This is a print version of story The Slave Girl (Chapter 4) by wastedaway from

The Slave Girl (Chapter 4)

Chapter 4

"You´ll wear a strip of white, and we want it pretty on you." He gave them his sardonic grin. "Believe it or not, some men pay more for a cunt they can´t see than for one they can."
It was like the stewardess on a airline demonstrating the oxygen mask. Amrah mounted the platform, her chains almost silent on the plush, and proceeded to work a feminine miracle upon her loveliness with a swathe of virgin white, potent against the black on which she stood. She was loving every moment.
"You won´t be tied. No way! Seth continued amiably. "So you´ll have no trouble with that bit of cloth. Now watch! When the time comes...!"

Each girl watched breathlessly. Mentally, they stood as Amrah stood, but above a sea of male faces. They sighed in unison as the girl on the block deftly loosed a knot and stripped herself nude. Arms outstretched, she held the white d**** for several moments, cascading from her fingers. Then let it fall. Corey envied her sang froid. Amrah was a showgirl, and in spite of her pragmatic speech and actions, displayed one of the most exquisite figures for which a man might yearn.
"You girls sell yourselves." Burdett´s tone hardened. "So get this straight. You fight. You sulk. You make yourself ugly, and we´ll pull you from that block so quick it will curl your hair. You´ll go back to the other room and by the time we´re finished with you you´ll wish you´d behaved." He smiled cheerfully. "Or maybe we´ll use you as the preliminary at the next auction. A bit of discipline, nicely presented, whets the boy´s appetites."

They cringed. Each of them uncertain of her Thespian skill. Their eyes widened as Amrah was joined on the pedestal by a muscular male with theinevitable whip. It was a short whip for close range. He was grinning broadly at his proudly eager subject.

It was well done. The white girls exchanged glances of admiration as Amrah demonstrated what NOT to do when being auctioned. She pouted, she sulked. She drooped and sagged, she turned her back, or covered her breasts with shielding hands. She crossed her legs and held them tightly shut. In desperate panic, she fell to her knees and embraced the legs of the smiling auctioneer in a frantic but mute appeal. He thrashed her bowed shoulders with his whip in blow after viciously reprimanding blow until she sobbed in anguish and slowly resumed her required pose as a girl only too anxious to be sold. If the audience had possessed their hands they would have clapped. The whip was simulated. It´s scarlet lines were dye.

"It gives you an idea." Burdett explained blandly. "But I´ll give you a tip. There´s those chaps who´ll buy you just to have a girl around the whip. It´s them that buys the fighters and the sulks...!" For a moment he focused on the white slaves before continuing. "You´ll find yourself looking down at a lot of fellers, most of ´em ordinary decent chaps, and won´t they please help and call the cops..." He paused for effect. "Don´t do it! It´s the one thing you just don´t do!!"
Soberly, they filed back to their cage.
It became a busy time for Amrah. She washed them, she did their hair, she laved them with heavy and cloying perfumes. She gave them good advice. "You see a man you like, you smile at him special. Maybe he buy you." For good measure she added a bit of bitter wisdom: "Ain´t always the big guys have big cocks. Sometimes is little men. Is hard to tell..."
In the morning, in a final grooming, their lips were painted red, their hands were freed, they were given their single swathe of white. The first male face Corey saw on entering the auction room was that of Reid Hunter.

For a girl whose body is about to be sold from it, the auction Block can be the loneliest place in the world. On it, she stands between her vanished past and a frightening future. If slavery was not real to her before, it is real now!
Amrah was the first.
The three white girls stood, under guard, to one side as the auction got under way. Their free hands clutched their scrap of covering, their faces were discreetly veiled. Corey supposed they had been segregated for a purpose, probably to pique male interest. It had been tacitly understood between all nine girls that they constituted the pièce de résistance of the coffle. It was a doubtful honour.
Amrah was knocked down to a nondescript character in a business suit for two hundred and forty thousand American dollars. She had worked hard for the partners and given of her best upon the block. When she stood to have her hands bound behind her back for safe delivery she smiled at Corey in glowing confidence of a bright future. The American girl wryly hoped her purchaser was well endowed.
The veiled girls exchanged startled glances. Amrah´s price seemed a lot of money. It made the whole operation in which they were helplessly enmeshed plausible. But it was frightening. Such huge sums paid for a girl meant she could surely kiss good-bye to any hope of freedom. For such a one it would be iron bars and shackled feet forever.
The other five dusky beauties went to the block and did what they must. Burdett´s instruction had been a practical guide. They sold for sums of money that spelt big business. Only two of them wept as they were bound and delivered. Josie came next.
The atmosphere changed. An electric current touched all present. White flesh on black velvet! It was potent. Amphala was robbed Josie of inhibitions, she flaunted her nakedness with skill, and was purchased by a desert cloaked Arab for more than seven hundred thousand dollars. None present seemed surprised.

Audrey and Corey were shivering. But it was not their turn. The Management was well aware of the value of intermissions and delay. There was also a free show! Whilst drinks were dispensed a space of floor was cleared. To it was brought a naked and terrified cafe-au-lait maiden who, a minute later, hung suspended by her wrists, her toes a foot above the floor.

It was a leisurely affair, as between gentlemen. There was no hurry. The frightened girl hung, kicking and twisting in distress, while drinks were sipped and her physical attributes discussed. After awhile the auctioneer read out her crimes. At the previous auction she had rebelled... She had broken all the rules...! Her punishing would make a pleasant interlude before the main event.
The auctioneer whipped her. He did so with skill and with finesse. No nuance of eroticism was ignored. His arm was heavy but controlled, there would be no cut skin on costly merchandise. After the defenceless damsel had screamed a few times under his lash, he thoughtfully gagged her that the ears of men who mattered be not offended. The gag was neat and cruel and very, very effective. After it was strapped tight it was her body alone whose writhings became the more eloquent for silense.
Corey writhed inwardly. If she had thought of rebellion she would discard it now. To hang naked to be whipped before male eyes...! It was more that she would risk for doubtful benefit. She watched, in a compelling fascination, as the girl was made to open her legs for the thong, to raise a foot that its sole be beaten, and to twist correctly for her breasts to invite their stripes. The suspended slave was petrified with fear. She had disobeyed before, she would not err again! The whip etched its lattice work of scarlet upon her skin, but stopped short of imposing one blow upon another. She had been well punished but was still contorting vigorously in silence when the last stroke fell.
They bid on her as she was. Wide eyed and gagged, she hung suspended from her tether, passive and limp, her head bowed as she turned slowly in short circles to bestow upon her prospective purchasers as total an exposure of her nakedness as might have been contrived.
Corey was puzzled and uneasy. The bidding for this whipped girl was so frantic and determined that a single thought became obvious. Why not whip them all! If whipped skin so aroused possessive lust it was surprising it was not more frequently employed...! And she and Audrey still remained to be sold...!

The sum for which the whipped girl was finally sold sent a stir of excitement round the room. She was lowered and led away by the same tether from which she had hung. Her purchaser generously returned her gag. For the moment it was most unlikely she would scream.

Audrey Cotswold fetched one million six hundred thousand in U.S. currency. During the bidding her features became serene, almost scornful. She was purchased by Reid Hunter. As she was bound and led away by a servant her eyes found Corey´s in triumph. She had been ransomed. In mounting the steps to the block, Corey Gibson found a strange peace. She was a pawn in this game men played for a prize of girls. She was helpless to infuence her fate. Desperately, her gaze scanned the room for sight of Seth Burdett. He was not there. In resignation, she focused on Reid Hunter. He smiled and winked. Corey´s heart raced. If Reid Hunter was bidding sums like this he must be acting for Assef Aslam...! Purchased by Aslam she would still be slave! It was a strange and defeating circle for a girl to make. Bitterly, she recognized that no matter who purchased her she could not win. Audrey would now return to her privileged status. But her own enslavement would pick up where it had left off on Aslam´s hijacked plane.
It was not until the bidding approached the first million that she spied Abdul Nour. It was the moment when Corey must expose herself and stand nude for final appraisals. She copied Amrah, and it was while she initially stood with widespread arms and dropped the strip of white that her challenging survey of avid male faces picked him out. The guerilla Leader sat unobtrusively among the rest, regarding her loveliness with lewd appreciation. He also winked. From him it was obscene.
Corey Gibson on the slave block presumed she did well and obeyed all the rules. Bidding for her person was a steadly progression, frightening in its implications of slavery and the loss of freedom. From one million it progressed to two. The bids were s**ttered, they were not yet a duel. The American girl stood as erect and proud as she deemed wise. Those closest to the block examined her pudendum and pubic hair in zestful appetite. The back seats tended to concentrate upon her breasts. One man was evidently a navel addict, he stared at her´s in concentrated attention throughout the period of her sale. From time to time Abdul Nour raised a finger to top a bid. But the bid came back, higher and higher. For the sum of three million one hundred thousand dollars the daughter of the Planet Corporation was sold to the enigmatic grin of Reid Hunter. As his servant bound her hands behind her back, Corey Gibson supposed she should feel a flood of gratitude and relief. But she did not. Looking for Abdul Npur among the crowd she found him gone. Her purchaser, too, was absent.
So was Seth Burdett.
Naked and bound, Miss Corey Gibson was led to her new slavery by a hand grasping her hair. The hand was far from kind.

It was not the Beverly Hilton. But it was pleasant and the best Ben Sirah could offer. There was an exciting fragrance of coffee. For the time being the large airy room and balcony was a piece of America. Assef Aslam´s money could accomplish anything anywhere.
"If we seem a bit awkward it´s because of the clothes." Audrey giggled. "It´s been so long."
"Being naked on the coffle was so terribly convenient for us all." Corey added mischieviously. "You´ve no idea."
For a moment Reid Hunter looked embarrassed. "Well, I suppose I do have an idea..." He broke off awkwardly and laughed with them. Then surveyed his expensively clad duo with immense approval. "I believe that trek through the wilderness must have done you good. Those figures of your´s...! Wow!"
"You had a damn good look at ´em." Corey snapped.
"Expect me to close my eyes?" He chuckled. "They treat you right here... let you see what you´re buying. I damn near bid on that girl they whipped. But I doubt if Assef would go for her on the expense sheet."
"You mean, seeing that ppor k** flogged did something for you?" Corey was piqued. "You ought to be ashamed!"
"Oh, I am! On the other hand it made me horny as hell."
Audrey was amused. "You mean that if they´d strung us up like that and whipped us the same way you´d have loved every stroke?"
"I wouldn´t have voted for it, sweetheart. But if it had just happened...! Holy cow, it would have driven me up the wall. I´d have had to buy a girl just to find relief."
"Reid, that´s horrible."
"Well, maybe. But that´s why they all bid like crazy... they couldn´t wait to get to the nearest whorehouse."
"You are also disgusting."
He was unperturbed. "You girls care to make a man happy?"
"I´ll get into bed with you." Audrey conceded unblushingly. "But I´m damned if I´ll let you whip me so´s you can get a hard-on first."

Reid Hunter sighed mockingly. "You girls! No gratitude. How about you, Corey Gibson?"
The demand was sudden enough to catch her unawares. Corey was still unsure...! "Have I any say in the matter?" She asked doubtfully. "Don´t notice any manacles on you, sweetheart."
"Maybe not. Sometimes they don´t show."
"Mind you, if you two girls have got so used to being chained...?" His grin became benefiscent. "I can easily arrange some handcuffs."
"Oh, drop dead, Reid." Audrey laughed. "If you really go for that I´m sure Assef would pay for a girl. You could keep her chained to your bed:"
"Why not, Reid! You´ve done enough of his dirty work." Corey was still piqued from her first betrayal.
"Come, come, Corey! If it wasn´t for me and Assef you´d now be bracing a harem."
"If it wasn´t for you I´d never have left New York. Remember what I called you: Judas goat, that´s what you did to me."
"Don´t fret, darling." Audrey patted a quivering shoulder. "Assef would have got you one way or another. Don´t blame Reid."
"Well... I suppose..."

Audrey spoke directly to the man. "The poor darling´s still uncertain where she´s at. I know where I´m at. But is she slave or free?"
Reid Hunter waved the demand aside. "Let´s have lunch." He suggested. "And a drink or two. There´s one or two things..."

It was glorious to be free. Corey could not deny exaltation. Even if Aslam claimed her it would be better than this savage place. She and Audrey Cotswold had bathed and chosen clothes in a frenzy of feminine happiness.
"I told you, Corey." The English girl admonished. "They were bound to find us. All its amounted to is a bad time in the cell and on the coffle. Now we´re home free."
"Am I?"
"Honestly, I don´t know." Audrey admitted reluctantly. "You look free to me..." She paused reflectively. "But I suppose if Assef´s given orders...! It´s his plane out there on the sand... don´t suppose you want to run off in the trees?"
"I would rather than be a slave again."
"But, darling, you´d be picked up by someone... You´d end up on the block again. Or worse...! That´s the hell of it, there´s worse things than being a aslavegirl. Dammit´, look at me!"
"You´re his number one. I´ll be for whipping."

Audrey kissed her tenderly. "I love you, Corey Gibson. Leave things with me and Reid. We´ll make out someway. In his way he´s not a bad guy." Corey had responded. They had made love with a joyous abandon. Perhaps she really was free... perhaps...! Now, looking across the table at her insouciant host, it was hard to believe she was still a slave to anyone. She was listening attentively.
"I think you´ve forgotten poor old Assef had to be bailed out." Reid was reminding them. "I had the job. It cost too huge a sum to mention. As of right now Aslam´s gunning for Abdul Nour. One day he´ll nail the silly bastard." He shrugged at them apologetically. "Actually it was a damn good thing those traders snaffled you away from Amphala. You were Abdul´s ace in the hole. Losing you weakened his hand."
"Can you get in touch with those two men...? Or one of them?" Corey asked with feigned indifference.
"She´s in love with a great masculine hulk named Set Burdett." Audrey informed amusedly. "You´ll have to forgive the poor c***d, it´s her glands..."
"Probably retired to the Riviera or Brazil." Reid sighed.
"That coffle fetched a mint." He eyed Corey in mock concern. "If you´re suffering, dear girl, I´ll be happy to service you."
"You shouldn´t take a chance, Reid." Corey told him with equal frankness. "I´ve been screwed all over half of Africa, thanks to you. Maybe you´d catch something."

They let it go at that. Reid continued. "That left us at square one, except for Assef´s girl Friday and his latest slave who were somewhere in a wilderness on a long chain. We made enquiries..."
"And waited until we got to where handy to pick up." Audrey contributed tartly.
"Well, neither of us was Stanley or Livingstone, y´know! And the local constabulary couldn´t have cared less." Reid shook an admonishing finger. "Like I said, you girls...! I´m not a bit sure that hike on the coffle wasn´t the best thing in the world for yoy both..."
"It got Corey nicely screwed a couple of times and I lost five pounds."
"Don´t keep harping in the irrelevant." Reid´s rebuke was paternal. "I´m trying hard to bring you both up to date." He turnd to Corey. "Your Dad´s O.K. He and Assef have struck a deal. I´ll admit that Aslam´s possession of your delightful body was a factor in negotiations, but what´s a hundred million or so between these tycoon types? The Planet Corporation Has survived its crisis and your Dad isn´t on welfare."
"I´m grateful. Where am I?"
"In a town called Ben Sirah. I´m not sure just where it is myself. You´re having dinner with me and Audrey."
"You know damn well what I mean."
"Corey, let it drop!" Audrey pleaded.
"Don´t you think I´d love to!" Corey retorted. "Give me a bit of hope of freedom and I will."
They kept silent.
"O.K., you´ve said it better than words. I´m some sort of prisoner?"
"Assef wants you."
"Am I expected to go willingly to my dungeon?"
"Well, if you don´t, the only ones to be embarrassed is me and Audrey."
"What about me? I suppose the hired help will tie me up and dump me in the plane. I´ll wake up in Aslam´s New York oubliette?"
"He hasn´t got one of those. I´d thought that if the worst came to the worst you might like Audrey to... sort of... restrain?"
"You mean tie me or chain me?"
"Couldn´t you just enjoy your dinner?" Reid was annoyed.
"Could you?"
"Hold it!" Audrey laughed at their acerbity. "Look, Reid, leave her to me. If Corey escapes I´ll let you whip me the way you want. But she won´t...! You´ve just got her riled..."
"She keeps harping..."
"So would you if you thought you were a prisoner for life and were going to get whipped every day."
"It´s not that bad..."
"Are you sure?"

Reid Hunter waved a despairing hand. "I´m not sure. I´m not into this stuff." He focused on Audrey Cotswold. "You´d know better than anyone..."
"Alright, so I know!" Audrey had the bit in her teeth. "Aslam had me whipped day after day when he first had me. I was k**napped and rebellious as hell. It all seemed so damn unfair. I was never free of chain or rope or straps or wire... He used everything...! He was the overlord, coming to view the aesthetic picture after his help had done their work on me." She made a moue of deprecation. "It took me a hell of a long time to realise it was me who was out of line. I was female and subject to these things. I´d never known that before. Once I caught sight of reality he didn´t have to whip me any more... except for his own pleasure, of course. He still does that."
"He broke you, Audrey." Corey was bitter.
The English girl shrugged. "If you want to see it that way. But if you analyse it Assef simply made me understand my sex and his in relation to each other. I´ve been happy with him."
"Except when he whips you for fun?" Corey demanded.
"Dammit, Corey, Seth Burdett whipped you...!"

They looked at each other askance. Corey knew guilt. These people were her friends. Audrey loved her. "I´m... I´m sorry." She stammered contritely. "I´ll forget it for now. Do what you must later on. Let´s have a lovely dinner. I think I´d like to get a little d***k."
That´s what they did.
"Reid´s position isn´t easy." Audrey said reflectively as the two girls undressed for bed. "He´s been more involved with Aslam than anyone knew. They like each other. If Aslam desires you, Reid doesn´t see it as any different from him wanting to buy a block of Standard Oil."
"Gee, thanks!"
"Well, that´s the way of it. Corey darling, haven´t you got the message yet? Men do what they like with us girls. We can make a fuss to keep up appearances but it doesn´t change a thing. We end up getting whipped or fucked or traded. We´re a part of their possessions like the grand piano."
"Unless we fight...!"
"Don´t be silly. We can´t fight men and win. But if you enjoy getting yourself whipped, go ahead."

Corey stripped away panties and bra´. It felt good to be naked again. Naked was naturel. She longed for Seth Burdett.
"Darling, your whipmarks have faded wonderfully, they´re almost gone." Audrey tenderly fingered the satin skin of the girl who had shared her chain on the coffle.
"Gosh, you´re beautiful!"
"So are you."
"Aslam wouldn´t be bothered with us if we weren´t. Any girl who´s beautiful is lucky. Let´s make love. Look, I´m naked too!"

They made love. They adored each other. d***k with affection and alcohol, Corey remembered something.
"Weren´t we supposed...?"
"You mean about making sure you didn´t escape?" Audrey was herself besotted. "Do´you really want me...?"
"I expect you should." Corey was absurdely solemn. "I´m not to be trusted, am I? I mean, it´s so easy to run away..."

Audrey giggled. "To find Seth Burdett and get yourself fucked? Y´know, Corey, you´re absolutely wanton. Let´s make love again?" They made love again.

"Feel better now?" It was a long time later. Audrey sounded amused. "Dammit´, you sexpot, you´re a full time job."
"I feel wonderful. Think we could do that all night?"
"Corey, you´re a disgrace to hetrosexual relations... and I have to get some sl**p."
The two girls giggled steadily in their search. A pair of handcuffs were belatedly sighted where Reid Hunter had thoughtfully placed them on the bedside table. They sparked debate.
"In front? They´re harmless in front. Just a sort of insignia?" Corey wheedled.
"But they don´t stop you going places."
"No, I suppose not." Corey grappled with what was obviously a major decision involving more than herself. "How about behind my back?" She giggled. "I´d feel awfully silly walking through the brush with no hands."
"Mmmmmm, but you could still walk. I expect you could run?"
"Gosh, I´d no idea things were this difficult." Corey wrinkled her brow in thought. "How about handcuffing me to you? I mean your wrist to my wrist?" "Too much like that damn coffle, darling."
"Huh, I suppose so. Hows ´bout my wrist to the bed someplace?"
Corey possessed a slander ankle. They compromised by handcuffing it to the bedrail. Giggling, they fell asl**p.

It was hours later in the dark when the gunshots brought them back to fear. Audrey was out of bed in seconds, she dragged on clothes and dashed through the door. From somewhere she had produced a revolver. Dazed and fearful, Corey Gibson watched her go. It was all too swift, too much a reversion to what she had wanted to forget. Apprehensively, Corey slid from beneath the covers and headed for her clothes. It took her an appreciable time to understand why she was suddenly flat on the floor with one foot oddly trapped. It was then she remembered the handcuff. It held her prisoner.

Corey Gibson was frightened. She was also angry. She struggled back on the bed and surveyed the metal band round her left ankle in a fury of frustration. To think she had allowed a few drinks and giggles to place herself in this predicament...! But Audrey was fun, it has been a laughing romp between two girls, that was all. Or was that all? Corey Gibson found it all too easy to look into her future and see nothing but a handcuff, a chain, a rope, and the threat of being whipped. She kicked fretfully at her bond, deliberately making it hurt.

But the sounds were still there, and Audrey had not returned. In frantic hope, Corey lifted the pillow atill warm from Audrey´s head. But there was no key. Panting but methodically she stretched her nudity to the limits the handcuff would permit. Her questing fingers found nothing of any help. If the handcuff key was in the room it had to be on the dresser, and for her to reach the dresser she would have to move the bed. Standing on her free right foot, she began to tug and heave...
It was then the sounds became louder. There was one more shot, and another. Heavy footsteps thudded their way upstairs...

Everything was the same except Corey herself. Previously, when she had hung suspended before Abdul Nour´s desk it had been by both wrists, her legs spread wide to present the guerilla with an excellent wiew of her vulva. Now, she hung by one wrist only, the other was handcuffed behind her back to its opposite ankle dragged up awkwardly from a bent knee. It was a hateful posture. It hurt. She was close to tears.
It was all too unkind. Audrey had vanished. Abdul had found her cuffed to the bed like a neat package awaiting delivery. Smugly he had freed her ankle and clipped both her wrists behind her back. Dragged to the waiting plane, she had beheld with horror the sprawled dead figure of Reid Hunter. There had been two other motionless bundles...
That was all! So simple to alter lives and rob a girl of freedom! Now, Miss Corey Gibson awaited her interview with Abdul Nour. If she was about to be offered employment she could guess what it would be.
"I trust you are comfortable, Miss Gibson?"
The Guerilla Leader loved the suavity which so ill matched the rest of him. With hostile eye, the suspended heiress watched him take the chair behind the desk. "You know I´m not." Corey siad flatly. "If you want to talk I´d be grateful to be untied:"
"I´m sure you would."
"At least allow my foot down on the floor?"
"This is a sort of torture. I´ll be gasping all the time."
"But please...? I want to talk to you sensibly. Don´t make me hang here like a puppet on a string. You can torture me afterwards... if that´s what you´ve stolen me for."

He clapped gently. "Well said, my dear. I have your full attention. I have found these strained postures most helpful in interviewing young ladies of a certain social status. Without the help of the rope they have a tendency to quibble."
The suspended Corey longed to tell him to ´Stow it´ or ´Dry up´ or better still: ´Drop dead!´. Instead, she said bleakly: "I hurt too much to quibble. Please... where´s Audrey?"
"I´d like to know that myself. Miss Cotswold escaped my men. We are still searching." Corey resigned herself to the misery of the rope. The Desert eyes were drinking in her strained nudity with avid pleasure. But Audrey was good news. Audrey would not abandon her. Unhappily, she asked: "What are you going to do with me now?"
"Subject you to imprisonment and mild tortures disigned to humble the proud white maiden."
"I´d have thought you and that damn coffle made me humble enough."
"Interspersed, of course, by sojourns in my army brothel."

So that was it! The thing she feared most. Corey wanted to moan in desolation. Instead, she offered: "You can still get a huge ransom for me?"
"Perhaps later, after I have relished your humilities. In a few months it may amuse me to accept a few million to return you to the U.S. with a belly full of my soldier´s sperm."
The penalty of being female! No matter where a girl turned, it would be there waiting. Thrusting away a hateful vision, Corey asked: "Weren´t we going to get married, or something?"

Abdoul Nour was engrossed in contemplation of the well exposed sex of the girl suspended for his pleasure. Corey´s raised leg cuffed to her wrist enabled an examination of her pubic lips at an unusual angle. She could not thwart the scorch of his regard. The regret in his voice was spurious. "I´m afraid I can no longer offer you the honour, my dear. I have lost Miss Cotswold as a hostage. I have sold Mr. Aslam back to his business. I understand he has dealt favourably with your father´s crisis. If I now let you loose in Cairo you will promptly go home."

She could have wept. Everything went wrong. She would be someone´s prisoner forever. Desperately, she pleaded: "Look, there´s such a thing as a word of honour, a parole if you like. I´ll give you mine. Send me to Cairo. I´ll do what you want me to there. I´ll fill the Press with the romance of Abdul Nour, and I´ll come back here with me as your legal wife. Please...?"
She had captured his attention indeed. "Why would you do that?" He asked suspiciously.
"To escape the brothel."
"So!" He was now amused. He was also impressed. "There are girls in that brothel who have been fucked a thousand times... That´s only three times a day for a year. They and their cunts are no different from the day I placed them there. Why be so concerned about that small slit between your legs?"
"You know why."
"The fastidious white mores! But seriously, Miss Gibson, supposing I grant your wish, how can you know I won´t put you in the brothel anyway?"
"I just don´t think you would. Oh, please let me down off this b**stly rope."
He found his cane and cut the upturned sole of her cuffed foot with it five times. When Corey´s sounds of agony deminished, he said calmly: "You easily forget your manners. You would make a man a poor wife." He left her suspended, her raised foot a blaze of pain.

It was absurd to see Achmed as an old friend. But after hanging by one wrist in front of Abdul´s empty desk for enough hours to seem an eternity Corey would have welcomed anyone willing to lower her foot to the floor. Released, she sat on the rug and blissfully rubbed her wounds. "Thank´s, Achmed. Nice to see you again." Resentfully, she asked herself what the hell else she could have said to him.
Achmed patted her hair. "You nice girl. You pretty prisoner. Achmed make sure you never no more escape. Every evening we fuck."
"Thank you."

With the air of having seen it on the movies, Achmed cuffed her right hand to his left for their short journey to the familiar cell. The collar and chain was waiting. "I´ll stand still while you lock it on my neck." Corey volunteered brightly. "You´re nice to me, I´ll be nice for you."
The closing of the metal circlet round her neck brought memories of her former imprisonment. But, far more vividly, it returned her to the coffle and to Seth. She yearned for him with a terrible hunger. No doubt he supposed her safely sold and cared for. He would not have stayed overnight in Ben Sirah so would know nothing of Abdul Nour´s raid. She blinked back tears.
"Poor Miss Gibson sad she be chained again?"
"It´s not much fun wearing a collar and chain, Achmed."
"You think you like brothel better?" He enquired solicitously. "Wear collar and chain there too so no run. But nice long chain."

So Achmed knew that too! Corey Gibson pictured herself servicing soldiers with a chain trailing from its metal band upon her neck. Girls were nothings here, just pets and prisoners. "When am I going to be sent to the brothel, Achmed?"
"You no ask questions."
"Sorry, I´d forgotten. D´you want to fuck me now, Achmed?"
"In one minute. Have not finish chain."

She might have known! She was an escapee. A subject enticing rescue. Unhappily, she watched Achmed´s embarrassment. "Don´t feel bad about chaining me some more, Achmed. It´s orders, isn´t it?"
"Is orders. Both hands, both feet. All locks different." He dangled an impressive ring of keys.
The chain was impressive too. Links were everywhere. To hold one naked girl it was ridiculous. But Corey did not laugh. Fortunately, most of it dragged on the floor. She could bear the weight of the rest of it.
"Am most sorry... so much chain..."
"Oh, go ahead. Don´t mind me. Here´s my wrist."
"You much kind girl."

She watched the band circle her wrist, watched the padlock snap. The weight was surprising. She proffered her other hand. It was becoming a shockingly natural thing to do. When all her limbs had been banded and chained she caught her jailor´s apologetic eye. They both laughed. Achmed immediately saw the bright side. "Can still fuck. Chain not stop open legs."
Afterwards and alone, Corey wept.
Preparing for sl**p, she was compelled to drag up and arrange what seemed like fifty pounds of chain.
"I will visit you often." Achmed´s woebegone apology was shattering. "Is permitted. But perhaps you no longer need?"
"Of course you must come, Achmed. You´re my friend." In the light of morning it was hard to be cordial after the news. Corey was possessed by one big question mark. "What did I do to offend him?"
"Achmed not sure. But is much troubles for him. Maybe he take out mad on you." Achmed knew himself the bearer of bad tidings. "Brothel not so bad. Much fuck. Some girl enjoy."
"Why doesn´t he whip me, or something like that... One of those b**stly tying-up things he´s so fond of?"
"You like?"
"No, I suppose I don´t."
"Brothel best. Is just chain on neck. Plenty lay down." Achmed was searching for silver linings. "You get good whip. Talifa now top girl. She whip each one new.
"What on Earth for? If we haven´t done anything bad!" No prospects were having any silver linings for Corey Gibson.
"Is show she boss. Is make well behave."

It would be rationalised. Corey was sure of that. Whatever was done to her would be coloured by Amphala´s own logic. Glumly she looked at the mass of chain still securing her to the wall of her cell. "Won´t I have to wear all this hardware?" She asked listlessly.
"No one tell Achmed." Her jailor beamed. "How ´bout one chain one wrist?"
"I don´t want to be chained at all. Can´t you ask Abdul Nour?"
"Is gone. Big fast hurry. Leave note."
"And the note said to put me in the brothel?"
"Right! So that what Achmed must do." He shrugged another apology. "Note also says you be flogged every time you try bribe or escape. Use much bad whip."

Miss Corey Gibson shivered. In premeditation, and under the guidance of this amiable Sudanese, she was about to enter a brothel and become a whore without pay. Talifa´s welcome would be to whip her nakedness... Probably severely. She would have no say about any of it. She had become a female facility with an orifice between her legs into which weary soldiers would thrust their hard penis and pump their semen in pursuit of a dream that was not there. It was all unreal. If Abdul Nour was killed in battle, his possessions would revert to the next bandit in line. For her there would be no hope. Bitterly, she wondered what a whore thought about after ten years of guerilla penetration. Once more she thought longingly of Seth Burdett... But Seth was gone.

"Alright, Achmed. I won´t offer you a couple of million. I don´t want to be flogged."
"That same as offer." Achmed retorted shrewdly. "But this time Achmed no flog pretty back. Now we go."
Corey sat on her bunk and watched the padlocks fall away. But there was no freedom there. She felt numb, unable to comprehend the full enormity of what she was about to enter. A whore! When her hands were freed they rose to the band of metal round her neck. "Must I wear the collar, Achmed?"
"I take away chain. Collar stay." He held up handcuffs. "Talifa expect you be fixed proper. I sorry."
"It doesn´t matter, Achmed. Where do you want my hands?"
"Talifa do what she like. Achmed lock in front."

There was something appealing about Achmed. Gratefully, Corey extended her wrists. What a plight she had come to that she gave thanks for hands cuffed above her pubic hair instead of at her back! Bitterly, she suggested: "Click ´em tight, Achmed. I wouldn´t want Talifa to think we cheated." Achmed clicked them tight.
Talifa took delivery of her new girl with an obvious delight in her own importance. It was not every Matron of a bordello who´s stable included a girl of Corey Gibson´s social status. When she passed the word around among the troops there would be tips for the favourable disposition of the socialite´s person. She made a cautious mental note to keep the number of the novice´s penetrations down to not more than a dozen a day. It sometimes took a new girl a little time...!
Corey watched Achmed´s departing back in dolor. He had a male compassion Talifa would not share. Girls were cruel to girls. She remembered the punishment room on her previous incarceration.

"I make you very pretty. But first I whip." Talifa said conversationally. "You going to be good girl?"
"My father will pay you a million dollars for me, Talifa."
"That being bad girl. I whip you harder for trying bribe. Bribe not permitted. You come now to room." In an inconsistent impulse of affection Talifa kissed her new girl warmly. "I think you very nice. We get along fine after whip."
"But, Talifa, why must I be whipped? I´m behaving as well as I know how."
"Is nice introduction. Girls watch. Teach lesson."

Corey had always wondered about prisoners walking to their execution or meekly into a cell. Why didn´t they fight? Why be passive and compliant when you were seething with fear, injustice, anger? Why? Surely they should make a physical protest after words had failed! But she wryly censured herself. She could kick and scream and bite. The handcuffs would not stop that. But she was being abjectly obedient as she followed this cafe-au-lait female into pain and the defilement of her sex. But it was one of those things. She was in the grip of a tide she could not stem. Bitterly, she understood the logic of cuffs and collar. They robbed a girl of will.
Every ring in the place held a handcuff, its other half tight on the wrist of a curious girl. A new girl was alwayswelcome. It spread the workload and the stripes. The smiles were welcoming.

"Talifa has help." The head girl indicated another like herself. "Take place of Amrah. Make you be good. Her name Raynee."
More suspension. The two girls did not lift Corey´s feet from the floor, but the stretch of lifted arms made the handcuffs bite. "Is not for long, just while we whip your nice back." Talifa explained with thoughtful solicitude. "Is good we whip you like this. You be using pretty cunt, so is best not to hurt." It was as though she was being looked after by loving friends.

The pain was b**stly. Corey Gibson hated every stroke. Her loins were not heated as they had been with Seth. With him, each lash had sent an erotic fire coursing through her veins. But this was cold. She was convinced it was useless, serving no purpose other than to make her humble. Talifa and Raynee cut the whip with zest, exclaiming over each red line, planning the next. After a few strokes she gave up trying to be quiet, after a few screams she pleaded to be gagged.
"We don´t mind you make noise and kick feet." Talifa consoled.
"But I´m so ashamed of the noise... it just hurt so damn bad." They gagged her with a mouthful of rag and a strip to bind it between her teeth. The fingers were loving as with a pet who gave pleasure. To the girl who could not now scream, the blows when they resumed seemed doubly severe.
"Lovely back looks very pretty." The two whippers were in no hurry. They traced weals with exploring fingers, discussing possibilities and speaking of other girls and their behavior under the lash. Their reassurance sounded sincere. "We not whip lovely breasts. Soldiers like breasts very much." Corey had lost count of the times the thong had cut at her skin. She had forgotten to ask how many blows she must receive. But what did it matter? What did anything matter now? She looked up the columns of her bare arms to the shining chrome by which she was held helpless for this undeserved punishment. The metal bands were deep in her wrists, compelling her toes to lift her to their limit. She was grateful her toes were still on the floor. But the pain was sickening... Perhaps this was done to a new girl so that the impaling thrusts of a penis would seem of small consequence by comparison. Around the wall her chained s****rhood watched her agony in varying reaction, remembering their own.

"If girls not polite to good soldiers they get whip often." Talifa explained helpfully. "If too much complaint on service we whip her cunt. Is swell and very tender for prick."
It was all well thought out. The moral was obedience. Corey bit hard on her gag as a lash flickered hatefully into her armpit. Why, oh why couldn´t they whip a girl´s bottom and leave it at that? Must these whipping girls always seek her most tender recesses? She hoped they would not tell her to spread her legs.

Satisfied with their work, they released her arms. Then watched, laughing as she awkwardly plucked at her gag with joined hands. In a great relief at the cessation of the strokes Corey grinned with them. Handcuffs stopped very little but made most things difficult. A handcuffed girl must be forever reaching and stretching and twisting.
Corey thought of it as: ´the room where it would happen´. It was a large spacious stone chamber in which rugs, d****s and huge cushions struck a note of luxury and cheerfulness against ringbolt and chain. By the time she was led there the rest of Abdul Nour´s conscripted harlots had been returned to their collar and chain. Once more they bestowed on her striped nudity their interested attention.

In exchange for the loss of her handcuffs Corey got her personal chain and padlock. It attached her collar to the big ringbolt in the wall by a generous span of links. It was comfortable but implacable confinement that would in no way interfere with any man´s enjoyment of her person. Talifa proudly pointed out the amenities.
"sl**p and fuck on nice thick rugs, must never try and cover anything. No blanket. Most comfort! Now you walk."
It was actually possible! But Corey´s collar snubbed her neck just short of the neighboring ringbolt to either side. From one snub to another was about five paces. She could walk the same distance toward the centre aisle. Approving the demonstration, Talifa then proffered a container of small red pills. "One every night." Her grin was lewd.

Corey blushed and put the feminine object in the small cabinet provided for each girl, along with brush and comb and a few other female trifles. At least, the sperm Abdul Nour had promised her would be rendered sterile. But all these small things designed for her wellbeing only intensified awareness of her new condition. Whores were valuable and should be cared for.
"If man not want other girls watch him fuck, is nice curtain."
Corey blushed again. No privacy even for that! Wryly, she watched Talifa emulate a hospital nurse in the tugging of a d**** around a rail to provide a shrouded gloom in which she could give and receive the vulgarities of sex alone with the client who did not have to pay. "But isn´t there a... room... somewhere?"
Talifa giggled. "Is no time. Often all girls being used at once. Curtain plenty good. Some don´t want."
It was becoming frightening real. In minor panic, Corey blurted: "Talifa, I´ve never done this! I don´t know...!"
"You been fucked." Talifa accused reasonably.
"Well, yes... but this...!#
"Is no difference. Don´t be silly girl."
"Isn´t there some sort of... greeting? Something that´s expected of me? I don´t want to be punished just because I dont know."
Talifa laughed at such innocence. "You
pretent you love. Plenty touch, plenty kiss... unzip!"
"Do I have to do anything he wants?"
"Course you do, silly! Unless it injure. Then you shout."

The youthful Matron grinned at such vaivete. "Some like to whip you. Just al little bit... first. It make them very hard. You pretent you like." Remembering a vital service, Talifa added: "You always suck kock at start. It clean it off nice for you."
Watching Talifa depart, Miss Corey Gibson realised she had received her terms of reference and was now in business. The other girls admired Corey´s weals and exhibited their own. In the boredom of living chained to a wall, their visits to the punishment room and its pain made a dramatic interlude. They donated unsolicited advice.
"Please man good. Then no punish."
"Don´t argue. Raynee and Talifa get mad and whip."
"Is O.K. we play with tongue. Raynee and Talifa make us do for them."
"Is early now. Soldiers start come later."
The girl on either side advanced the length of their chain and kissed her. It was a spontaneous demonstration of s****rhood in the oldest profession and made Corey want to cry.
On her first day Corey serviced eleven men, on her second it was twelve. She did not earn the whip. One of the men gave her a chocolate bar. At night Raynee gave her a douche. Servants carried a tub from ring to ring and washed each girl with vigour. It was reasonably hygenic and methodicial. Examining herself and her vagina every night, Corey was puzzled to know if she had really changed at all.

The girls in the bordello of Abdul Nour lived on their chain. More than any single thing it was their life, immutable and omnipresent. In this chamber of slated lusts it was different from the cell. Corey could never be entirely unaware of her iron collar and its weight of links. Like the rest, she was forever fingering it as she might have fingered a Rosary. The men fingered it too. She was surprised at the delight they found in this metallic evidence of a girl sequestered helplessly for their refreshment. Her padlock was tested and commented on until she began to find an absurd price in wearing it. The Guerilla´s need of what the girls provided was spasmodic. A day of incessant thrusting at their loins and lips might be followed by others in which they played hostess to only one or two heroes at a time. As the weary warriors fingered breasts and nipples and pubic hair they imparted bits of gossip. From it, Corey learned of the absence of Abdul Nour on a mission spoken of in whispers. She suspected her relegation to harlotry resulted from a lack of time in which to practice upon her body and limbs those mild tortures he had promised.

And there was Achmed! His visit made her feel like a patient in a hospital, she was so glad to see a friend. She serviced his hunger with all the finesse at her command. Like most trades, whoredom had its own small skills. She was picking them up fast.
"You learn jij-a-jij real good." He was proud of her.
"Thank you, Achmed. Do you think I´ll ever get out of here?"
"You don´t like nice chain and collar?"
"It´s O.K. I meant, have you heard anything about me being sent back to America?"
"No one ever send girl like you away." He sounded shocked.
"I expect you´re right." She shrugged the subject into the oblivion it deserved. "Have they recaptured Audrey Cotswold yet?"
"No search any more. Is gone. Very bad." He gestured f***efully. "If ever find her she get whip much hard."
It was a pleasant visit. Miss Corey Gibson told Achmed to come again soon.
The girls all envied her the prestigious connection.

She had become accustomed to the vagaries of male concupiscence. Talifa had been right. Some wanted to whip her breasts or vulva lightly with a small light whip provided by the house on request. Corey had learned to control her reactions while she disposed her body for their pleasure and gritted her teeth. The marks they placed upon her skin with this pleasantry faded rapidly but inspired superb erections over which she was expected to enthuse. There were also the ´Tie-uppers´. They had their own notions but several had caught on to Achmed´s trick... with hands tied behind her back to arch and raise her loins, a girl delivered a superior joy. When one of the nondescript valiants of The Cause made this want known, Corey provided him with a length of The House rope, kept under a cushion for this purpose, and crossed her wrists behind her back for them to be bound. All these oddities had become a bit of a bore like the husband who wanted chile con carne for supper every night. The gag was a surprise and came as something extra. He had brought it with him, a modern facility filling her mouth with rubber and buckling harshly behind her neck. Corey was as mute as she had ever been. When he pulled away the curtain behind which he had rendered her helpless she realised instantly the depth of his deception. Every girl visible was similarly captive. As other curtains were folded away one by one they revealed other strictured maidens tugging at bound hands and shaking frustrated heads at tight gags. When Corey looked toward the door and beheld Raynee and Talifa in the same plight her heart plummeted. If this was rescue it was not the kind she wanted.

The men looked like all others. They sported no Leader. But they had been drilled. A huge bolt cutter made short work of the padlocks but left the collar locked on each small throat. In the collar was a ring. Through the ring was threaded a new half inch sisal rope. Counting Raynee and Talifa, there were twenty girls. One by one their collars were threaded so that none was independent of the rest. It was not a coffle. There were no knots in the rope, it could slide back and forth. But, nonetheless, the twenty were inexorably joined. One man stood on a chair and answered the question their gags forbid. "We are moving from Amphala. Our Leader is doing battle. You will be taken to a new home. Resistance will earn you a flogging. You are gagged to keep you quiet, we have no time for cackling pullets."
It sounded reasonable.

The truck ride was one of those dreams where you´ve been there before. To Corey Gibson it was poignantly reminiscent of that other jolting journey that had led her to the trek to Ben Sirah. This would simply move her to another brothel. It did not matter. She began to discern a pattern. Slaves were driftwood on a stream, used and passed around as their Masters wished. Looking at her mute and bound companions she guessed their thoughts the same. She wished her wrists had not been tied so tight.

Everything ends. After hours of jolting the truck stopped and ejected its tired, naked, and helpless cargo. The first face Corey beheld was that of Mustafa. He was counting out money to the driver of the truck. There was a cordial shaking of hands in farewell, the truck grunted away in an empty return. The second man remained with Mustafa, no other males were visible. The considerable f***e who had carried out the succesful coupe in Abdul Nour´s bagnio had remained at Amphala. The naked American girl dismally surveyed the scene. It was all too familiar, even the same four donkeys. She was back at square one.

Once more, Miss Corey Gibson suffered the bitter frustration of being female in a land of slavery. There were twenty girls, strong and young and vigorous. But they were controlled with ease by two men. They would never be given a chance of escape, they would be used, they would be punished. Inexorably, they would be taken to where a single man wanted them to go. And there was nothing any of them could do about it... nothing! She tugged at her tied wrists in feminine vexation. If Mustafa knew she was there he gave no sign. But he did indulge in a brief communique.
"You all be slaves." His fierce eye swept them like a lash. "Abdul Nour is big fool, he soon be killed. You not his. You mine." He looked from one to the other of them, contriving somehow to Miss Corey Gibson. "Is no escape. You try escape you be whipped... punished. Best you be good girls. We walk by day, sl**p at night. No one chase us, no one care."
Ruefully, Corey Gibson reflected on Mustafa´s u*********s truth. No one cared. To those who might care about her she must have vanished utterly without hint or clue. Reid Hunter´s death would have put a seal on her disappearance. Her father would be baffled. Assef Aslam had probably written her off as an expensive jinx. Audrey was gone, Seth Burdett was no more. She was alone, a white slave girl on her way to be sold a second time. It was hard no to wince at sight of the two chains. They stretched their considerable length out on the sand in a parallel promise of prisoned wrists and necks. With economy and convenience they would render captive and helpless twenty lithe strong females who would accept their padlocks because they had no choice.

In a continuation of a planned project, the roped girls were marshalled into line by the brandishing of an unnecessary whip so that number one now stood between the far end of the span of links, the rest were prodded into place with a chain on each side. With prudent caution they were coffled one at a time, hands untied, the right wrist shackled, a link padlocked to a collar. Even after the removal of her gag the girl remained obediently mute. She knew her place. Mustafa and his helper moved on down the line. Reaching Corey, the slaver met her eyes for the first time. As he clicked the padlock shut on her collar his words were terse: "Forget him, he is gone. You will not be rescued." Sneering at her evident dismay, he promised: "I will make sure you are well fucked and well whipped."
To Miss Corey Gibson there seemed nothing more to say.

The American girl felt an American irritation with her fellow captives. Most of them felt they had taken a step up in the world. A whore was few prospects, but a girl naked on an auction block is fecaed with infinite promise. If she was lucky enough to be purchased by a wealthy man who was not a sadist...! They beamed happily at a mental vista of good food, beautiful clothes, and a man who might not beat them too often. Talifa and Raynee were as optimistic as the rest. But it was Talifa who first felt Mustafa´s whip.
Camping at the end of the first day it was talifa and Corey who were freed to do the chores. Corey braced herself for a bad time, but Talifa was indignant on the score of protocol.
"Talifa top girl, she not do such work. You choose another."
Mustafa viewed this insubordination with the same surprise he would have accorded a conversational camel. But his reprimand was gentle. "You be good girl. You go now help white girl work. She know how. She been on coffle before." In the false security of a lost authority, Talifa stood her ground. "Me number one girl, same Raynee. Others for fuck and work. Me only for sell." Corey watched the inevitable. She no longer found horror in these incidents. Talifa should have had more sense. She herself would not now dare quibble in such independence. But she shivered in sympathy as the rebel was suspended upside down by her ankles from a tree, her hair falling to the sand, her arms reaching ineffectually at nothing. Talifa´s fine black bush proclaimed her widely sundered loins. Even before the first blow fell she voiced a change of heart: "I sorry, I sorry...! Please not to whip. I be very good girl...! I be very..."

It was the end of verbal negations. The whip sliced between stretched thighs in a manner to make Corey Gibson shrink. The upended girl uttered the first of many shrieks, her free arms flailing uselessly against an enemy she could not touch. She was perfectly postured for the lash. It worked up and down her thighs and across the seperated cheeks of her bottom and the satin loveliness of her unmarked back. Half way through, Mustafa capitalised on the occasion. With one pensive hand gently massaging Talifa´s scarlet and swollen cunt, he suavely admonished. "You disobey, you argue with Mustafa, then you hang like this." Paternally, he patted the well lubricated vulva beneath his hand and resumed his task. The former number one girl screamed steadily until released. She then sped, with a new and ardent conviction, to help Corey with the fire. The coffle sighed in sympathy. The coffle carried its chains well. After the scented sloth of the bordello they found a zest in motion and the fresh air.

To be continued....

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