by Hans Meijer
Corey looked at her owner with a glimmering of hope. "He's prisoner of Abdul Nour's the way Audrey and I were."
"Abdul screw you?"
"No. But he was going to."
"He'll be hopping mad." Seth chuckled. "He can console himself with making a good deal on Aslam's ransom."
She clutched at a straw. "If he does, you could make a good deal on Audrey and me. There'd be millions…?"
"Huh, maybe." His glance was sharp. "Look, Corey, I like you. I'll whip you and I'll sell you into slavery but I like you. I'm going to pass the word around where and how you were sold. If Aslam or your Dad want you bad enough maybe something will come of it." He looked at her quizzically. "What the hell do'you want Aslam to ransom you for? The way I heard it he was going to whip the ass off you?"
Corey sniffed unhappily. "Well, he wouldn't have put me in a chain gang and made me walk naked across half a continent. You've done that, and now you're going to whip me as well." She shrugged disdainfully. "And then you're going to sell me to some rich Arab for his harem. That's not much of a future for a girl, is it?"
"Hell, if I pass on the info? like I've promised, you could be back in the U.S.A. inside six months. Your ass won't get skinned in that time… and the other thing don't wear out."
"Alright, I'm grateful." Corey eyed her owner dubiously. "I honestly will be grateful if you'll do that for me… and I believe you will." She sought expression. "It's just that… that… Oh, dammit! I just don't want to be a slave, and be whipped, and chained, and have my body ravished… Master."
"Understood, love. But none of it's lethal. If I tell you to position yourself and to ask me to screw you, would you obey?"
"Yes, I would obey. I've already been broken in, y'know. My jailor at Amphala fucked me every evening. He tied my hands behind my back for it, said it was better that way." Defiantly, she added: "I hope you approve my use of the word'fuck?… Master?"
"Do things right, don't you?" Burdett sardonically approved. "O.K. Start the act."
With her limbs totally free it was doubly shaming. Corey suspected he was well aware of the fact. Without pause to think or shrink, she positioned herself nakedly upon the ground, spread wide her legs, bent up her knees, looked up between them and demurely asked: "Please fuck your slavegirl, Master." Impulsively she crossed her unbound wrists beneath the small of her back to invitingly arch her loins.
Achmed's trick was habit forming. "I'm the victim of protocol." Seth Burdett admitted languorously from beside her on the ground. "You were damn good. Good enough I'd let you off the whipping. But I can't put you back on the coffle with unmarked skin. Sorry'bout that, love."
Corey did not care. For the moment she was in that blissful content which ignores tomorrow. Seth Burdett had given her happiness. As a lover he was highly skilled. For sunburst after sunburst he had made her forget her slavery. She was grateful. In silent but tactile eloquence her fingers caressed his skin.
"Wish I could afford to keep you for myself." Seth admitted pensively. "But there's Mustafa's half share in you, and I don't know where in hell I could put you to keep you safe."
"What, no cage?" Corey would happily prolong the idyll.
"It's not just a case of keeping you from escaping, love."
Seth pondered slowly. "But I'd have too damn many people chasing us. There's your dad, there's Aslam, and there's Abdul Nour. D'you realize you're the most wanted woman in the world?"
"On that coffle I'd never guess."
"Hell, it's true. Me and Mustafa will be damn lucky to get you safely sold before one of'em comes galloping over the hill."
"Fat lot of good that'll do me, chained in some old coot's seraglio and safely out of sight."
"I'll make certain you've never out of sight."
Corey raised herself on an elbow and gazed serenely down at her Master. "Don't sell me. Keep me. You can make a deal with Mustafa. Trade him two girls for me. Every girl you've got on that chain's a beauty. They'll fetch just a big price as me."
Seth nodded. "That part I can do. It's the hiding afterwards I don't want. It wouldn't be good for you. I'd have to keep you tied or chained in some dismal little hole… I wouldn't dare let you be seen by anyone."
"Master… Seth?" In her present mood the slavegirl was greatly daring. "You don't need to tie or chain me at all. I'll come with you willingly. I'll be an obedient slave…"
Seeing his disbelief, she became vehement. "Can't you understand how much I'd prefer you to some ancient Arab with a hundred oil wells and twenty wives?"
"Damn flattering, love. But you'll have to trust my judgement. I know what we'd be up against, you don't. Drop it."
Corey mourned in silence. Something good had seemed so close. Whether Seth was being prudent or perverse she could not tell. For her the result was going to be the same. In bitter disappointment she reproached: "So now you have to whip me?"
"?Fraid so."
"Well, don't shed tears. Leave them to me. I'm bound to be whipped sooner or later by someone. This is crazy, but I'd just as soon it was done to me now… and by you. Then I'll know what it's like."
"You won't enjoy it, love. I'll have to lace you hard to leave you with the right marks."
"Of course I won't enjoy it. But it's a case of standing up to the dragon and getting rid of him. This whipping business has been bugging me long enough."
"You're too good to be true, love."
"I'm not. Can you gag me some way, so the others won't hear me scream?"
"Mmmmmmmm, if you want."
"I want it terribly. I don't want to go back to the chain looking ashamed of myself."
They lay together in silence, busy with their thoughts. It was Corey who, in the end, insisted. "Do it to me please. I can't stand the suspense."
"Do what, love?"
"Whip me." Corey pinched him playfully. "You only asked that to hear me say it again. You like hearing me ask to be whipped?"
"?Fraid so. It's the horniest request I ever heard from a girl."
"We're both damn honest about it… Master."
Seth Burdett sat up and surveyed the naked girl at his side with enigmatic eyes. Idly, he played with her nipples, enjoying the response she did not try to hide. Quietly, he mocked: "You hate calling me that, don't you?"
"Yes. But I can make myself get used to it. Since I have to be whipped and locked back on the coffle I think it's best I use it. It puts us both in our place."
She smiled up at him. "I've asked you nicely to whip me, but the way we're doing I think you're going to fuck me against instead? Do I have to beg?"
"It's a nice idea." He shook his head irritably. "But you're right. We've been out here long enough. Mustafa and I respect each other and don't impose. The poor chap thinks you need a whipping in the worst way. He thinks you're haughty."
"I am. You can whip it out of me. How do we go about this?"
"Simple, love. I just hang you up by your wrists. C'mon. Over under the tree."
Miss Corey Gibson, one of the world's loveliest and most wealthy women, considered the absurdity of what she was doing, reflected on the outrageous requests she had made, pondered her intense sensual pleasure in what a Slave Trader had done to her. Back on the coffle she would feel ashamed, but not now! She knew not from whence her euphoria stemmed, but it possessed her utterly. She was heatedly and sexually aroused to the point where she longed to be whipped by this immensely masculine creature who had set her passions aflame in a way Achmed had failed to do. Achmed's ravishing had given her comfort, but Seth Burdett's had fired her loins into a demanding female lust to feel the cut of his lash upon her flesh in an endless prolongation of orgasm. It was a naked slavegirl who walked to the tree and smiled back over a bare shoulder.
"If I was young and foolish I'd be talking about love right now." Seth was tugging the heavy cord testingly between muscular hands.
Corey was femininely wise. She raised her forearms and watched her wrists tied with band after band of the soft ligature
. "It's going to hurt." Seth counseled. "But with enough rope to make the strain…"
Corey watched her hands rise, up before her face and beyond. Her wrists were crossed and tightly bound. She was sure her owner knew what he was doing with his slave. She gasped under the pressure of Seth's male strength. Her heels left the soil. When the pressure stopped she was on her toes. In the manner of a spectator she watched him snub the rope far from her reach. "Gosh, I'm… I'm all… sort of available, aren't I?" She said dazedly from out of a maze of erotic sensation.
Seth Burdett ran his hands lovingly up and down her taut flanks, patted her taut tummy, her quivering buttocks. His query was tender.
"Excited, Corey girl?"
"Intensely. Oh, Seth, I don't understand…!"
"You don't have to, love. What I'm wondering about is that gag."
Corey giggled. "I'm not wearing anything, so I can't help. Use anything. I won't mind."
He was still naked from their coupling. He selected the obvious, Corey's heart leaping at sight of his choice. "Any last words, love?"
"No, Master. Just whip me properly the way you'd do it to any other girl."
Corey had guessed she would get the crotch of his shorts. She opened her mouth wide to receive his male scent and taste. He pushed until her cheeks bulged, then folded the residue into a neat patch which he bound across her lips with rope. Their eyes met and conceded the propriety of what was being done.
"It won't hurt, Corey."
She nodded, relieved.
"And I'll miss your breasts."
This time her nod was even more emphatic. The suspended girl had never felt more naked. This was the most utter bareness slavery had imposed. The pain in her wrists told her how exquisitely she was exposed to her owner's whip. She quivered, she trembled. She tried to speak but was mute. She had stepped beyond the point of no return. Soon, her curiosity would be appeased.
Corey burst into orgasm instantly. The cut of the thong across her shoulders triggered the pent up force generated by erotic banter. She kicked, she lunged, she gasped and moaned into her owner's shorts, her wrists screamed…! She was aware of nothing.
The slave Trader watched, amazed. He had whipped many girls. The job was implicit to his calling. But he had never whipped a girl like this. He saw the scarlet weal form and rise on the virgin skin. Carefully he took aim to create its twin.
She felt the pain. Orgasm could not protect her forever. Corey knew she should scream in agony, but did no more than flail her legs and thrust her cheek hard against one raised bare arm. A firely burn was etching itself across her back, but all she could think of was to hope it left a satisfying mark for the other girls to see. The third stroke found her more sentinent to its cut. In shock at a new dimension of agony she lifted herself by her bound wrists, contorting to proclaim her hurt, to tell her owner not to hit so hard. She had forgotten her gag and wondered why she could not hear her voice. There came a pause. Hot breath was on her neck, a male hand was between her thighs. She was ashamed that it would become wet from her secretions.
Corey Gibson shook her head in a futile effort to rid her mouth of the hampering flavor of male. In compensation she spread wide her thighs. It hurt her wrists more but she did not care.
"Anaesthesia, Corey." Seth's whisper was close to her ear. "I'm going to whip you good. But nod if this helps."
The nude and suspended girl nodded vigorously, delivering herself to the wise fingers and their oblivion of sensation. It seemed a very little while before the whip sang again… But this time it was better. No less hard, but across the twin curves of her buttocks. A girl's bottom was the proper place for her to be whipped. She comforted herself with this assurance as the pain spread. Corey let her feet do as they pleased. Corey would be amused by their gyrations.
"Three more, slavegirl, before you have to open wide and ask me to whip up inside your crotch."
It was not possible! It could not be! What girl had ever been whipped there… in that place? Corey absorbed three brands of agony while she thought of what was required of her. Then, as she opened wide the softness of her thighs, she laughed into the gag that denied her whipper the pleasure of her voice. The thong sped up into the inviting cleft, splatted across her wet vulva, and bit viciously at her belly. Miss Corey Gibson amazed herself by the violence of her writhings. Even her taut breasts…!
"Dammit, girl, you're beautiful!" Seth's voice was reverent. "Here's recess."
Corey's thighs leaped apart. She moaned in gratitude. When the next whipstroke etched a circle of scarlet round her waist she climaxed once again. The slave Trader whipped her with twenty strokes, each clearly defined as proof of punishment. Corey's back and bottom became a frid of puffed scarlet lines. He was content. Thoughtfully, he drew her sweat bedewed and panting nakedness against his thrusting flesh and impaled her as she hung suspended from the tree. Her legs encircled him as would a pair of loving arms. They clung and clung long after their loins had given and received. When she was lowered from the branch Corey protested against the untying of her wrists. "Leave them tied, Master. Lead me back in style. Are my marks vivid on my skin?"
"More scarlet than an oil painting, love." "Good! It's crazy but I'm proud."
"And so you should be!" Seth took the rope from her wrist bindings and tugged. He was dressed again, even to his shorts. His slavegirl followed in sweet docility.
Corey's head was high.
"I've been whipped, so I know what it's like." Audrey Cotswold's one free hand reached awkwardly to trace its fingers softly across Corey's ridged back. "You poor darling, the bastard really let you have it."
"He's not a poor bastard. He's nice."
"That mean he fuck you good." It was Amrah's wisdom from the other side. "You sure get whipped pretty. You most lucky girl."
Back on the coffle! Chained at neck and wrist. Her wounded skin the only evidence of being, for a little while, free of its weight of metal. Corey Gibson soaked up comiseration gratefully and wished herself back hanging from the tree. She could not help it, that's the way it was. "He only did what he thought was right." She explained lamely. "Don't try and understand. I'm back here on the coffle with you, that's what counts."
"I helped put you here, Corey. I'll never forgive myself." The English girl's self condemnation was infinitely forlorn. "It doesn't matter so much about me. I was a slave anyway. I expect this is my just desserts."
"Don't fret, darling. I'm alright."
"She better than alright." Amrah opined. "She been fucked and whipped and loved. Amrah knows."
It was nice to be chained once more to girls. Corey knew she would long for something that was now past and done. But Audrey and Amrah were known quantities. When she had stood to have her neck and wrist once more chained there had been an element of coming home. It had been Mustafa who had, approvingly, examined her back and bottom and returned her securely to stock.
"Assef will get us out of this, Corey. I know he will." Audrey's assurance was vehement. "We'll have a bad time first… this trek isn't exactly fun. But he'll find us… and there's your dad…"
"You not ever get free. You two wear chains always. Have fine life. Get whip. Good food. Plenty fuck." Amrah sighed happily at the end of the chain and reproved their discontent. "You not know when well off."
Talking was not encouraged. Too many whispers or too long a converse was likely to bring Mustafa and his whip. If it was in sleeping time the guilty girls were already flat on the ground and had only to turn on their tummies to present their bare back for the stripe or two it might please him to inflict. They could then cry themselves to sleep. At night, as they trudged steadily along the tiny path behind Seth Burdett's donkey it was not easy to talk at all. They hissed their whispers sparingly. The double chain defeated everything except their plodding feet.
Corey told the English girl of Seth's promise. She herself found hope in it. As her toughening feet traversed the miles she lived over and over again her painful but ecstatic hour with
the most masculine male she had ever known. Seth Burdett was a force. Corey felt guilty of a girlish teen-age excitement in the knowledge of his ownership. She belonged to him by right of conquest. He could do as he pleased with her. Perhaps it was a silly romantic fantasy born of the coffle, but she wished he would take her for his own. The sensible part of Miss Corey Gibson clearly saw the handicaps in such an enslavement, but the passion in her loins swept them aside. As he rode at the head of the cavalcade his broad back was in constant view. But when they camped he paid her scant attention, and that usually to reprimand. But at such times their eyes would lock in a communion all their own which the slavegirl found deeply satisfying. But, if it held a message, it was one she could not decipher. As the days passed Corey's whip weals healed and faded in a manner she and Audrey found miraculous.
