Love Slave

by Terry Wakelin

  Silence.

  Then Khalif’s voice again, this time obviously giving orders. She strained her ears, but could not make out the words.

  The noise of men moving purposefully about shipboard business began; blocks creaked, sails cracked and snapped in the wind. Charlotte shifted her position as much as she could as painful cramps in her thighs and calves threatened to overcome her fear of what might happen to her if she straightened her legs. She listened desperately to the sounds filtering down from the deck and trying to imagine what was happening. How long would it be before the Nubian came for her? she wondered. Oh God, how would she be able to bear further punishment from the terrible whip?

  Orders were shouted, spars rattled and canvas flapped. Then the rumble of wood on wood as the oars were run out. Measured footfalls began on the catwalk between the rowers and a deep voice began to call out the cadence. Charlotte’s heart thumped in her chest as the ship’s previous belly-churning, wallowing motion changed to a more comfortable sway. They were under way . . . to who knew where?

  Some time later; to the frightened girl it seemed like hours; the sound of a key turning in the lock set her nerves jangling and, despite her previous resolve, she found her limbs trembling. For a moment she thought she might faint. Now would come the reckoning! Whatever had possessed her? she thought despairingly. Why could she not have just submitted to his touch? The whipping she had already received had been dreadful . . . almost unbearable . . . yet still she had been unable to control her temper. God in Heaven, what punishment would the Nubian inflict on her now? Shaking, she bent her head to the floor in the humiliating posture Zamil had previously demanded, eyes squeezed tightly closed as she awaited her fate.

  Footsteps approached and stopped in front of her.

  “You may rise now, Charlotte! ” said an amused, familiar voice and she lifted her head to see Khalif standing there.

  Charlotte shook her head, hopelessly. “I am not your enemy, Khalif,” she blurted. “Why do you treat me like this? ”

  “Your uncle treats with the Spanish and you travel on Spanish ships at your convenience. This makes you my enemy. ”He smiled, eyes feasting on her nude body. “You are also very beautiful. What do you expect? You are a prize of war, Charlotte. ”

  Filled with a sudden righteous indignation, Charlotte bridled immediately. Despite her previous terror, she just could not help herself. This was the man who was the root cause of all that had happened. She hated him. Her voice shook with fear and tears filled her eyes, yet still she tried to convey her contempt. “I shall not be a prize for you! On deck my courage failed me; but it will not again. I will die before I submit to you or any of your scum. ”

  Khalif frowned. “Zamil thinks you should be whipped,” he said softly. “Perhaps he is right. ”

  Charlotte’s heart quailed at the thought, yet still she could not retreat. “And will you whip me yourself, brave Captain? ” she whispered. “Whipping a helpless girl is what I would expect from traitorous filth like you! ”

  Khalif’s smile faded a little at the last insult. Reaching out, he lifted the whip from between Charlotte’s breasts and hung it casually back on its hook. “Are you all right? ” he asked, turning to Fleur.

  She nodded weakly. “Oui, m’sieur,” she whispered.

  “Good. Get back up on your bunk and rest! Someone will come for you later. ”

  Turning back to Charlotte, he continued:“Traitor, my lady? Traitor? ”There was a mocking tone to his voice. “Filth? Scum? Possibly! Sworn enemy also of those who condemned me to the rowing benches? Definitely! ”He lifted his arms so that she could see the scars on his wrists. “But traitor, your ladyship? No . . . I think not. ”

  Charlotte did not trust herself to speak further as he lifted her to her feet. Her legs were a little unsteady and she was forced to lean against him for balance as she stood up.

  His gaze took in the tears on her cheeks without comment. Then he took off his cloak and wrapped it around her nakedness. “Come! ” he ordered quietly. . . .

  Earlier, waiting in the great stern cabin, Dragut Bey had listened as the cheering and savage shouts for vengeance from the main deck subsided. He was keenly aware of the high regard in which the corsairs held his second-in-command. If they listened to anyone . . . aside from himself, of course . . . it would be Khalif.

  At that moment, he was examining, with some curiosity, one of the two longbows taken in the raid. He had managed with great effort to string the thing, but had then found it almost impossible to draw it back properly. He shook his head in exasperation and threw it angrily into one corner. What was the use of such an awkward weapon? Much better and easier to use were the corsair crossbows

  The old pirate held out his cup and immediately a naked, dark-haired girl moved to re-fill it. She hardly seemed to aim the spout, yet managed to fill the cup perfectly, spilling not a drop of the precious liquid. Then, eyes lowered submissively, she set down the pot and resumed her kneeling position.

  Dragut ignored her as if she were part of the furniture. Hundreds, thousands, just like her were held captive all across Islam. Indeed, the girl’s beauty notwithstanding, there was nothing particularly remarkable about her except that, on closer examination, it might be seen that the pert nipples crowning the her breasts had at some time been pierced and set with decorative gold rings, a practice certainly not common for a serving slave. Also evident was the fact that the girl’s outer labia were similarly decorated and at present bore the weight of a small golden padlock. She was, of course, no ordinary slave. This was the fat Malagan’s favoured Egyptian dancing girl and pleasure slave.

  The door opened and Khalif re-entered the cabin.

  “That was well done, my friend,” said Dragut cheerfully.

  Khalif grunted and sat down. Immediately, another girl, similarly naked, moved to kneel at his side. This girl, too, was dark-haired and very beautiful; though her nipples and labia bore no rings or padlock. Khalif’s gaze fell on the discarded bow and one eyebrow lifted, but he said nothing.

  “To business, then,” said Dragut, settling himself more comfortably. “One or two things have happened since last we met. ”

  Khalif grunted and held out his cup so that Meylissah could fill it. He didn’t look at her, taking it for granted that she would perform her task perfectly.

  “I give thanks,” said Dragut, lifting his own cup to his lips and drinking deeply, “that I was able to hold station long enough to keep our rendezvous. ”

  “I too, my friend,” returned Khalif. “These damned Spanish are no hands at sailing, nor time-keeping, for that matter. ”

  “Well then! ” said Dragut. “One or two things have happened since we last met. ”He scratched his groin reflectively. “It seems that a new Bey rules in Tunis . . . a man called Mulay Aruj. He arrived some months ago with the Sultan’s warrant and a strong force of Janissaries. ”

  Khalif leaned forward. “Mulay Aruj . . . ? ” he murmured, “. . . I have heard of him! ”

  Dragut, mouth half full, nodded. “A devil in human form, from all accounts,” he mumbled. “Murder and torture go hand in hand under his rule. Tunis groans under his weight. By his order, just a month ago, two corsair captains were crucified on the city wall for refusing to turn over their cargoes to him. ”

  Khalif’s expression darkened and his brows knitted together in a frown. “How can this be? Tunis has always been a haven for us. ”

  “No longer, I’m afraid. Mulay in the past, it seems, was a very successful slaver and, as you know, our glorious Sultan cares little who supplies him with new girlflesh. Now, with a royal warrant in his bloody hand, all corsair ships in Tunis must serve the new Bey or take the consequences. He has his own auction house and sends the pick of female slaves to the royal harem. He also demands and takes a fifth of everything else brought into port. All who oppose him a
re killed. ”Dragut turned his head and spat. “Not a month ago he sent emissaries to me demanding that we also join his alliance on pain of death. ”

  “And how did you respond? ”

  The old pirate chief shrugged his shoulders. “As you might expect. I sent the messengers’ heads back to his master in a basket. So be warned . . . for the present, you and I are no longer welcome in Tunis! ”His face lightened a little. “Still, there are plenty of other ports. ”He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “More importantly, I received certain dispatches two days ago. We are summoned to Algiers for a meeting of the Brotherhood. ”

  “Do you know why?

  “I am not sure, though it seems probable that it has something to do with this Mulay Aruj and what is going on in Tunis. ”He coughed and then went on, almost as an afterthought. “Oh . . . and there was something about a Spanish fleet. ”

  “A fleet? ” mused Khalif. “What does that mean, I wonder? ”

  “I don’t know. We will surely learn more when we get there. ”He looked at Khalif seriously. “The messenger was most clear about the urgency, so I suggest we make all haste! In Algiers we should receive a pretty price for the King of Spain’s great galleass and crew. ”He reached out absently to fondle one of Leila’s gold-tipped breasts and, instinctively, she squared her shoulders and thrust them out for his touch.

  “What about the San Cristobal’s cannon? ” asked Khalif.

  “The cannon? Do you want to keep them? ”Dragut frowned.

  Khalif nodded decisively. “From what you say about this Mulay Aruj, not to mention a Spanish fleet, I think we should. Added to those we already have at the fortress, they might serve us well . . . and if we take them into Algiers, the Dey will surely want them for himself. ”

  Dragut made up his mind quickly. “I agree. Perhaps you should take them to the fortress, then follow on as quickly as you can to Algiers. Given the urgency of the dispatches, I think one of us should get there as quickly as possible. It does give us something of a problem, though. Swords and crossbows are all right for close quarters, but the San Cristobal without cannon is a ripe plum ready to be picked. What happens if you run into a Spanish patrol? ”

  Khalif pursed his lips. “Not likely, but . . . yes, you are right. I will keep six of the bigger guns aboard, just in case . . . and Jahwar can escort us in Persephone. Then the Dey shall have them as a gift and not be displeased. ”

  Dragut grinned. “Always the diplomat, eh? ” he chuckled. “You are right, of course. We should not displease the Dey. ”

  Khalif held out his cup and Meylissah quickly re-filled it.

  “Which brings us to another matter,” said Dragut, now reaching forward to fondle gently between Leila’s conveniently positioned thighs. She writhed silently as the old corsair’s fingers penetrated her lower body to investigate the depths of her moist passage, yet still managed somehow not to spill any of the liquid.

  Khalif looked at him questioningly.

  “Jahwar now bears you a grudge. ”Dragut frowned. “I can understand how you feel, but did you have to take the Inglése milady from him at swordpoint? Juicy she may be, but you know how touchy these Berber chiefs are about such things. He will find it difficult to forgive. ”

  Khalif smiled grimly. “The idiot was about to cut her throat,” he replied. “And, as you observed earlier, there is no profit in dead slave-girls. ”

  Dragut’s finger began to titillate Leila’s clitoris and she caught her breath, her writhings growing ever more urgent. The old pirate pretended not to notice, his cunning caress continuing to drive the naked girl further towards helpless orgasm. “You’ll sell her then? ” he asked mildly.

  Khalif’s tone was casual. “Perhaps. Her ransom would certainly be high. ”

  Dragut sighed. “Well . . . she is your captive. You must do as you wish. Watch your back from now on! The Berber is a dangerous man to cross! ”

  Khalif looked unworried. “Perhaps. But he is too good a man to lose unless I have to. I will apologise as soon as I can and I’m sure he will see sense. If not . . . ”He shrugged and placed a hand on the hilt of his scimitar.

  Dragut laughed and, removing his fingers from the writhing Leila’s sexual passage, slapped her hard on the rear. He grinned at her yelp of pain and disappointment. “Very well, I leave the matter to you, then. ”

  Leila rubbed ruefully at her reddened bottom.

  “Thine is a nice body, girl,” commented Dragut casually.

  “Thank you, Master,” she whispered, then gasped and jerked as a calloused finger probed none too gently between her bottom cheeks.

  Dragut scowled and instantly she froze, proffering herself even more blatantly. Placated, the pirate Lord removed the questing finger. “Ah well,” he yawned. “Time to go. ”He got to his feet and gathered his cloak around him. “It has been a long night, and a busy one . . . and we both have a long way to journey. ”

  Khalif, too, stood up and the two men embraced. Together they left the cabin and walked to the ship’s side. “Take care, old friend! ” said Khalif as Dragut swung a leg over the rail. “Do not get caught by the Spanish! ”

  Dragut chuckled. “I will see you in Algiers. Meantime, let the Spanish take care. Allah protects me . . . as he does all true believers! ”Just before swinging down to the deck of the Arab galley with an agility that might have done justice to a man half his age, the old corsair turned back to his companion. “I am curious, my son,” he asked in a low voice. “The Inglése milady . . . you really do not want her? ”

  The younger man shrugged his shoulders unconcernedly. “Perhaps . . . perhaps not. I have not yet made up my mind,” he replied.

  Dragut grunted. “Well . . . as you decide. Ransom her . . . sell her . . . keep her . . . it is your choice! ”He winked and smiled. “No need to deny yourself, though. Whatever you decide, it is well known that the Dey is not particularly interested in virgins . . . if, indeed, she is one. ”He gestured back towards the cabin. “In fact, do as you wish with all of them! ”He groaned theatrically, lowering himself over the ship’s side. “Allah knows, I grow too old for such juicy dishes. ”

  Now it was Khalif’s turn to smile. Old or not, Dragut Bey still possessed an unquenchable zest for the pleasures of the flesh - as the seventy odd concubines in his harem and twice as many children testified.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘A Girl Finds a Master’

  In the San Cristobal’s great stern cabin, wrists confined in

  iron manacles, Charlotte knelt at the Corsair Chief, Khalif Barbar’s side as he reclined on a pile of cushions set against the wall under the cabin windows.

  On a low table, to one side, stood a tray containing sweetmeats and the almost mandatory long-spouted jug of mint tea. The large ports stood open and a cool breeze gently caressed her brow.

  Yet again she was naked.

  Of the three other girls there was no sign. Were they, perhaps, being similarly humiliated by other corsairs? she wondered bitterly, her mind a riot of confused and frightening thoughts. ‘Slave’, Zamil had called her! Her mind rejected the thought as unthinkable, yet how could she . . . or the others . . . resist whatever these men wanted to do to them?

  “Please . . . ! ” she had asked with as much dignity as she could muster when Khalif had taken back his cloak. “May I have my clothes? ”

  His reply had been short and uncompromising. “Clothes are not necessary for a slave! ”

  She shook her head hopelessly and shivered as he continued to look at her, her mind only now beginning to accept the previously unthinkable. All that had happened; her close encounter with death at the hands of the giant Berber; stripped and paraded for all to see, the whipping by Zamil; forced to kneel as she was; all underlined the undeniable fact that this unfeeling brute was, to all intents and purposes, her Master!

&
nbsp; Was it only yesterday she’d insulted this strong, handsome young man? Now she was naked and totally helpless before him. Incredibly, to her utter shame and embarrassment, she suddenly realised that she was sexually aroused. Under Khalif’s gaze, something was happening, taking hold of her body; an emotion or feeling as yet unconfessed, yet over which she had little or no control. Blushing, she felt the heat in her lower body; a sensation fed and stirred by her tacit acceptance of sexual subjugation at his hands.

  He examined her candidly and her breath came faster. Did he . . . could he . . . know what was happening to her? The feeling was strong and growing; something primeval; to do with her very femaleness. She could feel the moistening of her loins. The seconds stretched on and still he continued to gaze. Unconsciously, her breath became shallower and more urgent. Her heart beat faster and faster.

  Khalif smiled knowingly and Charlotte’s sexual bubble was abruptly deflated. Her face and neck were crimson. He knew . . . he knew! Oh God, how easily had he aroused her. Just by looking!

  Defensively she raised her chained hands in front of her breasts. “Let me go! ” she pleaded weakly. “Please . . . you know my uncle will pay you well for my release! ”

  He said nothing.

  “You say the Spaniards murdered your family and made you a galley slave. ”She blinked back her tears. “But I am English . . . not Spanish. What have I ever done to you? ”She shook her head, angry again. “I will NOT be a slave,” she whispered, almost as if to herself, “to you . . . or to anyone else. ”Her voice grew stronger. “My uncle will have your head for this. ”

  He considered her grimly and Charlotte’s heart thumped painfully in her chest. Had she gone too far? Desperately she did not wish to feel the shocking pain of the slave whip again. What he said next, however, was as shocking as it was unexpected.