by Hans Meijer
Audrey Cotswold knew herself doomed. They had a good thing going and would use her as they pleased. The uniforms meant nothing. The title of Magistrate meant nothing, Mr. Syroid was a rogue. In this place white female flesh was more valuable than the promise of cash, a promise which she realised was extremely tenuous. She sat on her seared bottom on her cot within the hateful small cell and watched the corporal fit the handcuffs on her ankles and click them tight. "What have I done to serve that?" She asked without hope. "You've already replaced the cuffs on my wrists and elbows."
"It makes a nice ensemble, Miss Cotswold." Mr. Syroid enthused. "Innocence in chains" or perhaps "The maiden all forlorne." "Surely you would not begrudge us an aesthetic pleasure?"
"But makes me so helpless! I can't do anything for myself. And there are things…"
"They can be dealt with on request. In the meantime you look very pretty."
Audrey had to believe him. Over the period of a couple of days there were enough male eyes peering at her through the bars to prompt the thought of him selling tickets. She was asked to show her wealed bottom and do pose… She did her best. She knew herself broken. She did not want to return to the bench.
Her day in Court was brief and highly illuminating. The Judge talked to the corporal and the corporal spoke to her. Regardless of her shocking iniquities the Court was prepared to be most merciful. She would still be publicly whipped, but not imprisoned. "You are so young and so beautiful, it is a pity to lock you in a stone cell for twenty years." The corporal explained. "You would come out so old… Even if your jailors fucked you it would not be nice…! So you are fined one hundred thousand of your American dollars and, of course, your public whipping."
"But I don't have a hundred thousand dollars, not here!"
"In that case it is the prison."
She sensed a hint. Mr. Syroid made it clear. "You have a means of obtaining it, Miss Cotswold."
"In Ben Sirah! How?"
"After you have been whipped you may instruct us to have you sold."
It dovetailed, no doubt planned. "You mean in that slave auction they have here?" She asked incredulously.
"Of course!"
"But surely it's illegal? Why don't you stop it? It's your duty to stop it!"
"The slave Auction of Ben Sirah is known throughout the world." The corporal intoned reprovingly. "It is everywhere approved. In this country it is not illegal at all. The State receives revenues…"
"But what happens to me? Where will I…?"
"We will arrange everything for you, Miss Cotswold." Mr. Syroid asured suavely.
"But I don't want to be shipped! Surely you don't have to have that done to me?"
"Is most needful we show action."The corporal explained helpfully. "You are most criminal. You must visibly be seen to be punished or this Court loses face. You do understand…?"
She did indeed! "I understand I'm being railroaded." Audrey said bitterly. "But look, this whipping… It doesn't have to be in public? I don't want to be dragged out naked and whipped in public for everyone to gawp at!"
"How else can the public know…?"
Audrey Cotswold accepted defeat. She supposed it might turn out better than to be locked in some dismal hole for twenty years and be violated by all and sundry. She looked at her male inquisitors wanly: "When does it happen?" "You will be whipped five days from now."
"Why not tomorrow and get it done?"
"We wish to fuck you often before you leave us." The corporal explained ingenuously. "And besides, there is the advertising and the printing of the posters…"
Audrey let herself be led back to the cage. She was in a daze of incredulity. She let her ankles be locked together without comment. Her wrists and arms had not been freed. Somehow her tunic had been lost along the way. She took the small red pill they gave her every night and spread her legs obediently for them throughout each day. With great ceremony they locked and unlocked her ankles each time she was pierced. As the corporal had said: In Ben Sirah they did things right.
The crowd was surprising. But after all why not? A naked girl to be whipped in public did not happen every day. And the girl was white…! Without illusions, Audrey mounted the steps of the platform and beheld the dangling rope… It was not for her neck but for her wrists. She was experienced enough to know she would survive. Each stroke upon her nakedness would be a step through agony, but eventually the steps would take her out the other side. She remembered other whippings. Hands still behind her back, she faced the blur of faces, naked for their delectation. She stood, woodenly, while she was prepared. Her hands and arms spresd wide to the bar above her head, her ankles tied out to rings in the platform. She knew what that meant… she would be whipped between her legs. Well… it had all happened before, but never in public! She saw and felt the potency of being whipped in public. She had never been so naked, never so shamed. Those close to the platform were looking up into the cleft of her spread thighs at her Venus mound. Her breasts and nipples were for everyone…!
Audrey faced the multitude. The privileged sat in rows of chairs provided behind her back. They would be able to see the thong as it seared her skin. She had caught sight of the whip as she had been led to where she now stood. She wondered if any white girl had ever been so blatantly exhibited in Africa…! Or so cruelly punished! With the first stroke of the lash she closed her eyes and, while she screamed, went back in memory to the whippings ordered for her flesh by Assef Aslam.
"You are a very brave girl." Said the corporal sincerely after the crowd had tired at the sight of her and the dignatories had gone. "I am sorry I cannot part with the handcuffs."
Still on the platform, Audrey stood erect and let him do his will with her arms and wrists. She was in a maze of pain but also in a well of thankfulness that her whipping was done. With an eye to her forthcoming auction the law of Ben Sirah had stopped short of doing her skin real injury. She had been competently whipped. The crowd had been edified by her screams. The dignatories sitting on the platform to watch the actual impact of the lash upon her skin had all gone home with gratifying erections. Her wrists were being tied behind her back with cord. Nou doubt the police budget did not run to a gift of handcuffs. The corporal noosed her neck for a tether and led her to the place she knew of old. There were cordial handshakes all around. Some papers were signed. The English girl was not accorded the sole use of a cage. Her neck was shackled to the wall, her chain was long… there were the pails! In the gloom of the big chamber, and all alone, she thought longingly of Corey. She fingered her weals in tender exploration of damage. She sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall. There wasn't much else she could do except to wonder how much money she would fetch, who would buy her, and how long she would have to wait. But she did not have to wait at all. The next day she had a visitor.
It was Reid Hunter.
"You're dead." She said flatly when he sauntered to her chain.
"Well, you're not." He surveyed her jauntily. "They whipped you, didn't they! The silly bastards! If we'd got word a day sooner…!"
"But, Reid, you were…?"
"No I wasn't. A lot of blood and a knock on the head. Lucky really, Abdul and his boys thought I was dead too. They didn't touch the jet, so I flew home. Then some asshole of a lawyer got in touch…"
"Mr. Syroid?"
"Right! Now I've got to buy you all over again. Fortunately Syroid didn't know your market value. I'm getting you cheap this time."
"Where's Assef?"
"New York. Waiting for you. I think he's decided to let Corey go rather than pay a few more millions. She's her dad's affair from now on. Where is she?"
"I don't know. Abdul took her. Oh, reid, I'm so damn thankful you're here! I've been whipped and screwed…!"
"So I see." He raised her to her feet, her chain trailing. Then kissed her gently, the kiss of a big brother. "I still love you. Welcome home."
"But, Reid darling, I'm still chained!"
"Why, so you are! Bu
t no problem." He chuckled. "I have to do something you'll hate though. Assef's got a notion… you know, the way men are?"
"Sure, I know. Don't worry about it."
"I have to deliver you back in chains or tightly bound."
"What's wrong with that?" Said Audrey Cotswold happily. "I thought you were going to tell me something rough. After what's been done to me…! Darling, hurry. Get me out of this."
Reid Hunter chuckled her under the chain and kissed her again.
Chapter 6
"Hold on, sweets. I'll go and pay the cash and get your key. Be right back."
The relief was one huge tingling excitement. Audrey Cotswold stood, fingering her metal collar, savouring these last moments of a more mercenary slavery than Assef Aslam had ever imposed. The collar would soon be gone, and so would she! The plush luxury of Aslam's New York empire would enfold and protect her once again. She was more amused than concerned by his order that she be returned to him bound and helpless. They understood each other. These whimsies of his were a part of whatever strange bond it was that held them. She gave herself to them gladly. They were a small price to pay for what he gave her. She had found in this austere and enigmatic man something no other woman had touched. He too had found in his enslavement of this English beauty a feminine response unique and satisfying.
Assef Aslam whipped Audrey Cotswold far more often than an observer might suppose. Few of the grave faces round the Board Room table had an inkling that beneath her exquisitely expensive clothes her skin bore livid weals or that her bottom was ridged by a cane. They knew only that as she handed round the documents she exuded wafts of femininity disturbing to the male. She was widely desired.
Audrey was content with her Master's changing moods. She knew it vital she yield to them. In any of the premises they shared there was a room set aside for her punishments. These rooms were as austere as the man himself. Assef's taste in female pain was simple and easily dispensed. They often laughed over the word 'punishment' that was rarely a punishment at all but was, instead, an erotic caprice of his own sensuality. One of his favourites was to gaze up at her gravely from his chair before the commencement of a meeting and state simply a number: ten, twenty, fifty… She would nod and brightly smile, knowing that when the rest had gone she would be taken to the punishment room and whipped with that number of strokes. He sometimes added to his terse statement of a number the word 'above' or 'below' so that she would know whereabouts on her body he would place his weals. Between that moment and the time when it began Audrey Cotswold would be obliged to hide from view the tingling bundle of erotic sensation she had become. It was that way now. When The man came with the rope she recognized one of Assef's favourite cruelties. Everything was much worse for a girl if she received her inflictions from an underling. It was as though teh Master could not be bothered. A servant could bind or whip the slavegirl and effect a useful saving of time. Or sometimes the Master would watch while it was done. Audrey had hated it al first, but had grown to find in it the same sexual stimulation as in all else. The newcomer grinned broadly and she smiled back.
An advantage of collar and chain is that it leaves the rest of the girl available. With quickened pulse, Audrey stood while here hands were tied behind her back. She wished it was not palm to palm: that meant her elbows too! But she was too happy to care about pain, and braced herself against the tugs and tensions by which her forearms were joined as one and her elbows well laced with rope. She recognized her binder as one of te Auction Market's staff. No doubt he had bound a good many girls with an artistry to catch a buyer's eye. She was excitedly pleased by the care he was taking with her now. When she turned to say so was the moment she got the gag. There was something wrong! Audrey's alarm bells were ringing lustily. The gag was a false note. There was no need of it. She and reid had things to say. If Assef wanted her gagged it could be done just prior to her delivery which was some hours distant. But she was being gagged with the same care as with which she was bound. It was a hateful but well constructed inhibitor of speech. A soft pouch of something filling her mouth, a reinforced velvet band across her lips, clipped tight over her hair at the nape of her neck above her collar. A collar she was evidently still to wear. When its chain clattered to the floor the padlock clicked again to leave her with a metal memento round her neck. She had long since grown accustomed to its weight. It did not matter.
The horses were all wrong too. She was hoisted on to one and her ankles cinched under its belly. Her companion mounted the other. They left the dustiness of Ben Sirah at an easy lope. Before they found the path into the scrub, Audrey Cotswold saw Aslam's plane waiting on the sand. It looked every bit as lonely as she felt.
They rode a steady pace for hours, defeating the miles. Such travellers as they passed viewed the constrained girl with a tolerant eye. She was a delinquent wife or unwilling bride being taken to her just desserts. This was Africa. They smiled and nodded. Audrey understood why she was gagged. They rode for two days and nights on short rations and brief sleep. At the first dusk her gag was taken from her mouth and her elbows freed.
"My name Effayd. You make trouble I cut branch and whip."
It was a helpful introduction. He was amiable: best keep him so. She reverted to the slave. "Where are you taking me, Master?"
"No matter. Is to get you from Ben Sirah. Ben Sirah not good for you now."
"But I thought Mr. Hunter from New York had purchased me?"
"Deal no happen yet. All wrong. You worth much money." He grinned confidingly and ejected a startling colloquialism: "Fucking coppers!" Warningly, he added: "No more questions."
A small light in darkness. Slavery was alternate hope and despair. A wise slave did what she could with both. "Please untie my hands, Master?" She asked politely.
Effayd considered her helplessness gravely. "You wish to shit?"
She was impervious to shock, but wanted to giggle. "I… Well, I'm… I can't do anything."
He untied her hands, joined his sundry ropes, and attached one end to her collar. "You go behind bush. You tug rope, I know you still safe."
"Thank you, Master." She was genuinely grateful.
At dusk, Effayd shrugged apologetically and re-tied her wrists behind her back, laid her down and tied her ankles, prudently tethering them to a tree. "Am sorry. But you must not be free. I know no other way…" Audrey did not know another way either. She went to sleep. At saddling up time very early in the morning, she pleaded. "Please, Master, not the way I was yesterday?"
Again, his grave attention. "Hurt bad?"
"Yes, Master. All you need to do is tie my wrists crossed in front and tie them down to the saddle. I can't do a thing. I can ride, I can use the stirrups. My ankles are all cut, they don't need to be tied under the horse." She gave him her best pathetic look. "And I promise I won't speak when we pass anyone…" As a sweetener, she added: "You can whip me terribly if I don't behave."
Effayd considered, point by point, then nodded. A few minutes later Audrey sat her horse as a rider should. Her crossed wrists were tied where she suggested. It was very practical. As an additional precaution he sternly caught her eye. "I whip to cut your skin!"
"Thank you, Master."
They rode hard and fast all day.
At dusk, after she returned from behind a bush and was still free, her escort enquired blandly: "You would like me to fuck you?" It was a question slavegirls were well attuned to. Audrey knew it well. It was often followed by the casual but pregnant suggestion Effayd now employed. "Of course, if you would prefer to be well whipped…?"
"Thank you, Master. Please fuck me."
In a scale of one to ten, Effayd ranked no more than six. But she had made him happy. He had been kind. He was kind now.
"Is better way to tie for night."
Audrey wanted to please him. Obediently, she stood with her back pressed against a tree's slender trunk. She was always a little breathless at such times. She was breathless now as her arms were drawn back and
her wrists crossed and bound. Effayd took much trouble with her wrists. A care and caution she could understand, but counted herself fortunate.
"There! Is nice tie!"
It was certainly simple. She could not leave the tree, her arms embraced it behind her back. From the feel of her wrists she knew they would stay tied. "Thank you, Master. But for the night: must I stand?"
"You silly girl! You sit. You sit now."
Silly indeed! Cautiously, she edged down. But her feet were free and made the change, if not easy, at least possible. With her back resting against the trunk she smiled up into his earnest regard. "Yes, it's good. And I won't be able to get loose."
"Now you stand again."
It took a lot of wriggling and heaving but she managed. Standing as he had tied her, she smiled gratefully. Effayd was satisfied. He nodded, pleased. Then went to seek his rest. After a few minutes of sampling her new captivity Audrey did the same. Wryly, she named her awkward descent to the ground as going downstairs. She slept.
