Chapter 7
The Pains of Love
My horrible fascination was terminated by my jailer opening the door of my prison. Without delay she unlocked the chains, allowing them to fall to the rug, and making me totally free. I followed her as I was told to in complete obedience to the gorgeous bathroom which she said could be all mine for as long as I desired. Following her down the passage, I had to wonder if the contrast between my present freedom and the way I had been shackled for so long meant anything. But I had no intent of trying to run away. Such foolishness would be wasted and probably dangerous. But this current freedom also told me that the chains I had been wearing were only so much window dressing.
At midday my master returned. If I had been his wife, I would have had no cause for suspicion of him exhausting his energies elsewhere. We made love together in his bed with an ardor and vigor which went on and on. And which I hoped would never end. When we lay together, exhausted in the aftermath, Hamid mused, "You witness to the justice dispensed in the garden this morning. It continued long after you had ceased to watch. I now possess two women and a girl so properly repentant they are not likely to try their tricks again." Hamid paused thoughtfully. "There remains a woman still to receive her punishment. I will let you name it. What would you wish done with Fayella?"
"Nothing. She lost her husband, that's punishment enough."
"Nothing?" Hamid looked at me in wry amusement. "That is not the way of Shalima. Try again."
I knew Hamid was enjoying my distaste for the subject. But I also guessed that if I held out long enough, I might end up sharing whatever Fayella had to endure. And I knew perfectly well that by the standards of this land, Fayella had earned herself a penalty.
"You could have her whipped," I agreed without enthusiasm. "But why not make her one of your servants? I would think that a would be a bitter punishment indeed."
"I have no need of a servant I cannot trust. I will have her well whipped and then sold to a dealer. If you wish to talk to her, she is below in a dungeon, heavily chained and very sorry for what she did."
I wanted to say no thanks, but I female and wanted to see her, so instead I said, "Yes, Master. Thank you."
He told me laughingly to go and make my visit after I had bathed. He then clicked the handcuffs back on my wrists and playfully swatted my bottom as I left the bedroom.
Later I asked directions from a servant and worked my way down to the gloomy dungeon where Fayella awaited her fate.
My guide was not the least bit curious, a chained and naked woman meant little to her. Fayella cried out in gladness at sight of me, and, forgetting the limitations her chains imposed, stumbled in my direction only to be snubbed and tripped by the heavy links attached to her on every possible place. The crudest was an iron collar tight around her neck. The weight of its chain was such that had to hold it in her hand. I hurried forward to clutch her in my arms and found myself with as much metal as girl. I was obliged to rearrange her iron and steel restraints as best I could and we laughed together over my own handcuffed condition.
"What is my punishment to be?" she asked anxiously. I pretended I did not know. I could not be sure if she would regard the whipping of her flesh and her sale to a slave dealer as moderate or severe. Looking at her nakedness so weighed down with irons made me long to cry and made a resolve to plead on Fayella's behalf.
"I must be terribly punished," she mourned as we clutched. "You are Hamid's favorite so he will spare me nothing. When will his justice be done to me?"
It was a strange situation which would have lent itself to an artist. Two naked woman, one simply handcuffed, one held from neck to ankles by heavy chains. What a painting it would have made.
My heart reached out to this poor woman. Enslavement would be hard on her because she would go to it most wickedly marked by Hamid's whip. I had never felt more helpless to offer aid.
I told her she was already forgiven for any sin she might have committed against me. I think this might have cheered her up but she vowed her conviction that she would be terribly flogged and her flesh branded with an inscription proclaiming her a whore. She would then be even more cruelly chained and left in the rat-hole of a dungeon the rest of her life. Fayella's vision of her own punishment was so terrible that I broke down and told her the truth. It would not be nice but certainly less than her vision. I think it eased her misery and when I went away it was with the feeling I had done some good. I little guessed the shock awaiting Hamid and myself.
Hamid listened tolerantly to my pleas and request that Fayella be forgiven the whip before she was sold. To this suggestion he made his customary sardonic retort that if I wished to bear part of her punishment, her pains would be thus reduced. But I did not wish to take him up on this bit of humor and we retired to one of the lovely patios in the courtyard for our drink before dinner. It was there it happened.
Hamid and I heard a noise but thought little of it at first. It was not until an invited guests intruded themselves. We both jumped to our feet and I gaspingly beheld Marjory! And with her a formidable female who I instantly thought of as "The Dragon." The servants fell back in awe while the visitors strode forcefully to where we stood. Unconcerned and undaunted by Hamid's eagle eye, Marjory introduced her companion as Mrs. Reba Rigby from the United States Consulate. She added sweetly that they had come to take Celie Collins home.
Marjory and I were vibrating signals in wave after wave of remembered joy. But her concern and mine was primarily elsewhere. Beneath the disapproving gaze of the Dragon, my nakedness wilted to leave me shamed and wanting enough hands to cover portions of myself from disapproving eyes. And I wished the hands I had were not joined in steel.
Our party was then joined by a pompous little man in a business suit, who was introduced as J.P. Jeffers, another member of the consulate staff, apparently anxious to take Miss Celie Collins back where she belonged.
Unless he called in his private army, Hamid was outnumbered.
My master impressively acknowledged introductions and suavely suggested the newcomers sit down and enjoy a cocktail. He clapped his hands and cushions and drinks appeared. It was only a few seconds before all were comfortably sitting with glasses in hand. But I saw quite well that their eyes still held firm intent. The Dragon was fired the first volley by offering that she would feel more comfortable if Miss Celie Collins wore some clothes.
"Miss Collins is my guest. She dresses or undresses as she pleases." Hamid was still very much master in his own house.
"And the handcuffs? Must I assume that all your guests were them?" The dragon's tone was icy.
"It is an understanding between Miss Collins and myself. It need not concern you."
J.P. Jeffers uttered a disapproving cough, eyeing my nakedness with complete approval while forcefully stating the obvious, "Miss Collins handcuffed condition reinforces our belief that you are holding her prisoner."
"Miss Collins and I have a complete understanding." Hamid clapped his hands once more. "I am sure you will all enjoy a refill."
With her fresh drink, the dragon fixed me with her gaze. "You are a prisoner here, aren't you, Miss Collins?"
It was the question I dreaded. I would cheerfully lie to the dragon and her male friend but Marjory would detect a lie. I was between a rock and a hard place. I gazed appealingly at Hamid for help. He gave it in a measure to make me gasp. "Miss Collins and I are going to be married."
The two consular people gazed at each other in a manner to indicate they just considered this one more obstacle. "May we presume, Sir, that you always keep your brides-to-be stark naked and handcuffed?"
"It is a small pleasantry between the two of us. None of your business."
"And how do you explain away the whip marks so clearly visible on the poor girl's skin?"
That was a bad one. The whip marks Lobo and Fayella had placed upon my flesh were still visible. "It's a long story," I said quickly. "I received this elsewhere than at Shalima." My explanation was waved away by the dragon. But it was Marjory who asked the sixty-four dollar question, "You will come home with us, won't you, darling? At least for a visit?"
"Of course I will." I gave Hamid my sweetest smile. "You can spare me for a visit, can't you, darling?"
I have never used that term of endearment on Hamid before. But he took it bravely and went one better. "I'm supposing you came here by plane, Miss Magnus? May I offer my personal jet to take both you and Miss Collins to Palm Island? That is the place you call home, is it not?"
My heart skipped a beat. Hamid was keeping ahead of a difficult situation with skill. I could image he wanted no trouble with the US Consulate, but I was also sure that if Marjory and I left on his private plane, we would both soon be prisoners as I was now. Hamid was still pretty much an unknown quantity. And as much as I had fallen in love with him, I was constantly aware of the darker side of his temperament. I remembered, too, his ambition to whip Marjory until she screamed. If Miss Rigby hadn't been such a dragon and Mr. Jeffers somewhat less pompous, I might have gone with them to take me away and to make sure that Marjory and I returned on a commercial flight.
The dragon came to my rescue. "Miss Magnus and Miss Collins will discuss their plans when they are safely back in our consulate. It is kind of you to offer but that would be a long flight and expensive. Perhaps if you would be kind enough to provide Miss Collins with clothes and remove those handcuffs, we will be on our way."
Hamid shrugged. I knew he was displeased and I was quite sure his mind was busy with thoughts of Marjory in naked suspension while he worked her body over with a whip. For all I know, he might be including me in those thoughts. But he simply smiled in agreement and clapped his hands. "Let us drink a toast to the success of this mission," he said without a trace of sarcasm. He nodded at the servant and added, "I am quite certain all of us understand the situation and each other. It will be a pleasant change for Miss Collins to be with you at the Consulate."
I should have known my master would not give up that easily. I felt certain he was mentally consigning the dragon to a lingering demise over hot coals. But with all of us now holding another tall, cool drink, I could find no flaw in Hamid's acceptance of the inevitable. I was a bit miffed over being so easily returned to freedom. All of us raised our glasses and drank. And it was not until I beheld Mr. Jeffers slump to the patio tile and found the dragon becoming blurry that I realized we had all been drugged. Hamid was going to have the last word after all.
Except for the drone of the jet, everything was normal. I was in my customary nakedness with handcuffs clasping my wrists, this time behind my back. The interior of Hamid's costly was furnished in the manner of a lounge. In an armchair opposite mine, I beheld Marjory blinking slowly back to life. I was surprised to find that she wore the same clothing as at the interview at Shalima. She was not handcuffed nor bound. Hamid was unconcernedly looking over papers at a desk when Marjory and I first move. He came instantly to attention and the clapping of his hands produced the usual magic, in this case two cups of steaming coffee. Hamid held mine to my willing lips as he explained the change in plans. At Marjory's insistence, he ever put down my coffee cup and released my hands, leaning down to plant a kiss upon my forehead.
"I thought it best," his said simply. "Our visitors from the Consulate received a different potion from that of your two girls. They'll be a bit bewildered for a day or two, and won't be too sure of what happened. I don't suppose either of you girls are the least bit surprised?"
I was not surprised. Nothing about Hamid surprised me anymore. "Hamid, darling," I said sweetly, "you handled the whole thing beautifully. I suppose we're on our way to Palm Island, as you promised. It's a wonderful place and you'll enjoy being Marjory's guest."
Marjory asked for another cup of coffee and said that she would be pleased if Hamid chose to honor her island with a prolonged visit. I knew she was being cautious. While she quietly sipped and watched, Hamid did something that told her more than words. Taking my hand, he raised me to my feet, turned me around and crossed my wrists in a manner all too familiar. I made myself stand limp in obedience as the cord bit and twisted and tugged and was finally knotted with a tight viciousness bespeaking helplessness and my return to the status of a pretty prisoner for Hamid's pleasure. By this time I knew what pleased him most so twisted and tugged and weaved my shoulders becomingly as I said my submissive little, "Thank you, Master." He turned me around and kissed my willing lips as hard as he had bound my wrists. At that moment I was a strangely happy girl.
"I prefer the dear girl safely restrained," Hamid said to Marjory, who had reviewed the whole proceeding with a slight frown. "Celie is a perfect subject for a length of rope. Behold how prettily she struggles while knowing she cannot free herself."
Marjory made a noncommittal sound and finished her coffee at which point Hamid returned to his seat while I remained standing. I realized I was gazing upon two opposing forces, each one powerful in their own way. I knew it unlikely that Marjory possessed more money than the man who had purchased me on the slave block. But, at the same time, her wealth and influence was something for Hamid to reckon with. She was not a pretty slave girl to be stripped and whipped.
"If it pleases Celie to have you tie her up, I suppose I should not complain. She came to me naked and handcuffed. On Palm Island I held her captive because, as you have just said, she is perfectly designed for restraints. Celie was completely mine — I hope you do not contest my ownership."
I ceased struggling and stood tense, a bound and naked girl who's flesh was up for grabs. I wished this confrontation had ever happened. We were in Hamid's plane over goodness knows what ocean. What came next was no surprise to me but I knew it had to shock my mistress half out of her skin. Hamid's voice was calm. "We don't need to call a spade a spade, Miss Magnus. You and Celie and I understand each other." He laughed. "Quite possibly you understand me more than I would wish. But, anyway, Marjory Magnus, the request I am about to make will answer every question you might wish to ask. Please be kind enough to uncover your left breast."
I saw my mistress wince, but she was still the woman who lay claim to me and who owned Palm Island. In a tone of make-believe boredom, she replied, "Could we change the subject?"
"I asked you a question."
"I am assuming it was a joke in very poor taste. Why not tell me something of the kingdom you own?"
Marjory was magnificent. In a tone of quiet distaste, she looked Hamid in the eye, "If you are thinking of reducing me to the status of a dancing girl, you had best think again. I was not born to expose my nakedness to any man, or to wear his chains. Forget me, and let's have some pleasant conversation."
"Have you ever been whipped, Miss Magnus?" My mistress sighed and my heart bled for her.
"You are being needless offensive," she complained. "My breasts are my own property. I have never in my life bared them for any man."
"You will do so now." My mistress made no motion to obey. Instead, she spoke charmingly of Shalima, the American Consulate, and the current price of oil. She spoke of Palm Island and the estate the family owned in England. Hamid listened, I believe genuinely interested by his victim's poise. But when the poor girl paused for breath, he repeated, "Uncover your tits, Miss Magnus."
Marjory sneered. "I notice you've advanced to wanting both?"
"That's correct. In the matter of undressing you, we have to go. But first I wish to enjoy the delights of your twin mounds. Between your formal attire and the breasts you are about to bare for my inspection, it's a piquant situation, don't you agree?"
"I am in your plane and subject with your mercy. Why don't we dispense with these polite thrusts and parries, and be honest about your intentions. I am still willing to believe you are a gentleman."
I found the heat rising in my loins as I realized what must now happen. I had no opportunity to talk to my mistress to warn her of Hamid's desires. And, in any case, it would have done no good since we had been drugged. For me it made no change, I was Hamid's slave girl and the bit of cord I had been fighting on my wrists represented no change. Every since the auction he had been able to do whatever he pleased with me. But for Marjory this was a whole new scene and I listened breathlessly.
Hamid was, in a sense, playing a role in which he had cast himself. Still outrageously polite, he inquired, "Perhaps a double scotch or a brandy might make this moment easier to bear?"
"You're determined to shame me. I don't understand why."
Hamid shrugged. "I am simply a man who believes in the subjection of women. Women are made to obey and to give her owner pleasure. Look at darling Celie, she is the ideal prototype."
Marjory Magnus sniffed. "I expect darling Celie needs a good whipping. She's actually enjoying having her hands tied behind her. If you care to leave us alone together, and loan me a whip ... "
"We are not talking about Celie, Miss Magnus, we are talking about you. Celie's price is beyond rubies. But I fear you have far to go to merit male approval. As I said, I wish you to bare your breasts, both of them. Do so now!"
"And if I refuse?"
"I have only to clap my hands to have servants come and strip you naked. Is that what you prefer? I can understand you might find it preferable."
With a gesture of impatience, Marjory reached for the fastenings of her dress and a moment later her glorious breasts were revealed in all their glory. Even Hamid gasped in their beauty. His thank you was very quiet. I stood in the humility of helplessness while Hamid gazed his fill. Marjory hid nothing of her twin orbs but in the end impatiently demanded, 'Isn't that enough? Don't tell me you have a childish wish to fondling them?"
"I have the wish, dear lady, but as you said, I am a gentleman. What I next require of you is a full view of the rest of you. Please stand up and remove the remainder of your clothing. We understand each other, don't act coy."
I felt my darling's agony as she slowly stood. Taking her time she slithered her panties down to where she could step out of them and thus be free to toss them into Hamid's lap. "I believe you want to sniff these, don't you? In order to excite yourself. Be my guest." Without word she slipped off the skirt to reveal the feminine treasure of her lovely body. I longed to do or say something desperate but there was nothing I could do.
Marjory's contempt had struck. I felt certain my master had added strips beyond his original intent, but he wasted no time and proceeded to enjoy the humiliation of this woman. She turned this way and that to provide Hamid his full satisfaction. He fingered nothing but I knew his eyes burned holes in Marjory's loins and I would not have been surprised to behold her pubic hair go up in smoke.
Frostily, she said, "You have the indecent curiosity of puberty. I would have thought you would have exhausted it on poor Celie. May I now put my skirt back on?"
Hamid's sigh told me he was a quite happy man. "You are quite delightful," he conceded. "And I can only hope you understand how greatly your private and most intimate possessions are enhanced by your reluctance to show them.
Marjory was almost panting. "You should write a novel," she said acidly, "it would undoubtedly be a best seller. But then you don't need the money, do you?"
"I would advise you to avoid sarcasms," he offered politely.
This was getting near the bottom line. She was nude but there are worse things than being nude. Marjory frowned at Hamid but made no move to cover her private parts with her hands. Instead she put them on her hips.
Poor Marjory! She was not used to this kind of treatment. I knew Hamid was enjoying this show very much. Once more there was a breathless silence until Marjory said, in a voice heavy in disgust, "I suppose now you want me on my back on the floor?"
"You do not know me well," Hamid rejoined. "There is something else I must do to you before entering the into that area of last delight. In any case, I expect I would enjoy myself more with Celie. I doubt your ability to match her artistry. Do you notice the rings fastened above your head?"
I looked up and there they were, the wicked rings with which I was all too familiar, the rings meant to hold a girl's hands above her head and make her totally available. Marjory looked, too, and both of us were aware of Hamid's smile. I suppose he had intended to wait for Palm Island and then to whip its owner in the midst of all her possessions. Quite evidently the plan was changed and Hamid's voice took us one step further into his mastery, "Give me your hands, Marjory, I am sure you know what comes next."
"You intend to whip me?"
"Of course I do. Let it comfort you that I will never have whipped a more beautiful subject."
"And your men wait outside the door?"
"Of course. It would be much more pleasant if you simply yield."
Marjory looked at me and shrugged hopelessly, then extended her hands for whatever Hamid chose to do.
My master's choice was, as always, neat and tidy. A leather band snapped tightly around each wrist, and from the band a ring. It was but the matter of moment to rise bare feminine arms to snap the joining links to leave poor, darling Marjory standing with arms held high and out to either side in the total exposure I knew too well. Marjory knew it, too, and must have felt some sort of poetic justice in suffering the raw nakedness she had so often imposed upon her other slave girls and I. She looked up at her pinioned hands and made the futile motions that girls do to assure themselves that they are helpless. Then she said to the man who owned us both, "I'm sure this has to be a most satisfying moment to us both."
Hamid wasted no words. His hands became busy in a tracing of her curves, lingering lovingly over her large breasts and taut nipples. Marjory got a good going over, and when her lord and master stood back to admire her helplessness she was panting. She spoke no word, there was nothing to say. What would happen to her now would be done in spite of any words. I held my breath and I'm sure Marjory held hers, too, as Hamid produced a wicked whip with a single tong which I recognized as imparting agony with ever stroke. He dangled it in front of her gaze. "I am sure you approve, Miss Magnus? You understand such matter, no?"
None of us said a word. By some strange magic the whipping of my adored mistress had become a part of the plane, my master, and our visit to Palm Island. Completely detached and completely helpless, I realized Hamid could achieve his heart's desire without ever landing the plane on Palm Island. He had Marjory totally at his mercy and was cheerfully fingering those parts of her which held male interest. And in his other hand he had the cruel thong by which he would bring her to submission. I could not imagine my mistress showing submission to anyone, but Hamid had a magic all his own. I simply waited and watched, no longer tugging at bound hands. I knew now I belonged to Hamid, and that was the end of it as far as I was concerned.
The first slash across her back evoked a horrified gasp of anguish beyond belief. But Marjory did not scream, she simply pressed one cheek against a bare arm and gasped in disbelief at such an intensity of pain. Hamid's voice was mocking, "You enjoyed that, Miss Magnus?"
"Please ... It is too awful, I cannot bare it. I will say yes to anything you wish."
"I possess everything I wish, dear lady. I have Celie, I have you. I am like the Victorian villain who wishes to bring the haughty lady low. We still have far to go."
Marjory said nothing. What else was there for her to say other than to plead for mercy? And this she would not do. I watched the second and third strokes of the leather thong bite hard to leave their scarlet imprint on bottom cheeks and ivory back. I longed to cry aloud for Hamid to show mercy and to whip me instead of the loveliness of my mistress. But all of us were too deeply immersed in what was taking place to speak. Marjory's heaving gasps and moans of shock were the only sounds as Hamid once more drew back his arm.
When the leather had sung its wicked song six times, Hamid paused to extract from my tightly strapped mistress the ultimate in mockery. "You bear this well," he said in genuine tribute. "You have not yet screamed. Am I correct in assuming you find this punishment double painful because of your awareness of innocence? I am whipping you simply for my own pleasure and to make real a fantasy which took root some time ago."
Marjory stopped her agonized motions long enough to stare her tormentor in the eye. "There's nothing to say, is there?" she retorted in a small, choked voice. "We have already agreed you are not a gentleman. Every time you lash my skin, you come closer to being a beast."
My master sighed and said, "I had hoped for a nice conversation. Both of us might have benefited from your reactions to this undeserved punishment."
"Why don't you shut up! You're just a bastard who likes to whip naked girls. It's just that simple. You can't ennoble it by analysis." Marjory allowed her head to sink forward once more as if dismissing Hamid. And once more the whip sang its terrible song to implant another red weal across innocent skin. This time the man who owned us both did not pause again until the tenth strip sent my mistress into a frenzied dance of pain where both her feet left the floor. She cried a strangled gasp that was just short of a scream.
Hamid watched with bright eyes and a slight smile. When she had calmed down, he calmly asked, "Perhaps you would like to put an end to this punishment? Simply address me as 'Master'. You might as well add a vow of obedience, assuring me of your wish to be a good slave and please her master. Word it anyway you like."
"Drop dead!"
"Spoken like a Trojan! Spread your legs far apart." Marjory said nothing. She was deep into the pain and perhaps did not care what happened anymore. I could have kicked Hamid for forcing such humiliation but his voice was relentless, "If you do not spread your legs, Miss Magnus, I will tie them spread far apart, stretched wider than you would wish."
It was as though Marjory heard his voice from some far distant place. I knew how she must hate every motion she now made as her legs slowly inched out to either side until she displayed the most humiliating exposure a girl can know. She was instantly rewarded by a quick upward slash squarely on her vagina. She screamed and went insane with kicking and random jerking movements of her body. It was a long time before she again stood exhausted and sweating, with head bowed. Hamid's voice held the knell of doom. "Open wide once more, Miss Magnus. Your performance deserves a repeat."
A total of five times pain and shame was repeated with Marjory screaming lustily upon each impact. The tong cut with deadly accuracy against the most tender part of her being. After the fifth deadly slash Hamid once more paused to contemplate the droplets of sweat forming on her body. He even made Marjory spread her legs once more so he could kneel for a closer inspection of the havoc he had created. When he got ready to wield the whip again, I could stand no more, but flung myself to my knees at his feet to beg, "Stop, Master, please stop! You have punished her enough. She doesn't deserve it. Please, please, please!"
"Dear Celie," he said as he raised me up to plant a passionate kiss upon my lips, which I shamefully returned. "I suppose you are getting ready to offer your skin in place of our dear Miss Magnus?"
"Yes, oh, yes! Please unbuckle those straps." I was kissed again and again, my master's hand clasping the plump orifice of my sex. It came away wet and he thoughtfully wiped it dry upon my hip while I strained fruitlessly against my cords. "There is something I must tell you, darling child," Hamid said softly, "when I am finished with this charming creature, it will be your turn. You can absolve Miss Magnus from nothing because she has no sin but yours is grave indeed. Do you understand?"
"But what have I done? My hands are tied and I haven't said a word."
"You said a word too many to that couple from the Consulate. When they asked if you were held a prisoner, you should have laughed the thought away and assured them you were only a guest who was sharing a few erotic notions. You failed to do this but gave them a total affirmative that you were indeed my prisoner." Hamid paused to kiss lovingly not only my lips but my eyes and the hollow of my neck. "For this betrayal you must pay a painful price. When I am finished with your whipping, you will not betray me again."
"Yes, Master." Hamid nodded curtly and was about to thrust me aside when I clamped my nakedness against him to kiss and kiss again before whispering in outrageous humility for his ear alone, "Thank you for the punishment, Master. You are right, I deserve it."
"You have trained her well," said Marjory bitterly. "But remember, I owned her first, and the way you keep her chained or tied renders anything she way without validity. If you were close enough, I'd spit in your face."
We were back at the beginning with me tugging at corded wrists and my beloved mistress standing naked and bound. Once more the whip sang its message of male dominance and Hamid smiled.
In a dither of misery for Marjory and apprehension over the punishment I had earned, I lost count of the slashes across Marjory's skin and those delivered upward in her crotch, until suddenly she sagged and hung unconscious in her bonds. Hamid stood back in unconcern, pleasurably fingering the whip. He was gazing at every curve and contour of a helpless nakedness that could endure no more. In the same thoughtful manner, he found brandy and held it to my loved one's lips. After a few seconds she revived and returned to a world of pain.
Marjory's eyes were dull as she looked at her tormentor, a creature with no interest in what was happening. But little by little the brandy found its way between her lips until her feet once more sustained her weight and Hamid set aside the glass. "You are ready for me to start whipping you again?" he inquired.
The bowed head raised wearily as her lips whispered, "I will call you Master."
I knew Hamid was pleased but still spared her nothing. "You took a long while to think about it," he said curtly. "For that and your promise to spit in my face you have ten more still to go."
"Please no, I beg of you, not any more. I will do whatever you wish!"
"I wish to continue whipping you so we appear in agreement. But it would be a nice touch, don't you think, for you to ask nicely for what you are about to receive?"
Marjory tossed her hair to one side in a gesture I knew spelt defeat. Her voice was a dull monotone. "Please continue whipping me, Master. I am your property."
The whine of Hamid's tong was a peal of triumph. Once more a servant brought coffee and I was made to recline at my Master's feet as he drank in the liquid and the sight of a whipped woman's wicked marked flesh. Marjory's head was once more bowed in motionless defeat except for an occasional slight tremor of her strained muscles. I could not take my eyes from her punished body but mechanically sipped from the cup my master held to my lips. My hands were still bound behind my back so Hamid was forced to rise to offer the same service of hot coffee to the woman who had suffered so much simply to appease his caprice. We sat thus for a long, long time. My mind was chaotic in its sympathy for the loveliness of whipped flesh and a growing horror at the punishment I must now endure. I shed a few tears of self pity and was a very sorry slave girl indeed.
Marjory's punishment was not ended. Hamid unstrapped her wrists and gave support as he produced the handcuffs I had previously worn and locked Marjory's wrists behind her back. Then he led her to kneel as I knelt in humility beside his chair. When he sat he was thus flanked by a pair of slave girls, robbed of their hands and awaiting his commands. He dried my eyes and patted my head to make me wish for the comfort of his arms instead of the cut of his whip. I don't suppose any man in any age had ever known such a completely mastery of chosen female flesh as Hamid did right then.
Keeping me in suspense was too obvious a ploy for a man of Hamid's experience in the punishment of girls. He did not immediately fasten me with hands over my head as I expected. Instead he drew my attention to a massive coffee table and explained its merits for the purpose of holding maiden's for punishment. It appeared my punishment was not to be in any way mundane. When he untied my hands, I instantly clasp his knees in a weird mixture of asking him forgiveness while, at the same time, thanking my master for the trouble he was taking to set me back on the straight and narrow path. I dared not look at Marjory.
It was probably the most versatile coffee table in the world. It was made to change its shape and craftily hid a draw which contained all sorts of little treasures I could not name but which made me shutter. I agreed devoutly that it would be a long time before I betrayed my master again.
Under his direction, I placed my nudity face down upon the table's shinning surface. A thoughtful innovation was the two circles of wood which Hamid lifted out to make way for my breasts, assuring they would not be flattened on the hard, cold wood. My head overlapped the table so I found myself staring at the rug. And to insure I would not look back in alarm, a rounded metal clamp was thrust down on each side of my neck to click safely home and leave me powerless to rise. A similar hoop now bit my waist and was thrust hard down to compress my spine and make me thankful that my breasts were not flattened out as was my belly. I was quite helpless but Hamid was by no means done.
The coffee table was of an ordinary size and thus my legs and feet protruded beyond the end. But each foot was instantly bent back at the knee as one more of the adaptable clamps welded it hard down upon my thigh. When this was done with both feet I knew myself very helpless indeed. My legs were doubled painfully tight and could not move at all. My tummy was squashed against the wood and my neck held tightly down. Just being bound in this position was a punishment. When Hamid made adjustment by which my hips were raised against the metal holding down my waist and legs, I realized how cruelly my bottom had been made available for whatever he wished to do with it.
To keep me horribly informed, he now placed on the rug before my anguished eyes a length of yellow cane, limber and flexible enough to wrap itself around the contours of my bottom.
What had been done to me already should have been enough, but it was not! Hamid now placed beside the yellow cane a pair of yellow plastic cups and a glass jar of small, living objects which made me moan. "They are a breed of ants you will not enjoy," my master explained patiently. "You see, I empty the ants into this cup then put the cup on your breast, sealing it so our little friends will not escape. They will not eat your flesh but you will find them entertaining."
I could not move and fought back screams with difficulty. Each of my breasts was fixed so it was contained within a plastic sphere along with far more ants than the cup could comfortably contain. The result was that, finding their plastic prison uncomfortable, they turned their attention upon my breasts and nipples. I was getting ready to emit the howl of a life time when Marjory's discarded panties were thrust hard into my mouth and pressed deeply home to fill my cheeks by a strap buckled between my teeth and behind my neck. I could make sounds but they were sad little gasps and moans which communicated nothing expect distress. The ants bit at me happily as the first stroke of the cane cut hard upon the tight stretched cheeks I could not move.
My hands and arms were still free and pathetically I used them to try and reach the first of the wounds upon my flesh. But I could reach nothing while Hamid's voice cheerfully explained, "You may enjoy your hands and arms, dear child. Use them as you wish. Consider them my gift to you in this ordeal."
My master was right. I could touch nothing of importance. I could reach my gag and the globes containing my breasts with fingertips but could not remove either. I could feel the contours of the clamps at neck and waist and judged them to be no more than half an inch of steel. When Hamid slashed me once again, I used my arms to flail at nothing. When Hamid's cane cut hard at the soles of my clamped back feet, the pain was so awful I knew for sure I was going to die. Sensing my fear, my master's voice came quietly again. "You did not even know you sinned, child. And you think that one wrong word should not warrant what you suffer now. But remember I am an Arab who lives by a code of honor which takes this punishment for you to understand. Your denial hurt me bitterly. So now I teach you an Islamic lesson. You think you will die but you will not!"
I did not die, a girl never does. And between the various afflictions of my flesh I count of the impacts of the cane. But I think it was only six or seven strokes before the hateful thing was cast aside and Hamid began the task of setting me free. When the clamp was taken from my neck and the cups released my breasts, I was the happiest girl in the world. And, when totally free, I was raised and clasped in two male arms, I could think of nothing but thankfulness in a master I knew had shown mercy in his punishment of a thoughtless girl. Once more I evaded Marjory's scornful gaze. My breasts were tender and red from ant bites, and I feared to touch them. But I was happy the ordeal was over.
It was then that everything happened at once. The chatter of discordant sounds from both engines sent my master forward to consult the crew. When he came back he was tight-lipped and angry. "We have been sabotaged," he said. "And I am going to lose this plane. We are in the middle of an ocean but fortunately down below there is a ship beside which my pilot will land us in the water so that we may swim to safety."
Quickly he unlocked Marjory's handcuffs before returning to the cockpit. Our pilot was highly skilled and two frightened young women peering from the window beheld ahead of us the solid bulk of a ship towards which we sank. When our plane first touched the water, it was not with a solid blow but a glancing one. The plane fairly skipped off the water like a flat rock tossed sideways by a child. Several bounces later the plane settled down to the water very close to the boat which had come to a stop. Marjory and I, both free and both naked, leaped through the open door through which the crew had already abandoned ship. Beside us was the huge hulk of an ocean vessel, while behind us was the tragic, shocking vision of the plane sinking slowly beneath the waves. Without much thought, Marjory and I swam hard toward where we heard a small boat and the shouts of sailors.
When male arms grasped beneath my armpits and lifted me beyond the reach of sharks, I looked up in gratitude at the grinning face of Rankin Teller.