Chapter 2
If the three white women had had any lingering doubts about the sort of treatment they could expect under Hakim The Sheik, they were dispelled on their first morning aboard The Lady Jane.
The day began with black coffee and more of the hard biscuits they had been given the previous night. Then came a bucket of sea water and a tablet of seawater soap to be shared between the four of them.
Cynthia was so stiff she could hardly move; Sylvia examined her back and buttocks.
"That guy sure knows how to lay on with a whipI hope he never gets the chance to have a go at me! I .think you'll live, though. Those welts need bathing where the skin's broken."
Julia inspected the angry weals, wincing as she remembered the contortions and screams of pain when they had been administered.
"We can't use salt water on them."
"I'll ask the guard the next time he comes round this way."
"Be careful, Sylvie," warned Julia. "You don't want to risk getting the same sort of treatment yourself."
"They've got sense enough to know I'm really protecting their interests. If she cashes in her cheques with blood-poisoning she won't be any use to them..."
"Except for the couple of dollars we'd get from a soap factory!"
The three swivelled towards the door as Hakim came in followed by one of his men.
"Quite right-I'll have some fresh water sent down later." He came over to the bunk and looked down at Cynthia's striped body. "Hh-she could have taken quite a few more. But there will be plenty of time."
He looked round at .the other three girls. "For you, too, perhaps?" He laughed at their stricken faces and went back to the door. "Bring them up on deck; you can leave the whipped one where she is-I don't think she'll get away!"
They were prodded roughly out of the cabin and up the companion-way to the narrow deck to join the golden-skinned girls lined up facing the sea. The yacht had been under way for some time and land was just a smoky smudge on the horizon.
Julia stood at the end of the line and her heart lurched as she looked round and saw the big Arab who had flogged Cynthia approaching her, his whip coiled in his meaty fist. She nearly made a run for it to dive over the side when he stopped at her elbow and nudged her shoulder with his whip, turning her to face him. What had she done? Or did one have to do anyting to get a whipping? Then someone was calling for the whole line of women to turn and start walking.
For the next fifteen minutes, the line of women shuffled up and down the short, narrow deck, watched by three green-clad guards and the man with the whip.
"Exercise to keep us in good condition to go to market!" Sylvia whispered.
There was a swell on and all three white women had difficulty in keeping their balance in high-heeled shoes, the only footwear they had with them. Julia kept a constant nervous watch on the whip, uncoiled, now, and rippling with a seeming life of its own, as though impatient to be biting into helpless flesh.
Just as they came to the end of one short run, Julia heard a gasp behind her and turned in time to catch Sylvia as she sprawled forward into her arms. Somehow, Julia managed to keep her balance and hold her up. But, even as she did so, there came a low-pitched thrumming, air fanned past Julia's nose and she felt Sylvia's body jerk in her arms as the whip lashed across her back. Sylvia stiffened with a choked cry of pain and Julia held her close to comfort her for a moment. She looked round at the Arab with hatred, hot words bubbling up to her lips instinctively. She checked them as she saw him raising the whip for another stroke at Sylvia. Quickly, she straightened the American girl up and turned her round, pushing her forward to start the line moving again before more punishment could be meted out.
Sylvia staggered on, tears stinging her eyes and the Arab reluctantly lowered his whip, making Julia shiver in dread at the vindictive look he threw her.
Up and down they went; one of the Island girls staggered and had the whip wrapped agonizinly round her legs, just above the knees. She fell to the deck and received two more lashes across her bottom before she could get to her feet. Another girl helped her to rise, looking round angrily at the Arab and spitting something at him in her own language. For her pains, she was grabbed by two of the guards and her back turned, arms stretched out on either side, to be given three strokes of the whip over her dress. As they continued to walk up and down, an ever-redding line seeped through the material, where one of the strokes had broken the skin.
Another unfortunate Island girl staggered sideways as the yacht rolled, and she cannoned into the whipmaster. He turned her round and sent her stumbling back towards the others, getting in three quick lashes across her back before reached them.
When they had been exercised, the Island girls were herded like animals to a small hold for'ard and the three white girls below to the cabin.
As soon as they were locked in, Julia went straight to Sylvia, who had thrown herself face down on the leather couch which they had shared as a bed the previous night. Gently, she unzipped the dress and drew it up to her shoulders, grimacing at the long stripe across the middle of the smooth white back.
"Oh, darling," she whispered. "What a bunch of bloody sadists." She turned to get the ointment and found Margaret already holding it out to her. "Thanks, Maggie."
"I may be in need of some quick repairs myself pretty soon." She attempted a smile that didn't come off.
When she had treated Sylvia's weal, Julia pulled Cynthia's dress up to her shoulders to bathe her whipped flesh with the fresh water that had been left in the cabin while they were being exercised up on deck.
As she turned away, Sylvia got slowly to her feet and eased her dress down. She came across to the bunk and stood looking down at their ex-mistress's weals.
"Like a goddam hospital in here. I wonder if they have a doctor where we're going to? With that whip maniac up there, we're going to need one."
"There's isn't just one up there, either," said Margaret soberly. "I saw that other maniac, the Sheik, watching us-that guy just loves seeing women being whipped!"
"Yeah-I saw his face when they gave that girl her three lashes."
"No one has ever laid a whip across my back-or taken a cane to my backside. I don't know if I'd be able to stand it-I don't think I could."
"Julia and I have both felt the cane on our rearsme more than somewhat. And now I've felt that whip -only once-but I can tell you it's murder. I had mine over a dress-God knows what it must be like to take it on the bare flesh!"
"Murder, too, I can promise you!" groaned Cynthia, wincing, as Julia bathed her wealed back and the upthrust globes of her buttocks.
"You're hardly the one to comment on that," said Sylvia drily. "I've seen a few women being whipped at your orders. Remember one of your own children's teachers? She had twenty lashes as well. You left her with me for a couple of days to patch up before you shipped her off to be sold-I saw her stripes and they weren't any different from yours."
"She attacked me!" muttered Cynthia Briggs.
"After you'd caned her! I can't say I feel deliriously happy at what you got-but you sure had it coming!"
"Has everybody gone mad except up," exclaimed
Margaret. "I don't mind telling you -I'm scared silly!"
"You and me both! Say-I could do with going to the can again, but I don't take to the idea of being taken to that pokey little latrine by one of those green devils. How about using the bucket?"
"What would we do with it afterwards? I can't see the guard emptying it-unless it's over our heads!"
"Yeah," said Margaret nervously. "They would most likely use the whip on us."
"At least we could pee in comfort back on Cynthia's island! Right now I have a full bladder." Sylvia walked over and banged on the door.
"We might as well all go while we're at it," Julia decided. "Come on, Cynthia."
She and Margaret helped her off the bunk as the guard opened the door. They went through the same humiliating procedure as before, the guard propping open the door while the three women took it in turns to use the toilet.
Just as Julia stood up, Hakim stopped outside the open door and stared, his eyes glinting, as she pulled up her panties. She flushed and kept her head lowered as she came out. He laughed at her.
"It won't be so embarrassing When we get to base; you'll be able to do what you want in comfort-you will have women to watch over you there."
"So we'll be having women guards where we're going-bet it's just like a pen!" Julia said thoughtfully. "Wonder why they haven't been sold?"
"Probably more homely than my grandmother! Hope they're not as cane-happy as Cynthia was."
"I'll bet they're a bunch of sadists! If they aren't prisoners, then they must be doing the job because they like it."
They were taken up on deck again later that day to join the coloured girls for another fifteen minute shuffle up and down. Wistfully, they looked at the plume of smoke from a vessel a few miles off on the port bow.
"We're heading almost straight for it," whispered Margaret, as they were herded below.
"Bound to veer off soon, I'm afraid-I can't imagine the captain being invited to dine aboard!"
The sun was slipping redly below the horizon when then were taken on deck again, this time complete with cases and the limping Cynthia. Their hearts fluttered when they saw the tramp steamer hove to less than a quarter of a mile off, two boats rowing towards the yacht.
They were split up and divided between the two boats, being joined by Hakim and his whip-master, before being rowed back to the tramp. Their last sight of the yacht was to see it turning to head back the way they had come.
Aboard the tramp steamer, they were all put down into a dark hold together.
"Mmm-coffee," murmured Julia, sniffing.
"Yeah-that's probably his cover-up." Sylvia looked round the cavernous hold as light came on. "We don't seem to have the same comforts, but there's at least plenty of room."
"Plenty of blankets, too," observed Margaret, pointing to a mountain of them.
"And that's about all."
"Not quite all-look."
At one end of the hold were a line of buckets.
"Don't need three gueses to know what they're for." Sylvia wrinkled her nose. "Hope we're not aboard too long-it's gonna stink like hell!"
One of the Island girls detached herself from the group sorting out blankets and came over to them. She, like most of the others, was tall and full-breasted, with golden skin and blue-black hair.
"Lala!" Sylvia smiled with pleasure and put an arm round the girl's shoulders. "We've been through some rough times together," said Sylvia ruefully, introducing her to Margaret.
"I think this going to be much worse-I have many fears." Lala eyed Cynthia, moving stiffly off to one corner with some blankets. "We all watched while they flogged her," whispered Lala, "but some of the girls think it was not enough-I think they would like to give her more. One or two of them would even kill her if they got the chance."
"It wouldn't be worth it, Lala-Hakim would have they flayed laive. He's going to sell her, too--tell them that huh?"
Julia spread her blankets, with the two American girls on either side of her. Sylvia produced her cigarettes, tossing a couple of packs to the Island girls, all now in various stages of undress, most of them lookrelieved as they wriggled out of the tight suspenderbelts and panties Cynthia had always insisted on them wearing.
"Poor Lala-she was on that island longer than I was."
Sylvia lit their cigarettes and stretched herself out on her blankets. "The times we've had to hold each other for canings-Cynthia even made her cane me, once. I hope they don't get those sort of ideas where we're going to."
"Caning each other-God! I'm beginning to think it might be a better idea to try and slip over the side the next time we're on deck and end it all!" Maggie looked serious.
"I shouldn't honey-while there's life there's hope. Besides-the guy who buys us might be a good joe."
"I can't think of any good joe buying a woman for a slave!"
"That's true, Sylvia-just ask yourself what use he would want to put us to," Julia said practically. "Oh, I'm not thinking of throwing myself over the side, or anything!" she added hastily. "But you can imagine anyone paying the fabulous price these slavers must obviously get for a woman, just to keep her as a servant? No, the whole accent is on sex. Remember the way he inspected Cynthia after she'd been whipped? He had intended taking her out to sea and dumping her over the side, until he realized she had quite a good body."
"I know, Julie-I always figured on winding up in some Eastern brothel, that's why I let Cynthia light into my backside with her cane whenever she wanted to without kicking up a fuss." Sylvia sat up and pulled off her dress, her full, firm breasts swinging free. "That's better!" She turned over and lay on her stomach, the single weal livid across her white back.
Julia and Margaret looked at it, wondering how long it would be before all three of them carried the marks of the medaeival punishment across their backs.
"Like me to put some more ointment on for you, Sylvie?" asked Julia.
"Naw-it'll be OK. I see Cynthia won't be requiring our services any more." She nodded towards where Cynthia lay naked on her stomach, having one of the Island girls treat her weals.
"I thought they all hated her," whispered Maggie.
"That's the special one I always suspected."
"The one you said she used to go to now and then back on the island?" asked Julia.
"The same. I had that one figured for a lesbian from way back. I think Cynthi gets spasms of hankering for her own sex and this is the one who takes care of it for her."
"But won't the others come down on her?"
"Could be. They're strange girls in some waysthey'll take up with a lot of things, but they're awful touchy about others. I wouldn't be surprised to see a private whipping carried out before long."
"She must be mad-Cynthia has no hold over her now."
"Ah, but a sex urge is a very strong thing. Probably none of the other girls are lesbians and that one has to get her kicks somewhere."
"Uh-talking of sex urges," murmured Margaret. "I have pretty strong ones myself. I'm not the type who'll take on all comers as a rule, but it's quite a time since I had me a man, and, well-I just hope it doesn't get out of hand."
"Fingers, honey," Sylvia suggested quietly. "Every time you get the urge, if you have it that strong. Otherwise, you'll be throwing yourself at one of those blacks and, to put it crudely, begging him to fuck you!"
"That's what I'm afraid of." Margaret shuddered. "I should hate myself afterwards."
"You'd probably be sore afterwards-I should think
Hakim would have something to say if you let one of those animas poke you. As far as they are concerned, we're not for use-just for selling!"
The captive girls lost track of the passage of time during the next few days; except for two parades on deck to empty the latrine buckets, they were confined to the hold for the remainder of the voyage. Many of the girls were sea-sick and, with the constant use of the latrine buckets, the air became foul.
There came a time when the engines stopped and the boat remained motionlss for long hours. Then the battens were removed from the hold covers and they were all brought up on deck. It was night time, with few stars and no moon, land looming as a dark, forbidding mass to starboard.
They were rowed ashore, handcuffed in twos, and put aboard two covered lorries, also smelling strongly of coffee. The lorries headed inland, bumping and bouncing over what could have been little more than tracks.
"At least it's a relief to get out of that cess-pit!" Sylvia commented, filling her lungs with the coffeeladen air.
"Wish we could see where we were headed," came Margaret's voice from the darkness.
"We'll know soon enough, I'm afraid. Got any ideas, Julie?"
"If this is where the base is, I should imagine we've skirted down the coast of Venezuela, almost to the borders of British Guiana, where the population averages out at only one or two people to the square mile he wouldn't want any publicity!"
The journey continued for almost an hour, for the most part in silence, each woman wrapt in her own thoughts and fearful speculations on what the future might hold for them.
At last, the lorries slowed, turned, continued at a crawl for some distance and finally stopped. The captives heard voices-mostly women. They had arrived.
The canvas was pulled aside and the girls got their first glimpse of their new home as they descended. They were in a big, brightly-lit building like a bus garage with many other vehicles besides the two lorries.
They were drawn up in one line to have their handcuffs removed, when they came face to face with their new keepers.
"Oh, lordie!" exclaimed Sylvia in a whisper. "They look vicious!"
"Something like I imagined they would be-only a bit worse," Julia whispered.
They were all coloured to a greater or lesser degree, though the type ranged from negress to Indo-European. They had two things in common-all were big, mannish types and all were hard-faced. They wore a uniform of sorts-khaki drill tunics and skirts, with flat-heeled shoes. All were armed with pistols in Sam Browne type holsters and belts and carried canes of slim malacca.
After being marched from the garage to one of the low, veranda-fronted wooden huts, of which their prison mainly consisted, they were issued with bankets and then spit into three groups, each group being housed in a hut, locked in and left to their own devices prison mainly consisted, they were issued with blankets and then split into three groups, each group being housed in a hut, locked in and left to their own devices for the rest of the night.
"At least we have electric light," observed Sylvia. "Not that I'm all that bothered right now-I'm pretty bushed."
There were three wood and plaited string beds on other side of the room, Sylvia, Julia and Margaret took the three on one side, Cynthia and two of the Island girls-Lala and Moolah-on the other. In the centre of the room was a long, plain wooden table, but no chairs.
"I see Cynthia has managed to stick with her little girl friend," grinned Sylvia. "We should have some fun and games going on when she gets really desperate! Those stripes of hers have been healing quite nicely, so she'll be feeling energetic pretty soon."
"By the look of those sadists who took us in tow, no one will be without stripes on their bodies for long," said Margaret, with a worried frown.
"Well, like I said-all we can do is try to keep our nosese clean." Sylvia spread her blankets on the bed and climbed in. "Let's get some shut-eye and worry about it in the morning."
"I wish I could take things as they come like you do, Sylvia."
"Aw, I'm just a good actress-I'm more scared than you are! And I cry when someone whips me!"