“Let her go, young man! ” he chuckled“Lady Charlotte is a little embarrassed by our entertainment and she will not thank you for your attention. For now, it is better to leave her alone. ”
Salim bin Rahdi also smiled at Charlotte’s confused retreat. Then, as the sweating Leila spread herself in front of the first-chosen man, he turned back to the spectacle.
Meylissah was still asleep when Charlotte re-entered the cabin, though her breathing seemed much easier and she appeared to be sleeping naturally. Quickly, she donned her nighdress and climbed into her own bunk, dimly hearing the applause and excited shouts of the men in the Captain’s cabin, then a little later the cheers and shouts of‘to me . . . to me’ as the slave-girl, presumably at Valdez’ whim, began to intimately entertain each in turn. Burying her face in the pillow so as not to wake Meylissah, Charlotte sobbed her anguish as the noise went on . . . and on. Bitterly she pictured what was happening in the cabin above! Brutes . . . swine! How could they, she thought bitterly and then, as the unthinkable crystallised in her mind, ‘how could HE? ’
She tossed and turned for a long time, unable to sleep. The ‘San Cristobal, once her helm was turned for the coast again, began to pitch and roll in quite a disturbing manner as the strong Mediterranean swell, driven by the gusting north-easterly, once more made itself felt. She eventually drifted into a fitful sleep full of troubled dreams . . . dreams of soft pierced flesh, steel blue eyes, and strong hands roaming over her nakedness and strong lips crushing her own. In one such dream she saw herself in a dim chamber . . . and manacled! She did not realise this until . . . in the dream . . . she tried to move. She was naked and the irons were tight about her wrists and ankles, holding her fast to a grim stone altar in an outstretched ‘X’ position. Struggling for memory, she lifted her head and looked around the dim chamber . . . and screamed! All around were other girls . . . beautiful girls . . . all naked as she and chained in some way.
Men were there, too . . . many men . . . using the helpless girls in disgusting, perverted, almost unthinkable ways. Mouths, bottoms, breasts, vaginas . . . nothing, it seemed, was sacrosanct. Yet without exception the chained girls seemed to welcome their usage.
One particular man . . . a very large, dark-faced man she was sure she had seen before, yet who for some reason she did not recognise . . . entered the chamber and approached where she lay. She moaned in shame as he looked down at her splayed nakedness, excited despite the shame, loins already oiling themselves at the thought of what was to come.
“Be silent! ” warned the intruder. “Make no noise! ”Swiftly he mounted the altar and pressed himself between her parted legs. She shivered with excitement; her wrists and ankles jerking spasmodically against the metal bonds which held them. Her would-be rapist was already hugely erect. “Shhhhh! ” the man warned again, his hands on her breasts, kneading and massaging; fingers pulling at her suddenly erect nipples, his solid length nudging inexorably at her love portal.
Then he had slipped easily inside her; filling her with the solid length of himself as he moved steadily and determinedly towards his . . . and her own . . . gratification. Writhing under him, she felt as if her lower half was filled with a great moving pillar of flesh pistoning in fast friction almost to a bursting point. The man . . . still she could not fathom his identity . . . paused for a moment and then drew back, relieving her a little of the feeling of fullness, before surging right back into her again, even fiercer than before. He reached between them and Charlotte felt his fingers pulling apart the lips of her sex to expose and caress the erect nub of flesh that was her clitoris. It was enough! Helplessly, she lifted her hips in rapturous response; head flung back, mouth gasping as the full force of orgasm burst suddenly upon her.
She awoke to find herself on her own bunk; covers flung aside in disarray, her night-dress pulled up to her waist. She was slick with sweat, her fingers still moving between her thighs as the throbbing violence of her orgasm began to wane. It had all been a dream . . . but what a dream! In sudden panic, she looked to where Meylissah still lay on the other bunk, deeply relieved when she saw that the girl was still sleeping peacefully. Still shaking, she rearranged her night-dress and pulled up the covers.
Chapter Five
‘Attack’
In the little cable tier where she had been held prisoner in the
months since her capture, a nude girl lay with wrists and ankles secured tightly to the corners of a filthy bunk as the San Cristobal’s brutish First Mate took violent possession of her helpless body.
It was a common enough occurrence. Since her capture, she had been used in one fashion or another almost every day by a succession of Spanish officers. This particular brute, though, liked to tie her down, seeming to gain even more pleasure by having her completely helpless as he raped her.
The Mate’s hands descended once again to maul and squeeze the swollen, discoloured breasts and the girl gave another half-stifled squeal of pain through the wadded, sour-tasting cloth stuffed deep into her mouth as the thin cords noosed so tightly around the base of each cut deeper into the soft flesh. Then the rapist was climaxing and, belly heaving, the girl struggled desperately to match his frantic thrusts. “Fail to please me, bitch,” the Mate had warned her, squeezing her tortured globes so hard she’d thought she might faint from the pain, “and I’ll cut these off! ”She’d believed him. The devil was capable of anything.
It was at that moment that the door opened to admit a tall, bare-chested figure. From where he lay between the girl’s legs, the Spaniard looked up in alarm and tried to withdraw. Too late! Quick as a striking snake the figure lunged with a sword and the First Mate collapsed limply on top of his terrified victim.
With a look of disgust, the swordsman heaved the corpse from the spreadeagled girl and allowed it to slide off in an untidy heap to land on its back, a viscous trail of semen escaping from the man’s still-erect penis collecting in a little pool on his stomach.
Frightened, the girl lifted her head to stare up at her rescuer.
The intruder placed a finger to his lips and, drawing his dagger, gently cut the cords around her breasts. “Remain as you are! ” he whispered. “Soon the ship will be taken and then I will come back to release you. Do you understand? ”
Wide-eyed, the girl nodded her comprehension.
“Good. Do so and no harm will come to you! ” The door closed quietly behind him and the girl allowed herself to slump back on the bunk. Breathing heavily, she stared into the still open, yet lifeless eyes of the sadistic brute who would never again so abuse her. . . .
At the helm of the San Cristobal, in that dark cold blackness which precedes the dawn, the sailor on watch was expecting the ship’s Mate on his inspection. Lounging at the tiller, he was thinking, somewhat wistfully, of the girl he’d left behind in Valletta and wondered with a stab of jealousy whose bed she shared tonight. Lord, she’d been a looker! He remembered the smell of her; the sweaty feel of her nakedness as they’d lain together that last night. Would she still be waiting when he returned? he wondered.
The sound of a measured tread brought the helmsman upright as he made out a tall shadowy, indistinct figure approaching. ‘The bastard’s late this morning,’ he thought, ‘I bet he’s been having fun with the French whore! ’Just at that moment the wind took the mainsail, cracking it like a gunshot. Startled, he looked upwards. In that instant, the indistinct shape leapt forward, striking down expertly with the club-like instrument carried in his right hand. It was a terrible blow. Caught squarely on the temple, the helmsman pitched limply to the deck.
Swiftly and silently the shadowy figure made fast the tiller and then, just as silently, lit a lantern and hoisted it slowly to the mast-head and back down again. Seven or eight times he did the same thing, until he caught an answering flash of light far out in the blackness. Leaving the lantern burning at the top of the mast, he faded back into the d
arkness as silently as he had come. Pilotless now, the galleass sailed on into the night - no sound, apart from the wind, and the creak and rattle of the spars and blocks, to be heard. At intervals around the deck lay the prone and silent figures of the ship’s watch.
Minutes later, oars muffled, sails furled, two black-painted Arab galleys slipped out of the darkness like ghosts. Cautiously at first, then with increasing confidence as no alarm was raised, a stream of ragged, well-armed men swarmed aboard.
It was all over very quickly. The Spanish, waking bleary-eyed in their bunks, were no match for the attackers. Those who resisted were killed, the rest quickly herded into the ship’s hold where they were stripped and chained.
Surprise was complete; not a cannon fired . . . not an arrow loosed. Resistance over, the jubilant pirates ran to loot the ship.
Down in her cabin, Charlotte was jolted awake by the cheers and sounds of running feet on the deck above. Frightened, she scrambled from her bed to fumble frantically in the darkness for her clothes. She was still fumbling when the cabin door, which she had bolted from the inside, was dealt a blow from the passageway beyond. At a second assault, the sagging door burst inwards with a crash. There, framed in the light from the passage, blood still dripping from the double-headed axe held carelessly in one hand, stood a darkly bearded giant of a man in blood-stained robes.
The English girl was terror-stricken. What was happening? Was this yet another nightmare? Surely she must waken soon?
The corsair stepped into the cabin, his fingers closing on her shoulder, and she jerked away frantically, tearing her nightgown from neck to waist as she did so. Desperately, as her assailant’s other hand fastened on her waist, she kicked and pummelled until he lost patience and struck her a casual flat-handed blow which laid her, dazed and barely-conscious, across the bunk.
It was at this point that, from the cot in the corner, a female whirlwind launched herself onto the assailant’s back, striking down wildly with the razor-sharp dagger she kept always under her pillow.
“Run, Mistress! Run! ” gasped Meylissah.
Taken by surprise, the huge corsair gave a cry of pain as the blade penetrated his neck and lodged there. White with anger, he reached back with one hand, fingers closing around the Meylissah’s throat to pluck her from her perch. Face twisted with pain, he held her out at arm’s length; then threw her across the cabin like a rag doll. Meylissah screamed as she flew through the air, the scream abruptly cutting off as her head hit the wall with an ominous thump.
For a moment Charlotte went completely mad. Fingers crooked like talons; she went straight for the giant’s eyes. Fortunately for him, his reflexes were quick enough to save his sight, though in leaping clear he did manage to lose his footing, pitching over backwards with a crash.
Reason returned to Charlotte and she tried to run for it, but she was not quick enough. Even as she stepped over the fallen corsair, his fingers closed on her ankle and, with a savage growl, he jerked her down beside him, tearing off the remainder of the nightgown in the process. Holding her with one hand, he climbed to his feet and reached back to pull the dagger from his neck. Effortlessly, then, he propelled her to the little bunk and, still dazed, she did nothing to resist as he turned her onto her stomach and bent her over with her face in the covers.
Charlotte groaned and tried to move, but a meaty hand in the small of her back ensured that she stayed exactly as she was. Suddenly, something fleshy and hard began to force itself between her legs and she realised what was about to happen. Frantically she wriggled to one side and kicked out as hard as she could, catching her attacker square in the groin as he fought to hold her still.
Paralysed for a moment or two by the atrocious pain, the giant released his grip on Charlotte and straightened up, both hands cupping his injured groin as the breath whooshed from his body. Charlotte squirmed away, but found her path of escape still partially blocked by the sheer bulk of her would-be rapist.
She tried to slide past the groaning man and didn’t even see the blow that slammed her to the floor, senses whirling, stomach heaving. Her attacker, infuriated by the pain, had completely lost control. Picking up the dagger, he bent over his fallen victim and, taking her by the hair, jerked up her head so her throat was exposed. Dazed and helpless, Charlotte felt the sharp steel, still bloody from the man’s wound, lodge itself in the soft skin under her jaw. She looked into the mad, pain-filled eyes and saw only death waiting there. Fatalistically then, lifting her throat to the blade, she braced herself for the agonising slash that would end her life.
It didn’t happen. Even as her attacker’s arm flexed, there came a shout from the shattered doorway.
“Stop! ”
Startled, both Charlotte and the intruder looked up. Standing in the doorway stood a bare-chested Salim bin Rahdi, the muscles in his huge shoulders rippling as he lifted a scimitar held carelessly in one hand. “Stop, I say! ”Again the command. This time there was an edge to the voice that cut like a knife.
Snarling, Charlotte’s assailant came to his feet in one fluid movement, dragging her with him by the hair. She gasped for breath as her scalp was almost ripped from her head. Menacingly, he moved the dagger blade closer towards her throat. “She is mine, Khalif! ” growled the giant, defiantly. “I kill her, or let her live, as I decide. It is corsair law. ”
Salim smiled lazily and then, in a movement so smooth that Charlotte hardly saw it, the razor-sharp point of the scimitar was at the giant’s throat. Charlotte gasped. The movement had been so quick, so deadly; not at all the movement of a merchant.
“Very well, Jahwar of the Berbers! ” he said quietly. “Now you are mine, to kill, or not, as I decide. This,too, is corsair law. So. . . do we come to an understanding or do I send you to Allah’s mercy?”
Charlotte understood only a portion of the conversation, but her rescuer’s meaning was clear. If she were killed, her assailant was promised a similar fate.
The bearded giant’s face showed indecision if not fear. It seemed that he too had been impressed by the speed of the other’s attack. For a moment, he stood quite still. His anger was fading now and it was obvious, even to him, that he would be a dead man in seconds if the other so desired. The scimitar jabbed again, this time bringing a spot of blood to the skin.
“Make up your mind, girl-killer! ”
Jahwar made up his mind quickly. Carefully, so there could be no mistaking his intent, he turned the blade of the dagger away and offered the weapon, hilt first, to his antagonist.
Salim stretched out his hand, took it and tucked it in his belt. Abruptly, then, he withdrew the scimitar. “Go now, foolish one! ” he said easily, looking without humour on the man who, but a moment before, he might so easily have killed. “No! Leave the axe! ”Jahwar had stooped to retrieve the fearsome weapon from the floor. “You may retrieve it later! ”
Silently, the giant Berber crossed to the shattered doorway then turned to face his antagonist. His face was white with suppressed anger. “So be it! ” he gritted. “For the moment the nasrani slut is yours. Do with her as you wish, but do not think that Jahwar of the Axe will forget! ”
Then he was gone.
Although much of the Arabic exchange had gone over her head, Charlotte was in no doubt that she owed her life to the handsome young Moor. Suddenly her knees felt like jelly and she felt as if they might not support her for very much longer.
“Thank you, Salim,” she faltered, crimson with embarrassment now that they were alone and he was able to study her nakedness with such undisguised interest.
“Your life is now mine, Charlotte,” he said softly. “Quickly now! Do you accept my leash? ”
She gaped at him, her words coming as a disbelieving whisper. “Leash . . . ? ”
“Yes, leash. Mine . . . ” he indicated the upper deck, from where she could hear the whoops of the jubilant pir
ates, “. . . or theirs! Which do you prefer? ”
She looked into the steel-blue eyes and shuddered, sudden understanding flooding into her mind. “You are one of them? ” she whispered.
“Yes! ”
Still she did not want to believe.
“Well? ” he demanded.
There was no help for it. Bitterly, she faced him. “My clothes . . . I need to get dressed. ”
“Clothes will not be necessary,” he said quietly.
She stared at him in dismay. Surely he didn’t expect her to remain as she was. “But . . . but,” she faltered.
“No time to argue,” he growled. “Quickly. . . turn around! ”
Trembling, Charlotte did as he ordered, unprotesting as he quickly corded her wrists together. “Please . . . ,” she whispered, face crimson with embarrassment, “. . . allow me to cover myself! ”
There was a scream from overhead followed by a heavy splash as a body . . . or something similar . . . hit the water. From his belt, Salim bin Rahdi produced a strip of braided leather. “Be silent! ” he snapped.
Love Slave Page 6
