Chapter 12
Immediately after lunch, the four women were once again twisting and shivering under the cold blasts of water from the hose. Then they were taken to the dressing room next to the hall in Hakim's quarters.
This time they merely had to comb their hair, put on a light face make-up and be sprayed with the cloying musky perfume.
Then came the silver shackles on wrists and ankles, the chain allowing them to take only short, mincing steps. Naked, they were led to the office they remembered with dread and kept standing outside for almost half an hour before the buzzer sounded and they were taken inside. They were lined up before the desk and the man they feared and hated most in all the world.
Hakim was standing, towering above the desk, teeth gleaming through his black beard. He nodded towards the other side of the room and they looked round quickly to see another Arab, dressed in a light European suit, but with a turban and nearly trimmed beard. The eyes above the hawk nose glinted on their nakedness as he moved towards them.
"This gentleman is going to be your new masterproviding we can come to an agreement on the terms."
"I don't see why not, Hakim-you and I have never quarrelled over business arrangements yet." His English was as good Hakim's, but the voice much higher in pitch.
"Well, go ahead and examine them-take your time, old friend." Hakim came around the desk and took Sylvia by the arm, turning her to face her prospective buyer. "I've examined them all and each one is a prize to grace any man's household. But this red-haired one I especially liked-I have even toyed with the idea of keeping her for myself."
"Which means, of course, that you have already tried her out!" As he spoke, he reached out and lifted one of Sylvia's cringing breasts, weighing it in his hand.
"Of course-and I can recommend her. She makes a wonderful fuck, and what's more-she likes it!"
Sylvia stood, breathing heavily, her skin crawling as two pairs of hands wandered over her body, prodding her, pinching her. Hakim bent her back across his thigh and the two of them pulled open her legs; the lips of her vulva were prised apart, exposing the pink inner membrane.
"Nice little cunt-tight, too! She'll liven your bed for you."
"Hm-I shall probably take her. Now what about this one?"
Margaret gasped and took a quick step back as he reached for her, but Hakim was there to drag her back and hold her still while she went through the same humiliating inspection as Sylvia had. She started to cry as she was bent backwards across Hakim's knee and her legs pulled wide.
"Ah-so this is the cringing virgin type, eh?"
"Yes-I think she would put up a struggle to protect that little tight slit."
"Good-I shall definitely take her, then-it amuses me to tame them. How does she stand up under punishment-or haven't you had her thrashed yet?"
"Not yet." He swivelled Margaret round and looked at her bottom, snowy white once more, the four quick strokes of the previous night having disappeared. "No -I don't think she knows what it's like to be whipped."
"And what about the red-haired one?"
"I should think she has tasted a little. If you would like to give them both a trial beating, I have no objection."
"I should like that," the voice was sibilant, the eyes narrowed, as he looked keenly from Sylvia to Margaret. He took hold of Sylvia's arm and jerked her forward, sending her stumbling towards the desk. Hakim went round behind it and took a mean-looking cane from the drawer.
"Is she submissive under punishment?"
"I wouldn't know," said Hakim, handing him the cane. "See for yourself."
The man eyed the lovely naked Sylvia for a moment then rapped the top of the desk with the cane. "Bend over here."
Sylvia hesitated and her friends looked on in fearful anticipation of what would happen next. Then Sylvia shrugged and moved in front of him, bending her hips over the edge of the desk and presenting her softlyrounded buttocks to be caned.
"Stretch your arms out in front of you-your buttocks are too soft like that."
Obediently, Sylvia stretched forward and waited. Then the three watching girls stood with tears in their eyes wincing at each sharp, snapping thump, as the beautiful bottom was seared with the cane.
The cane came down on the stretched buttocks, denting the flesh as it struck. Sylvia fought down the cry of pain, taking the second, even harder stroke, with a hissing intake of breath. Each successive stroke seemed to become harder and Sylvia's breath became a moan of pain. By a tremendous effort of will, she kept herself bent over in the humiliating posture, praying for the caning to end as each stroke bit into her.
Her body trembled with pain and the effort not to try and escape from the blows. She gave a little yelp as he gave her the seventh stroke. Her whole bottom was on fire-even Cynthia had not got the power behind the strokes that this sadiistic man had.
She gave a gasping cry as she took the eighth stroke and then the cane was mercifully lowered.
"Get up," he snapped shortly, turning to the other girls.
As Sylvia slowly raised herself from the desk, bottom scalding with pain, he lifted the cane and pointed it at Margaret.
"Now you!"
Margaret looked at him with wet, horror-filled eyes, then shook her head wildly.
"No-no. You -you have no right," she panted. "You're not going to cane me." She turned and ran towards the door, stumbling in her shackles.
"No, honey," Sylvia called after her, despite her pain. "It-it's no use. Take it and get it over-they'll only make it worse."
For all his bulk, Hakim moved with agility. He caught her as she fumbled frantically with the handle of the door and carried her, kicking and squirming, back to the desk. He set her on her feet facing the desk, but she turned as soon as she was freed, beating her clenched fists against the other man's chest, in an effort to get past him and to the door. He pushed her back to Hakim, who held her struggling body easily.
"What do you think of that?" he grinned.
"Excellent. Two marvellous foils for me to play with; the one submissive and the other a spitting bundle of fury. Taming this one is going to be exhilarating. Ah -bend her over for me, Hakim."
He waited as Hakim bent Margaret across the desk and held her down, naked bottom wriggling, legs kicking.
"Twelve strokes for this one, eh?"
"As they would say themselves -the customer is always right!" grinned Hakim, leaning on the struggling girl's back.
Then Margaret's caning began. It was even more sadistic than Sylvia's had been. For what seemed an age, the room with filled with the zip and thump of the cane on naked flesh, with Margaret's hoarse cries of pain. She jerked madly under the punishing strokes, as weal was laid on painful weal, until her whole bottom was one blazing agony.
She took ten searing strokes, then a little bead of red appeared on her right buttock and a rivulet of blood ran down the back of her thigh. He torturer peered at it, (hen unfeelingly raised the cane for the next cut."
"Stop it!" sobbed Julia, making for the desk .
"Easy, honey-she only has one more stroke to come."
The eleventh broke the skin again, also on the blazing right cheek.
"No more-stop it-you-you beasts." Julia wrenched her arm from Sylvia's grasp and rushed towards the desk. "You animals!" she shouted hoarsely, grabbing the wrist as it lifted for the twelfth stroke.
Hakim leaned over without a change of expression, planted a hand on her naked breasts and pushed, sending her staggering back into the arms of Sylvia.
Down thrummed the final stroke and Margaret slid from the desk to her knees as Hakim released her. She crouched there, whimpering.
Hakim and his client made for Julia as one and held her struggling between them.
"What would you suggest we do with this one?"
"Yes," nodded the man thoughtfully. "You really have found me a good batch this time, Hakim. This one also has fire-even prepared to attack. What was it she called us? Beasts? Animals?"
Julia looked from one to the other, frightened, now, though still defiant in face of the brutality she had seen meted out to Margaret. Defiant and contemptuous.
"Beasts and animals, I said. What else do you think you are, treating a helpless woman like that? You'd be gaoled for life in England for half what you've done."
"And you could be flogged to death for half what you've said!" Hakim left her in the other Arab's hands and went to the desk. "Ten strokes do you think? We must leave some skin on her if you're taking her away in the morning."
"Ten strokes should be sufficient here, I think-to keep her nicely warmed up for what I shall give her when I get her home."
Julia almost breathed a sigh of relief. But why two strokes less than Margaret? Then Hakim pressed the desk buzzer and the two guards came in.
"Get the doctor to be at the triangle in five minutes, will you-tell her there's to be a flogging."
Julia's knees went weak and she thought she was going to faint. It was to be ten strokes of the whip! She shuddered suddenly. She was going to be tied and helpless as she had seen the mulatto girl. They were going to thrash her naked body with a whip!
She struggled, trying to get away, then, her back already cringing at the thought of that brutal whip.
Then they were dragging her outside and across the compound to the frightful triangle. Up on to the platform they hauled her. The two Arabs held her firmly by her upper arms as one of the guards unlocked her fetters. She whimpered as she saw the doctor and one of the "nurses" climbing on to the platform. The doctor was standing in front of her and pulling the stethoscope from the pocket of her white coat. Julia gasped as it slid beneath her heavy left breast. Her heart was being tested to see if she would be able to stand the flogging, almost hoping the doctor would find something wrong with her. Futilely, she tried to catch her eyes, but the woman just glanced once curiously into her face.
Out of the corner of her eye, Julia saw the huge negress climbing on to the dais, the dreaded black whip coiled in one hand. She was being turned round, then; she felt the doctor's hand run down over her back, curving out over her bottom and her right hip, then down the backs of her thighs.
"How many strokes is she to have?" she heard the doctor ask.
"Ten strokes," came Hakim's voice.
"She's all right-she'll be able to take them."
They were pulling her towards the triangle, her arms were being lifted; a strap went round her wrists, tightening, and she began to struggle. She jerked and twisted, but the strap was buckled and her wrists were secured.
"No," she moaned. "No-don't whip me-please don't whip me."
Her legs were being forced apart, wider and wider against all the efforts to keep them together. Her left ankle was strapped, then her right.
Now she was stretched taut, painfully taut, her legs strained to their limits. She twisted her head and her stomach turned over. The big negress had removed her tunic, great breasts juddering with her slightest movement. The whip was uncoiled now, trailing on the ground, just waiting for the word to begin her punishment. She sobbed as, beyond the woman who was to flog her, she saw that several of the female guards and the men in green battle-dress had gathered.
Then her back was being rubbed with something wet and cold, she twisted her head again and saw the doctor with her pad and bottle. This would be to prevent the whipping from turning sceptic if the skin was cut-as it almost certainly would be. Her skin! Panic drove her to jerk wildly in her bonds, but the effort was fruitless.
The doctor moved away from her, leaving her taut and alone, ready for the whipping. She saw the massive breasts of the negress swaying as she moved closer, whip already half raised. "Begin the punishment!"
Close on Hakim's hated voice came a sob from the watching crowd. Sylvia. Julia looked down and saw a couple of the green-clad guards looking up at her, directly between her wide-spread thighs. Even with the imminent flogging, she made a pitiful attempt to twist so that they could not see between them, but she only succeded in hurting wrists and ankles. She was stretched so tautly that even her breasts ached and the sinews of her inner thighs were already beginning to cramp.
Then searing, almost unbelievable pain knifed across her shoulders. She screamed with shock and agony.
The first stroke and she hadn't even heard it coming.
She heard the sound of the second stroke, like a high wind whistling through trees. Madly, she jerked again as more fiery pain was painted across her back and just below her right armpit.
She screamed again as the third stroke tortured her flesh and again as the fourth stroke followed closely. Her well-built body shook the whole structure as the fifth thumped midway down her back and the tip of the lash bit into her side. She looked down and saw the bloody weal along the side of her right breast, setting it ablaze with hot pain.
She twisted and squirmed madly as the woman flogged her, working down her body, the tip of the lash curling round her waist to lay a blood-flecked whorl across her quivering belly and another over her right hip.
She jerked taut, her back arching, as the first stroke hit her buttocks. Her hips squirmed and sweat ran down her body. Another stroke lashed into her bottom, lower down. Another scream bubbled from her lips as the brutal whip cracked across her bottom for the third time, the tip whispering round to wrap itself round her right thigh.
Then the strokes were no longer coming. Her body was one massive, fiery pain; 'her head swam and everything was going black. She had had her ten strokes. Her flogging was over. Her body sagged with pain and exhaustion.
Fingers were undoing the buckles at her wrists and her ankles; arms were supporting her. Dazedly, she looked up and the doctor swam before her eyes. The stethoscope was out, pressing against her below her left breast. She was turned round. Her whipped back was being examined.
"Take her into the hospital-I'll see to her there... wait-just a minute!"
What now? Her right breast was being lifted, cool fingers touched the aching nipple. A hand touched her pubic mound.
"All right-take her away." As two guards hauled her towards the hospital, her feet trailing the ground, she heard the doctor's voice, strangely loud. "This flogging you ordered, Sheik Hakim, may have complications-one of the strokes cut into her right breast and touched the nipple and another went round her right hip, across her pubic region very low-I shall have to examine her further there."
"That's your job," growled Hakim.
"She's an English girl-her skin isn't as tough as..."
"That's your affair-you heal her skin. I'm not interested in ..."
Then Julia was out of earshot and concentrating on the pain of her whipped body.
Later, she was vaguely aware of her back and buttocks being bathed, her right breast being treated with something that stung. Then she was being held in a kneeling position, her legs wide apart, while the doctor examined her between the thighs.
"No-you're all right. The whip didn't touch any vital spot."
She was left to lie on her stomach for some time, then 'the doctor came again and gave her something to drink and she slept, having fitful bouts of pain-wracked wakefulness.
Towards evening, the doctor came again and sat on the side of her bed. She examined her back and bottom again gently lifted her upper body to look at the right breast and took her pulse.
"I'm sorry you had to undergo that brutal whipping -I couldn't do very much about it, but unknowingly, you have helped."
She went away, then, leaving Julia with a vague puzzlement at 'the back of her mind that she was too weary and in too much pain, to bring to the fore.
Late that night, the two guards came for her and took her back to Hakim's quarters.