Chapter 6

Teenage Torture

Fayella did not release me immediately, but once more sat beside my nakedness to assure me earnestly of her deepest wish to thrash me forever. But she was a practical woman who knew when it was time to stop. And that time was now, a fact with which I heartily agreed. If she had toasted my pussy with a blow torch, I doubt it would have hurt more. I was sure my tender flesh was cut and bleeding. But it was her choice of place and posture which left me weeping. She cradled my head in her lap, stroked my hair, and allowed me to sob out my defeat.

When the tears dried, she helped me up and guided my back into the cage. I sank gratefully to the floor and fell asleep without hearing the closing of the door. It was not until I woke up the following morning that I discovered the handcuffs snug upon my wrists.

There are worse things than being locked naked in a cage, and there are worse things than wearing handcuffs. My cage was none too large but not tiny enough to complain about. My needs were looked after by the same teenage girl of yesterday, who I was certain had no keys, and was thus of little help. She was, however, intensely curious, especially about the swollen skin which Fayella had punished so brutally. I was sufficiently bored to twist and turn and separate my legs to satisfy maiden interest in my condition. The girl seemed to think I should be pleased and proud of my new discolorations, and clapped her hands in delight, a delight she seemed disappointed I did not share. I felt ashamed over wondering how I could use her to effect release.

I had deemed release from Shalima impossible, but I was not that certain about Fayella and Lobo. I stood as prisoners often do, clutching a couple of bars and gazing out into the room where I had been violated by Lobo and whipped by Fayella. I didn't relish being left alone in the cage all day and was looking hopefully at the door when it opened to admit the master of the house. He wasted no time, but waved to me cheerfully. As he approached my cage, he said, with humor, "We do a jig-a-jig. I jig-a-jig with you many times today." He paused to survey the tortured flesh within my thighs. "Fayella, she whip you. She should have whipped your ass, not the place where I go inside." But the torture of my private place did not deter him from his purpose, and he opened the cage door. I was pulled out for jig-a-jig.

It took all my courage to leave the cage. Lobo had tossed aside his garments to reveal a weapon more rampant than the day before, a weapon pointing straight at me. I don't need to say more. I approached my ravishment with shame, and endured it without comment. Lobo left me handcuffed, they did not interfere with anything he wished to do. But they kept me aware of punishments and penalties and the stupidity of trying to run away. I took everything Lobo had to give and was more than filled with that weapon. The rough shoving in and out of his tool was a strange combination of pain and pleasure for me. His body pounding against my tender flesh hurt but that huge tool filling my sheath was something no girl could ignore. And it felt good in its own way. What a strange thing it is that pain and pleasure can be so mixed.

When, after giving me a number of orgasms, my master found himself spent with a weapon fully discharged, he got off me and allowed me to regain my feet. He did not lock me back inside the cage, but led me by my handcuffs to find his wife and formally deliver me into her possession for the balance of the day. About the only interest I now had in those who owned me was to hope that Fayella would not whip me for a second time. But this fear was groundless. I was welcomed with open arms, told how disgusting husbands were, and invited to share Fayella's lunch. She seemed to take it for granted mat I had been well and truly dealt with sexually, and informed me she had something else in mind. She seemed so pleased I felt certain I wasn't going to like it.

My fear was supported by the shifting of my hands from front to back. Lobo seemed to enjoy the increased view of my front but took no other interest in me. I was apparently Fayella's for the afternoon. She made sure my handcuffs were properly tight. She said I would no doubt enjoy some fresh air and sunlight, along with cheerful company. She took a firm grip on my arm and led me from the house.

Some children stood waiting, their ages from about four to fourteen. The eldest was a teenage girl standing there with a riding crop, which the others eyed in awe. She waved it as a badge of office, while Fayella explained, "They are such sweet children. She who holds the whip is called Inza. But she had been warned to use it only if you are disobedient." Fayella gave me a grin. "But, of course, you will be a very obedient girl, won't you?" She patted me on the wounded skin of my bottom and walked back into the house to leave me feeling wickedly exposed.

As though by mutual consent, we moved a little way out into the sand until Inza halted the march with an abrupt command. "You name is Celie. Spread wide your legs."

Pushing my luck, I asked politely, "What do you want me to do that for? You can look at me well enough now."

"It is so the little boys can see your pussy cat." She waved the riding crop. "Do it or Inza whip."

I recognized authority. I spread my legs and was rewarded by several male children coming as close as Inza would permit. The most eager member lay between my legs to look up at my most interesting part. When the boys had inspected my pussy cat to Inza's satisfaction, their place was taken by the girls, who's interest was far less avid and appeared centered on the fact that mine was larger than theirs. Curiosity satisfied, Inza progressed my degradation one more step in the wrong direction. "You stand like that while I fix the rope," she said. "Then we take nice walk."

I held the disgusting pose and watched in apprehension as the group leader extracted a length of well-used cord and a pair of those spring clips used in offices to hold loose sheets of paper. I suppose there is nothing remarkable in finding such objects in such a distant place. I moaned inwardly as Inza knelt and fingered the sexual lips that were still very sore. A moment later I squealed in pain as a clip bit hard and deep on one side of my innocent labia, and squealed again as its upon my other lip, still free. It was no longer easy to clamp my thighs but I did my best while telling Inza, "They hurt too much. Take them off ... Take them off!"

"Pretty lady want clips on tits?" I shook my head, clenching my teeth against the pain as the girl thrust my feet apart to thread her cord through the center of each clip, made a slip knot, and drew it tight to make me squeal again. She stood in triumph, holding aloft the tether to my pussy. She tugged it gently to make me yelp before announcing in the manner of a Sergeant Major, "Now we walk."

I was thankful it was Inza who led me on my shameful exercise. The first few steps were murder but she informed me that she had once been punished thus herself and ignored my protests and pleas for mercy. But she was careful not to impose too great a stress upon feminine flesh so punished. The entire group was very happy as I walked with legs as far apart as possible. I guess I got used to the pain and become mostly concerned that the girl who held the leash should not tug needlessly hard. It was a slow march indeed, and it was painful. In fact, even with all the indignities I had suffered in captivity, I was never more controlled than ever before. I longed for Fayella so I might make known the full horror of the clips hard and fast where no such things should be. I had a strong suspicion that Inza, although she might pay no attention, knew what I was feeling. Without pause, and in a frantic need of hands, I tugged and twisted against the handcuffs on my wrists.

Inza skirted the cluster of buildings which was the village. No one paid much attention to this strange party. After we had circled the village a couple of time, the children had gotten bored. She then led me to where an ancient tree clawed its way out of the hard, baked earth. She passed the tether between my thighs from front to back, pulled me close against the tree, then fastened the soiled old cord where my hands could not reach. Thus I stood facing the hungry young eyes without defense. Inza had not drawn the cord tight enough to hurt any more than just the clips did, but enough to keep my bottom brushing the trunk and me from moving even an inch away. She barked something and the two oldest male children took possession of my breasts to eat my nipples. They did about everything except bite my rosebuds off. Then they fell to a steady sucking. These activities were watched with wide-eyed interest by those who's turn was yet to come. Then Inza spoke to the boys sharply and motioned a couple of girls to take their place. The girls did not bite as much as the boys had, but they worked harder with tongue and lips to make my breasts tingle and feel so wonderful, an odd feeling when you consider my pussy was in constant pain. Inza watched with curiosity until she finally asked, "Is making you hot inside? You want I fetch Lobo?"

She was right about the hots. The smoldering fire generated on Palm Island had never really gone away, it was very much a part of me still. And with the increasing stimulation of youthful lips and tongues, I had to wonder if I was getting glassy-eyed. I told Inza not to bother about Lobo and, yes, indeed, she was making me hot and bothered, and would she please stop. I could just as well saved my breath. It was an unending rotation in which Inza herself took part to bring to bear not only a more crafty attention to my breasts, but also a gently manipulation of the clips which bit my pussy lips. Because of some strange feminine response, the soft pain stoked my fire more furiously than the mouths feeding on my breasts. Despite myself, I blossomed into an explosive orgasm in which I cried aloud and twisted furiously against the tree. The children backed away and watched in awe.

A few minutes later the mouths were back at my breasts and the agony in my pussy compelled me to keep still and lean back against the trunk to passively provide Inza and her small tribe with continuing amusement. I was forced to gasp my way through that period where a girl's pussy tells her she's had enough and wants no more, and then beyond that until I knew my forces rebuilding themselves for a repeat. I looked down wearily at the young heads busily engaged my at nipples, then looked appealingly to the girl with the riding crop. But Inza knew she was on safe ground and laughed away my pleadings for the game to stop. All I got out of that youthful authority was a sly question if I might sooner have the children whip my breasts. And then the earnest assurance the lips and tongues I now endured would continue for the rest of the afternoon, and all of them hoped I would climax at least fifteen times. Within my traitorous flesh I could feel the first stirrings of another disgraceful spasm. I kept quiet and let it happen. The children seemed to like this game.

I cannot tell how long my system might have withstood the assault upon my sexuality, but suddenly it stopped with the children scattering in all directions to leave me alone but still securely fastened by the clips. At first I paid little attention, for I was totally engrossed in a longing to escape. But finally I paused long enough to behold the reason for my childish tormentors departure. There were now military figures surrounding the tiny village, one of which was striding my direction. And with a cry of gladness I recognized Hamid! I had never been more thankful to see anyone in all my life. Without thinking, I started towards him but was halted by the most intense pain of the whole afternoon. It sent me cowering back against the tree.

To this man who owned me, I must have seemed free of all restraints so that a frown of puzzlement took the place of his welcoming smile, and I was forced to compound my embarrassment as best I could by saying, "Master, I am fastened! I am fastened by ... I mean, by ... Oh, shit, my pussy's clamped!"

I need not have blushed or felt shame. My master was instantly on his knees before my nakedness. He laughed at what he saw, a laughter I did not share. He hand went towards me and suddenly I was fighting back a scream as the jaws of the clamp opened. The momentary pain was worse than the steady ache they had been. I fell against the tree trunk. Now the cuff from my right wrist was set free so I could joyously throw my arms around my rescuer's neck to be kissed and kissed again while I whispered vows of thankfulness and eternal obedience. Our greeting took quite a little time, and at the end of it my right wrists was once more captured by the handcuff, but this time with my hands in front.

I was guided to the Rolls Royce. Anxiously I tried to babble out the story of my kidnapping and those who had snatched me from Shalima, but Hamid put a finger to my lips. "We know who is responsible, dear girl. And justice will be meted out. Come, let's go to the house where you were held prisoner."

The front door of Lobo's house burst open to reveal Fayella and her husband in the grip of soldiers who stilled the couples struggles with handcuffs against which no prisoner prevails. I was not witness to a horror I'll remember all my life.

The uniformed men who were in charge of Fayella walked her toward the waiting van and, despite her strength and anger, thrust her within and closed the door. I could imagine her frustration for I felt certain she had experienced restraint in all her life. But what happened next drove Fayella from my mind. Lobo had never ceased to fight. He was a powerful man and in a surge of strength broke free and ran with surprising speed out across the sand. Casually and without haste, a waiting soldier sighted his rifle carefully and pulled the trigger. Lobo threw his arms up and fell face down upon the sand. One of the men who had held him retrieved the handcuffs. To make double certain, he also administered the coup de grace to leave me looking in horror at the lifeless hulk of a man who only that morning had impaled my sheath to perform the jig-a-jig, which for him was a simple pleasure not to be denied. I shuttered and tried to shut out the vision.

Hamid made no further comment on what we had just witnessed, merely turning to me to shrug. It left me scared but in a few miles the thrill of rescue returned in full force to leave me longing for Emily Parsons and Shalima. If there was a cloud in the sunshine it was because of the handcuffs on my wrists. Evidently, in Hamid's book, I was still not to be trusted. A prisoner to be treated with love, but still a prisoner.

Perhaps I was born and raised in a different culture because I simply could not get rid of the vision of a man dying. Yet those around me seemed unaffected by it. Perhaps it was a daily occurrence in this land of sand dunes. Considering Lobo had raped me many times in our brief acquaintance, I should have felt he got his just dessert. Yet was the price he paid with the little pleasure he gained? I had no feeling he deserved to die.

"What are you going to do with Fayella?" I asked suddenly.

"She will be properly dealt with, Celie. For the time being I will not discuss Fayella."

"Are you going to kill her?"

Hamid's lips curled in amusement. "No, she will not be killed." The same amusement now colored his voice. "Do you wish to disobey me with more questions?"

I had forgotten my status. I was a girl who had stood on the slave block and purchased. I was Hamid's property and he owned me utterly. If he wished to punish me cruelly, that was his right. The fact that we had each felt a strange affection for each other altered nothing. I was his to command. I had best watch my tongue.

Timidly I offered, "Fayella was kind to me, but I won't speak of her again, if that is your wish."

"Tell me, beloved girl, do you still dream of Palm Island and the woman called Marjory?"

Hamid had changed the subject with a vengeance to leave me once more trying to gather my wits. He had not asked the question ideally, somewhere there was an intent.

My words were cautious, "Of course I dream about Marjory's island. It's a beautiful place with a beautiful house and a beautiful woman who's punishments weren't all that hard to take." I stole a sideways glance at Hamid. "Why do you ask?"

"What you and Rankin have told me of the place and the woman who owns it intrigues me." Hamid's tone was thoughtful. "That island is a remarkable concept, but it should be owned by a man, not a woman. Certainly no woman who is little more than a girl. I take it you'd like to see your Marjory again?"

"Yes, I would. I became fond of her."

"Suppose you and I visit Palm Island? We could use my personal jet. It's a long journey but might be worth it."

"But, Hamid, why? I don't understand."

"You know something about men, Celie. You know of the strange desires rich men indulge." Once more I saw his amused eyes. "I find myself with a selfish compulsion to strip this Marjory naked, tie her in some demeaning pose, and then give her the whipping of her life. I'm sure you would wish to be present."

Hamid said it so easily, as though speaking of something we would do when we got back to Shalima. I suspected he was testing my loyalty, so I held up my handcuffed wrists and made my voice as demure as I could, "I am your property, Hamid, I must obey. My will is not mine but yours." This time my master laughed outright to my confusion.

"You said that prettily, dear child." He patted my bare knee. "But we are still a world apart. Perhaps it is you I should whip when we get back to Shalima."

Suddenly my heart was thudding painfully in this sudden reminder of how I was at the mercy of Hamid's caprice. In this ancient land, a whip was never far from a man's hand. Hamid had shown me both love and cruelty and I realized I could be the subject of both at anytime. I had to understand that for a woman like Marjory and a man such as Hamid the simple pleasure of watching me struggle and cry out in pain was justification enough. True, I might learn to charm my master out of such inflictions upon my skin. And it would be best for me to learn whatever turned him on. I sighed. It was a task I did not relish.

On our return to Shalima, I was placed in the care of one of the women I thought of privately as "wardress." My master's brief instruction to this woman once more covered me with shame. "You will chain Celie in the largest of the cages. But first, since she has been possessed by another man, you will cleanse her. Very well." Hamid kissed me and was gone. The wardress grasp my bare arm and led me to a bathroom and a cleansing of my body.

The cage was nowhere near as bad as I had feared. One side of it was open to the sunlight and the courtyard below. It was half as big as the room it occupied. Its bars were heavy and gilded as with gold. The shackled now locked on wrist and ankle matched the tone. Another chain connected my wrists and ankles to a ring in the wall just above my knees, an arrangement which prevented me from raising questing fingers above my navel. The wardress explained, "This chain, it keep you safe. You sit down and draw up your feet so then you reach your lips to feed yourself and do your hair. You very lucky girl."

Alone, I took stock of my new prison, standing chained and helpless to tug in resentment against the restriction of my freedom. In any case it was useless, and I forced myself to relax. I was suitably confined for a slave girl.

The cage was luxury and perhaps a trifle tongue in cheek. There were large cushions everywhere and the floor was covered by a rug I was sure cost a fortune. Exploring the cage, I found a huge chest which held other restraints and instruments of punishment. I closed it quickly. Finally I returned to the bars, clutching one in each hand and gazed down at the beauty of the courtyard. I longed for Hamid. I longed for anyone who would talk to me. I wondered if I could persuade my master to allow Fayella in my cage. In frustration I simply sat on a cushion and wept.

Bitterly I longed for freedom and inconsistently longed for Hamid. But I wanted him out beyond the bars and the walls of Shalima an improbable fantasy I knew was not to happen.

I fingered my chains and sighed a lot. Despite my warmth for Hamid, I had to ask if a man who truly loved a girl would chain her as I was shackled. Sure, it might be no more than a tongue in cheek reminder to keep me in my place, but, on the other hand, it made freedom a distant possibility. I asked myself if this infatuation for a man who actually owned me by right of purchase was not simply a girlish impulse. Hamid was handsome. He was rich and powerful. And even in this pleasant imprisonment behind golden bars, my internal heat called out for his attention. Shamed, I thrust the thought from my mind to dwell on the only thing that really mattered — freedom. Some way I must find my way back to the natural world of girls and pick up a normal life away from chains and cages and whips. I seemed silly to dream of liberty but I was thus engaged when Miss Emily Parsons entered the outer room.

"Gosh, how on earth has that man got you fastened now?" She laughed at the sight of the chains I was forced to wear. "You mustn't take all that metal so seriously. I suspect your Lord and Master is having fun with you. But, for goodness sake, don't tell him I said so." Miss Parsons positioned herself against the bars of my cage. "I've heard all about your kidnapping and the rest. So don't let's talk about it, I don't want to hear. Are you all right, Celie?"

Producing a key without waiting for reply, she enhanced my moral by opening the door of my cage. I was soon enveloped in two maternal arms and hugged reassuringly. She kissed me. I longed to throw my arms about her but standing upright this was not possible. Once more Emily laughed at my discomfort. "Don't worry about not being able to do the usual things," she told me cheerfully. "I'm accustomed to what we can politely refer to as 'restraints.' You might be interested to know that my school has gained a young woman by the name of Inza. At the moment the poor child is chained the same as yourself but in far less pleasant surroundings. I expect Hamid will have her whipped before I get to take her tomorrow. Really, the manners and habits of this place are truly appalling." She snorted in disapproval. "I suppose someone has told you of the possibility Hamid may have you whipped as well? It's his way of telling you not to get ideas above your station."

Have it not been for Emily's acceptance of the status quo, I would probably have produced a flood of tears. But the school mistress had a gift for making the impossible and outrageous appear normal and expected. I had no reason to hold affection for Inza, who probably deserved what she was going to get. My tears, had I shed them, would have been solely in grief over the marking of my own skin. Unhappily I looked at the open door to ask, "Miss Parsons, I have to escape. I absolutely must escape. Can you help me?"

"It seems to me we've dealt with this subject before," she said primly. "If I could set you free, I would. But I have no desire to taste the lash myself because of some nonsense. And I have not been here long enough for Hamid to really trust me. For instance, the key by which I opened the door was given to me. But I do not have the key to those chains you are wearing. I'm truly sorry, dear girl, but any kind of freedom or privilege is Shalima is strictly limited. Even supposing you got beyond the walls, I don't suppose you'd be anxious to walk out into the desert in your present condition. Like I said, being a female in the country has its disadvantages."

We kissed and I sank to the floor and thus could use my arms against the music of the links. Miss Parsons, herself, knelt to make possible the things we could not do while standing. But our efforts ended in wry laughter at the victory of Hamid's chains. There really wasn't much worthwhile I could do and after a while I stopped trying. The two of us sat on a cushion to discuss my fate.

"One of the reasons you've been chained inside this cage, Celie, is because you have here a fine view of the patio, the courtyard, and some of the garden. Tomorrow you'll be able to witness the punishment of the two women who kidnapped you and took you from Shalima. I suspect the woman called Fayella will also have to endure a bad time before she is sold into slavery. I am not sure what's going to be done to any of them, but I thought I would warn you."

"And I get whipped, too?"

"It's a possibility, too, dear. One can never tell about these silly men."

Once more I fought back tears and to bridge an awkward gap told Miss Parsons of my master's casual suggestion of taking me to Palm Island to witness the whipping of a woman he had never seen, and who certainly had never done him harm. "If you believe Hamid may do this," I suggested, "might there not be opportunities in such a journey? For me to escape, I mean?"

Emily shrugged. "Who knows! Certainly your chances would be better than being chained in this cage. But I don't think Hamid will ever give you such a chance. He'll always have you chained or bound in some way so escape is impossible." She paused a moment before added, "A thought does strike me that perhaps if this Marjory is as beautiful as you say, and if her skin accepts Hamid's strips well, his infatuation may transfer itself from you to her, and he'll leave you on Palm Island and bring her here to take your place. It's just a notion, but with foolish men anything is possible."

I looked at her notion and found it far less a fantasy than I would have wished. It was something that could happen. But, if it actually became reality, I could only see myself exchanging one master for another. It would not be long before Rankin picked me up again. Of the two men, I unquestioningly prefer Hamid. His chains and his cage were better than Rankin's pleasure yacht with women forced into being whores.

"I feel affection for Hamid," I said, "nothing he does to me changes this. Am I being only a silly girl who needs her bottom spanked or a jet of cold water to cool my heat?"

"Stop worrying about such feelings, you're a perfectly normal woman with perfectly normal reactions. You're doing fine. If you can cozen Hamid to fall in love with you, I think you should. Right now it's your closest path to freedom."

"You think if he came to love me, he would not keep me chained?"

"How would I know, child! It is something you're certainly more likely to find out than I. When my contract expires, I will not renew it and will return to England and sanity." Emily Parsons sighed. "I had best go now. Is there anything you would like me to have the servants bring you? I expect you could ask for anything and get it. Except your freedom."

I watched Miss Parsons departure, sharing her grin as she locked the door of my cage and pocketed the key. When she had gone, I chose a cushion and quietly sat until the wardress thrust in a frightened and naked Inza. I suspected Hamid was having fun.

The wrists of the poor child were corded tight behind her back. Other cords clamped her arms elbow to elbow to bind them cruelly. The cord dug into her flesh in an obviously painful manner. She looked at me uncertainly, no doubt remembering our previous encounter. Shakily she said, tears in every word, "Missy, please to tell, am I to be punished." She gazed wide-eyed as though I had the power to set her free.

"I'd say you're being punished right now, Inza," I suggested. "Come and sit down so we can talk."

"You are not angry because of the things I had the children do?"

"I am not angry. It is over and done with. I would spare you the punish I expect you'll soon receive. But I have no power. Our Master will punish you as he sees fit. Come close so we can share our warmth."

Inza's steps were hesitant. I expect she saw me as the sultan's favorite, even in my chains. As she drew close, she bemoaned the same thing I would have complained about myself. "Please, Missy, the ropes on my arms hurt so bad and there is nothing I can do with them. Please to untie me."

"I clinked my chains as thought to express a similar impotency. "I am not allowed to untie you, Inza," I said. "I am a prisoner the same as you. And if our Master finds you in this cage with your limbs free and the ropes on the floor, we will both be punished terribly. I'm sorry but that's the way of it."

Inza nodded in complete understanding. She had fastened me to the tree and punished me in her own fashion. To her it was understandable that I should find pleasure in her suffering and would give no aid.

"Come and sit down and don't think about the pain."

"I am going to be whipped." It was not a question but a statement.

The poor child understood that the way of this country much better than I did. With a shrug she dismiss her painfully bound arms, accepting that I would not or could not untie them. But now, in the loneliness of bound captivity, Inza sat beside me to slyly thrust her bare skin against mine. We were both totally naked in a sisterhood of shame.

I should have been angry at Inza for what she had done to me but could only feel pity for the poor child who probably faced a terrible punishment such as she had never experienced in her young life. I longed to free her limbs of the biting ropes but instead snuggled close against the frightened girl. Strangely enough, the two of us slept.

In the morning, when the wardress brought my food, she took Inza away to a fate I could not foresee. I learned from the servant that Hamid was absent on business. She also told me briefly that punishments would be made that day and if I wished to watch, I could do so through the bars at the far side of the cage. When I had finished a small breakfast, I clanked my chained way to where I could see the garden down below and its patio and wall. With a gasp of disgust I realized I was already late.

The two women who had kidnapped me for Fayella and Lobo were naked and suspended upside down, their hands tied behind their back, and their feet so far apart that they seemed to be mostly pussy. A pair of young female servants were busily and happily engaged in whipping the two exposed clefts. Each blow evoked jerkings and thrashing of the naked bodies, giving testimony to the high degree of pain inflicted by the leather whips. But the girls could do nothing to protect their tenderest parts from the two teenagers who were obviously enjoying themselves. The two victims could neither scream nor complain — they both were gagged most cruelly with very tight tape wrapped around their heads. From the line of their jaws, I guessed that something been stuffed into their mouths before the tape was wrapped around.

I had not long to wait to behold Inza's punishment. The girl had been completely freed of ropes but was firmly in the grip of one of my jailers, who lost no time in padlocking a leather belt far too tight to constrict the teenage waist in a cruel grip which emphasized hips and rib cage. With an unnaturally slender waist, the girl was led to the awaiting wall and the grim hook. The hook was six feet above the ground. It was all very simple, the jailer lifted Inza and with practiced motions anchored the poor girl against the wall by hooking a ring at the back of her belt. Quiet suddenly the poor girl's weight was totally on the hook and her belt. A few words were exchanged and, in response, Inza's arms were spread wide as were her feet. The girl was in no way bound, but to prevent herself from turning upside down, must exert a constant pressure with her hands and feet against the stone. The jailer backed away, satisfied with her work and went to watch the whipping of female loins, leaving Inza shocked and wildly clutching at nothing. Around her middle the leather belt cut in cruelly.

I should not have watched but was held by a terrible fascination. The scene before my cage was so horrible as to leave me wondering if it could happen to me. I thought, that Hamid and I had something going between us. But this was Shalima in a strange land I did not even know the name of. And I had to please my master for it would be very easy for him to consign me to a fate not unlike that of the unfortunate girls below. Or he could see my naked body to some other Arab where I might be treated much worse. Hamid could, after all, purchase as many girls as he desired. And the sultan's favorite is often a difficult place to hold on to. I promised myself to please my master.

After a while the two teenage girls ceased to whip the frightfully discolored crotches at which they had been cutting steadily with leather thongs. The unfortunate females hanging upside had ceased their efforts at screaming and were moaning and crying into their gags. Inza remained suspended against the wall with arms and legs spread wide to keep herself from turning over.