Chapter 7
Footlights came on and added their strength to the two floodlights as the curtains parted and the first of the girls was brought on.
"They sure do things in style here, don't they!" whispered Sylvia. "This is straight out of the Arabian nights!"
The first girl was one of the Africans who had been left over from the last batch and she walked on with the silver shackles about her wrists, accompanied by the big Arab who had flogged Cynthia back on me Island. This time, however, he wore shimmering pantaloons, crimped in at the ankles and held up by a broad, brass-studded leather belt. To complete the outfit, he wore curl-toed slippers and a large turban. In his hand was coiled hps inevitable black whip.
Hakim stood on the other side of the girl with a pad of labels and a pen. Bidding was loud and enthusiastic, in several different currencies, but mainly dollars and French francs.
The first girl was duly sold, the client's name written on a label, which was torn from the pad, licked and stuck on the girl's chest.
As soon as she had been labelled, the Arab led her off and brought on the next one, standing beside each girl, coiled whip in hand, massive arms folded across his chest, like the European idea of a harem eunuch, all the time the bidding was on.
All six of the tall, strongly-built African girls were sold quickly, but the first three girls from the Island were withdrawn when the bidding did not reach Hakim's reserve price, although the girls were quite pretty and had nice bodies.
"Looks like this crowd is after the staying type rather than glamour," Sylvia whispered.
"Yes, when sales are arranged like this, the vendor generally has a batch of either the strong working type or the softer, more glamorous," Cynthia told her. "He probably put it out 'that he had some hefty ones going and the ones who are here tonight are looking for that type-I don't suppose he'd decided to take us over when he put the word round."
"But now 'they've seen us, they'd like, is that it?"
"Yes, but they wouldn't be prepared to pay the price for us-especially if their people were expecting several. Hakim will charge as much for one of us as he would for four or five of them-we'll be sold purely for sexual purposes."
"And perversions thereof!" Julia put it. "But what about Carter?"
"Carter? He can afford to buy anything he's commissioned to-and still be able to afford us. He only wants me, though. Apart from the kick he'll get out of owning me and being able to do what he wants with a woman who had always dictated the terms-he once tried to get me to sleep with him and I turned him down flat."
"I see-he's been gunning for you." Sylvia suddenly pointed to the stage. "Look-Lala!"
All three held their breath as Lala was led on in her shackles, her golden body gleaming in the lights. She, too, was a pretty girl, her body slender, but with wide hips and well-developed, pear-shaped breasts.
Bidding started briskly enough, then slowed and the three friends breathed a sigh of relief when the reserve price was not reached and she was withdrawn.
"What happens to all the rejects?" asked Sylvia.
"They'll be held over until he organizes another auction. The next one will probably be glamour type only."
"Didn't you ever do that sort of thing?"
"Our sales were already organized and we had a middle man. We obtained a few ourselves, but mostly, they were obtained for us, handed over and we passed them on to someone else, sometimes to the client himself, sometimes his agent or another trader."
"You mean you were the middle man."
"Mostly, I suppose. Hakim has a really big organization -he gets them, holds them and sells them. It makes little difference whether he makes a sale this month or next month-he can afford to hang on to the women until he gets the price he wants."
"Why did he bother with you, then?"
"Well, for one thing, I was taking trade in that area; two, I didn't deal in vast quantities of slaves at a time, but the few I did were the cream and I was getting business from Carter-one of his best clients. And three-my island is a very convenient place to trade in slaves. I've been operating there for..."
Cynthia broke off as Moolah was led on to the stage. Moolah was quite good-looking, though her skin was a little darker and her body built on more powerful lines than most of her island companions.
The bidding started and exceeded Hakim's reserve price, for she was finally sold-to Carter.
"There's a bit of luck for you, Cynthia."
Cynthia flushed, then shook her head. "Only for a time-he will have bought her for a client of his own."
They watched as the rest of the naked girls were brought on one by one, each girl having to stand while she was bidden for, occasionally being roughly turned round by the Arab when someone called for a rear view, sometimes being made to open her legs, while the crowd around the front of the stage looked up between them. From time to time, Hakim would squeeze one of their breasts, lift it and let it fall back into place, or slap the softly-rounded under-curve, as a test of firmness.
One girl had had both her rather large breasts slapped in turn, then the Arab had pushed his whip between her thighs to make her open them. With a sob she tried to run from the stage, breasts and buttocks bouncing voluptuously. In a flash, the whip was uncoiled and sent, hissing, across the stage to wrap itself round her legs and bring her down. Even as she rose, the whip was lashed twice across her back before the Arab grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back to the centre of the stage.
Oddly enough, this excited the bidders and the price rose rapidly, until she finally went to Carter.
"I dare say she'll be with me for a While," said
Cynthia. "She's just the type he'd go for-he'll have a great time taming her before he lets her go."
The pretty mulatto who had been whipped at the triangle the previous day was brought on. The bidding went up desultorily, then Hakim turned her round to show the whip-weals on her back and more at once joined in, raising the price until she, too, went to Carter.
"See what I mean?" Cynthia murmured.
When the auction ended, twenty-two girls had been displayed on the stage for sale, seventeen of them being sold. The clients went back to their cushions and Hakim came to the front of the stage again to make another announcement.
"The financial transactions can be completed in the morning, gentlemen. So, business over for the evening, we can relax and enjoy a little entertainment. There will be a little delay while things are prepared backstage, in the meantime, my-er--special slaves will circulate among you to dispense wine."
"That guy should have been in show business," said Margaret sourly. "He's loving every minute up there."
"He should be-he's just made a packet!"
"He'd get a job anywhere in the States announcing cabaret acts."
"Yeah-like concert parties in Alcatraz! Let's go, girls-the customers are calling for wine!"
As Margaret refilled a glass, she heard a rip behind her and then a hot, sweaty hand slid over her bottom and between the backs of her thighs. She wriggled frantically as a predatory finger wormed its way in between the lips of her sex, slipped high and touched her clitoris. An arm came up and wrapped itself round her hips, holding her so that she couldn't move away.
She slid to her knees as the finger steadily frigged her, trying to crawl away, but she was held too tightly. She whimpered, her bottom wagging from side to side as she fought to dislodge the hand between her thighs. Hot lips were glued to the bare flesh of one of her buttocks, exposed by the tear in her pants. She twisted her head and pleaded with the bearded Arab to let her go, but he only masturbated her more furiously.
The men around him started to clap and egg him on to greater efforts. Someone else took her shoulders and pulled, so that she sprawled forward, her upper body across his lap. Then his hands were beneath her, squeezing her naked breasts. Her pants were ripped further, so that the whole of her bottom was bared.
She felt her legs being forced apart, and all the time, that mouth slobbered at her bottom, the finger frigged her inexorably.
The wine carafe had fallen from her hand and she sobbed with hopeless shame as a dozen hands pawed her.
"Sylvie -we've got to do something!" Julia said desperately. "They could kill her!"
"You're right, honey-like clobbering that guy who started it with our carafes! Come on-let's see if we can create a diversion, anyway!"
The two girls fought their way through the growing crush round the helpless girl.
Margaret's head swam, an unwanted, tingling excitement starting in her belly and pulsing in the now stiffened nipples of her breasts. The hand between her legs was driving her mad. Her hips began to move of their own volition. She cursed them and herself-she was catually helping them to masturbate her.
"Look at that!" gasped Sylvia as they got close. "The bastard's got his prick out at her!"
The hand was suddenly removed from between Margaret's thighs, the mouth from her bottom. Someone was straddling her hips from behind; hands seemed to come from all angles, feeling her, prodding her, pinching her.
She jerked madly as her buttocks were forced apart. Something warm and hard pressed at her anus, hurting her. She twisted her head and saw the massive black penis, the knob between her buttocks.
"NO!" she screamed.
Then Arabs were falling rapidly away from her; the hands left her and the man straddling her hips toppled sideways as Hakim strode amongst them, roaring with laughter and tossing them easily from either side of her.
Finally, Margaret was left sprawled on her own on the floor, her white bottom thrusting up nakedly from the huge rent in the seat of the pantaloons. Hakim reached down and hauled her to her feet, still laughing.
"You all right," he chuckled. "He only wanted to bum-fuck you! I wouldn't have minded, only the man who buys you might want to use that little virgin hole himself!" He picked up the carafe and handed it back to her as she stood, still panting and hot with shame. "Get it filled up again." He looked down at the man who started it all, shaking his head in mock despair. "Habib-that prick of yours will be the death of you! You will try to fuck someone's wife one day and end up in an alley with your throat slit!"
Sylvia tucked the torn patch in the seat of Mar garet's pantaloons under the leather belt, so that her bottom had some covering. Margaret was shaking so much she slopped the wine down the side of the carafe.
"Here-let me." Julia filled the carafe for her.
"Julia-I-..." Margaret choked and tears began to run down her cheeks.
"Ssshh-not now, sweetie," whispered Sylvia. "Wait until we get back to the hut. At least we're not split up yet-we can have that little party."
They re-charged more glasses without anything more serious than the hands touching fleetingly at the erotic zones of their bodies. Then Hakim announced that the entertainment was about to begin.