Then it was Charlotte’s turn, the slaver’s inquisitive fingers seeking and parting the ringed lips of her smooth cleft to confirm that she, too, was no less accommodating to his touch. A low, throaty moan was drawn from her as the fingers probed and then were withdrawn. Without expression, he offered them to her mouth, noting with satisfaction how quickly and obediently her lips parted to allow them entry and how carefully and assiduously she licked them clean of both her own and Meylissah’s juices.
“Good,” Ali grunted. “Now, do not forget what I have taught you! ” He tugged on the leashes. “Come! ” he ordered and, humming happily to himself, led them from the cell to the smaller courtyard which adjoined the auditorium. There, against one wall, was a small, canopied, wooden stage-like structure, roughly ten feet long by three feet deep. The little stage was not particularly high, only some two feet or so off the ground, yet ideal for the purpose to which it was about to be put. “Up you get, my beauties! ” he urged, pushing them forward and up the steps. “Stand there, both of you and raise your arms! ” he ordered, releasing their wrists and pointing to the front of the stage.
Both girls obeyed instantly, raising their arms and standing quietly as the slave-master efficiently roped them to slave rings set in the canopy support. When both were secured to his satisfaction, he turned his attention downwards, pulling both pairs of ankles well apart and fastening them, in turn, to more rings set in the floor. Then he left the stage and, as would a spectator, stood in front of the two spread-eagled girls, noting with satisfaction how they now stood straining on tiptoe, helplessly fastened in place.
They were a breathtaking sight, he thought. In that position, very little was hidden from a prospective buyer. His eyes swept over the Circassian. Meylissah, upper torso already shiny with sweat, twisted her body a little, trying to ease the strain. He shifted his gaze to Charlotte, noting that the sweat sheen had also already started on the larger girl’s magnificent curves.
For over an hour they were exhibited on the little stage. Charlotte lost count of the number of men, and some women, who came to stare. As instructed, both girls begged each prospective customer to: “Buy me, Master! ” or “Buy me, Mistress! ”, as the case might be. One or two prospective customers, bolder than the rest, even reached up to touch the helpless bodies dangling so temptingly in front of them. One such, a pimply-faced youth of no more than fifteen or so, even reached boldly under Charlotte’s silk to fondle the smooth, ringed cleft at the juncture of her thighs.
Ashamed, she nevertheless intoned the mandatory: “Buy me, Master! ”
“If I do, slave,” he said arrogantly, standing on tiptoe to slip two fingers easily inside the slick passage, “you may be sure this will be padlocked shut when it is not serving my purpose. ”
Charlotte thoughts went immediately back to the padlocked labia of Leila, whom she had last seen on the San Cristobal, and she was suddenly even more aroused. “Yes, Master,” she breathed throatily, as the boy’s fingers moved intimately between her spread thighs.
The boy removed his hand and walked on, leaving Charlotte distraught, tears running down her cheeks. To be so handled by a boy many years her junior, yet still become aroused. Truly, she was used and soiled goods . . . used and penetrated by so many men and objects in the past weeks that even she could not remember them all. She glanced at Meylissah through tear-filled eyes and received a sympathetic look in return.
Customers came and went; there seemed to be no end to them, and the time passed slowly. Still the two girls hung from their bonds, as Ali bin Hussein had intended, displayed to best advantage. By the time he came to release them, Charlotte had managed to compose herself a little, the tear-stains on her flushed cheeks small evidence that anything untoward had happened. If the slave-master noticed, he said nothing, merely busying himself with releasing the two suspended beauties.
“Come! ” he ordered. He did not fasten the slave bracelets, though he did leave the leashes in place. Gratefully, the girls followed him back to the little cell. “You have done well,” he said gruffly. “Make sure you do as well when you stand on the block! ”
Meylissah bobbed her head in fatalistic acknowledgement.
Turning to Charlotte, Ali spoke sternly. “Meylissah has been sold at auction before and knows what is expected of her. She will help you prepare. ”He tangled his fingers in her blonde hair to turn her face towards him. “This will not happen for a little while, however. For the moment, the Bey has requested that you be placed in his household to serve him. ”He looked at her seriously. “This is a great honour for me. Do not let me down! Fail in what I have taught you and I promise you will scream for many days before death releases you from torment! Do you understand? ”
“Yes, Master,” whispered Charlotte.
Ali smiled. “All right, then. I will come for you when it is time! For the moment, both of you remove your silks and rest for a while! ”
“Thank you, Master. ”
He left without another word, bolting the heavy door from the outside.
Frightened, Charlotte looked at her companion as the heavy door clanged shut behind the overseer and the Circassian put an arm around her shoulders reassuringly. “Do not worry, Charlotte,” she whispered. “You are very, very beautiful . . . and you will make a superb slave. The Bey will be pleased and have no complaint, I am sure. ”
“Slave! ” repeated Charlotte wonderingly. ”
Gently, Meylissah pulled her close. “Shhhh! ” she soothed, a little catch in her own voice. “We must accept our destinies. For this one last time, lay close to me! ”
Charlotte raised her head to look the other full in the face. A tear ran down her cheek. “For the last time? ” she repeated brokenly. “Oh Meylissah . . . how am I to bear it? ”
They were still asleep cuddled together when Ali returned an hour or so later. In his hands he carried a comb and cosmetics.
“Come,” he crooned, shaking Charlotte awake. “Comb your hair and apply perfume and cosmetics as I have taught you. The Bey’s guards await and you must look your best. Quickly now! Time is short. ”
Chapter Fourteen
‘Torture’
It was hot in the dungeon. Three men, one very large, leather-
masked and dressed in black robes, the others in the chain mail and spiked steel helmets of the military, stood grouped together as they were served cordials by a scantily clad blonde slave. She was very beautiful, yet the soldiers did not look at her. She was merely a slave, the property of the black-robed fat man.
The robed man held out his cup and there was silence in the chamber as the girl poured for him, expertly, from the cordial jug. Lazily, his gaze moved over the exciting lines of her body. It pleased him to dress his blonde slave so . . . naked but for a scrap of silk tied loosely around her waist, under which could be clearly seen the padlocked iron belt with its tightly-fitting chain-mesh crotch cover between her legs.
From the time she had entered the Bey’s Palace she had worn the belt, the key to which hung on a chain around her Master’s neck. To her added shame and humiliation, the device played host to two other intimate items, a pair of sewn-leather, sand-filled, penis-shaped protrusions; one large as a man, the other only marginally smaller; inserted into her front and rear openings. Twice each day, morning and evening, these had been removed by Hamid, the Bey’s chief eunuch, to allow her to complete her toilet and to replace the mandatory liquid-soaked uterine sponge with another. Why, she could not fathom. With the iron belt in place, there was simply no way intercourse of any kind might take place.
For the blonde slave, her body trained and drilled to a daily diet of regular sexual usage and pleasure, this was perhaps the most distressing part of her new captivity, the constant sliding and shifting movements of the phalluses within their fleshy sheaths driving her almost frantic with rising, frustrated desire as she went about
her domestic duties.
These duties had varied little since her arrival. During the daylight hours she was forced to labour long and hard at the most menial and filthy tasks her overseers could find in the kitchens, stables and dungeons. She would then have an hour or so in which to clean herself and apply perfume and cosmetics before Hamid arrived to conduct her to her Master’s bedchamber, where she would be chained to the side of his sleeping couch. Here, her suffering and misery had increased day by day as, not once did her leather-masked Master deign to use her in the way a man normally uses a woman. Instead, from time to time, her chain being long enough for the purpose, he might casually command her to use her lips, tongue and mouth on his huge, cudgel-shaped penis to bring him to climax.
Sometimes, at Mulay Aruj’s whim, beautiful, perfumed young slave boys would attend him while she, encouraged by the repeated use of his whip, continued to lick and nibble as he directed until her mouth ached. This was the worst time for her. While he made free with the smooth, willing bodies of the boys, seemingly taking great delight in bringing each of them, one after the other, to rapturous orgasm, she was left to squirm and writhe painfully and unfulfilled at his side.
She had been desolate. Terrified of this man who held the power of life and death over her, the verity of her slavery, both to him and the unbridled erotic feelings running riot through her body, was now an established fait accompli in her mind. The two sand-filled leather protrusions continued to torment and excite her yet, as he decreed, she remained totally and miserably unfulfilled. And so, for long days and nights, she had remained exactly as he wished . . . driven by an increasingly desperate desire.
There was a long drawn-out groan from one side of the chamber and the girl’s hand shook briefly, a tiny drop of liquid escaping the jug to splash the stone floor at her feet. Trembling, she stole a sidelong glance at the leather-masked man and silently offered her thanks to a merciful God that he had not noticed her clumsiness. She had been fortunate. Only yesterday a young, inexperienced slave had been whipped until she could not stand . . . for just such a minor transgression.
Again the awful sound and the hair stood up on the back of her neck. The moan was the sound of a man returning from blessed unconsciousness to a world of pain. She breathed deeply, her splendid breasts heaving as she tried to control the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. In spite of herself, her gaze strayed to where a naked giant of a man hung on a monstrous torture rack, the ropes holding his body drawn tight, stopping just short of pulling the limbs completely out of their sockets.
Groaning as his senses slowly returned, unable to move even a fraction to ease the terrible strain on his outstretched arms and legs, the tortured man finally opened his eyes.
The big masked man moved to the rack, dagger in hand. Gross as he undoubtedly was, he yet had an air of authority which, even had his mode of dress not marked him so, clearly set him apart from his fellows. He was Lord here. The others were mere underlings. “So, Jahwar of the Berbers,” he rasped, “you are back with us once more. Now then, let us see if we have it right! The treasure ship! Where and how was it taken? ”
The spread-eagled carcass shook, violently, as the dagger sliced into flesh, delicately cutting at a nipple. “As I . . . I . . . told you. At the Straits of Bonafacio. ” groaned the victim. “Dragut Bey and Khalif . . . the Barbarian. ”
“So! ” breathed the inquisitor. “The Barbarian again! ”
The dagger returned to its grisly work, cutting away more thin strips of flesh and bringing more long, drawn-out moans from the spreadeagled victim.
“Tell me again exactly! How much treasure did King Philip’s great ship carry? ”
“Gold . . . gold and silver! Seven great boxes! ”
“And some of this you took from the Barbarian? ”
“Only . . . only . . . what was . . . ours. One box! ”
The torturer nodded in satisfaction. “I will send soldiers for it shortly. But now, tell me, from whence came this treasure? ”
Jahwar fought to draw breath as the dagger continued to probe and cut. “Aaaargh! A loan . . . aaaargh . . . a loan to King Philip from the Knights of Malta. ”
The torturer chuckled evilly. “A loan, eh? Seven great boxes? I think the Spanish King has enough treasure of his own. ”The sharp point of the dagger traced another shallow cut from breastbone to crotch. “So how did the Redbeard and Khalif take her? The San Cristobal has forty cannon or more. ”
Jahwar was fast approaching unconsciousness again. “Posing . . . as . . . as . . . a merchant, Khalif . . . with the Nubian, Zamil . . . took passage on her in Valletta! ” he groaned. “Surprising the deck watch after dark and signal us . . . when . . . when . . . it was safe to attack. ”
The masked man gave an impatient grunt. “Tell me! Where do they take the ship and the gold? ”
The Berber groaned anew as the dagger sliced a shallow cut down the length of his penis. “They are summoned to a meeting of the Brotherhood in Algiers” he croaked. “Dragut goes on ahead, while Khalif takes the cannon and gold to their fortress on Djerba. Afterwards, I was to escort him to Algiers. ”
The masked man smiled again; a smile which didn’t quite reach the corners of the cruel mouth. Neither did the eyes change. Obsidian-like, totally without compassion, they regarded the tortured, bleeding man. Then, abruptly, he motioned the blonde girl to rise. “Well then, nasrani! ” he said. “I give you a chance to revenge yourself! ”He offered her the dagger, hilt first, pointing at the defenceless man’s genitals. “Perhaps you would like to cut these off? ”
Charlotte Brandon shuddered and shook her head. “No, my Lord,” she whispered.
Mulay Aruj smiled thinly. “Why not? He kidnapped and raped you, did he not? You would not be here, but for him. Surely revenge is sweet? ”
Charlotte looked as though she might be sick at any moment. “Please, my Lord! Please do not ask me! I am just a weak slave girl. I cannot . . . I cannot. ”
For a moment there was a deathly silence in the dungeon. Then Mulay Aruj laughed harshly. Still chuckling, he turned back to the tortured Berber. “Well then, it seems the infidel bears you no ill will. Perhaps she enjoyed her rape. ”Taking a firm hold of the dangling scrotum, he placed the razor sharp blade against the skin. “Answer quickly, Jahwar, or you will never enjoy another woman! Redbeard and Khalif are summoned to a meeting of the captains? Why? ”
Summoning up as much phlegm as he could, Jahwar spat directly at the fat torturer. “Rot in Hell! ”The croaked words were hardly intelligible, issuing so painfully from the red dribbling hole from which the teeth had been cruelly drawn, one at a time, with red-hot pliers.
Charlotte shuddered and looked away. Her legs were trembling and she felt faint.
Jahwar, however, was to be spared the final indignity in life. Sheathing his dagger with a twisted smile, Mulay Aruj moved his hands to the large, spoked wheel fixed to the side of the monstrous apparatus. “Well now, perhaps if we tighten you up a little more it will help your memory. ”He turned the wheel with some effort, the ratchet and pawl clicking over one more notch.
It was too much. He had miscalculated. One last, gasping groan came from Jahwar and his head shook, violently, from side to side. Then, with a sigh, his tortured features relaxed and his head fell limply onto his chest.
The masked Bey spat in disgust before walking away, motioning impatiently to one of his underlings. Hurriedly, the soldier strode to the rack and put an ear to the motionless, bleeding chest. Then he turned and shook his head.
“He is dead, my Lord! ”
“Well, then,” said Mulay Aruj, pursing his lips. “Perhaps he told all that he knew. ”He stood, thinking for a moment, then turned abruptly to the white-faced and trembling Charlotte. “To my bedchamber, wench! ” he ordered softly. “Hurry! Wait for me there!”
“Yes, Lord,” she repl
ied and fled from the chamber. The fat man’s eyes gleamed at the graceful movement of her metal-separated buttocks under the scrap of silk. Torture and bloodshed always aroused him. Underneath his mask, he grinned, savagely. Much would the blonde slave be used this night. He turned to his underlings, still smiling. “All right! So where are these others who say they have information? ”
“Waiting in the great Hall, Lord. ”
Mulay nodded. “Good. Let us not keep them waiting. Maybe their news will be just as interesting. . . .
Chapter Fifteen
‘In the Palace of the Bey’
In the great hall of the Bey’s palace, Charlotte knelt back on
her heels to one side of the cushioned dais on which sat the huge figure of the leather-masked Mulay Aruj and the dark-bearded English privateer, ‘Mad’ Jack Fletcher, come from Bizerta to trade and talk alliance.
Charlotte studied the two men from under discreetly lowered eyelashes. As usual, the Bey was robed entirely in black while the Englishman, in contrast, looked almost regal in a blue coat with gold epaulettes and silken breeches, probably stolen from some captured nobleman whose ship had been seized. Remembering her uncle, killed so brutally in similar circumstances, Charlotte suppressed a sob. Painfully, she shifted her stance, conscious of the weals and bruises Mulay Aruj had so recently inflicted on her back and bottom.
She was no longer naked. Hamid, Mulay’s chief eunuch, had himself dressed her for this important occasion. The costume, of course, covered little. Set low on her hips and secured by a single catch, she wore an ankle length, semi-transparent, rich saffron coloured silk skirt, worn low on her belly and split to the waist at both sides so that tantalising glimpses of hip and thigh might be seen every time she moved. Above the waist a tiny unbuttoned bolero jacket merely framed and revealed her full breasts. Belled bracelets on wrists and ankles completed the ensemble.
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