense, sweetie," smiled Sylvia, "But I should say you have just been lashed out of it!"
