Note from Darwin: 

This charming story was posted as you see below in 1997.  It is very
well-written, but had numerous typos and in one or two places it looked
as though the file had been damaged and some portions had been deleted.
I have cleaned the story up without changing it too much.

Enjoy!

-- Darwin1859@ymail.com, April, 2011


From zitterow@pacbell.net Sun Jun 29 04:46:57 1997
From: zitterow@pacbell.net
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Repost by Request "Slave Girl" by Victor Bruno
Date: Sun, 29 Jun 1997 08:46:57 GMT
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All this story is unattributed the style and content suggests that
it was either written by Victor Bruno, or by someone imitating
the style of Victor Bruno.  This story was written at the latest,
in 1969 and is very much a period piece.  You will note that the
author refers to the nightlife in Beirut and the Levant suggesting
that the story was written when Beirut had a reputation of being
the Paris of the Middle East, a reputation no longer which can
be applied.

In the story you will note there are the standard Victor
Bruno features.  English slave girls, a cruel slave mistress,
Don't forget.  This nothing but a fantasy.


Slave Girl

Chapter One

Lying there in the pitch blackness, Gillian Fraser clenched her
teeth and made an unsuccessful attempt to check the sob that
rose in her throat.  She came close to tears again, and then
again reminded herself of the futility of crying. Had she not
shed enough tears in the past months? It was a wonder, indeed,
that she had the means to produce more!

Slowly and very carefully, Gillian moved her hands down. It was,
perhaps, just a little surprising that she could do so for,
more often than not, they would have been shackled. Maybe that
had been an oversight. Gently she placed her cool hands on her
smarting, burning buttocks. On her bare buttocks, for Gillian
was stark naked.

Gentle as she was, Gillian still winced and gave a little
gasp. Under her palms she could feel the ten freshly-raised ridges
of searing torment.  Tears of mingled pain and self-pity came
to her eyes, despite her efforts to check them. It was all so
hideously unfair. Unjust. Why had fate picked her out for such
an appalling nemesis? It was by no means the first time that
Gillian had asked herself such questions. And, needless to say,
she had never yet received any satisfactory answer.

She kept her palms pressed to her flesh until they no longer
felt as pleasantly cool as they had done originally. All the
time, Gillian thought with bitter hatred of Farida, for it was
she--Farida, the save mistress of the harem of Bey Hamil Aroun--who
had raised those painful weals some two hours before. She had
raised them with a rod.  Worse, in some three hours time Farida
would raise ten more similar weals across Gillian's burning,
tender buttocks!

For that was the punishment that Farida had decreed. And Farida
was all-powerful in matters of discipline in the harem. The
inevitability of what must happen bore down on Gillian as she
lay there like some stone-weight. What Farida the slave-mistress
commanded was carried out. Thus Gillian knew, as surely as night
followed day, that she would endure the torment of the rod within
the time specified.

The hardness of the polished wooden block on which she lay face
down was a discomfort in itself. But she, like others in the Bey's
harem, had come, to some extent, to be immune to such things. The
iron collar about her neck was an additional discomfort and the
chain attached to it, which held her down to the block, clanked
slightly as she moved a little. No. There was no escape. Neither
literally, nor ever from the perpetual oppressive sense of
captivity. This was emphasized over and over again, down to
the smallest detail, to all slaves of the Bey's harem. Collars,
chains and manacles were part of everyday life.

If someone had said, seven or eight months previously, that such
things could be Gillian Fraser would have laughed at them in scorn.
This, she would have said, is the twentieth century... Please don't
tell me fairytale stories about the Middle East of some centuries
ago. Then, she might have been prepared to admit, women could
have been held as slaves for the pleasure of some potentate. But
times had changed. Such things could no longer happen.

That indeed would have been Gillian Fraser's attitude if ever
such an outlandish subject had been raised. However, in little
more than six months, she had learned--and learned the hard
way--that her attitude and opinion were utterly wrong. For Gillian
Fraser--a nubile twenty-five-year-old English girl--was as much
the plaything and slave of a potentate as countless other women
had been in earlier, less enlightened times.

Except that, in her case, one might well say that matters were
worse. For, in bygone days, It was more natural for a woman to
accept servitude, whether she were white or colored. In Gillian's
case, however, she had known the freedom and equality of the
twentieth century and she had had to learn... and was still
learning... to submit and to obey.

As to how Gillian Fraser came to be in this unfortunate situation,
we shall soon see. Suffice to say that, as our story opens,
we find her chained naked in one of the punishment cells of the
harem of the Bey Hamil Aroun.

The pitch blackness was suddenly brightly illuminated and Gillian
blinked in the glare. It was startling, but one could not say it
was unexpected, for Gillian knew that it was part of the regime
in the punishment cells that one was kept in alternate spells
of darkness and bright light.  This was something that the slave
mistress Farida had instituted within the last two months.

Now, because of the large wall mirrors placed facing each other at
the top and bottom ends of the block, Gillian could see herself
in all her wretchedness and humiliation.  There were her own
distraught features staring back hopelessly at herself.  There were
the collar and chain. And there was her helpless naked body, with
her hindquarters vividly carrying the stripes Farida had produced.

Another deep sob shook Gillian and she closed her eyes to hide the
visual horror from herself. As she did so, she knew nevertheless
that it would not be long before she opened them again. For such
is human nature that, if a person has been kept in pitch darkness
for as little as half an hour even, the desire to see again the
light is overpowering...  whatever one has to look upon. Farida,
an artist in cruelty, knew this and that was why she had instituted
this particular regime.

So, inevitably, Gillian opened her eyes and gazed upon herself
and her surroundings. The cell was small and plain. There was
nothing in it apart from her own body and the block to which she
was chained. The walls, except where the mirrors were fixed, were
of grey stone. The floor was of plain, polished planks. The door,
of heavy, dark timbered oak, was dungeon-like in appearance with
its solid lock and iron-ring handle.

It is probably understandable that sometimes, even after over
six months in the harem, it was still difficult for Gillian to
truly comprehend and believe it was her own person she was looking
at. It still seemed so impossible that it could be true.

Yet, of course, it was.

To try and help herself, to try and stop a kind of madness
overwhelming her, she would say: "I am twenty-five, single,
English, born in Cheshire. My parents died when I was at school
and later I went to Chester University where I studied art. Later I
became a minor, but promising actress, in Repertory Theater, had a
number of quite nice boy friends and several interesting proposals
of marriage--all of which I turned down for personal reasons."

"That is the real me," she would insist.  "Not this naked,
helpless, whipped creature who is at the mercy of forces vile
beyond belief.  Forces unbelievable under any normal, civilized
circumstances. And I must hold on to that image of the real me,
before it entirely fades." For sometimes, it almost did disappear
and she grew very frightened.

"Surely," she told herself, "I cannot remain a harem slave
for ever!  Surely, some benign fate will intervene! It must!" Oh
God, yes...  she would be rescued. Somehow... yes, yes... somehow
something would happen that would restore her to the kind of life
she had once known and considered as her birthright..

But, as she gazed at herself in the mirrors, it did indeed seem
a forlorn hope. There was only one thing certain at that moment,
and that was that she would soon be feeling the rod again. Once
more, she pressed her palms gently to the burning weals and hated
Fate and hated Farida with a deep, black bitter hatred.

Gillian's nerves flared and her body shook as she heard the key
turn in the lock. Surely it could not yet be time!? Surely she had
not lost several hours by sleeping!? For, agonizing as waiting for
punishment was (as Farida naturally intended), when the actual
moment came for it, the slave girl always wished the period of
waiting could be extended just a little longer! Absurd, but true.

Then, with a mixture of anguish and relief, Gillian saw one of
the eunuchs enter. It was Khaled, a giant coal-black Nubian. His
plump, but muscled body glistened with oil in the harsh light and,
as was customary, he wore nothing but a brief, white triangular
loin cloth. In earlier days, he had quite often been instructed to
chastise Gillian.  Indeed, when at the very outset she had made a
futile attempt to escape, Khaled had been deputized by the then
slave mistress to whip her with considerable severity. He had
done so, and Gillian had never forgotten it. Naturally, one was
not meant to forget such an experience, so one did not attempt
the futility of escape again.

However, since Farida's arrival some three months previously,
Khaled exercised no more such functions. It seemed that, in
Gillian's case, as with some others, Farida preferred to act
for herself!

Thus, one might say, Gillian knew Khaled quite well. And, as
with the other slave girls, there was a bizarre kind of bond
between them and the eunuchs. They were not classed as slaves,
but they were certainly servants of the Bey and Farida was not
beyond having them whipped if she felt they had not carried out
her orders satisfactorily.

Having closed the door, Khaled ambled forward. Momentarily, his
white teeth bared as he looked down at her. In his own way, one
might almost say he was 'fond' of her. But that did not mean he
would not do his duty when called upon. Mainly for his own sake,
of course.

"K-Khaled... what is it?" asked Gillian, finding her voice croaking
more than she had expected. "It...it is not time?"  The Nubian
shook his head almost dolefully. "Two and one half more hours,
white Missie," he said.

Then Gillian saw what he held half hidden behind a tree-trunk
thigh. It was a small bucket-like container with some kind of
liquid in it. She shuddered and twisted round to Khaled whose hand
was already going into the container. "No...no, please, Khaled...
no," said Gillian. "Please... leave it... just one hour... I
beg you..." With a eunuch, Gillian knew, there was some faint
possibility of mercy or alleviation. Some were softer than others,
even at their own peril..

From the container, Khaled took out a square of dripping-wet white
gauze which was heavily impregnated with salt. "Mistress... she
give me the order," said Khaled. "And she mean it, I know. You
want me to get a whipping as well as you?"

Although inwardly Gillian sensed it was hopeless, she made a final
plea. "K-Khaled... just...a half an hour! How could she know?"

It was a ridiculous thing to say, and both knew it. Farida
might make a 'spot' inspection at any time. Not surprisingly, he
shook his head again and came forward with the square of wet-salt
gauze. And, despite Gillian's frantic twistings, he laid it firmly
over her weal striped hindquarters, pressing it down so that it
clung tight to the cleft and lush curves of her bottom.

Gillian screamed hoarsely, squirming and kicking as the salt bit
into her fresh wounds. Instantly, the intensity of the smarting,
burning pain had been doubled if not tripled and Gillian knew
from experience that it would be a long time before it ebbed.
In addition, her flesh would be even more agonizingly tender when
Farida came to use the rod on her again.

For a moment, the black hate in Gillian for Farida almost
overwhelmed the pain. The she devil! Oh God... was any woman ever
so inhuman to others!

Khaled surveyed his handiwork in a matter-of-fact sort of
way. He was quite used to such sights and sounds. Then he noticed
that Gillian's hands were free. That would never do under such
circumstances. With a perfunctory efficiency, he shackled each
one in turn to the iron collar about Gillian's neck, seemingly
unperturbed by the heaving sobs that now racked the girl. If Allah
decreed a woman must serve and suffer, so be it! He shrugged and
began to turn away.

"Missie Gillian be a good, good girl, eh?" he said' with whatever
compassion there was in him. "Then she don't get whippings, eh?
Easy... Yes?"

In her pain and misery, Gillian heard the door thud closed and
the key turn in the lock. She was alone again... but now with
intensified pain. Her head twisted, she bit her lips... but still
the wincing came and her shapely bottom kept on twitching and
squirming as the stab-stabbing torment continued relentlessly.

That bitch! That vile inhuman bitch! It was not enough that Gillian
would be flogged without mercy... there had to be this too!
For a moment, it seemed as if Gillian's heart must burst with
hatred for the woman who had her so utterly in her power!

Gillian sobbed herself into a half stupor of misery and despair.
And never for one moment (stab!) did the smarting (stab!), burning
(stab!) pain (stab!) seem to relent (stab!)... Oh God. it was
almost like feeling the rod itself! No, that was not so, she told
herself with a trembling inner horror. No, that she would truly
learn, yet again, in little more than two hours as she writhed
in agony as Farida wielded the whip lashing instrument!


Slave Girl

Chapter Two

Though it was fairly late in the evening, Farida was still at
work. But since her work was a pleasure, this was really no
hardship. She sat at the large, modern-looking desk in a fairly
plainly furnished room that served as part study, part 'office'.

At one side of the desk was a large intercom phone; on the other
was a smallish TV screen. This was the closed-circuit television
system which enabled her to view what was going on in certain
sections of her 'domain' at any moment she wished.

Her simple outfit was her customary uniform. It consisted of a
pair of high-heeled, red leather boots of calf length, a short,
pleated skirt of white leather, and a kind of blouse-jacket of
red leather. The leather of her skirt and blouse-jacket was of
extremely fine quality, very thin and soft and almost had the
appearance of some other material. Her only other garments were
a brief bra, and pantie set and these were of the same quality
leather, but even finer and thinner in texture. Farida had always
found that the wearing of leather especially next to her skin,
gave her the greatest pleasure.

And here it may he briefly said that Farida wore various color
combinations of this outfit, but always the same three colors:
red, white and black. On any given day, she would choose two
of these three colors and this applied even to the small, slim,
personal switch of plaited leather she always had with her, held
by a loop at her belt or wrist.  Thus, because she wore red today,
the switch which lay on her desk was of tight-plaited red leather,
with a handle-grip of white leather.

A polished, red fingernail went out and flipped a switch on the
intercom. There was a faint buzzing sound which came through
the open door which led to the more luxuriously furnished main
apartment beyond. It was to summon one of the two harem slave
girls who had been assigned to attend personally upon Farida in
her private quarters. There were always two of these, each slave
girl in turn--each girl in the harem, that is--doing a stint of
forty-eight hours. Since there were over one hundred slave girls
in the Bey's harem, this duty was repeated at 14- or 15-week
intervals and Farida knew that the slave girls did not look
forward to those days.  Of course, Farida's wishes trumped any
schedule and she could dismiss a girl from her personal service
or extend her period of duty for as long as she desired.

The girl who came through the door was a dusky-skinned young beauty
of some seventeen years. She wore only a pair of high-heeled shoes
and a small, lacy white apron, so her youthful charms, such as her
high, apple-round breasts, were blatantly displayed.  Her body hair
had been completely sugared, and thus the plump-fleshy smoothness
of her mound and the beginning of her slit were revealed.  All the
slave girls of Bey Hamil Aroun where required to be completely
free of all body hair.  He liked a slave girl to have her cunt
well and cleanly displayed, and not left hidden in a mass of
unfeminine hair.

Farida glanced at the girl who made a one-kneed, low obedience
bow before her. This slave girl was new, they were changed at
around that hour, and Farida recognized this her but could not
immediately recall her name.

"Your name?" Farida demanded, eying the girl in her customarily
severe way.

"Nerene, Miss," came the immediate answer in a respectful tone.

"Ah, yes, Nerene," nodded Farida, recalling the girl's arrival some
two months before.  She had been a present from Sheik Al-Tamim.

Like the majority of the pretty, young coffee-colored girls in the
harem, she was from Algeria.  The really black girls were mainly
from the area of Ethiopia or farther south. The proportions of
differing colors in the harem was something like thirty black
slaves, sixty half-colored and twenty whites. And though quite
a number of the half-colored were nearly white, Farida had plans
for a considerable increase in the number of real white European
slave girls.  There were plenty of black and half-colored slave
girls, but white European slave girls posed special problems and
could be expensive. Not that money was a very important factor;
there was no shortage of it the Bey's coffers.

"Have you been honored by the Bey?" she inquired.  By 'honored',
Farida meant summoned to his bed chamber to submit to him and
service him in whatever way he demanded.

"Yes, Miss," came the answer. The big, sloe eyes flickered as
she spoke.

'This one,' thought Farida, 'is made for the harem. Would have
been in any age.'  Because she could not recall having had to
punish the girl, that probably meant she had taken to her new life
without a great deal of effort. However, that did not mean that
Nerene might not have been punished for minor offenses by one of
Farida's two assistants, Miss Kramer and Miss Frankel, two German
women in their forties whom Farida had brought on, only a few
weeks after her arrival, to take charge of Bey Hamil Aroun's harem.

"Fetch me a vermouth!" ordered Farida. She watched the slave girl
rise, curtsy, and turn to do her bidding.  Farida smiled as she
watched the slim waist and round hips and the fleshy buttocks that
tightened and relaxed as she moved; this slave girl was not only
young, as she liked them, but slimly shapely and she moved well.
'I will have this one kneel between my legs tonight,' she thought,
as her pussy got wet. 'It will be interesting to see if she finds
it more difficult to honor me than the Bey.'

Farida glanced at her watch and then at a large volume open
on her desk. The pages were divided up into hours of the day,
with space for notes along-side. She saw that a girl was due to
be taken off the treadmill in half an hour's time and, if her
weary limbs had not turned it the stipulated number of times,
the slave would need punishment. However, Miss Kramer or Miss
Frankel could deal with that. Another hour and a half after that,
there was Gillian--Farida felt another thrill; she would certainly
deal with that English bitch personally!

The red-nailed finger flipped another switch and, after a brief
interval, a guttural woman's voice answered. "Yes, Miss Farida?"

"Miss Frankel. Please be so good as to go to the treadmill
in punishment cell No. 3 in half an hour's time. If the girl
there--her name is Lota--has not achieved her quota, I want her
taken off and given five strokes of the strap. A medium weight will
do.  After that, put her back on again for a further half hour."

"Very well, Miss Farida." The voice had a smug contented tone
about it, "And if there is no improvement at the end of the extra
half hour?"

"Repeat the strapping," said Farida briskly. "Then bring her to
me at ten o'clock tomorrow, when I will give the matter further
attention."

"Very good..." The intercom machine clicked silent

'That gives me early two full hours to relax,' reflected Farida.
'Barring the unexpected, of course, and I think I shall enjoy
having Nerene relax me. She is a very pretty young thing.' Farida
stretched her arms luxuriously. 'Very pretty indeed.'

At that moment, Nerene, returned, bearing a cut-glass goblet on a
salver. She came forward with a natural seductiveness, eyes half
lowered in respect--and dread--for the young woman Nerene served
had the power of life and death over her.

Young? Yes, in fact, Farida was no more than three years older
than Nerene, being only twenty. How, at that age, she came to be
in her position, we shall shortly see.

The dusky girl put the salver and glass on the desk by Farida
and turned to leave. Farida glanced at the pale liquid and her
dark green, slating cat's eyes glinted.

"Nerene," she said, halting the girl in her tracks, "you were
instructed before you were assigned to my personal service,
regarding my likes and dislikes... my general wishes... the
routine? In some detail?"

"Yes, Miss," answered Nerene, in a low voice.  For many hours she
had assiduously studied a type-written sheet of such instructions,
supplied by Miss Frankel.

"Then you would know that I always have ice in my vermouth..."

A faint tremor ran through Nerene. "I... I beg p-pardon, Miss,"
she answered. "I... I forgot. There was so much to learn..."

"So you forgot, did you, girl?" said Farida acidly. She stood
up and her hand went to the white grip of the switch of plaited
red leather. "Then you will have to be reminded not to forget,
won't you?"

Nerene's dark eyes widened in fear. It was bad enough to be under
the control of such a slave-mistress; to be so close to her, in
her presence as a personal attendant, was even more terrifying.
Nerene had been dreading it, perhaps even more than other duties
she had to perform.

Farida moved round the desk and the slim switch swished
menacingly. Though it was by no means a heavy instrument, it cut
most painfully, having a core of hard, supple whalebone around
which the thin strips of leather were so tightly plaited.

"Get your bottom up, girl," she said.

Nerene knew better than to delay on such an order. Pleading,
resistance, disobedience... anything of that nature only led
to punishment far, far worse. That she knew and that she had
witnessed.  She knelt at one before the desk and abjectly thrust
up her plumply rounded bottom.

It was a fact, Farida saw, that the girl had not been chastised
recently. This was only possible to see if one were to closely
examine a slave girl, on account of the 'cosmetic applications'
employed regularly in the harem that enabled all but the heaviest
weals and the like to be adequately hidden so that the flesh
presented a more attractive appearance than it would have done
otherwise. These 'cosmetics', which consisted of a very light
neutral cream followed by the lightest of dusting powder, were
applied every morning and there-after as often as was thought
necessary throughout the day. The dusting powder was in every
shade, to match perfectly any shade of skin, from the darkest
ebony black to the creamiest Northern European white. Thus,
even harshly-punished harem girls would present a more pleasing,
un-scarred appearance to the Bey, or anyone else, except under
close examination or after a whipping of considerable severity.

This 'cosmetic' treatment, which had the Bey's approval, was one
of Farida's more recent innovations.  For a few moments, she stood
and studied the kneeling young victim, liking what she saw all
the more. The thighs were straight and firm, the buttocks neatly
rounded, the young cunt lips pouted prettily in the cleft. The
young slave was shaking slightly.  It was a spectacle that was very
familiar to Farida, but one of which she never, never grew tired!

The polished red boots moved, the six-inch spike heels sinking
into the carpet. Then the switch whistled high-pitched through
the air and bit thinly across the curves of the girl's tender ass,
raising a fine pink-red mark of fiery pain.

Nerene gave a gasping cry and squirmed, involuntarily moving
forward a foot or two on her knees, her hands coming back
instinctively to clasp at her buttocks. They did not remain there
for more than a fraction of a second, for Nerene knew that such
a move of attempted relief or protection was strictly forbidden
under the circumstances.

'She is not only young,' thought Farida, 'she is inexperienced at
this sort of thing.' Farida employed the switch again and again
Nerene squealed and squirmed at the biting pain,and again her
hands flew back momentarily.

"If you move your hands again, Nerene," said Farida coldly, "I
shall have you taken to one of the punishment cells and properly
thrashed. Now, get your bottom well up, and keep it up, girl!"

Nerene's fingers clawed into the carpet as she obeyed the order.
She knew the words were not just a threat. If she disobeyed them,
her punishment could well be far more severe. There came that
dreaded whistling sound again and then the streak of liquid fire
on her ass, thin but burning so deeply. She yelped and squirmed
but her efforts at self-control were not in vain.

Still kneeling with bottom thrust up, she then endured two
more cuts in the manner required, making five in all. By the
standards of the regime in the harem of Bey Aroun, that was not
particularly severe.  All the same, as can be imagined, it was
quite adequately painful enough for Nerene.

Farida strode back around the desk and tossed the switch back onto
it. There was a look of intense satisfaction on her sharp-featured
young face.  The fault had been trivial, but it was good to
impose one's authority at the outset with a slave girl such as
Nerene... a slave girl that one expected far more from.

"Now you will go and put some ice in my glass, Nerene," she said,
re-seating herself.

"Y-Yes M-mistress" said Nerene, getting to her feet and wincing
with pain.  She had already formed the opinion that her duty with
the slave-mistress would be as unpleasant as her imagination had
let her believe...

Farida's thin lips stretched in a sadistic smile as she watched
the girl hurry from the room bearing salver and glass. Her eyes
were fixed on the thin weals that snaked over the bare buttocks
which undulated and quivered across her victim's hind-quarters.
She did not think she would have much trouble with Nerene, whatever
she demanded of the young harem girl. And it was going to be both
exciting and relaxing to feel those inexperienced lips at work.


Slave Girl

Chapter Three

The light in Gillian's cell went off and she was thrust into
pitch blackness. Now she no longer had to observe her own pain
and degradation. However, now there was only sensation: the
sensation of being chained naked and helpless and the sensation of
unrelenting pain from the weals raised by Farida's rod, intensified
by the application of the salt-gauze. She sobbed weakly.

She was thankful for every minute that passed because it brought
her that much nearer the end of her present torment. At the same
time she was hideously aware that it brought Farida's return one
minute nearer. That was typical of the kind of mental and physical
cruelty Farida devised.

Gillian Fraser reflected that life had been hard enough before her
arrival here, some three or so months before. To be an enslaved
slave of a harem was occasionally difficult and some of the
whippings she had received from the eunuchs for her rebellions
and disobedience would burn in her memory for ever.

However, once having submitted to fate (and the Bey), life had
been tolerable.  Provided that a slave girl accepted her role
as a plaything of a paunchy, middle-aged lecher, she could do
well. Nothing else was demanded of her in the way of effort. A
harem girl lived in comfortable surroundings, was well fed,
had a life of ease, with little to do but ensure that she kept
herself looking attractive for the few times when the Bey would
'honor' her.

When she had first arrived here, two middle aged 'wives' of the
Bey were in charge of the harem. Once the initiation was over
and a harem girl had submitted, they were not very strict over
day-to-day affairs as they had a lazy indolence themselves,
despite the fact that they were supposed to be in charge of
harem discipline. Gillian could remember being slapped on the
face or the bottom for what was termed 'surliness', 'rudeness',
'laziness' or 'western arrogance' and she had been whacked with
a light paddle and also caned.  But the cane too had been light
and not laid on with any great venom.

All that had changed with the arrival of Farida. Gillian had not
been aware of it initially, but it transpired that Farida was
the daughter of the Bey. She had been expensively educated in
England and then at a finishing school in Switzerland. With the
Bey's money behind her, every kind of career and opportunity had
been opened to her but she had opted to return to the hinterland
of Saudi Arabia and become mistress of her father's harem slaves.
Although, Gillian did not know, it was something that Farida had
dreamed of ever since she had reached the age of puberty. She was
not only a lesbian, but a sadist from her toes to her fingertips
and had sense enough to realize that she had all the means to
satisfy her basic desires. Why then should she do anything else?

The Bey had been surprised and puzzled by her request, but she was
his firstborn child and the apple of his eye and he was unwilling
to deny her.  As he thought about it, he came to understand
her desires (they were of the same flesh and blood--and both
naturally cruel).  When, he understood her wishes, he was more
than content to give her a free hand.

Those two she-elephants that he had running the harem hardly seemed
to lift a finger against even the most surly or uncooperative
slave.  They were far more interested in sampling the latest
sweets, than looking out for his interests in the bed chamber.
Yet, it was beneath his position to be personally involved.
Therefore, his daughter's management of the slaves was a perfect
solution.

And if Farida were heavy-handed?  Good!  Their slave hides would
have to endure it, wouldn't they?  Yes, very good!  These slave
girls would learn to behave properly!  Indeed, even if his daughter
beat 50 slaves to death, no matter; he would simply buy 100 more.

"You won't regret it, father," Farida had said. "I shall ensure,
in many different ways, that you will get more pleasure from your
slaves than you have ever known before."

"And you will get pleasure too, my darling daughter?" the Bey
had smiled.

"Doubtless," Farida had answered. "In my own ways. But, please,
father, I would wish that you do not consider me as your daughter,
but simply as your slave-mistress. Do you understand me?"

Again the Bey had smiled and had indulgently conceded. "So be it,"
he had said.

Although none of this was known to the slave girls of the harem,
they quickly discovered that they had a harsh new mistress.  Almost
immediately after Farida's arrival, life in the harem changed
utterly.  Gone were the lazy days and the mild punishments for any
'naughtiness.' In no time, all knew what true discipline meant.
They knew too what it meant to work and sweat, apart from simply
pleasing their master, as before. They learned of humiliations,
degradations and torments hitherto unknown in their lives.

Here it must be said that Gillian and the other white European
girls, of course, were in a particularly unfortunate position.
For, when in Europe, Farida had received a number of slights and
snubs from both men and women, on account of her slight 'touch of
the tar brush' as they laughingly called it behind her back. Farida
had a keen memory of each slight and a hunger for revenge in her
new position! She enjoyed making any woman obey and submit but,
above all, a pure white woman!

Like Gillian...  In the blackness of her cell... in the blackness
of her spirit, Gillian recollected some of those early days
after Farida's arrival.  As it was, she considered that no woman
could have met a worse fate than herself--and yet she had come
to some kind of terms with it. But then, of course, she had not
yet met Farida.

The old regime had vanished like snow in the sun. The two
ex-wives were dismissed at once. Miss Kramer and Miss Frankel
were installed; they were older, brutish German women with
particularly strong whipping arms. And, it may be said that they
had particularly stony hearts; certainly, although they locked
Farida's absolute power, they were easily her match in sadism.

Beyond this, the whole of the harem had been immediately
reconstructed and re-furbished.  A large punishment room and a
series of small punishment cells were installed and equipped. A
whole new regime of conduct and duties was laid down. Set out in
writing indeed, so that all the slaves knew their place.

The petty paddles and lightness of old were laughingly discarded
and a whole new battery of corrective equipment was brought in. The
whip had always been in use, but primarily reserved for stubborn
cases at the outset of their new life. At once Farida introduced
new and more varied kind of whips.  Beyond that, a whole new
range of corrective instruments were made available. The slim,
24-inch cane became about the lightest you could find... they
ranged up to some four feet long and as thick as the little
finger. Single-, double-, and triple-tonged straps joined the
armory, as well as a variety of birches. Some of the latter
were composed of the customary twigs, others of thin slivers
of whalebone.  In addition a number of bondage and retaining
devices were introduced.  There were devices of iron and wood
that could be applied to many parts of the body.

All the slaves of the harem were quickly made aware of the new
state of things, and there was no one or nowhere they could appeal.
Farida was completely in control.  In the first week, she had
interviewed every slave of the harem personally. Not surprisingly,
in view of her penchant, she took longer over the white slaves,
like Gillian, than with some others.  They were made instantly
and fully aware of her authority, and of what she expected from
them in the future, right from the outset.

Gillian herself would never forget the cruel thrashing she had
received at that first meeting, purely because, as Farida said,
"she had a look of arrogance upon her English face."  At a sign
from the newly-arrived slave mistress, two of the eunuchs had
seized her and held her down over the curving end of a 'love
couch', which happened to be standing in the apartment being used
at the time by Farida for these initial interviews.

Thus, for the first time, but by no means the last, Gillian was
forced to present her shapely hind-quarters naked for Farida's
attention. It was all the more bitter for Gillian to have to do
so in view of Farida's relative youth and the fact that Gillian
sensed that Farida gained the very greatest pleasure from doing
what she did especially to women like Gillian, mature, western
women with pride as well as beauty.

Since none of the newly ordered equipment had arrived, Farida
used one of the light 27-inch canes which had previously been
employed by the two ex-wives of the Bey. Farida herself gave
Gillian ten heavy-handed cuts with it and it was, to say the least,
an impressive and memorable occasion for Gillian. Previously, one
would have had to be pretty naughty to have gotten as many as five
strokes and they would have been laid on with but half the venom
and strength that Farida used.  Simply for 'looking arrogant'!?
Hate and outrage filled Gillian being almost to the same extent
as the pain!

Little wonder then, that as Gillian sobbed and squirmed afterward
at Farida's feet--striving to stem the pain a little by pressing
her hands to her bare ass--that she was a little slow to kiss
the rod. Standing over the prostrate slave, Farida commanded
it as a sign that "your actions do not match your arrogant
looks." Half-blinded by her tears, racked with bitterness and
pain, Gillian had momentarily twisted her head away rather than
towards the extended cane.

For that piece of 'disobedience', she had been picked up again
by the two eunuchs and summarily slung back over the end of the
couch; there to receive five additional strokes from Farida!
Oh how she screamed as a grinning Farida criss-crossed the five
previous strokes, which were beginning the throb painfully!

Bereft of will and pride, Gillian was almost pathetically quick to
kiss the rod after that... to show that she was not all arrogant,
but very, very submissive. But even in those moments of mental
and physical torment, she had, in the back of her mind, hated
herself for her 'weakness' by behaving so abjectly.  In one way
or another, sometimes in similar fashion, Farida had impressed
herself forcibly upon every slave of the Bey's harem.  Every one
was aware that there was a new force in the place, both dynamic
and cruel, and they were miserable with the sure knowledge that
life would be very difficult from then on.

The fears of all were reinforced when the remodeling was complete
and they would see the new instruments of correction arriving
and being displayed.  And put to use.

Here, it may be said that Farida was able to act with such speed
because she knew exactly what she wanted.  During the last six
months of her Swiss finishing school, she had planned it all...
had ordered the new equipment and materials she would need and even
recruited her two German assistants.  She had arrived to install
herself in the harem with her heart and spirit overflowing with
joy and anticipation.  She was at last in a position to satisfy
fully all those lesbian and sadistic deviations which had been
building up in her through her teens.

Gillian was but one of many who lay that night in torment and
in dread of her. But perhaps Gillian had more reason than most
for her apprehension.  For she had become aware that she was
one marked out as a 'special case' by Farida... from whom the
maximum satisfaction and pleasure were going to be obtained.
She shuddered involuntarily when the light came on in the cell
again.  Another half an hour had passed, and there was but an
hour to go before Farida's arrival.  'Oh God! Oh God' pity me,
thought Gillian, 'They say that if you pray hard enough for a
thing, it will happen.  Then, Lord, somehow, make her spare me
this time.  Please... please! Make her lose her reason. Best of
all, make her die!'

It was the kind of prayer Gillian had uttered many times before and
never had it been answered. She lay there in silent wretchedness
and dread, looking at herself in the facing mirrors from time to
time. Since the salt gauze covered her hindquarters, she could no
longer see her weals. But that same salt gauze certainly ensured
that she felt them unrelentingly!

'No use praying,' she thought with bitter despair. 'You will be
punished again, Gillian Fraser. Then, when the moment suits her,
you will make the ultimate and worst submission of all--Farida
will make you submit to pleasuring her.' Gillian could not stop
herself from shuddering with revulsion as all her natural instincts
as well as what left of her pride cried out against it.  Surely,
even sex with that fat, old bastard was 'normal' in comparison!

Should anyone be surprised that, when the demand was first
made to her, she had involuntarily cried out against it, turned
away, and refused? And that her refusal, that act of the most
'flagrant disobedience' as Farida had termed it, was the reason
for her presence in that punishment cell at that very moment!
The minutes continued to tick away...

* * *

Farida was much enjoying the spell of 'relaxation' she had decided
to take before the 'duty' of dealing with Gillian.  Nerene,
the dusky young girl attending on her, gave her no trouble.
Undoubtedly, a taste of the whip had helped her see that there
was no choice but submissive obedience.

At the outset, the naked slave girl was frightened and it was
obvious to Farida that what she had to do was by no means to her
natural liking. It repelled the slave more than having to submit
to the middle-aged Bey. That added to Farida's pleasure and she
smiled down at the slave.

"Strip me!" Farida ordered as she stood in the center of her
luxurious boudoir with its huge, ornately decorated four-poster
bed. Nerene hesitated a moment and Farida had given the slave
girl a cut across the buttocks with her switch. That had set the
dark little slave into furious action and a few moments later,
Farida was nude but for her high-heeled boots.  Nerene had tried
to remove the boots but Farida had whipped her hand, saying "Not
the boots!"  Nerene had yelped and was licking her had where
Farida had struck her.

Now, Farida stood, legs a little astride, over Nerene, the switch
still flickering to and fro, slightly but menacingly. Nerene was
on her knees, looking up at her mistress with her big dark eyes and
conscious that her face was quite close to Farida's naked pussy.

"Now, pretty slave," said Farida, jerking the slave's had back
with a fistful of black hair, "I think you may as well guess what
you have to do to please your mistress?"

Inexperienced, and unused to such unnatural demands, Nerene
nevertheless understood.  Fortunately for her, unlike Gillian,
she did not cry out in protest and turn away. Maybe she did not
feel quite as strongly about it. But, more likely, it was because
her attitude to slavery was different from that of Gillian's.

The idea of slavery for women was not so alien to one of her
race and breeding. Had it not been part of the Middle Eastern
mores since times immemorial? Thus, once in the harem, she
had accepted the fact of it and all it implied: when one was a
slave, one obeyed and submitted to one's mistress and master;
whatever they demanded must be done, beyond that even.  And she
accepted punishment as a normal end natural consequence if she
was disobedient or rebellious.

It was in this respect, of course, that the black slaves and the
half-colored ones in the harem differed most from Gillian and
the other white western women there.  They knew their place.

Trembling in case she failed to please her mistress, Nerene had
followed to the huge bed and was soon carrying out the instructions
given to her. Farida was not so foolish as to expect any new
girl to know what she wanted or to approach perfection on first
occasion. She would only expect it once the girl had been properly
trained in pleasing her.

It was not difficult at all, at first for Nerene. The slave
mistress merely demanded that she massage the firm, supple,
olive-skinned body. She was told after a while to pay particular
attention to the apple-round breasts, feeling the nipples
quickly firm as Farida lay back with eyes dosed, breathing deeply
and regularly. After some time, Farida turned over and Nerene
concentrated on the smooth back, the rounded buttocks and the
tapering thighs.

'It is not so bad,' Nerene thought.

Then Farida spoke. "Now get your nose into my anus and lick!"
she said.

Another order. Another order that had to be obeyed. But this time
not so easy. All the same, Nerene did not hesitate long. Fighting
down her natural reluctance, she moved between Farida's now
parted thighs, bent her head, and buried her face between the
soft female buttock cleft. She felt the shudder of pleasure
it gave her mistress as she began to lick. At first she licked
tentatively. Everything was strange and abhorrent to her. The
taste, the overwhelming smell, the slimy sensations.  But she was a
slave and slaves have no will in such matters.  Indeed, she quickly
pushed aside as unimportant issues such as her own sensations and
reactions; paramount in her mind was the knowledge that she had to
please her mistress or suffer cruelly.  She strove hard to please.
It was not long, after further commands, before her tongue was
penetrating deep into Farida's cunt, while her nose remained
pressed slavishly against, and practically penetrating, her anus.

Farida found Nerene's inexperienced but submissive efforts
highly enjoyable.  She knew the effort they cost the girl and
this enhanced her pleasure.  Lying there with the young tongue
working and working, her lust mounted quickly. when the thought
came to her that it would not be long before Gillian was placed
as Nerene was, Farida felt such a sudden inner excitement that
she spent herself with a long, quivering tremor running through
her body.  Little moaning sounds came from her mouth. pressed
into the silken cushions.  What a joy it was to have such power.
Such power to give oneself such pleasure!

She turned over on to her back and summoned Nerene to her side.
At that moment, she felt as near to an 'affection' for the young
girl as was possible in her perverted make-up. She caressed the
breasts, the buttocks and the cunt of the young creature she so
utterly possessed. Nerene, was utterly complaisant, trembling
like a trapped animal, dark eyes wide.

"That was quite good for a beginning, my pretty slave," said
Farida as she began to caress Nerene's little apple breasts.
The slave fought back an urge to cover her breasts; it was best
to submit herself to whatever treatment the slave mistress had in
store for her. She relaxed her body completely, allowing Farida
to pluck and pull at her nipples to her heart's desire.

As her fingers caressed Nerene's hard buds, now stroking, now
flicking with her sharp nails at the elongated teats, Farida
asked, "Is it not more pleasing to submit to your mistress than
anything else?"

Nerene did not know how to answer. She was the Bey's slave; should
she not say that she preferred the Bey? But perhaps that would
anger her mistress?  Thus, she fell back on a neutral formula. "I
I am a slave, mistress," she said. "It is my d-duty to obey..."

Farida was satisfied with the answer. She crushed Nerene's face to
her breasts again. "Suck my nipples!" she cooed.  "Gently..." she
whispered. And then, "When I tell you, kiss your way down there
again and please me even more."

Nerene felt a sense of relief that she was pleasing and satisfying
her all-powerful mistress. Was that not the most important thing
of all?

Farida felt the girl's mouth close softly over her breast, drawing
the nipple deeply between her lips.  She felt a strange, unsettling
desire seize her as the liquid heat of Nerene's tongue licked
arousingly over her imprisoned nipple.  In response, Farida began
pulling Nerene's nipples as far away from the girl's breast as
it would stretch.  Nerene's breasts hurt terribly but she stifled
any cry and dutifully sucked gently on her mistress's nipples.

Then Farida let her fingers stray around Nerene's midriff to
her bare cunt, briefly pressing delicately into the soft flesh
and feeling the girl's shaved crotch nestling into her knuckles.
The slave tried to move her pussy away but Farida raised a leg and
felt the slave girl's bottom was warm against her thighs.  She felt
the cheeks thrusting into the tops of her legs, rubbing fleshily.

Farida slipped her fingers expertly into the moist slit stroking
up and down its length until her middle and forefinger disappeared
into the hot stickiness of Nerene's cunt itself.

As she felt the two fingers slide tightly into her cunt, the slave
girl opened her legs wider, her head going to rest on Farida's
shoulder.  She stretched her hands around the mistress's back,
feeling for the ass cheeks having to work her fingers beneath
her before they could cup and press the full ripe mounds of flesh.

'She's learning fast...' Farida thought with satisfaction.
After all her methods did give results!

"Now!" said Farida when her nipples were strong and her breasts
heaving fast.  Immediately, Nerene slid down and pressed her mouth
once again to Farida's pussy.  She kissed and tongued and sucked
in a way that she instinctively sensed would give this cruel young
woman the most pleasure.  The sighs and shudders that her efforts
evoked were further evidence that her amateur efforts were by no
means unsuccessful.  For that, Nerene was profoundly grateful
for the memory of the slave mistress's biting switch was still
all too horribly vivid! Farida kept her eyes closed, allowing
the girl to continue with the energetic treatment of her twat,
feeling the velvet lapping at her cunt lips slowly restoring her
to energetic fitness again preparing her for the next round with
the arrogant English girl.

One of Farida's hands softly caressed her breast. Moving the globe
around and around, the fingers fondling the nipple delightfully.

'Oh, what a pleasurable time awaited her!' Farida thought dreamily
as she recalled the haughty young English bitch crawling and
begging under the cruel, unrelenting torment of the rod. There was
nothing like pain to subdue the most aggressive and recalcitrant
of these white women who believed themselves of a better breed
simply because of their skin...  Oh, she would learn... she would
quickly learn who was the mistress there...

Farida returned her attention to the slave girl, Nerene licking
between her legs patiently and without pause.

She stretched her hand down and began to stroke the girl's jet
black hair; at the same time gently pushing her face more firmly
against her sex. Nerene glanced up briefly before continuing with
her mouth to pussy caressing. Then she drew the folds of outer
cunt skin apart and held the lips open so that her tongue could
gain easy entrance to the secret slit. Her tongue sank deeply into
Farida's cunt, running submissively over the slave mistress's
inner lips end up to the thick, erect clitoris where she teased
and tormented for long minutes, licking at the hard button.

"Yes, yes, right there!" Farida hissed.  She was steadily losing
control over her herself as Nerene worked diligently on the most
sensitive part of her pussy bringing her nearer and nearer to
her climax.

Nerene's tongue kissing sank down to her vagina and Farida
impatiently hissed, "No! The clit you fool! Or I will give you
100 lashes!"

Frantically, Nerene returned her attention and more than doubled
her tongue lashing and clit sucking.  That was exactly what Farida
needed; with a violent shuddering that possessing her entire
body, she felt herself melting into a deep golden haze. Like
a dam bursting, the release flowed from her cunt and spread up
her stomach, through her breasts and arms and legs, until there
wasn't a single inch of her body which didn't feel intoxicated
and delirious.  A furious jetting of liquid she-cum squirted into
Nerene's open mouth.

"Drink... drink it all..." Farida cried out frantically and her
cruel hands grabbed the girl's head harshly, forcing her to lap
every drop of creamy spunk that spurted from her mistress' well
sucked cunt.

Nerene was disgusted but she hid it well.  She concentrated on
being happy that the worst was over and that she had pleased
the domineering Farida Ben Aroun, the cruel slave mistress of
the harem.


Slave Girl

Chapter Four

In Gillian's cell, darkness came again and with it, mounting
dread.  When the light comes on again she thought, there will be
but half an hour before she arrives. The coldness of hopeless
fear mounted in her and Gillian felt her ass cheeks contract
involuntarily. The thought of the terrible rod upon them again,
when they were so agonizingly tender, so fiercely smarting and
burning... all of which had been intensified by the salt gauze,
as it was intended to...

'I would do anything she asked. Anything!' Gillian told
herself. 'Anything she asks if only she would spare me! I'm quite
defeated and I know it I will submit completely. With my mind
as well as my body!'  Like all the others... or nearly all had
already done.

Sudden and bitter tears flowed from Gillian's eyes. It was
almost a relief to have made the inner decision. One could not
fight forever. One could not maintain one's spirits indefinitely
against such horrors. 'I am a harem slave girl,' Gillian told
herself. 'That is my fate, unbelievable as it still might seem.
And Farida is my slave mistress.'

After a little while, Gillian stopped crying and felt a little
calmer. It was as if she had passed some crisis point. 'Not much
more than six months ago, I was in England,' she thought. It seemed
more like six years. A whole world, a whole life away. Who would
have thought that after a short modeling course, a promising start
on a career in Repertory Theater would have come to this? If only
she had stuck to modeling... But they had told her she had too
much shape for that... not skinny enough.  If only she had stuck
to simple Repertory Theater instead of being tempted by a lavish
money offer to join a floor show and cabaret group touring Italy
and then some of the Levant nightspots. But with no parents and no
real ties in England, the chance seemed too good to miss. Italy
had been great fun and the show successful. Gillian's part in it
had been small; she acted mainly as a showgirl and did a little
dancing. Occasionally, she assisted in one of the cabaret acts.

Quite a lot of the time she had had to fend off come-on's from the
male members of the group, until at last they learned she wasn't
'easy.' There had, however, been a brief, idyllic affair with a
young Italian boatman. He had been the most virile, yet gentle man
Gillian had ever met and that affair had been the last time she
was able to think of anything connected with sex without a sense
of shame and horror.  Beirut and lesser Lebanon ports had followed.

All went well till the manager skipped with the takings, leaving
them all stranded.  Desperate for money to return to Italy,
Gillian had adopted another name and taken a job in a low-grade
cabaret in Beirut.  She recalled how the manager had offered
her a lot of money if she would do a full striptease and she had
indignantly refused, slapping his face...

One could almost hear mocking laughter now, thought Gillian with
savage bitterness as she lay there, chained, naked. All the same,
she had felt hot with shame at the scantiness of the items she had
to wear and the suggestive remarks of many of the customers. Still,
she had had to have the money and for some weeks, one nightspot
had followed another. Till the final one.  The one where some
vile trader in human flesh had given her the knockout drops.

She had only recovered full sensibility many days later, to find
herself a slave in the harem of the Bey Hamil Aroun. That was
the beginning of her servitude, and her decent into ever greater
degradation and which had brought her to her present predicament

No one knows, she thought and no one would really believe, what
can happen to a girl in the twentieth century. The East and its
tradition or slavery was stronger than the West imagined.

* * *

Farida had Nerene lightly bathe her body with warm scented
water. And she felt even more happy and relaxed.

"You are a good girl," she told Nerene, "and if you continue to
behave as you have done, you have little to fear here." Farida
felt an unusual affection for the young half-caste. She might
well become one of her favorites.

Nerene trembled with servile relief and joy at the thought that she
had been able to please her mistress.  She could ask for nothing
more. This was the kind of servitude that Farida was determined
to get from Gillian--and she didn't mind how long it took.

With Nerene's assistance, she fitted herself into a black leotard
of the finest thin leather. It clung to her young body like a
second skin. Then Nerene laced up a pair of calf length boots with
six-inch spike heels. That done, Farida pulled up her quivering
puppet by her hair.

"You want to please your mistress, don't you, Nerene?" she asked.

"Y-yes... M-Mistress..." quavered Nerene softly. There could he
no doubt that she really meant it.  She shuddered, prettily naked
and helpless in the grip.

"Good..." said Farida.  She kissed the girl on the mouth and was
happy to feel the immediate response of the young body against
hers. No reluctance, no recoil. 'By Allah!' thought Farida,
'This one is learning fast!'

'Was it simply fear of the "lash"?' she wondered.

Gently her hand ran over the young, rounded bottom, feeling the
thin weals she had raised earlier. What a delightful girl! It
was going to he nice to put a dildo up her and see her reactions.

"It is better to be wise, is it not Nerene?" she said.

"Yes, Mistress," breathed Nerene. She suddenly found sufficient
temerity to kiss Farida back, fully on the mouth. "I am honored
to please you in whatever way you wish... " she added when she
broke away.

There was a thin, contented smile on Farida's lips as she moved
away.  Her limbs were strong and moved with an arrogant grace.
Every inch of her spoke the word 'command'. This was her world
and she knew it.

"I may send for you later tonight, Nerene," she said. "Meanwhile
I have other matters to attend to."

Nerene sank on one knee and bowed her head as the slave-mistress
left the boudoir. She was not only happy that she had escaped
further punishment, but also because she felt that she might
have caught in the fancy of her mistress.  For a slave girl there
could be no higher honor. Apart, of course, from equally pleasing
the Bey!

Before returning to her study, Farida poured herself a large
goblet of brandy. She felt supremely relaxed. Then, as her mind
turned ahead, a little cruel pulse of pleasure began to pulse
within her pussy. Her thin lips parted in a smile.  It was so
nice to know that while she had been having so much pleasure,
Gillian's seconds were crawling past in agony and torment.

'At this very moment,' thought Farida as she drank down the
warming brandy, 'she is quaking with dread at the thought of my
imminent arrival!' Farida's thin, wide lips bared in a cold smile.
It had been an excellent idea of hers to get Khaled to apply the
salt gauze. That splendidly curvaceous English bottom would be
most exceedingly tender!

Moving to her study, Farida flipped a switch on the intercom.
Miss Frankel answered within moments.

"Have Khaled bring Gillian to the main punishment room," she
ordered. "I shall be there in ten minutes."

"Very well, Miss Farida," came the perfunctory reply.

Farida flipped down the switch and lit a cigarette. She was
beginning to feel a delicious warm glow in her stomach.

* * *

Gillian's body shook with fright when she heard the key turn in
the lock.  Her heart raced and her nerves pulsed like electric
wires.  The dreaded moment had at last arrived!  It was a form
of release that she had, in a way, ached for, yet all the same,
hideously dreaded.

Her head swam and she bit her lips fiercely.  A whimper of pity
arose within her. There was one further desperate hope in her
heart, if she shows herself truly and finally submissive to Farida,
she might yet escape the full torment.  It was something at least,
to cling to in that awful moment.

Then, to her surprise, she saw it was Khaled who had entered the
cell and not Farida. He came towards her, face impassive, his fat
yet muscled black body glistening. Gillian half upturned to him,
big, firm breasts thrusting. In the days when he was a full man,
Khaled would have been more than diverted by this lush female
creature.

"The mistress has sent for you," he announced, removing the salt-
gauze from Gillian's hindquarters.  The fiery red flesh, striped
by heavy weals, was startlingly revealed. It seemed as if one
put one's hand within six inches from it one could have felt the
burning heat of it.

Khaled gave a low whistle.  "White Missie is very sore, eh?" he
said. "Yes... I can see that. Very sore, very tender." He made
a light clucking noise with his tongue.

"Missie is going to wish very much she had been a good, obedient
girl.  Yes... yes..." It did not need much imagination to realize
what it would be like to feel the rod on such already tormented
flesh!

A shuddering sob went through Gillian as Khaled unshackled the
chain from the ring bolt.  The collar about her neck, to which
her wrists were manacled remained, and a tug on the chain from
Khaled pulled Gillian off the block on which she had lain for
five anguished hours of mental and physical torment.

Now that the moment had at last arrived, she felt weak with
terror. There seemed to he no strength left in her limbs. And
although it was absurd, both because he was a eunuch and because he
could not have helped her even if he wanted to, Gillian pressed
herself close to Khaled's strong black limbs and whimpered a
final plea.

"P-please... p-p-please, Khaled... don't take me to... t-to
her! Oh God, no... anything... a-anywhere... p-please...  Please!"

The black Khaled simply shrugged. He had heard many pleas.
It was natural. He could understand it.  But he felt neither any
particular feelings of sympathy nor of sadism; it was just his job.

"Get up, Missie," he said, giving another tug on the chain so that
the collar cut cruelly into Gillian's neck. "You got to come to
the mistress right now.  It bad idea to keep her waiting!"

With a fresh bout of weeping, Gillian staggered upright, but as
she did so, she screamed out loud, wincing and shuddering from the
pain in her ass. The skin of her ass cheeks seemed to he stretched
taut and it was a torment even to move. She crumpled to the ground.

"Here, Missie," Khaled reached down so that his fist was in her
face and then he opened his hand. In it lay a small pinkish
colored capsule. He tipped it towards her mouth and Gillian
automatically used and her lips to pick up the capsule, rather
as a horse takes sugar.  This pill was yet another innovation of
Farida's; it was a powerful, quick-acting of nerve stimulant and
mood alterant.  For Farida, its purpose was cruelly simple--it
enabled the taker to endure more pain for longer before Nature
must finally intervene and bring insensibility from fainting.
For the slaves, it offered a short respite.

Gillian remained on the ground for a few minutes while Khaled
yanked on her chain to get her to get up again.  After Khaled
resorted to spanking her tender ass, she gained her feet again
and, following at the end of the chain Khaled held, was led like
an animal.

* * *

The main Punishment Room was long and vaulted, rather like a
large gymnasium. There were a number of varied wood and leather
contraptions scattered about as well as many chains, manacles,
ring bolts and the like.  Along the walls, mainly, there were
racks of different instruments of correction that left no doubt
as to the purpose of this room.

Gillian was led in and, as always when she entered that dreaded
place, her stomach seemed to turn to water. She had already
learned the meaning of true suffering there.  A long minute passed,
during which Gillian prayed that in some way the floor might open
up and swallow her.

'I must show her,' she kept on telling herself, 'that now I really
do submit. Really. Not halfway as before... but with my mind
and spirit as well as my body. I must show her that I am truly
her slave.' Quickly Gillian thrust aside the customary surge
of bitterness at the idea that rose inside her. There must no
longer be bitterness! Nothing but acceptance. Willing acceptance,
one must think of it as such. The 'honor' of serving!

'Submit, submit, submit...' Gillian kept on saying to herself,
as if by doing so she would be in some way helped to do so in
the full fashion demanded of her.

Then a door at the far end opened and, the next moment, Farida
came striding across the polished wood floor. Her long limbs were
surmounted by the tight V of her leotard, the inevitable switch
(this one of black plaited leather), dangled almost negligently
from her right wrist.

Gillian immediately dropped to the customary, one knee, bending
curtsy.  She kept her eyes downcast as she heard the sound of her
click clacking heels echoed with an almost sinister menace around
the high vaulted chamber, but getting closer by the heartbeat.
How many slave girls had heard that sound? But Gillian's thoughts
were only of her own shivering dread.

"Ah, thank you, Khaled," said Farida, coming to a halt before
them, her hands on her hips and her legs a little astride. Her
cat eyes glinted and there was a thin, almost bony look about
her hard features, "You may unchain her now."

Gillian rose from her curtsy and stood meekly as Khaled unshackled
her wrists and then took off her iron collar. Having done so, the
eunuch moved away to one wall and stood there impassive, with arms
folded. He would only be called upon when Gillian was required
to be secured again or if, most unlikely, she resisted. Such
resistance one encountered, of course, from the new girls--but
only until they realized what additional suffering it entailed.

"As I told you, girl," said Farida, eying her victim with sadistic
relish, "I intend to teach you the true meaning of respect
and obedience. These are the qualities that hitherto you have
been lacking, at least, in sufficient quantities." Farida moved
around so that she could observe Gillian's tendered weal-ridged
buttocks. Gillian hung her head quietly.

Farida's eyes glinted again. Yes, this slave's ass looked most
deliciously painful.  "Perhaps you are already beginning to feel
a little more respect?" she asked softly.

"Y-yes, M-mistress," Gillian's throat was dry and her answer was
immediate but hoarse.

Farida moved around to the front again and her eyes ran with
derisive scorn over Gillian's nakedness: her lush, half-melon
breasts; her firm white belly; her exposed, hairless mound.

"I will see a little of it," she said. "Get on your knees, girl."
Gillian rushed to obey.

Even the simple fact of calling a woman five years older than
herself 'girl', gave Farida pleasure. She tapped the side of her
calf length boot with the switch. As Gillian crawled forward,
Farida extended one toe a little and the next moment Gillian's
mouth was pressed slavishly to the black patent leather. How
familiar was the gleam and the pungent scent of it to her!
Her mouth and tongue worked with strenuous effort as they
must--there could he no half-heartedness about showing one's
respect in that way. One had to lick and slobber one's submission
all over both boots maybe, heels, soles and all, if Farida was
in the mood and had the time.

On this occasion, she seemed to have plenty of time. It seemed
as if she might be happy to stand for hours gazing down at the
figure which cringed and trembled in naked humiliation at her
feet. Perhaps she might have been, but there was more to her
actions than that.

Except, possibly when she was handing out some minor, on the
spot correction, Farida believed in taking her time over a
punishment. There was more to it than just the application of
the rod or lash, though that would be its centerpiece. The awful
moments of dread must be as long and drawn out as possible. The
victim must be spared no facet of shame, humiliation, or other
mental anguish at the time. It was all part of the punishment--a
very important part.  Had not Gillian spent five hours in mental
as well as physical torment?  She would have escaped that if her
punishment had been administered all at one time, terrible as
that might have been.

Moreover, because Gillian had actually arrived in the punishment
room, that did not mean that her anguished waiting time was oven.
As a cat plays with a mouse, so Farida would play with her until,
at the right time, Farida would pounce and flog her without mercy.

"Yes," said Farida musingly after some time, "that certainly
appears to show more respect," she said and gave Gillian a jab
in the shoulder with her toe. "Kneel erect!" she ordered.

Gillian did so. Her poor limbs were trembling. She forced
herself to speak, dangerous as this might be. It was her
last chance to impress upon Farida her inner change of
heart. "Mistress," she croaked, "I beg you... t-to... believe
me... I... I... I feel f-full respect. I... I swear it... I... am
your c-complete slave... w-wishing... to submit... in e-every
way... Mistress... e-every way..."

The words were a delight to Farida. She had heard similar
pronouncements from Gillian before, but never quite so abject
nor with so genuine a ring. Perhaps the girl was truly broken at
last. That would be a pity, in a way...

Suddenly, impulsively, risking all, Gillian clasped Farida's
thighs, crushing her fulsome breasts against them. Her mouth
was close to the leather covered mound. "I will do anything,
Mistress! Anything!" she panted. "I am y-your slave... w-wishing
to please you, j-just as you wish..."

Farida liked that even more.  She particularly liked the feel
of Gillian against her and all that her words implied. She was
beginning to sense a true submission of the will and spirit.

However, Farida by no means relented; that was not her way. "I
am glad to hear you will do as I wish. As I demand," said Farida
softly. "Glad for your sake girl." Then her voice became harsh.
"For if you did not, you would make repeated visits to this room
until you did!"

Gillian moaned, a shudder going through her. Was there no mercy
anywhere? Not even after she had truly submitted in her own mind?
She sensed she had failed and the tears started to run down her
cheeks as her breasts heaved with bitter sobs. She was not the
first to realize that the time when one submitted was of great
importance. She had left it for too late--too late, at least,
to escape what Farida had already planned for her.

"Fetch me the rod, Khaled," ordered Farida. "You know the one!"

The rod that Khaled brought was about the most vicious one that
Farida employed, being four feet long, some three eighths of an
inch thick, with the last four inches at the tip 'reinforced'
by thin strips of leather tightly plaited around it. The wood
of the rod was of a hard, yellow polished willow, and of great
flexibility.

It was, needless to say, an instrument much feared (as much as the
whip by some) and Farida usually reserved it for what she liked
to term 'her special cases.' Gillian was certainly one of those!

Another and louder moan escaped from the English girl as Khaled
returned with the rod swaying up and down in his hand. She knew
already what it could do... but now, this time, it would be
worse--far worse! Her stomach contracted and her ass cheeks
twitched. 'Oh God! Why did I disobey!?' she asked herself.
'Why did I refuse her?  Anything would have been better than this!'

Farida took the rod and flexed it between hard, sinuous fingers.
It bent easily in an arc and then sprang back as she released
the tip.  "Yes..." she almost sighed, "I don't think you really
believed me when I told you I'd make you my true slave. Now,
perhaps, you are beginning to understand!"

"I am... I am your slave," gasped Gillian hopelessly. "I-I-I
I understand!"  she screamed helplessly.

'What more can I do to show it!?' she wondered desperately. 'Would
Farida ever be satisfied, however much she humbled herself!?'

With a strong flick of her wrist, Farida hurled the red switch
to one side. It arched through the air and then slid across the
polished floor, stopping some forty or so feet away. "Go and fetch
it slave!" Farida commanded.  "On your hands and knees!  And bring
it back to me in your mouth!"  she finished with a cold smile.

"Yes, mistress," Gillian said as she immediately dropped
to her hands and knees and crawled off. It was terrible for
her to know what pleasure Farida was getting from her naked
degradation. Terrible to know what she had to submit to. 'She has
turned me into the equivalent of a dog fetching a stick!' she
thought as she crawled over the hard floor. Reaching the rod,
her mouth went down and she picked it up, bringing it back through
clenched teeth.

As she brought the switch back, she was careful not to dent it
with her teeth.  'I am a slave.' she told herself.  'Anything
that she wishes is my command.  I am happy to be a dog for Her.'
She tried to put the humiliation out of her mind. 'If she spits,
you must lick it up with a smile,' she told herself.  a part
of her mind tried to retch at the thought and with an effort,
she forced this sensation out of her mind.

Her dog-like status was emphasized by Farida when she patted
her head as Gillian presented the rod to her. "You are beginning
to show some signs of improvement," remarked the slave mistress
nonchalantly.

For a moment, that old hatred and bitterness flared in Gillian,
but she fought it down. 'You must not think like that,' she told
herself. 'You must do whatever she wants, with meekness and true
servility. You are no longer entitled to normal feelings. You
are a slave!'

The red switch skated across the floor again. "Fetch it again,"
ordered Farida. Immediately, Gillian began to crawl away towards
it. "But this time," added her slave mistress, "Go on your
belly... and keep your nose to the floor."

Gillian went down to her belly. As Farida demanded, she began to
slither and grovel over the surface.  Her nose pressed against the
floor, her breasts were crushed beneath her as she moved. And all
the time she was hideously conscious of the glinting eyes upon her,
watching her for one single sign of resentment or recalcitrance.

'I must do all this because she is my mistress and I am her slave,'
she told herself.  But the whole thing was not that simple for
one of Gillian's temperament.  True conversion is indeed a most
complex and difficult operation.

Farida, standing there with all her natural arrogance, reassured
in her absolute power, felt a throb of the deepest kind of
pleasure. She understood, as a woman, what Gillian must be
enduring mentally as well as physically, and that enhanced her
pleasure enormously.

It took Gillian a long time to crawl on her belly and then crawl
back, but in due time, Gillian returned, nose to the floor,
and laid the rod down. The sweat of fear as well as effort beaded
her body.  How long before she felt that terrible rod she was being
forced to carry like an animal, simply for Farida's amusement?

"Yes... indeed you show improvement," said Farida. Even that remark
brought Gillian some degree of thankfulness. "But there is room
for plenty more yet," added the cold, hard, young voice. Gillian's
heart sank again as she remained grovelling, nose to the floor,
every line of her body indicating her abject submission.

"Kneel erect," ordered Farida.

Gillian obeyed, quickly. Her big breasts swung and bounced. She
had always been rather over-conscious of them. Her eyes were
misted with tears and it was difficult for her to control her lips.

Then the rod tapped lightly on her breasts and she could not help
shrinking back.  "Of course," said Farida, "if your behavior does
not continue to improve, I may be forced to use this upon those
big, handsome breasts of yours..."  Farida leaned down so that
her face was near to Gillian's, "Can you imagine how much that
would hurt, little puppy?" she leered.

It was in that moment that Gillian realized that there could
be even worse things than feeling the red across an already red
raw and burning tender bottom.  "Oooohhh... nooo, n-no..." she
started to weep.  "I-I-I wi-will... will be gooooood!" she sobbed.
Through her tears, she saw the slave-mistress' small teeth bared

"Oh, yes, yes, I would do it, my little pussy.  Even if you would
not be so pleasant for the Bey to fondle for several weeks!"

Through a miasma of pain and terror, Gillian saw Farida smile
again. "And now," she heard her say, "I think it is time you
received the benefit of the rod again. I trust it will instill
in you an even greater degree of respect and obedience than you
have already just begin to show."

Farida's fingers snapped at Khaled and he moved forward to take
Gillian by the hair, dragging her towards one of the numerous
whipping stations available in the room.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh... Mer... ceeeee!" Gillian's terrible cry rang
up to the vaulted roof and echoed around the chamber. Echoed and
was unanswered except by her continuing screams.

"I think that birching hurdle will suffice," said Farida,
following behind the twisting, struggling length of her victim. She
indicated a wooden dais upon which was a stout rounded pole was
slung horizontally, a little less than waist-height, between two
slim stanchions.

Unceremoniously, Khaled lifted Gillian up on to the dais, slipping
one hand between the bend of her thighs and grasping under her,
while his other hand still gripped her by the hair.

Once on the dais, he placed her over the horizontal pole, her
belly and flanks resting upon it, and then he began to secure her.

Her wrists he corded to a wooden strut at the front of the dais;
her thighs he secured again with cord, twisting it around them
just above the knees and tying the cord to ring bolts set in the
floor of the dais.

"Excellent," remarked Farida, stepping up on to the small platform,
the rod swishing gently up and down.

Harsh sobs were escaping from Gillian her shoulders heaved up and
down, and her buttocks kept quivering and contracting with dread.

"Merc... ceee..." she cried out loudly again.  "Anything! Please
Mistress!"

It seemed that the hopeless cry was not so much directed at
Farida but to the fates themselves, asking that she he released
from life rather than endure what was to come!

The tip of the rod lightly tapped Gillian's curvaceous bottom. "I
told you I would teach you," said the cruel mistress of the place,
"and, by Allah, I will!" There was a look of the most intense
sadistic joy on her young face.

Though there were plenty of similar moments in Farida's day-to-day
life, with Gillian there was always that something extra special
which her perverted mentality derived from having such a total
power of life and death over this white European bitch.

"Merc... ceee... I...aaaahhh... I s-swear... I'll never
disobey... again..." cried Gillian, utterly distraught. She knew
it was useless, but she just could not stop herself from pleading.

"We shall see," smiled Farida, taking up a firm stance, legs
astride. Khaled stood as impassive as ever, arms folded, by the
side of the torture dais. "And remember," added the slave mistress,
for once letting her emotions overtly be revealed, "remember how
much I enjoy doing this to you, Gillian... to you, my slave!"

The long, flexible rod swung up and, with teeth bared, Farida
brought it down with all the strength at her command.


Slave Girl

Chapter Five

It would have been a terrible enough flogging under any
circumstances, but it was made far more terrible by the sorry state
of Gillian's bruised and hyper-tender ass cheeks.  Gillian's agony
was beyond belief and the pleasure of the sadist equally so.

Whistling hoarsely through the air, the rod fell at five to six
seconds intervals, so that it took a full minute for the punishment
to be completed.

Just one minute. No more.  But a minute of the purest, most
excruciating agony for Gillian. A minute she would never forget!

Relentlessly, the strokes marched from the top of her writhing
bottom to the tops of her thighs... and then back again. Each
stroke expertly delivered, expertly placed. Each spaced so that
the maximum pain was absorbed just before the following stroke
whip-lashed down.

Particularly agonizing was the last four inches of the rod's tip,
the plaited leather tip, and Farida used this to full effect. It
was the part that whip-lashed most fiercely and it was the part of
the newly raised weal that was the most savagely blood red of all.

Gillian's writhing over the rounded hurdle was beyond
description! Once could scarcely have believed the human body
was capable of such frantic convulsions unless one had witnessed
them. Her screaming howls, which began with the first stroke,
echoed up to the vaulted roof and around the chamber. They would
have chilled the marrow of any ordinary listener. But to Farida,
the slave mistress, they were the most divine symphony--a symphony
which she personally conducted!

What more beautiful sounds could there be? The sweeping whistle
of each full-blooded stroke, the THWAK! sound of the rod biting
deep into soft flesh, the slave girl's agonized screech, the
wild struggling and straining against the bonds to get away,
... especially the screams and the vain struggling!

Lushly curvaceous buttocks that were once so white and were now so
fiery red. Red... and... yes... red purple where the savage weals
lept up. Long, encircling weals. Each one an unendurable torment
that burnt and burnt so deep into the body and the very soul!

Ten strokes had been awarded on top of the ten delivered earlier,
and when the second helping of strokes were administered, the
wretched Gillian was fortified against her wishes by the stimulants
within her and endured every one in full. Even the blissful respite
of temporary unconsciousness towards the end was not withheld from
her by the stimulants.  She endured and she suffered every second.

Just as Farida had wished it.

Of course, the pain wasn't even greatest when Gillian was
receiving her corrections; as soul-tearing as the pain of the
merciless pounding was, it hurt just as bad if now worse when
it was over and Gillian's ass ached and burned.  When, panting
from her efforts, the slave mistress tossed the rod aside, the
cacophony of sound scarcely diminished. Nor did the convulsions
of squirming and shuddering bottom flesh. Hands on hips, Farida
stood and watched... and listened.  The smile on her cruel features
was ecstatic.

After about a minute, Khaled looked enquiringly at Farida who
seemed to be enjoying herself in a kind of dream daze, but it
was not his place to interrupt.

After several minutes, the terrible cries had ceased and become
deep groaning sobs. The bottom still squirmed, but not quite so
violently. It was a typical conclusion even if more than usually
impressive to one of Farida's 'special punishments.'

'I have broken her,' thought Farida, 'truly broken her... in the
future, she will be as supple as a thin leather glove on my hand,
I am sure. But I must be sure. Would it not therefore he best to
strike while the iron was hot?'

She considered it a few moments longer and then came to a decision.

"Khaled," she said, "release this slave and then give her
another stimulant. Not a capsule this time, but a full injection.
You know the strength I mean?"

Khaled inclined his head. "Yes, my mistress," he answered. It
was not his place to feel or express compassion or, indeed,
any contrary emotion. He simply took orders.

"I think," she said, as much to herself, it seemed as to him, "I
think she will obtain full benefit from this piece of correction
by spending the remainder of the night locked in the Iron Maiden!"

Khaled inclined his head again. "Yes, my mistress," he said
impassively. "I will prepare her."

His black body glistening, he moved towards the hurdle over which
Gillian still lay, shuddering with the unrelenting pain.

The Iron Master was a disciplinary restraining device of Farida's
own creation. It was constructed somewhat in the fashion of a
suit of armor, except that the metal was not all in one piece,
but consisted of an iron lattice work, which was adjustable and
could be molded tightly to the victim's body once she had been
placed in the contraption.

With the help of the stimulant injection, Gillian had recovered
adequately within ten minutes. At least, she could stand and move,
however painfully, and was completely conscious. While all this
was going on, Farida sat with limbs crossed, calmly smoking a
cigarette. But inside her chest, her heart was beating fast with
the cruel pleasure she was savoring each time Gillian winced or
cried out.  Farida enjoyed watching Gillian in her pain for quite
some time.  When she considered Gillian adequately restored to
her senses, she gave the signal for Khaled to take her to the
small annex in the Punishment Room where the Iron Master was kept.

It stood there stolidly, and Farida swung open the front section
of it (it was hinged down one side) and ordered Khaled to stand
Gillian in the framework. The English girl had never seen the
Iron Master before and was unaware of what was going on. All she
knew was that it was something dreadful but she was too weak with
shock and pain to offer the slightest resistance.

Once she was correctly placed, Farida closed the front section
upon her and fastened it. Thus Gillian's body and limbs were
enclosed in a kind of cage that was roughly shaped to her body.
Each limb was enclosed in a separate latticework section, movable
and adjustable and attached to the main 'torso' of the device.
Only her head was free, and this was only temporary because there
were a variety of head cages which could be added.

Farida looked into her victim's wild, pain filled eyes and felt
no pity, only pleasure.  "After tonight, my slave," she said,
"I do not think you will ever disobey me again.  Not so much as
by a hair's breadth.  You may displease me... yes... and for that
you will pay. But you will not disobey me."

Gillian made no coherent answer. Even if one were required, it
was doubtful if she could have replied. The encasing iron frame
filled her with a cold terror. And, of course, incessantly there
was the excruciating torment from her lacerated hindquarters.
Only strong stimulant kept her from fainting.

And now began a process which filled Farida with even greater
sadistic delight; it was the adjustment of the iron master and
she did it slowly and lovingly, step by step.

First she tightened the bands about Gillian's calves and thighs so
that her legs were held rigid. Then the leg cages were adjusted so
that Gillian stood astride. Her mound, the whole area of her cunt
and the cleft between her ass cheeks were thus nakedly exposed.

Secondly, Farida made similar adjustments to the arm cages and
then adjusted them so that Gillian's arms were raised above her
head. All this time, Gillian's eyes remained wide and the tears
ran silently down her cheeks. The enclosing feeling of the cages,
growing ever tighter, filled her with nameless terror.

"Now," said Farida, almost to herself, "The waist..."

This she now tightened until Gillian cried out breathlessly with
the restricting pain. Her 24" waist had been crushed to something
like 22" or less.

Farida gave a final extra turn of the screw and Gillian screamed.

"Mer...cee... no more..." she cried in a strangled
voice. "K-Kill... me let me... let me... die...  but... ahhh... no
more... no more!"

Farida actually chuckled at that.  "Letting you die is the last
thing I would do," she said with a smile. "You have still many
more useful purposes to fulfill."

Gillian's breasts fitted into the iron-lattice cups, and these too
were adjustable.  Farida tightened them a little and the girl began
to scream hysterically. "I shall be merciful on this occasion,"
the slave-mistress said, adjusting the cups only until Gillian's
breasts were firmly but not tightly gripped.  She smiled. "But
you can imagine what it would be like if I really were to put
the squeeze on..."

This, in fact, was something Farida very rarely did for a girl's
breasts might well be permanently ruined or made unsightly,
which was a pointless waste in most cases.

"F-For... God's... h-have mercy... whimpered Gillian, feeling as
if she were in a human vise.

"Mistress... ohhh... I have told you... I have told you... I
am... truly...  your slave... ooohh... Mistress... please! have
you not done enough?'

"I have just started," smiled Farida. "Khaled, fetch me the head
cage. The one with the phallic projection, please..."

In moments, Khaled returned with the necessary attachment and
this Farida fastened over Gillian's head, rather in the fashion
of a diver's helmet.  The girl's eyes filled with renewed panic
at this extra enclosure and she began to whimper again for mercy.
The only opening in the head-cage was by the mouth, where there
was a kind of hinged flap.  From the inside of the flap projected
a rounded length of iron in the shape of male penis.  There was
the knob and then the section of the organ itself, in all some
three inches in length.

"Open your mouth," ordered Farida.

Now conditioned to obey at once, Gillian did so without hesitation,
and Farida closed the flap and the iron penis filled the slave's
mouth almost to the back of her throat. A choking retching sound
escaped her and snorting sounds came down her flaring nostrils.

Farida smiled evilly through the grille over the petrified
face. "You can't always have the good fortune to suck a real male
organ," she said.

Gillian went on making horrible sounds, but, of course, no words
could be formed while she was being tortured so.

"And now," said the slave-mistress, "for something that will
really keep you happy through the night..."

Contemptuously, she fingered the naked flesh of Gillian's cunt
and she felt the girl's attempted flinching withdrawal, despite
all the other ordeals she was enduring.

'I am not sure,' thought Farida, 'whether she has truly submitted
yet, whatever she says.  The reaction of a slave-girl whose
cunt would be touched should be to present it more invitingly,
not withdraw it! However, perhaps allowance ought to be made for
Gillian's naturally distraught condition.'

Khaled, who knew what was now wanted, produced it without being
asked. It was a penetrating device, fixed to an attaching flap,
similar to the one already in Gillian's mouth, except that the
'iron phallus' was twice as long.  That is to say, something like
six inches; it was also quite thick.

With a look of evil relish on her hard features, Farida hinged
the flap on to the 'torso' of the Iron Master. Then she swung
the flap upwards so that the iron knob of the phallus parted the
girl's cunt lips.

A whining sound was escaping Gillian's nostrils and it intensified
as Farida continued to press on the flap so that the phallus slid
up and into her. The sadistic girl did not thrust it quickly
but with a slow and steady motion, until the whole of the iron
projection was in her victim.  Filling and stretching her and
adding another horror. When it was in, Farida locked the flap
securely and stood up.

"There..." she said, smiling at the grille of the head cage.
"Does not that feel absolutely lovely, my slave?"

Or course, Gillian could make no reply, but the high-pitched,
somewhat muffled screaming sounds continued with even greater
fervor. She was locked and held and pinioned in iron at every
point and horribly penetrated.  A wild and hopeless panic gripped
her. A panic of utter despair.

At that moment, Khaled came alongside Farida with yet another
phallic device. "For the rear passage, mistress," he said.

Farida looked at the device for a moment or two and then shook
her head. "No," she said. "In that connection, I wish to keep her
'virgin'. It may well be that her asshole will be put to use
before long. And there are some who would prefer to take her
virgin tight."

As she spoke, she continued to look into Gillian's eyes, seeing the
growing terror in them. It was obvious that the girl understood
the implication of the words.  She was being spared the horror
of a present added torment for a future one!

For a full minute; Farida continued to gaze on her helpless
victim. The whinnying sounds never ceased and the encased body
shuddered and jerked with in its terrible confines.

"Good night, my slave!" Farida said brightly into the grille,
then she turned and started to leave.

"Release her at eight in the morning, Khaled!" she yelled over
her shoulder.

"Yes, mistress..." The eunuch bowed his head and followed her to
the door of the punishment room.

The wretched Gillian was left alone in her agonizing torment and
terrifying iron cage. Alone. Alone and helpless. With hours of
more torment lying ahead of her.

* * *

It was but a short time later that Farida lay naked in voluptuous
abandon upon the luxurious, warm silkiness of her four-poster
bed. Looking up, she could see herself reflected in the mirror
in the canopy above.  Between her legs, obstructing her view of
her own pussy, was the dark hair of young Nerene.

Farida stretched, arching her back, sighing a little, Nerene's
dedicated mouth and tongue filling her with steady mounting
pleasure. Life was good. Very good. She sighed gently and
contentedly again, and let her mind reflect with sadistic pleasure
on the contrast between her situation and that of Gillian.
For herself, there was softness and pleasure; for the arrogant
white woman there was iron hardness and pain! It was only fair...

The knowledge added to Farida's enjoyment as did her recollection
of Gillian's nakedness in the punishment room when the vicious
rod had brought such excruciating torment upon her victim.

"Get your tongue in deeper, Nerene," ordered Farida. Her glittering
dark eyes half closed and her wide thin lips parted more as her
breath came faster. She was coming slowly, but powerfully to
her climax.  Farida would require Nerene's most strenuous efforts
far into the night as Farida replayed Gillian's sweet screams
and the sexy way her white body writhed when she was being beaten
mercilessly.  The little dusky girl better not tire, or else...


Slave Girl

Chapter Six

At the very same time, in his luxurious private chambers, in
another part of the harem, the Bey Hamil Aroun also lay completely
naked and quite as contented.

The girls attending him that evening had seemed particularly
pleasing and persistent.  Lying on his back he watched a pair of
shapely, coal black buttocks rise and fall.  They had the sheen
of black satin, he thought as with her back turned towards him,
the girl continued to 'ride' the most satisfactory erection he
had achieved. Her name, if he remembered right, was Lotina, not
that it mattered much. And, from time to time, his view of that
undulating black bottom was obscured by a pair of beautiful milk
white breasts. They belonged to Babette, who was kneeling above
his head, facing in the same direction as Lotina, and who was
dancing her big breasts over his chest and face in order to add
to his pleasure.

It was all most pleasing and satisfying and, not for the
first time, the Bey reflected upon how much the technique and
performance of his harem girls had improved since Farida had
taken up her appointment as slave-mistress. What a good girl she
was! No father could ask for a daughter more devoted to pleasing
him. None of the girls seemed to spare any effort to satisfy his
slightest desires. Moreover, they were all excessively respectful
and obediently servile.

'In the old days,' he thought as he felt the increasing liquid warm
joy of Lotina's cunt, 'some of them had seemed almost perfunctory
in the performance of their duties, while others who may have
formed the impression that they were his particular favorites,
were occasionally almost verging on the insolent.'

Well, there was no more of that! There wasn't a singe harem slave
who did not give him everything that he wanted, in whatever
way pleased him most. In addition, it was rare that he had
to give directions. They seemed to know what he wanted and
when, often working skillfully as a black and white and dusky
colored team. Just as Lotina and Babette were doing at the
moment. Everything was designed for his perfect pleasure.

At that moment, Babette began to slide slowly and clingingly
forward. Her breasts pressed against his belly so that he knew her
face must be close to Lotina's hardworking hindquarters. The Bey
liked the idea of that. He also liked the spectacle of the smooth,
white cunt that was presented to him. Plump and ripe above his
face, between soft quivering thighs. He tongued it lightly,
drinking in the pungent scent and sensation of the girl's
pinkish slit.

His lust grew hotter; the sex pleasure grew keener. He would have
liked it to endure longer, but he knew it was not possible. Soon,
his whole flabby body was shuddering and jerking as Lotina's cunt
brought him to a climax while Babette's soft white body wriggled
on top of him and his mouth continued to drink in the delights
of her avidly proffered cunt.

After his climax, Lotina turned around and then both of them
worked to clean his member off with their mouths and tongues.
Then, with his permission, Babette lay on her back and opened her
mouth wide. Lotina hovered her black ass over the open mouth and,
removing her had that had held her pussy lips tightly together,
allowed his semen to drip into Babette's mouth.  The white slave
swallowed with poor timing and got a fat drop splattered on her
chin but the black slave spun around to lick her face clean.

* * *

Morning came to the harem. Morning, with its mixture of pain and
pleasure. Pain for the many, pleasure for the few. By ten o'clock,
having been bathed, dressed and breakfasted by her attendants,
Farida was at work in her study. She summoned her two lieutenants,
Miss Frankel and Miss Kramer and received reports and issued
directives.

There were eight put forward as possible cases for punishment on
account of various minor misdemeanors that had taken place on
the previous day. Two of them were put to one side for further
consideration and a personal interview by Farida herself. The
other six she directed to be dealt with by her assistants. Four
of them were to receive five strokes of a single tongued strap
and the other two were to receive five similar strokes of the
strap followed by five additional strokes from a lightweight
cane. These punishments were to be administered at eleven o'clock
that day in the main Punishment Room by the eunuchs on duty under
the supervision of either Miss Frankel or Miss Kramer.

"Gillian," added Farida, "is to be put under heavy sedation
for thirty-six hours. Healing ointment is to be applied to any
scarred flesh surface every four hours throughout. At the end of
the period, she is to be brought to me for personal examination. Is
everything clear?"

Her two heavily-built assistants voiced their assent to her orders
and then withdrew. They had plenty of work to do. All the girls
had to be inspected to see that they were in the peak of condition
and beauty expected from them. Then they had to be assigned to
their various duties for the next twenty-four hours as already
laid down in writing by the slave-mistress. A small group would
attend to the Bey himself.  Some would undergo various forms of
beauty culture and physical training.  Others would have tasks
of manual or domestic nature.

Under Farida's direction, everything was organized to a high
degree, with a pattern and a plan.   No girl could laze around
easily, simply awaiting a summons to please the Bey, as once had
been the case. Above all, every harem girl knew that if she failed
to satisfy the demands and directives of the slave mistress,
she would suffer for it terribly.  If there was one thing that
was certain in the harem life, it was this one!

Farida had formally asked for an audience with the Bey at eleven
o'clock and had been granted it. As his daughter, she could
have simply sought him out.  However, as has been said, it was
she who preferred not be treated as a daughter, but simply as
a slave-mistress.

In her usual outfit of leather--in this case a combination of
black and white--she strode into the antechamber that led to
the Bey's private quarters.  Her glittering eyes flashed round
the chamber, which was ornately decorated with pillars, arches,
drapes and massive chandeliers. What she saw seemed to satisfy her.

On each side was a raised recess in the wall. In each stood
a naked, dusky maiden attractively posed in a statuesque way.
Each one of them would remain in that pose for exactly 15 minutes
before moving on to the next pose.  These 'decoration girls' had
to carefully calibrate their heartbeats to wall clocks and then
count their beats to ensure that they held each pose for exactly
fifteen minutes.  If such a girl was off by more than 30 seconds,
she would be beaten. Decor girls worked in two hours shifts.
Two more beautiful decor girls, one ivory-white and one coal-black
flanked the actual entrance to the quarters. They were bedecked
in magnificent headdresses, jewels and silk, all which enhanced
rather than hid their natural feminine charms.

These girls were all part of the new 'living decor' which Farida
had instituted as a regular feature of the harem. It was an
innovation that amused and delighted the Bey and he had expressed
his approval of it on a number of occasions.

A coffee-colored eunuch met her just within the actual apartment
and told her that the Bey was ready to receive her. She went
in and found the Bey at his ease, smoking a traditional type
water pipe and leafing through some letters and documents on
a low table before him.  In the background were the attendant
harem girls assigned to duty for the next six-hour period. The
Bey might use them for his pleasure, or he might not; it was all
according to his mood and whim. But all the time, in any case,
they had to be there, standing decoratively naked as had been
prescribed by Farida. One of the girls, in fact, stood behind the
Bey, gently waving an ostrich feather fan above him in ancient
Eastern style. It was really a quite unnecessary function since
the room was air-conditioned, but Farida was a great believer in
the facade and practices of former slave days.

The girls on duty conformed to the regular pattern. One was a
Negress, one was a half-caste, and one was white. It so happened,
in this instance, that the latter was pure white, but, in view of
the shortage of pure white girls (which Farida was in the process
of remedying) it quite often happened that the 'white' girl was
a near white one, an octoroon, or something near it. But, in any
event, Farida made sure that the Bey had an enchanting contrast
in colors for his service and pleasure.

"Good morning, all highest," said Farida as she came into the
inner private chambers.  Her hard eyes had already taken in the
general attitude and appearance of the attendant girls and she
appeared satisfied... to their great relief.

The Bey looked up and his face brightened. He was very fond of
this daughter of his.  Only by an effort did he restrain his
natural feelings and remember that she preferred to be treated
as his slave-mistress rather than as a close blood relative.
"Good morning, Miss Farida," he said formally, "I understand you
wished to speak with me?"

"Yes, all highest," answered Farida, not unaware that the girl
with the fan behind the Bey literally trembled simply on account
of her very presence.  She was a lithe and magnificently built
young Negress who had been decorated with a blond wig, pale pink
lips and pink rouged nipples. She stood in white kid shoes with
six inch spike heels. "But first, I wish to know if you have any
complaints as to the running of your harem or any particular girl?"

"None," smiled the Bey, looking faintly surprised. Why should he?
On the other hand, he had become aware of Farida's devotion to
duty and detail and therefore went out of his way to cooperate
in such matters. "Of course," he added, "many of the girls seemed
to be carrying many more stripes than they used to..."

Farida nodded. "Yes," she said. "Inevitably so... however,
particularly in view of the measures taken, that does not make
them too unsightly, I trust?"

"Oh, no... no... not all..." answered the Bey.  His heavy jowls
shook. Although he was only in his mid-forties, his excesses gave
him the appearance of one in the mid-fifties. "I understand the
necessity of it. They are all very well behaved now."

"I am very glad to hear that," said Farida. "That is the basic
purpose of my system and my methods." She paused. "That reminds
me, all highest, before I proceed to my main point, I have just
acquired two new eighteen-year-old Moroccan girls. Of a high
standard, I may say. However, they are a little rebellious at
the moment and I intend to have them both soundly whipped this
evening. I would prefer them to receive their first taste of the
lash before you, if it would please you."

The Bey, who was by no means averse to such a spectacle, nodded
benignly. "Whatever you think best, Miss Farida," he replied.

Farida nodded. "They will be tied together, naked and face to face,
strung up by their thumbs. They will each receive ten strokes
simultaneously.  I think they will be less rebellious after that!"

The Bey nodded, licking his fleshy lips. "Yes," he said "I should
imagine so. And now, Miss Farida, what was your main point?"

"As a matter of discipline, all highest," replied his daughter,
her eyes glinting like crystals. "I want your permission to
have the nose and nipples of every harem girl pierced, so that
metal rings can be inserted through them on any occasion I think
fit." There were a few moments of silence. The Bey blinked and
the naked Negress behind him shuddered involuntarily as did the
other two girls present.

"Will that not... disfigure them?" he asked at last.

"Not at all," answered Farida, in a matter of fact way. "The
piercing will be through the soft flesh and by no mean obvious
except when the rings are being worn. What is important is that a
girl should be able to be led by the nose or the nipples or both.
It is a matter of both disciplinary and decorative importance."

"I see.. yes... I see..." nodded the Bey. He found himself rather
suddenly and unexpectedly excited by Farida's proposal.

"Well then, Miss Farida," he added. "Pray do as you wish. You are
the slave mistress and you are in charge of the harem. To date,
I have had no complaints!"

Farida smiled thinly. Sadistically. "Thank you, all highest,"
she said. "I thought it best to consult you first in this matter.
Now I shall leave you."  Then, without a word, she turned on her
heels and strode from the chamber.

For a minute or so, the Bey sat in a contemplative silence.
Then he got up and went to a low, cushion covered couch nearby.
A beringed finger beckoned to the blond white slave girl who
stood provocatively posed on a small dais on the other side of the
chamber. The girl came to him--her naked body moving seductively,
hips swinging, breasts bouncing softly.  In her wide eyes was
the familiar look of hopeless despair as she sank to her knees
before the Bey and offered him her breasts.

The Bey fondled them lasciviously. "How do you like the idea of
having your nipples pierced?" he inquired in a low voice. "And
that pretty nose?"

The naked girl shuddered as she answered in a hoarse voice
"It... it is as my... m-master wishes..."  Still fondling her
resilient globes, the Bey smiled down at her.

"Isn't that just so?" He said meditatively. "It is as I wish!"
One hand left the full breasts and slid down over the curve
of her belly.  The smooth, hairless cunt was sensitive to his
touch. He fingered her. "Yes... it is, indeed, as I wish..!"
he repeated, gloatingly.

Farida, sure she would get the Bey's approval for her scheme,
had already made her preparations and on the following day, she
personally carried out the 'ringing' of the first selected batch
of a dozen girls. She had decided that number would be handled
each day until every one was pierced in nose and nipples so that
she could wear the rings whenever it was prescribed.

The girls, wondering and frightened, where brought naked and bound
together in chains.  Six of them were full Negresses, four were
half-castes and the other two were white, or so nearly white as
not make any difference.

When the proceedings began, it was were these two who made
the biggest fuss and screamed the loudest.  Perhaps this was
so because such a thing was far more alien to them than to the
blacks, some of whom might even have come from tribes who wore
small nose rings and the like as a form of decoration.

On the other hand, none of them, of course, found it pleasant to
be pieced with a red-hot iron in such tender flesh--a woman's
nose or her nipples. Moreover, the rings which were then put
through the nose were of solid brass and heavy like those worn
by animals. The nipple rings however, because of the decorative
effect required were much lighter, rather of the thickness of a
wedding ring, though larger in circumference.

Each girl was led forward in turn and laid flat on her back and
there held down by Miss Frankel and Miss Kramer. The look of
dawning horror in each successive pair of eyes quite fascinated
Farida. She warned each girl in turn that, if she struggled
unduly, she could do herself an additional and more painful
injury. In addition, she would subsequently get a thrashing for
her misbehavior.

Then Farida would take the soft fleshy ridge in between the
nostrils and pull it out as far as possible with light pincers.
At once the hot iron as thick as a knitting needle, would be
plunged in. There would be the brief smell of burning flesh and
the girl's awful cries of pain and horror, then the iron would
be withdrawn.

A similar but much thinner iron was used on each nipple in turn,
these again being pulled by the pincers first.  The screams seemed
even louder than when the nose had been involved and some of the
girls twisted themselves so much that their breasts got lightly
burnt by the iron.  On the first occasion when this happened,
with the second girl, Farida got so angry she promised that any
girl who got similarly burned in the future would get a minimum
of five strokes of the birch in addition to any other punishment
for her misbehavior that was deemed necessary.

Despite her warning, however, one of the half-castes was burnt
and one of the white girls too. In fact, only four of the girls
escaped any punishment at all and they were all Negresses. For
their resistance three of the half-castes were allocated five
strokes of the strap. The fourth half-caste was to get five of
the strap followed by the promised five from the birch. The white
girl who was not burnt but had struggled fiercely was sentenced
to ten strokes of the strap; the one who was burnt to five of
the strap and ten of the birch.

They were quite harsh sentences under the circumstances but
Farida knew word of them would spread, and those who followed
would give less trouble.  This was quite important as many of them
would be dealt with by the less skilled hands of her assistants.
To ensure that none of the Bey's possessions hurt herself during
this process, she also make preparations for the future girls to
be tightly and harshly tied down.

After the twelfth girl had been ringed, Farida had them lined up
as if on parade and inspected.  She was well satisfied with her
work both from the look of the rings in position and the look
in the eyes of the girls who had to wear them. There could be no
doubt as to how keenly this additional indignity was felt by all.

"Rotate the rings each morning and evenings and keep them in
for at least six weeks."  Farida ordered her two assistants.
"Then the flesh will have properly healed and the holes will be
smoothly round and permanent." She gave a final mock-sadistic look
along the line. She saw the tears, she saw the eyes filled with
tears and degradation, she saw the soft breasts that heaved with
deep sobs. "Very well," she said nodding to Miss Frankel and Miss
Kramer. "You may now proceed with the punishment I have allotted."

She turned, away, her high heels click clacking the wooden floor,
her short black leather skirt lilting from side to side, then
the heavy door thudded behind her.

There was a look of smug satisfaction on the faces of both German
woman as they regarded the charges which had been left to them.
It was an assignment that filled both of them with deep, cruel
pleasure.

"I think," said Miss Frankel, "that those who are to receive the
rod only, will be dealt with first." Miss Kramer nodded and moved
forward to unshackle the young Negress at the end of the line.
A most enjoyable half hour lay ahead!

While, in the punishment cells at intervals a series of black,
coffee-colored and white hindquarters writhed in agony to the
repeated sound of rod, strap and birch biting into their soft
flesh and while scream after scream echoed from the impassive
walls, Farida lay contentedly relaxed on her own bed.

Her new scheme had begun well and she looked forward to the
time when some of her 'special cases' were similarly pierced
and fitted. Farida smiled. Gillian, for example, would look
particularly enchanting when led by a chain attached to a ring
on her nose!

The slave mistress pressed a switch by her bed. In a matter of
moments, it seemed, young Nerene entered.

"I want to be bathed, girl in warm milk. In ten minutes."

"Yes, Miss," answered the coffee-colored young beauty, looking
absolutely delightful in her white kid high heels and tiny white
apron which concealed nothing at all of her ripe charms.

"I want Rasqui in attendance as well" continued Farida, referring
to Nerene's companion on personal duty to the slave mistress.

"And afterward I shall want massage-sex from both of you"

"Yes, Mistress," answered Nerene meekly. She understood perfectly
what was going to be required of herself and her slave companion.
Having made her relax fully, they would then, one way or another,
satiate her lesbian lusts to the full.

But, thought Nerene as curtsied and turned away, I no longer
mind so much. Now that first shock of revulsion at such unnatural
practices is over, was it any worse than being the sex plaything
of a disgusting, paunchy, middle-aged lecher like the Bey? In any
case, it was better to submit and obey than be in the punishment
cell knowing that the strap, the rod or the lash were about to
contort one's body into shrieking pain!

Even when, some time later, Nerene had her nose between the cleft
of her mistress's buttocks and was sucking and tonguing her anus
with lascivious avidity, she did not really change her mind.
It was a slave's duty and she had indeed fully submitted to
her fate!

On the following day, Gillian was brought before Farida. As
usual, she was led in on a collar and chain by the black-skinned
Khaled. It was her second visit to the slave mistress's private
apartments, the first having ended by her being forced to undergo
the corrective treatment already described... one which had ended
in her spending a night locked in the Iron Master.  There can
be no doubt that she was a different woman from the one who had
entered those apartments on the first occasion. In the interval,
Farida had finally broken her physically and spiritually.

The blazing fires of modesty, pride, fury and hate had all been
damped down to smoldering ashes.  Gillian now truly accepted the
fact that she was a harem slave girl, that Farida was her mistress,
that she must obey her mistress implicitly and immediately and,
moreover, she even accepted the fact that it would be right that
she should be punished if she did not.  That was all a slave
could expect. And she was a slave.  A slave of this all-powerful
young woman.

"Release her... and then leave us," ordered Farida, lighting a
cheroot. Khaled at once unshackled Gillian's lush white nakedness
and departed.

Smiling thinly, but inwardly filled with the most fierce delight,
Farida extended one pointed toe of a high-heeled hoot just an
inch or two. In a heartbeat, Gillian was down on her belly and
grovelling forward... her lips, her tongue, her mouth slobbering
over the patent leather. Still smiling, Farida locked down at
the creature she had so utterly conquered, noting that, despite
the healing treatment, her buttocks were extremely bruised and
probably permanently scarred.  'Not surprising!' she thought.

It was a moment of the purest pleasure for Farida. The kind of
pleasure that only absolute power over another being can give.
She sensed the true submission of her victim and it thrilled her
to the marrow.

For a minute or two she permitted the slave to continue to kiss and
lick her boots. It really is almost a generous gesture on my part,
she thought, smiling inwardly. For, after all, the girl really
wants to show me how much of a slave to me she now is... how fully
submissive she really is!  I am essentially doing her a favor!

Then, as she stood there, the deep throb-throb of intensifying
sexual desire spread through Farida. The moment she had so
pleasurably anticipated for so long was fast approaching. The
moment when Gillian's mouth would go to work in a place far more
sensitive and exciting than upon the boots! Farida's anticipatory
pleasure was heightened by the knowledge of how much such an act
repelled Gillian.  So much so that her will and spirit had had
to be completely broken before she would submit to carrying it out.

'It is going to be divine,' thought Farida, her body thrilling to
the idea of those lips and that tongue so intimately and abjectly
engaged and with punishment awaiting their owner if they did not
work zealously or pleasingly enough.

The point of Farida's toe in Gillian's midriff indicated that the
slave could remove her mouth from the leather. Farida turned on
her heel and strode into her boudoir.

"Follow me!" she ordered, "And show me how subservient you are."

Gillian followed her, grovelling snakelike on her belly.  The
moment had at last come for her to make her ultimate submission!
Although Farida's cunt had lost none of it's repelling nature,
Gillian was actually eagerly happy to do this for Farida and show
her what a good slave she now was.

The End