The slave girl

by Hans Meijer

  In swift decision she sped to where her Master slept. Deliberately she slid down and snuggled close, a bare arm across his shoulders. Without surprise, she heard his chuckle. "Congratulations, love. You've made your point." Lazily, he turned and gathered her close, her head gratefully buried against his cheek. Corey Gibson had never been so happy.

  The town of Ben Sirah lay between desert and scrub, an ancient ghost of a place progress had ignored. For Slavers it was ideal. If the powers above knew its function they closed a blind eye. No matter how enlightened an official might be, it was comforting to know where a slavegirl could still be purchased. It was one of Africa's surviving institutions of which most men, black or white or in between, secretly approved. From its auction block the wealthy of the world had gathered to itself some of the most desirable female flesh extant.

  As the current consignment of feminine pulch tritute from the stable of Mustafa and Burdett clinked its coffle through empty moonlit streets and shuffled its female feet in sand still warm from daylight sun, Corey Gibson could believe herself transported back a thousand years. No sign of modernity was to be seen. For she and those like her it offered no hope. For slavegirls it would be a place of sadness and last good-byes. As they filed through its central square the sight of stocks and whipping post, stark and empty in the pale light, was far from welcome. Conscious of the metal she bore upon her nudity, she wondered how many other white girls had marched as she marched now!

  "Soon we all be fucked real good." Whispered Amrah ecstatically. "This fine place to be sold. Much best." Her stride was confident.

  It may have been a warehouse. Or perhaps it had known no other function than the housing of slaves. A huge square place of stone and thatch, it's roof supported by pillars. Within each quarter of its dimension there was a cage of metal bars and sandy floor, large enough to tell of a considerable trade in times past. Ventilation was adequate from unglazed apertures high in the stone. The whole place spelt Slavery with a capital'S?. Corey shivered. They were well received by the Management. The partners were treated with much respect. The nine naked girls were examined with voluble approval. Help was provided in their placement within a chosen cage. Amrah was first in line. Freed from the coffle, her wrists were crossed behind her back and tied with a strip of supple hide. An authorative hand thrust her within the confines of the bars. Corey was next. The tying of her hands at the small of her back was competent. She wpuld not get loose. In dismal distaste for what was happening she joined Amrah in the cage. Soon all nine girls stood nakedly with hands bound behind their backs and surveyed their new home. The door clanged shut with a ceremony of locks. The omnipotent Males departed. Unhappily, Corey gazed through the bars at her Master's disappearing back.

  Life within the Slave Cage was simple. The girls agreed they preferred the coffle but made the best of what they could not change. Their new confinement allowed them all to talk in an intimacy the coffle had never permitted. Two troughs against the bars provided food and water. They had to kneel to eat or to drink from the communal containers set a couple of feet above the sand for their convenience. Their bound hands were lost to them. Amrah blandly explained away the imposition.

  "Hands tie so we know we slaves. No hands, no trouble. Is no use try untie."

  She was probably right. Certainly no amount of twisting and striving untied a knot. Back to back, questing fingers were still defeated. The hide had been wet and its knots doubly sutured. No doubt it was much cheaper than handcuffs and imposed a more personal discipline. After the first day the girls no longer bothered. Amrah was appointed to tend their needs. Her hands were untied but her feet were shackled. She clinked about her new duties with considerable elan. She saw it as a promotion. The chain joining her ankles bothered her not at all, for her it was a visible symbol of authority. "You be polite or Amrah pinch your tits." She warned amiably. "You girls can't do nothing the way you's tied. But Amrah do what she like." She kicked her leg irons to make them swirl. "These here don't bother me none."

  They were not alone. The far cage held four female captives, another imprisoned two. One single girl was chained to the stone wall by her collar. She sat in apathetic boredom, awaiting a fate on which Amrah was soon informed.

  "She been sold. But owner busy. He pick up later." She tittered. "He be pay her room and board."

  Corey missed Burdett. His masculinity was a needed foil for the redundancy of breasts, pubic triangles and unruly hair. The cage reeked of female. Some of the captives paired and unashamedly made love. Their bound hands were a handicap they managed to overcome, they had plenty of time. Boredom engulfed them as did the cage. The three white girls discussed the feminine relief their tongues could bestow. But the case defeated them. It was worse than being in public. They were specimens in a zoo to be peered at between bars. Corey shrank from a vision of Seth Burdett walking in to find her with her face buried between Audrey's thighs.

  Ennui ended on the fourth day. They were shepherded through a narrow doorway into a second chamber much like the first. It held no cages, but the auction block stood, starkly obvious, facing a few rows of chains which were no doubt a modern concession to the wealth of those who would bid. In contrast to the place they had left they now were surrounded by luxury. The walls were draped with rugs, the block itself was shrouded in black velvet. Against the far wall stood a bar. Seth Burdett did the honours.

  "This is where you'll be sold." His eye roved the line of breasts. The girls stood expectantly, their hands and arms still secured behind their backs. "Now, just so's there's no fuck-ups on the Great Day. I'll give you the drill."

  Amrah stood proudly forward. She had been briefed.

  Chapter 4

  "You'll wear a strip of white, and we want it pretty on you." He gave them his sardonic grin. "Believe it or not, some men pay more for a cunt they can't see than for one they can."

  It was like the stewardess on a airline demonstrating the oxygen mask. Amrah mounted the platform, her chains almost silent on the plush, and proceeded to work a feminine miracle upon her loveliness with a swathe of virgin white, potent against the black on which she stood. She was loving every moment.

  "You won't be tied. No way! Seth continued amiably. "So you'll have no trouble with that bit of cloth. Now watch! When the time comes…!"

  Each girl watched breathlessly. Mentally, they stood as Amrah stood, but above a sea of male faces. They sighed in unison as the girl on the block deftly loosed a knot and stripped herself nude. Arms outstretched, she held the white drape for several moments, cascading from her fingers. Then let it fall. Corey envied her sang froid. Amrah was a showgirl, and in spite of her pragmatic speech and actions, displayed one of the most exquisite figures for which a man might yearn.

  "You girls sell yourselves." Burdett's tone hardened. "So get this straight. You fight. You sulk. You make yourself ugly, and we'll pull you from that block so quick it will curl your hair. You'll go back to the other room and by the time we're finished with you you'll wish you'd behaved." He smiled cheerfully. "Or maybe we'll use you as the preliminary at the next auction. A bit of discipline, nicely presented, whets the boy's appetites."

  They cringed. Each of them uncertain of her Thespian skill. Their eyes widened as Amrah was joined on the pedestal by a muscular male with the inevitable whip. It was a short whip for close range. He was grinning broadly at his proudly eager subject.

  It was well done. The white girls exchanged glances of admiration as Amrah demonstrated what NOT to do when being auctioned. She pouted, she sulked. She drooped and sagged, she turned her back, or covered her breasts with shielding hands. She crossed her legs and held them tightly shut. In desperate panic, she fell to her knees and embraced the legs of the smiling auctioneer in a frantic but mute appeal. He thrashed her bowed shoulders with his whip in blow after viciously reprimanding blow until she sobbed in anguish and slowly resumed her required pose as a girl only too anxious to be sold. If the audience had possessed their hands they would
have clapped. The whip was simulated. It's scarlet lines were dye.

  "It gives you an idea." Burdett explained blandly. "But I'll give you a tip. There's those chaps who'll buy you just to have a girl around the whip. It's them that buys the fighters and the sulks…!" For a moment he focused on the white slaves before continuing. "You'll find yourself looking down at a lot of fellers, most of'em ordinary decent chaps, and won't they please help and call the cops…" He paused for effect. "Don't do it! It's the one thing you just don't do!!"

  Soberly, they filed back to their cage.

  It became a busy time for Amrah. She washed them, she did their hair, she laved them with heavy and cloying perfumes. She gave them good advice. "You see a man you like, you smile at him special. Maybe he buy you." For good measure she added a bit of bitter wisdom: "Ain't always the big guys have big cocks. Sometimes is little men. Is hard to tell…"

  In the morning, in a final grooming, their lips were painted red, their hands were freed, they were given their single swathe of white. The first male face Corey saw on entering the auction room was that of Reid Hunter.

  For a girl whose body is about to be sold from it, the auction Block can be the loneliest place in the world. On it, she stands between her vanished past and a frightening future. If slavery was not real to her before, it is real now!

  Amrah was the first.

  The three white girls stood, under guard, to one side as the auction got under way. Their free hands clutched their scrap of covering, their faces were discreetly veiled. Corey supposed they had been segregated for a purpose, probably to pique male interest. It had been tacitly understood between all nine girls that they constituted the piece de resistance of the coffle. It was a doubtful honour.

  Amrah was knocked down to a nondescript character in a business suit for two hundred and forty thousand American dollars. She had worked hard for the partners and given of her best upon the block. When she stood to have her hands bound behind her back for safe delivery she smiled at Corey in glowing confidence of a bright future. The American girl wryly hoped her purchaser was well endowed.

  The veiled girls exchanged startled glances. Amrah's price seemed a lot of money. It made the whole operation in which they were helplessly enmeshed plausible. But it was frightening. Such huge sums paid for a girl meant she could surely kiss good-bye to any hope of freedom. For such a one it would be iron bars and shackled feet forever.

  The other five dusky beauties went to the block and did what they must. Burdett's instruction had been a practical guide. They sold for sums of money that spelt big business. Only two of them wept as they were bound and delivered. Josie came next.

  The atmosphere changed. An electric current touched all present. White flesh on black velvet! It was potent. Amphala was robbed Josie of inhibitions, she flaunted her nakedness with skill, and was purchased by a desert cloaked Arab for more than seven hundred thousand dollars. None present seemed surprised.

  Audrey and Corey were shivering. But it was not their turn. The Management was well aware of the value of intermissions and delay. There was also a free show! Whilst drinks were dispensed a space of floor was cleared. To it was brought a naked and terrified cafe-au-lait maiden who, a minute later, hung suspended by her wrists, her toes a foot above the floor.

  It was a leisurely affair, as between gentlemen. There was no hurry. The frightened girl hung, kicking and twisting in distress, while drinks were sipped and her physical attributes discussed. After awhile the auctioneer read out her crimes. At the previous auction she had rebelled… She had broken all the rules…! Her punishing would make a pleasant interlude before the main event.

  The auctioneer whipped her. He did so with skill and with finesse. No nuance of eroticism was ignored. His arm was heavy but controlled, there would be no cut skin on costly merchandise. After the defenceless damsel had screamed a few times under his lash, he thoughtfully gagged her that the ears of men who mattered be not offended. The gag was neat and cruel and very, very effective. After it was strapped tight it was her body alone whose writhings became the more eloquent for silence.

  Corey writhed inwardly. If she had thought of rebellion she would discard it now. To hang naked to be whipped before male eyes…! It was more that she would risk for doubtful benefit. She watched, in a compelling fascination, as the girl was made to open her legs for the thong, to raise a foot that its sole be beaten, and to twist correctly for her breasts to invite their stripes. The suspended slave was petrified with fear. She had disobeyed before, she would not err again! The whip etched its lattice work of scarlet upon her skin, but stopped short of imposing one blow upon another. She had been well punished but was still contorting vigorously in silence when the last stroke fell.

  They bid on her as she was. Wide eyed and gagged, she hung suspended from her tether, passive and limp, her head bowed as she turned slowly in short circles to bestow upon her prospective purchasers as total an exposure of her nakedness as might have been contrived.

  Corey was puzzled and uneasy. The bidding for this whipped girl was so frantic and determined that a single thought became obvious. Why not whip them all! If whipped skin so aroused possessive lust it was surprising it was not more frequently employed…! And she and Audrey still remained to be sold…!

  The sum for which the whipped girl was finally sold sent a stir of excitement round the room. She was lowered and led away by the same tether from which she had hung. Her purchaser generously returned her gag. For the moment it was most unlikely she would scream.

  Audrey Cotswold fetched one million six hundred thousand in U.S. currency. During the bidding her features became serene, almost scornful. She was purchased by Reid Hunter. As she was bound and led away by a servant her eyes found Corey's in triumph. She had been ransomed.

  In mounting the steps to the block, Corey Gibson found a strange peace. She was a pawn in this game men played for a prize of girls. She was helpless to infuence her fate. Desperately, her gaze scanned the room for sight of Seth Burdett. He was not there. In resignation, she focused on Reid Hunter. He smiled and winked. Corey's heart raced. If Reid Hunter was bidding sums like this he must be acting for Assef Aslam…! Purchased by Aslam she would still be slave! It was a strange and defeating circle for a girl to make. Bitterly, she recognized that no matter who purchased her she could not win. Audrey would now return to her privileged status. But her own enslavement would pick up where it had left off on Aslam's hijacked plane.

  It was not until the bidding approached the first million that she spied Abdul Nour. It was the moment when Corey must expose herself and stand nude for final appraisals. She copied Amrah, and it was while she initially stood with widespread arms and dropped the strip of white that her challenging survey of avid male faces picked him out. The guerilla Leader sat unobtrusively among the rest, regarding her loveliness with lewd appreciation. He also winked. From him it was obscene.

  Corey Gibson on the slave block presumed she did well and obeyed all the rules. Bidding for her person was a steadly progression, frightening in its implications of slavery and the loss of freedom. From one million it progressed to two. The bids were scattered, they were not yet a duel. The American girl stood as erect and proud as she deemed wise. Those closest to the block examined her pudendum and pubic hair in zestful appetite. The back seats tended to concentrate upon her breasts. One man was evidently a navel addict, he stared at her's in concentrated attention throughout the period of her sale. From time to time Abdul Nour raised a finger to top a bid. But the bid came back, higher and higher. For the sum of three million one hundred thousand dollars the daughter of the Planet Corporation was sold to the enigmatic grin of Reid Hunter. As his servant bound her hands behind her back, Corey Gibson supposed she should feel a flood of gratitude and relief. But she did not. Looking for Abdul Npur among the crowd she found him gone. Her purchaser, too, was absent.

  So was Seth Burdett.

  Naked and bound, Miss Corey Gibson was led to her new slavery by
a hand grasping her hair. The hand was far from kind.

  It was not the Beverly Hilton. But it was pleasant and the best Ben Sirah could offer. There was an exciting fragrance of coffee. For the time being the large airy room and balcony was a piece of America. Assef Aslam's money could accomplish anything anywhere.

  "If we seem a bit awkward it's because of the clothes." Audrey giggled. "It's been so long."

  "Being naked on the coffle was so terribly convenient for us all." Corey added mischieviously. "You've no idea."

  For a moment Reid Hunter looked embarrassed. "Well, I suppose I do have an idea…" He broke off awkwardly and laughed with them. Then surveyed his expensively clad duo with immense approval. "I believe that trek through the wilderness must have done you good. Those figures of your's…! Wow!"

  "You had a damn good look at'em." Corey snapped.

  "Expect me to close my eyes?" He chuckled. "They treat you right here… let you see what you're buying. I damn near bid on that girl they whipped. But I doubt if Assef would go for her on the expense sheet."

  "You mean, seeing that ppor kid flogged did something for you?" Corey was piqued. "You ought to be ashamed!"