Chapter 8
Floodlights and footlights came on again and the curtain rolled hack. Hakim's "entertainment" was crude in the extreme and without any pretence at artistry or proper presentation; it is doubtful if it had even been rehearsed. But it was effective, and, as far as the audience was concerned, an unequivocal success.
Two very light-skinned girls, almost European in feature, stood beside a bed. They were fully dressed to begin with and stood close, their arms at their sides. No thespians, they, the two stood awkwardly and seemed to suddenly realize they were in view of the audience when the curtain was almost fully open. Then they went into their "act."
Their arms went about each other and they kissed lingeringly. When they drew apart, one of them sat on the bed and drew the other down beside her. Then began a fondling of each others breasts over their dresses, until one unbuttoned the front of hers and allowed the other to slip a hand down inside. The movement of the hand fondling the breast it clasped could be seen under the dress. There were more kisses and the hand came into view again to wander down and slip under the girl's skirt. up to that point, although lapped up in complete silence by the audience.
Then the hand went up high under the skirt, rucking it up and exposing shapely, nylon-clad thighs and white suspenders. The thighs widened and the hand darted right up to the crotch, there was quick, urgent movement then a gasp floated clearly across the hall and the girl who was being to intimately fondled fell back, wrigglingf her hips and tugging the skirt up and up until she had it around her waist.
Her thighs splayed wide, then, Showing the audience the brief, pale green panties she wore, the crotch a slim bridge that allowed the plump vulva to bulge out on either side.
The other girl knelt on fhe stage and slowly drew the panties down her legs, slipping them over the highheeled shoes and turning to wave them at the audience. She opened them out to show the slightly stained crotch, then ardently pressed her lips to it.
Discarding the panties, she slowly undressed her partner, touching and kissing various parts of her body as she uncovered it. By the time she was naked, the girl on the bed was obviously thoroughly aroused.
She got up and lesiurely stripped the girl who had roused her, fondling and kissing her as she did so. Her taller partner stood still, letting her do everything, only turning now and then to display herself to the audience as the more exciting parts were exposed. A bra was slipped off and her breasts were revealed, not as large as her lover's, but firm and round, with small, dark crests.
The panties were taken down and given the same treatment as those of the girl who was stripping her, a very damp-looking crotch being kissed and a tongue coming out to lick at it with evident relish.
Nude, they stood breast to breast, kissing and embracing. Their bodies began to move, rubbing one against the other. Both girls seemed to have forgotten they had an audience by then, for they just stood with their bodies undulating, arms tightly about each other, mouths jammed together. The main features of the tableau were two jutting bottoms moving back and forth and from side to side.
A hoarse stage whisper came from the wings which was ignored. Then the spectators gasped as the Arab made a brief appearance to wrap his whip with a loud report round the two girls' squirming bodies.
They both scremaed loudly and jerked apart. The Arab turned and walked back towards the wings amid a loud burst of applause. Before disappearing, he turned and bowed solemny, bringing a further storm of clapping and remarks shouted in Arabic.
The girls, after twisting to look at their unexpected hurts, continued with their act. One of them had a weal right across her back and over her left shoulder, the other one had the continuation of it across her right upper arm and half-way across her back.
One knelt and loved the other with her mouth, the standing girl holding her head and keeping her legs well apart, her pelvis thrust forward, to receive the homage of lips and tongue at her open, glistening slit.
Her lesbian lover gammed her until her hips began to move rhythmically and she shuffled her feet forward, to get the girl's head right in between her thighs.
The kneeling girl drew back and rose to her feet to lead the passion dazed girl to the bed.
One climbed on to the bed and lay on her back, legs wide, while her mate climbed on top of her, knees on either side of her shoulders. The one on top lowered herself until her cunt was poised above the other girl's mouth, her own head about to disappear between the wide-spread thighs at the start of the conventional "soixant-neuf" position.
Then the dark head disappeared between the bronzed thighs, knees slid wider apart to lower the excited vulva to the waiting, open mouth.
All the audience saw after that were the two naked bodies squirming and wriggling together ,the bottom of the girl on top moving faster and faster. They could hear the stifled gasps as the two nude females heaved and jerked in orgasm, working out their erotic passion for each other in full view of the audience.
At last they were still, arms locked about each other's hips. There was no further movement and the onlookers didn't realize the act had finished until the spotlights went out and the curtain was drawn across the stage once more, when they clapped and stamped loudly.
Julia and Sylvia moved among them to pour more wine, finding the seking hands more bold and urgent as they were fired with the wine, the performance on the stage and not a little by their own presence.
"How much of this stuff can they take before they pass out?" Sylvia sniffed at the wine. "We've doled out enough to float a battleship!"
"They'll propably keel over when they hit the air," Julia told her. "When the alcohol fumes are mixed with oxygen-of which there can be very little in this place-it will really hit them."
"Too bad the guards aren't drinking as well!"
The curtain opened on the second act. In presentation and artistry it did rank a few degrees higher than the first and had obviously had a little rehearsal at some time in the past, for things seemingly went according to plan to begin with.
Two Eurasian women stood about six feet apart, facing each other. They were completely nude, their coffee-and-cream breasts standing high and fullsome, the peaks, which had obviously had previous recent manipulation, seeming to strain towards each other. They stood perfectly still, the rising and falling of their breasts in breathing their only movement.
They faced each other like duelists and between them stood one of the girls in the previous act, holding a polished wooden box. She opened the box, leaning forward to let the audience see the red velvet-lined interior. Murmurs of excited anticipation went up as two short leather whips with thick, plaited stocks were revealed.
Their faces expressionless, the two women reached in, each taking a whip, holding it trailing at her side. The girl closed the box and stepped back, holding up a white handkerchief. The two women tensed, whips half-raised. There was dead silence for several seconds, then the handkerchief fluttered towards the ground and the girl turned and left the stage.
Even before the handkerchief landed, there came two sharp cracks, the tips of the whips flicking scant inches from soft-fleshed breasts, as the girls darted back out of range of each other. The taller of the two moved forward again quickly, Whip cracking. There was a loud gasp from her opponent as she jumped even farther back, though the whip had, in fact cracked just in front of her stomach.
As she jumped back, the shorter one brought her own whip up to snap dangerously between the taller girl's legs. She cried out, her face screwing up with pain as she leapt away from a second stroke. Again, the whip had not actually touched her.
The "duelists" circled each other, whips at the ready, waiting for an opening. The shorter one snapped her whip round and the crack it made brought another cry from the tall girl, who staggered back, clutching her left breast. As though sensing a quick "kill," the short one danced in, arm raised to bring her whip across the other's shoulder. She side-stepped as it came down and cracked her own over her rash opponent's left hip. Then it was the shorter girl's turn to stagger back with a gasp of pain, her hand rubbing the hip.
"I once saw an act like this in cabaret," whispered Margaret. "Though the girls wreen't naked -they wore those brief, sequined costumes."
"How'd you come to get into a place like that?" Sylvia looked round at her sharply. "You don't look the type to be mixed up with a joint like that."
"I was dancing there-and it was quite an expensive club. The girls were dressed and they did it to music. They don't really whip each other -it takes a lot of practice to be able to do it. They make the whip crack inches from each other's body-it never actually touches the flesh. Of course, they didn't cry out or pretend to be in pain, like these two -and they did it much more expertly."
On the stage, the whips continued to sing and crack at intervals, interspersed with gasps and cries of simulated pain as the two women darted about the stage, lunging forward to get in a stroke, or jumping back as one was delivered.
Then, somewhere along the line, whether by accident or design, things began to get out of hand. The shorter girl jumped back quickly as the tall girl cracked her whip close to her body, then, as she was still coming froward, the other lashed her whip sharply round in a back-hand stroke.
There was a choked cry and the taller woman staggered back, her spread fingers pressed to her stomach as she looked down almost stupidly. Her hand came away to expose a long red weal right across the nearly white stomach, cutting across the navel.
The shorter girl, in her excitement, had leapt forward and slashed her whip down again, bringing another cry of pain from her opponent, who stumbled backwards, her arms down at her sides, defenceless, a livid welt running downwards over her left breast.
The other woman was still coming into her, whip already comnig round again in another back-hand stroke. The tall girl took it across her right hip and there was a sharp crack as it wrapped itself round her buttocks.
Her hand covering her wealed breast, the girl gave a sob of pain, but, with the slashing back-hand stroke she had just delivered, the shorter girl's arms were wide, leaving the entire front of her body exposed, her legs braced apart. With a sudden snarl of rage, the taller woman brought her whip-arm straight up from her side between her opponent's parted thighs.
There was a scream of agony as the audience saw the whip lash upwards from between the backs of the girl's legs and lick up along her buttocks. Her legs snapped shut, then opened and she hopped backwards, her face twisted with pain. She dropped the whip and both hands went between her thighs to clutch at her vulva.
Her taller adversary, still smarting from the three lashes she had taken in quick succession, went for her -whip flashing. It sang and snapped across the defenceless naked woman, raising weals across her shoulders and arms and the front of her thighs.
Her hands came from between her legs and she made a half-hearted attempt to regain her whip, but she was beaten back before she could reach it. She jumped back and received a stroke straight down between her shaking breasts, leaving a stripe from her chest to her navel.
With a sobbing cry, she turned to run from the stage, the taller woman following her, lashing the whip indiscriminately across her back and plump, jiggling buttocks.
As she disappeared into the wings, someone must have been waiting for her, for she came staggering backwards on to the stage, to fall flat on her back, legs sprawling.
The whip started to fall again and she twisted quickly, avoiding it. Then the taller one seemed to suddenly some to her sense. She looked at the whip and down at her fallen opponent. Her whip-arm dropped to her side and she reached down to help the other girl to her feet.
"Go on-lash into her," bellowed Hakim. "Whip her -or I'll have you both flogged in the morning!"
The girl still hesitated as the other struggled to her knees, looking from her to Hakim.
"It'll be thirty lashes apiece at the triangle!" he shouted.
Then the whip rose and fell across the unprotected back as the girl knelt wiht bowed head, arms at her sides, her body jerking with each stroke that bit into her, leaving long, painful weals.
She went on to all fours and started to crawl away, but she was followed up, the whip lashing into her plump, rounded bottom and the backs of her thighs. She fell forward on to her stomach as she was whipped, her body shaking with sobs of pain.
Her partner's face was stricken as she whipped her; the first few strokes they had given each other had obviously only been in the heat of the moment.
Abruptly, the tall girl gave a choked little sob as her fallen opponent looked up at her. She stopped whipping her and stepped back, kicking the other whip towards her.
"For God's sake-pick it up and try to defend yourself," they heard the hoarse whisper. "You know I don't want to whip you!"
The girl grasped the whip and got slowly to her feet, while the other one waited. Her body bore a dozen weals and sweat glistened on both of them.
"Keep whipping her!" yelled Hakim and there was a roar of approval from the rest of the audience.
The taller one stepped in again and lashed her whip down as the shorter woman raised hers.
"Come on-whip me back!" urged her partner.
As though to encourage her, she came nearer, holding her arms out from her sides, gasping but not jumping back as she received a fresh weal across her stomach.
She continued to move forward as she took it, lifting her whip arm, though slowly, as if to give her more injured opponent a chance to get another stroke in.
"Come on," she urged again. "Whip me!"
She received a sideways slash across her swaying breasts, wincing and stifling a cry as a stripe was laid across the softly-rounded globes, catching one of fhe tender pink crests.
There was a pause again, as they slowly circled each other, the long, slim gashes of their dark-haired slits plainly visible to the onlookers. The shorter girl's breasts still heaved with sobs of pain, though she had herself sufficiently under control to make a fight of it.
The tall one lashed out with her whip at the plump shoulders, but her opponent ducked beneath it and darted in close, bringing her whip up and returning a compliment by getting in a deadly upward stroke between the parted thighs.
It was the tall girl's turn to drop her whip, as she sank to her knees, hands clutching at her smarting sex.
"Keeping whipping her!" shouted Hakim.
The lash sang and cracked across the bowed back, while the kneeling girl fought to assimilate the pain between her legs. , The lashing of her back must have over-ridden the other pain, for she suddenly threw up an arm to ward off a blow. The whip wrapped itself round her forearm and by the time her standing opponent had got it clear, she had managed to regain her own. She slashed up at the soft thighs above her, making the woman leap back and giving her time to get to her feet again.
She went after her, getting in another stroke to the soft under-belly and receiving one just below her breasts.
Both women were tiring now, their bodies dripping with sweat, as they whipped each other with less and less power. Their panting, laboured breaming was loud through the hall, the whistle and snap of the whip no longer crisp and vicious. Their mouth hung open as they faced each other, hardly able to lift the whip, their arms were so weary.
"All right-that's enough, girls." Hakim's clapping started off the roars and stamps of appreciation of the performance.
The two nude women, bodies sweat-soaked and wealed, stumbled from the stage, their arms about each other's waist for support.
"Savage!" shuddered Margaret.
"Burtal!" exclaimed Julia.
"Why couldn't they have gotten a couple of the guards at it?" complained Sylvia. "Imagine our two in the nude, those bloody great tits of theirs bouncing all over the place like great black beach-balls! I might just get up there in the nude with one of them myself if I had the chance-provided she was naked as well."
"Sylvie!" Julia threw her a horrified look. "She'd half kill you!"
"I don't know. I'd be smaller, sure-but I'd be a lot quicker. I could jump about and get in half a dozen cuts to her one."
"Yes, but her one would level the score every time and she'd be so much stronger -she could last out longer than you could," said Margaret..
"I don't agree-I'm pretty fit. And it would be worth it to see her face every time I sunk one into her."
"Ooh, Sylvia -that excites you, doesn't it? Two women facing each other in the nude with whips?" Cynthia had gripped her arm, her eyes shining with excitement. "Lashing each other's body-oh, if only you'd mentioned it to me back on the Island, we could have..."
"Hey-back off!" Sylvia pulled her arm from the clutching fingers. "Don't get carried away! No, it doesn't excite me that way-I'd just like the chance to even things up a little, is all." Then she looked thoughtfully at Cynthia. "Yeah, of course-you're right. I wish I had thought about it now. I hated you back on the Island as much as I hate these guards. Still, you'll be getting it all back soon enough, I guess. Incidentally -who do you figure the performers are -I haven't seen them around?"
Cynthia realized she had made a mistake and let her own twisted emotions run away with her. She reddened and turned her head away.
"They'll be Hakim's own personal slaves," she said shortly, wrapped in her own thoughts. That last scene had stirred her emotions to the depths; two naked women whipping each other had been an erotic dream she had cherished for a long time. There were times when she had wanted to be whipped, wanted it so much that at intervals it bubbled up to the surface, not to be denied, as strong as the sex urge. On those occasions, she had given in to it back on the Island, and taken the short walk through the trees to where Moolah had her hut. She shivered as she recalled it; walking to receive the punishment she craved at the hands of the coloured girl, half shamed, yet wholly eager. She would present herself, seeing the knowing look and the half-smile on Moolah's lips. She would strip naked and wait for the girl to decide what instruments to punish her with.
She remembered the slim cane that had so often seared her buttocks, the long whip that had flogged her back as she stood bound to one of the roof supports. She shivered in remembered pain and ecstasy, the light leather strop Moolah had used to breast-whip her, searing her nipples with the hot, exciting pain.
The punishment sessions had generally lasted an hour, sometimes two, and always ended in orgasm. She did not know why she had these urges; whether it was a guilt complex she had about her way of life, or a perversion for extra sex kicks, she didn't attempt to analyse-when the urge built up to an irresistible force she gave in to it.
As she turned to look at the parting curtains on the stage, she realized she was almost looking forward to at least her first whipping from Carter.
"They don't have a big outlay on props in this outfit, and that's for sure," murmured Sylvia.
One law-backed bench, like a shortened version of a park bench, the seat half turned towards the stage, was the only item on view.
Then on walked the second of the two girls who had taken part in the first lesbian scene. She was dressed in the same silk dress and high-heeled shoes she had worn before the other girl had stripped her. In her right and, she held a long, slim cane. Her face was tense as she walked up and down in front of the bench and she kept glancing at an imaginary watch on her wrist.
She paused after a while and came near the footlights, facing the audience. She lifted the cane and flexed it almost double, letting it spring back, to show how willowy it was. She walked back to the bench and leaned her weight on the seat, shook the back-rest, testing the strength of it.
She turned, then and looked towards the wings, gasped softly, and took a step back as Hakim's whip man came on. He stopped in front of her and held out his hand. The girl was no actress and the tense, frightened look on her face, although obviously intentional for the scene, was quite genuine as she handed over the slim cane.
She half-turned from him, then, and began to undress, slowly and seductively. The dress came off and she stood for a moment in her filmy undies, then she bent and unclasped the suspenders, letting the stocking sag. The bra was removed, letting the cuddly-looking breasts hang bare. Without removing the panties, she slipped her hands niside the waist and undipped the suspender-belt, pulled it out and threw it on the bench with the bra and dress.
Now all she had on were the tight green nylon panties, the stockings hanging like concertinas about her calves and the high-heeled shoes.
With another frightened glance at the cane, she knelt up on the bench and slowly, with many undulations, she slipped the panties down from her hips to let them hang about her knees.
She gripped the back-rest of the bench and slowly bent forward, arching her back and thrusting out her plump bared buttocks, presenting them to the big Arab standing behind her.
He ran his hands over the rounded flesh, giving it a light tap and making it wobble. He stepped back a pace tapping the girl's bottom with the cane, measuring his distance. She looked round at him once, then bent her head and waited.
There was a tense silence as the wollowy cane was lifted high and the girl's bottom was the object of all eyes.
There came a thrumming as the cane flashed down and landed with a report like a pistol shot across the soft buttocks. The girl's head came up and her back straightened, as a hoarse cry rasped from her throat. The tinted cream of the full-fleshed bottom was cut across the centre with a dull red weal.
Her buttocks shook and wobbled as she jerked them about in an effort to ease the burning pain. But it was only for a moment; with a visible effort, she forced herself to be still as she bent over again and pushed her behind out to receive the net stroke.
It zipped into her flesh with the same force as the first and produced a similar result. The tortured girl cried out as she jerked hre hips from side to side, her bottom scored by another weal just below the first. But again, it was only moments before she bent obediently to allow her punishment to continue.
The cane thrashed the plump, shapely bare bottom with ferocity, its flexibility allowing it to literally wrap itself round the shaking globes, although it looked very thin and harmless in the meaty fist of the big Arab.
Each time she received a stroke, the girl always bent herself over again, holding her bottom out for the next, after a few moments of agonized contortions.
When it was over, she had received eight strokes. He took her arm, then, making her get off the bench and walk stiffly backwards towards the front of the stage, to give the audience a full wiew of her wealed bottom. She stood like that for a while, her body shaking with sobs, then she turned to the man who had caned her and sank to her knees before him, kissing his hand and the cane he had thrashed her with.
She stood up, then, and limped back to the bench. Her panties had slipped down to her ankles and she bent painfully to fumble with them. Everyone thought she was about to pull them up and that that was the end of the act. But no-she stepped out of them and put them with the rest of her clothes.
Kneeling up on the bench again, she gripped the back-rest as before, arching her back and making her striped bottom jut out, but this time, she opened her legs wide, showing the open, glistening lips of her sex.
Standing behind her, the Arab unbuckled his broad leather belt and dropped his trousers. Any impression he may have given by his appearance that he was a typical harem eunuch were quickly dispelled by the massive black prick that thrust outwards and upwards. It throbbed with power, as though straining to get into the naked girl kneeling so submissively on the bench.
At the gasp from the audience, she turned and gasped herself at sight of the huge penis. He moved up close to her jutting backside, but made no attempt to touch her.
Then on came two of the big negress guards, to stand one on either side of the kneeling girl. She looked quickly round at them and everyone saw her body tense as they reached for her.
Taking hold of one sofely-wealed buttock each, they dragged them roughly apart, making the woman gasp with pain. There for all to see, was the tiny, crinkled orifice of her anus. This was brought into sharper focus by a spotlight being played directly on it.
The Arab's mighty prick was in full erection as he moved froward and planted the big, bared glans between the girl's wide-spread buttocks. She had the cheeks pulled back harder and one of the guards took hold of the Arab's prick and centred it on the anus.
He grasped her wide hips and lunged, brutally. There was a sharp, agonized scream and the woman jerked madly, as the great prick tore up into her rectum. The guards held her steady as, with another hard push, he sank the rest of his huge fleshy shaft into her bottom.
All four were still for a moment, the girl sobbing quietly as she was fully impaled. Then began the brutal bottom-fuck. The bench shook with the mighty thrusts he gave her, each one burying his prick to the hilt in her rectum. He slowed once or twice, evidently remembering instructions, to let the audience see the withdrawal of his penis, with the tender muscles of the girl's anus clinging to it. But he was raging with lust by then and too anxious to get on with fucking the lovely bottom to bother about who was watching.
His hands shifted up to grasp the woman's shaking breasts as he leaned right over her back. One of the guards bent and whispered something to her and she began to move her body, pushing her bottom back as he went into her.
His thrusts became faster, moving more smoothly, as the woman's body released some sort of lubrication to ease the passage. He was grunting and muttering in Arabic as he bottom-fucked her with increasing energy.
He suddenly shouted something and gave a maddened jerk of his loins, making the woman cry out as he hugged her to him in a crushing embrace.
The jerking of his loins at her bottom were only spasmodic, now, as he squirted his semen deep into her bowels. The guards held her buttocks open until he had finished spending.
He withdrew from her and stepped back a little shakily, pulling his trousers up to cover his softening penis. The two guards held the woman's buttocks well apart long enough for all to see the spunk come slowly dribbling out of her anus to run thickly down her thighs.
Applause started as the Arab walked off, growing as the two guards released the woman and followed him, leaving her still kneeling on the bench, her head drooping with weariness, near-white bottom showing up the stripes of her punishment, spunk glistening on the insides of her splayed thighs.
The floodlights went out and the curtain whispered across as the footlight dimmed, covering the darkened stage.