Chapter 6

As they assembled, naked, for their morning hosing down, the three girls saw the result's of Moolah's nocturnal excursion to Cynthia's bed. Cynthia bore a large and unmistakable love-bite over her left breast, close to the nipple. Seeing their eyes on her breasts, she looked down and flushed hotly, her hand coming up to cover it.

As she turned and bent over to have the hose played on her bottom, she showed further evidence of the painful pleasures she had indulged in. Deep-etched nailmarks scored the white flesh of her buttocks and the inside of one thigh.

They watched Moolah closely while she was under the hose and saw scratches where Cynthia's nails had quite obviously raked down her back in the height of her passion.

They were not the only ones who spotted it, either. The guard who was doing the hosing noticed and pointed it out to the negress, who waited until the hosing was finished and the six were lined up ready for the run round the compound.

Before they moved off, Cynthia and Moolah were inspected thoroughly, made to bend over, felt between the legs, and underwent a general mauling. Cynthia's white breast was lifted in a large black hand, thick fingers touching the love-bite and taking the opportunity to pinch the large nipple.

Nothing was said until they got back to the hut and began to dress. Cynthia picked up her knickers to have them flipped from her hands and on to the floor by the point of a cane.

"You won't need any clothes for a minute, white woman. Turn round and bend over-I'm going to give you three strokes for damaging property."

"Wh-what property?" Cynthia looked with puzzled and frightened eyes at the lighter skinned of the two guards.

"The Sheik's property!" The woman pointed at Moolah's back as the negress spun her round, tapping the scratches with her cane.

"I don't know anything about it," Cynthia protested. "Are you suggesting that I... ?"

"And this one gets it for the same thing," the negress cut in. She reached out and slapped the under-side of Cynthia's left breast, making it wobble like a large white blanc-mange.

The two women protested hotly, denying all knowledge while the other four girls stood silently by. The negress swung on them.

"What do you know about this?"

"Nothing at all." Sylvia held up her hands. "If that sort of thing went on, they must have waited until we were all asleep."

"All right." The negress grinned wolfishly. "We shall take you before the Sheik-we may even be able to get you both a flogging out of this."

"Oh, what's the use, Cynthia," muttered Moolah. "I don't want to be flogged. Yes-I went to her bed last night and we made love."

Resignedly, she turned her back to the negress and bent over, presenting her round, golden buttocks, taut and naked, to be caned.

There was silence as the negress stepped back and tapped the girl's bottom, measuring her for the first stroke.

Zzzzzzziippp.. .Crack!

Moolah's breath hissed as the cane belted into her dusky flesh, leaving a weal very low down across her buttocks.

Zzzzzzziippp.. .Crack!

She groaned and staggered forward from the force of the blow, half straightening. "Bend down at once, or I'll give you more!" Moolah bent again and gripped her ankles. Zzzzzzziippp.. .Crack!

Moolah stumbled forward again against a bed and remained there, half bent, her hands supporting her, as she tried to contain the pain of the three dark weals that ridged her buttocks.

The negress looked at Cynthia, who had been standing watching the punishment with fear and embarrassment.

"Do you still deny it?"

Wordlessly, Cynthia shook her head, stepped forward and bent over in front of the guard. Her white bottom was broad and not nearly so campact as Moolah's; it stick out nakedly, the nail-marks standing out redly, low down and close to the deep cleft on each cheek.

"I think we'll have this one across the table-I can get at her backside better that way."

The two guards gripped Cynthia's arms and pulled her over to the table. She was too scared of further consequences to struggle, and allowed them to haul her over the table, face down. The negress measured her for the cane while the other held her by the wrists, holding hr arms stretched out.

In that position, the buttocks were relaxed and soft, wobbling even with the light, measuring tap.

The cane was lifted and brought down in a fullblooded stroke, that dented the soft flesh and left the cheeks shuddering as a red weal bisected the division of the fleshy buttocks.

Cynthia took it with a tensing of her body and a grunt of pain. Her head jerked up sharply as the cane cut into her a second time, raising a weal much lower and on the fleshier part of the white cheeks. She gave a sob and her hips jerked from side to side on the table.

Zzzziippp.. .Splatt!

"Aaaargh!"

Her legs kicked in agony as the third stroke was aimed accurately, falling right into the crease below the buttocks.

Her wrists were released, but she still laid across the table, her bottom jerking about as though trying to cool itself. The two African girls came in with breakfast and Sylvia and Margaret helped the groaning woman from the table.

"Things are getting closer to home, I'm afraid," Sylvia observed. "Pretty soon they'll be caning us for going to the lavatory!"

"Is there no Chance of someone coming out this way-police, maybe-and wondering what this great compound is doing in the middle of nowhere?" Margaret asked one of the girls.

"It isn't in the middle of nowhere-we are right in the middle of a coffee plantation owned by Hakim."

"So we have no chance whatever of getting out of here."

"When somebody buys us. Armed guards patrol the compound all night; they have big floodlights at every corner. Even if we got out of the compound, we'd have to get past the guards outside and then find our way out of the plantation."

"Anybody tried?"

"Yes." The girl shuddered. "Two girls tried to get out together one night. They tied blankets and threw them up to the wall so that they stuck on the spikes, then they climbed up them and dropped over the other side."

"And then?"

"They were caught and brought back in less than five minutes. They got twenty-five lashes each the next morning."

"God! Have you heard how your friend is? The one they whipped yesterday?"

"Her skin will heal. She came back from the hospital this morning."

"I should have thought they'd keep her in after a terrible beating like that."

"They don't think that ten strokes is severe enough for that."

Sylvia went to her case and produced a pack of Chesterfields. She pressed it on ttte African women.

"Give some to your poor friend as well," she said kindly.

They looked delightedly at the cigarettes and then one of them shoved the packet down the front of her panties and in between her thighs, so that it was held tightly against her sex by the crotch of the briefs.

"The guards would take them off us if they saw them," she explained.

"Hey-what gives?" Sylvia beckoned the others over to the window later in the afternoon. "Don't tell me we have another invasion!"

The others crowded round the window and looked out across the compound. Coming through the gates were a motley collection of burnoused Arabs and one European.

"Looks like a Persian Market!"

"That could just be what it is, too! A market, I mean," said Sylvia. "Yeah, look-there's the big boss himself coming out to meet them. It's no invasionlook at the smile flashing through that moth-eaten beard!"

The party of some dozen Arabs disappeared into the cool shadows of Hakim's quarters, the European having the "honour" of entering first, with the Sheik's arm across his shoulders.

"He must be the big wheel in that lot."

"He is," said Cynthia in a tense voice. "He's the buying agent for half of North Africa."

"You used to deal with him?"

"A lot."

"Know any of the others?"

"Only a couple of them-they aren't so big as

Carter."

"So I suppose they're here to do business." Sylvia looked round at her companions. "Guess we'd better keep our fingers crossed, girls, and pray the best man

Margaret choked back a sob as she looked at Julia and Sylvia. "And we'll all be split up-we'll never see each other again."

"Don't take on, honey." Sylvia put an arm round her. "Maybe one of them will buy us all up in one job lot!"

"Well, you'd better pray that it isn't Cartel-tie was the only one who never complained about a girl haying whip marks on her body," Cynthia warned them. "He likes to amuse himself that way en route and, like Hakim, he can afford to take his time."

An hour went by, mostly spent in speculation and efforts to get information about their likely future from Cynthia.

"I've told you I didn't concern myself what happened after the women left my hands," she said at last. "But obviously sex is going to be the main function. Whether it's in a brothel or a harem or with some tribe out in the desert somewhere-sex will play the biggest part. And I should think that most people who buy slaves whip them pretty regularly."

Shortly after that, the two guards came in, one of them rapping her cane sharply across Lala's pantied bottom as she stood nearest the door.

"Get those drawers off." As Lala, with a scared look round at the rest. "That goes for the rest of youget your clothes off -I want you all naked in two minutes!"

"I think this is it," whispered Sylvia as she undressed.

"That's how slaves are usually sold-naked-isn't it? So that all our best attractions are fully displayed to the customer,' she added bitterly. She looked down at her lovely white body and pressed her hands to her red pubic hair. "I suppose this will be a great attraction for them-just listen to the bidding!" She looked up at Julia for a moment and smiled, but her lips trembled and her eyes were unnaturally bright.

"If you all have high-heeled shoes, put them on," ordered the black wardress.

They all had them and were soon lined up and being marched across to the Sheik's house. They were taken into a dressing room where they found all the other coloured girls standing before mirrors combing their hair and putting on lipstick, the lighter-skinned ones using eye-shadow.

Sylvia, Julia, Margaret and Cynthia were handed combs and brushes and a box with tubes of make-up.

"Paint up those white skins-and make a good job of it, if you don't want to feel the Sheik's whip."

They brushed and combed their hair and then selected the rouges and lipsticks to suit their colouring.

"God!" muttered Margaret. "My hand's shaking so. I can hardly hold the darn tube, let alone put it on!"

When they had made their faces up, they looked at each other.

"Wow! Sexy!" grinned Sylvia.

"That's what I like about you, Sylvia," said Margaret. "You're as scared as the rest Of us, but you almost stand on your head to keep our spirits up."

"Talking about spirits-I still have quite a lot of gin left. If we ever get back to that hut, we'll have a little party."

A guard came over and inspected them without any comment, then all four had to stand still while she painted their nipples with a red lacquer. They had their hair sprayed with a setting lacquer and lastly they had to stand with their arms in the air, while they had a heavy, cloying perfume squirted over them.

Everybody in the dressing room was carefully inspected, several receiving sharp slaps on their bare bottoms and being made to alter some part of their make-up.

As each one was passed, she had to hold out her wrists to have silver manacles, connected by a slim, silver chain, snapped round them.

Julia was the first white woman to be passed and she automatically held out her wrists to be shackled.

"No-not you whites. We have something else for you."

All the coloured girls were taken out, leaving the four white women with the two guards. The negress opened a cardboard box on the trestle table and brought out some folded, unidentifiable garments of a white, diaphanous material. She handed one to each of them.

"Put these on quickly."

They opened them out and discovered they were pantaloons of the type worn by Eastern women. They drew them on and found that the material was like transparent gossamer, their legs and the dark shadowy places between their thighs showing through clearlySylvia's red pubic hair especially. They were loosefitting from waist to ankle, but were not left wondering for long how they would keep them up.

In turn, they had to breathe in deeply to have a sixinch wide chrome steel belt locked about their waists, keeping the pants up and forcing their bodies to remain straight-backed. Silver manacles, similar to those worn by the coloured girls, were clamped about their wrists and also their ankles. The short chain allowed a certain amount of movement of their arms, but forced them to walk with short, mincing steps in their highheeled shoes.

They were led out, then, taken along a corridor, and into a large hall buzzing with voices, above which could be heard the tinkle of Eastern music. The air was blue with smoke that had the aroma of incence and dimmed further the subdued lighting around the walls.

The hall was like a miniature theatre, with a velvetcurtained stage at one end. The Sheik and his guests lounged on piles of tasselled cushions on the floor, brass and silver trays of sweetmeats and hulva, goblets of wine and other exotic foods before them.

The white women were brought in through a door at the rear of the hall and taken to a long table on one side laden with bottle of sweet wine and large silver carafes.

"You are to fill the carafes from the bottles and stand behind the guests. When you see an empty glass, or one of them calls for wine, you serve it. We shall be watching you the whole time, so do it properly and no tricks, or you'll pay for it with skin!"

They waited while the carafes were refilled from the bottles, then sat in chairs on either side of the rear door.

"Wish I had a little phial of poison!" muttered Sylvia, as they stood behind the Sheik's guests. "Boydo we pong!"

"That worries me," Margaret whispered. "They'll be after us like dogs after bitches, with this scent! Ooops-there's a guy calling for booze!"

Margaret threaded her way through cushions to the Arab holding out his glass. She bent and refilled it and as she did so, he suddenly realized she was white. With a grin of delight, he reached for her, is hand going straight between her thighs. She squealed and tried to step back, but the large, hot hand gripped her at the crotch. He put down his glass and grabbed her arm, pulling her down in a sprawl of white, shapely legs on to the cushion beside him.

Hakim looked round, laughing, and wagged a finger at him. "Now, Abdul-behave yourself. She's not for sale tonight, not unless you're worth a lot more money than I think you are. You came here to buy four African slaves-this one comes more expensive than any four of them. You've had your feel at her, so be content."

Grumbling, the man released her and let her get to her feet. She had kept her hold on the handle of the carafe, which fortunately had a heavy ornate top, so that little wine was spilt.

All eyes followed Margaret as she made her way back and there were murmurs and exclamations of appreciation when the other three white women were spotted.

More glasses were held aloft, then, and all four of them were kept busy for some time topping them up, having to suffer the exporing hands of several at once.

Julia bent to pour wine for one and had a dark hand from two different pairs close over her full, naked breasts as they hung swaying from her chest. She gritted her teeth and ignored it, only to have a hand slip between her thighs from the back.

She straightened from filling the glass and saw her companions undergoing similar treatment. She gasped and jerked forward as someone pinched her bottom, stumbling in the high heels and sinking to her knee before another bearded Arab, who promptly closed his mouth over one breast and sucked hard on the nipple. She wrenched the breast away and staggered to the back again.

She turned and saw Sylvia trying to pull away from a man who was making frantic endeavours to get her pants down. The chrome steel was locked far too tightly about her waist and he eventually gave up, clasping her hips and pressing his lips to her thinlycovered bottom as a consolation prize.

Someone else called for wine on Cynthia's side. She went back, picking her way through the cushions and reaching hands. She poured the wine and turned to start back through the crowd, when a hand grabbed her arm and spun her round. The watching girls at the back her her stricken expression as she was brought face to face with Carter, sitting next to Hakim.

There was a short conversation between the two men, then Cynthia came back, looking really worried.

"What happened, Cynthia?" Sylvia asked, not very sympathetic. "Have a word with your old client?"

"He recognized me. Now he-oh, Lord-he wants to buy me!"

"How about that! You should be all right, then."

"All right! He wants to buy me for himself! He's just here to buy half a dozen coloured girls for someone, but he said if I was up for sale, he's have me. His favourite sport is whipping women-having me should give him extra kicks!"

The other three had not the heart to make the obvious comment.

"What did Hakim have to say about it?"

"He said they could talk after the auction."

"So if the price is right it's sold to the gentleman in the panama!"

"The price will be right! He's richer than most of his clients and if he wants something badly enough, he'll pay whatever price is asked-and he wants me! I saw the look in his eyes."

For another half an hour, they continued to serve the wine, refilling a carafe from time to time, when one guard immediate came over to supervise.

As soon as they had to move amongst Hakim's clients, hands came out to grasp and feel at them; a white breast was squeezed or mouthed at; a soft, warm vulva was held fleetingly in a palm. There was an occasional startled yelp as a jutting bottom was pinched or a nipple tweaked.

"If this goes on much longer, I'm going to demand danger money!" gasped Sylvia.

At last, Hakim stood up and clapped his hands loudly. Two floodlights lit up the drapes in front of the stage as he climbed up some steps at the side.

He spoke at some length in Arabic before breaking into English.

"Now, for the benefit of my friend, Mr. Carter, and those of you who understand English. I have some twenty girls on offer, who will be brought on one at a time for your appraisal. If you wild all come close to the stage you will be able to see all their most inter esting -er -details! Most of you nave been here before, and you have a good idea of how much these girls will fetch, so we need not waste time by starting off with any frivolous bids-I have a little entertainment for you afterwards. The deal is the same as always -you make your bids, your name is written on a piece of paper and stuck on the girls knocked down to you and you inspect them again later before any money is handed over."

There were several enquiries about the four white women who had served the wine.

"No-no, I'm sorry, gentlemen." Hakim held up his hands for silence. "I had them serve the wine just as an added entertainment for you, but I'm afraid they are not for sale. They have already been spoken for. He repeated it in Arabic and made a sign to someone offstage. "And now-on with the auction!"