Love Slave

by Terry Wakelin

  Theoretically, with less and less men in pursuit, it should have been easier for the girl to avoid capture but, as rape followed rape, so her stamina became more and more sapped and the uncontrollable trembling of her body set the bells a’quivering to give her position away.

  Two more seizures followed in quick succession, each followed by a short but violent penetration; the last . . . to great applause from the watchers . . . a little more painfully in her back passage.

  Finally, just two men remained and Charlotte resorted to one final subterfuge in an effort to evade capture. Breath coming in short gasps; she knelt in the sand with head bowed as the two hunters blundered about with outstretched arms. Gebhr frowned as he considered where to strike her again. Where the switch fell, of course, would have some bearing on which direction she ran. He pondered for a while as the men searched blindly for their quarry, then the decision was taken from him as one of them tripped over the hunched figure and sent her spinning to her back. With a cry of triumph, his groping hands instantly recognising the soft, sweat-streaked nakedness beneath him, the mercenary fell on her, his victim’s legs opening automatically to receive him as the other mercenaries applauded wildly.

  Hearing the applause, the remaining man removed his blindfold and, scowling angrily, strode to the fire, to be teased unmercifully by his comrades. He was the loser and as such would be denied the use of the whiteskin’s body.

  In the circle, despite this being her fifth ‘capture’, Charlotte was fast approaching her first orgasm, though the tall, heavy-set man was not exactly being gentle with her. Lifting her legs, he had placed them over his shoulders to allow him greater penetration. Charlotte made no protest, just matching his thrusts with equally savage coital movements of her own. At the same time, as she had been taught, she milked him with the rippling walls of her vagina and undulated her slick, whip-marked breasts seductively against his chest.

  Of course it was all too intense to go on for very long and with a loud oath the man began to spend himself inside his lovely prisoner, holding himself rigid and impaling her deeply. Charlotte also, quite unable to help herself, cried out as she exploded into a succession of rippling multiple orgasms which left her gasping and exhausted.

  Once he had withdrawn and regained his feet, this last conqueror reached down to remove his victim’s blindfold. Charlotte, fighting to catch her breath as her last climax began to subside, looked up at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. She knew him, of course. The man was Chasim, commander of the mercenaries and a fierce warrior. Twice in the past days she had seen him use his fists to discipline the men under his command. He had not made use of her up until now, yet quite obviously, it had been his intention to make sure of her pleasure as well as his own. Casually he gestured and, struggling to her knees, she cleaned him with her mouth, licking and sucking gratefully until he reached down to lift her to her feet.

  “That was well done, slave,” he said, still breathing deeply from his exertions. He looked at the fading blue black marks on her body and smiled. “I think you will not be whipped tonight.

  “Thank you Master,” gasped Charlotte and, greatly daring, whispered, “and thank you for my pleasure. ”

  The man grinned and patted her on the head, much as one would stroke a pet dog or cat. “Truly you were made to serve men, infidel. I wish I owned you myself. ”

  Gebhr waved the switch impatiently and, breathlessly, she excused herself. Swiftly, she ran back to the slave wagon. Now she must clean herself thoroughly and be back at her other duties within minutes, kneeling at the feet of her Master to please him with every ounce of her being or risk more punishment.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘A Hazardous Mission’

  Weeks previously, on a quiet beach a few miles south of Tu

  nis, four men dressed in Arab robes had watched silently as the darkened shape of the big galleasse headed back out to sea in the gathering gloom of the North African night.

  “Ready? ” asked Khalif quietly, hefting a large, leather, waterproof bag onto one brawny shoulder and turning his face upwards towards the steep, rocky ridge they would now have to climb.

  From under one of the dark hoods that shaded and partially hid the faces of the four men, white teeth flashed momentarily as Zamil voiced his acknowledgement. “Ready! ” he agreed, shouldering his own, no less hefty burden.

  “Ready! ” echoed the English Captain, Matthew Hawkins, regretfully turning his face away from the friendly ocean. Just behind his captain, Master Gunner John Frith hoisted his own pack with a barely audible grunt of resignation. Neither had any illusions about the difficulty of a night trek across territory patrolled by Janissaries, nor the dangers they must face by actually entering Tunis; ‘stepping into the lion’s den’, as it were. On top of this, they first had to negotiate a difficult and dangerous climb in full darkness. Khalif had been very definite. Guarding the easy route along the coast was a small, stone-palisaded fort, probably garrisoned by Janissaries. The climb, though difficult, was necessary. . . .

  After Jahwar’s successful raid on the San Crisobal, Khalif had looked on impotently from the quarterdeck of the big galleasse as the Berber Chieftain . . . and Charlotte . . . had disappeared into the darkness.

  “Well, what do you think? ” he’d asked savagely, turning to Zamil and Issa. “Tunis? ”

  Zamil had nodded slowly. “Tunis,” he’d agreed. “Jahwar will join this Mulay Aruj’s alliance with the rest of them. He thinks not of tomorrow . . . just what is important to him today. You shamed him when you took the girl and he wishes to take his revenge. ”He paused for a moment. “It is probably in his mind that you will not dare follow him into Mulay Aruj’s city. ”

  Issa spat over the side. The Tunisian shipmaster’s face was dark with suppressed fury. “It is I who am to blame, Lord,” he said bitterly. “I should have placed a stronger guard. Achmed was no match for Jahwar and his cut-throats. It is only by Allah’s mercy the boy is not dead! ”

  “What will you do? ” asked Zamil.

  Khalif thought hard. “I cannot risk the gold or the cannon and we would soon be separated from both . . . and from our heads . . . were we to sail openly into Tunis harbour. ”He frowned. “First we must deliver our cargo safely to the fortress. This I promised, and this I shall do. In the meantime, send someone after Dragut in the skiff. If I am to risk the San Cristobal, I would have him know what has happened. ”He placed a hand on the hilt of his scimitar. “Then it will be time to visit this Mulay Aruj . . . ” his face had darkened, “. . . and perhaps make a reckoning with Jahwar! In the meantime, though, fetch the Englishman Hawkins and his gunner to my cabin! We have much to discuss. ”

  Twenty minutes later, he was relating what had happened to the little group gathered in the stern cabin.

  “Tunis, you say,” murmured Matthew Hawkins contemplatively. The privateer, now clothed in robes from Khalif’s own trunk, already showed much improvement, though he was obviously still far from recovered from his ordeal. The French girl, Fleur, knelt at his side with a tray of freshly cooked food, looking up with concerned from time to time as her lover painfully shifted position to favour the wounds inflicted by the Spanish oar master’s whip.

  Across the cabin, a happily grinning John Frith, similarly dressed to his captain, reclined on a mound of soft cushions while a sifsari-clad Leila tempted him with tit-bits from another tray. Behind the slave-girl, glowering proprietorially, lounged Zamil. Obviously the big Nubian now considered the beautiful Egyptian to be his own personal property.

  “Well . . . I suppose it might be done,” Hawkins continued, “but believe me, it will be difficult. I know the city well, but we won’t know where the girl is being held and, now that Janissaries garrison the city, it will be difficult to move around without being challenged. Still, it might be done. I have a few friends there. ”

  “Good
,” replied Khalif savagely.

  Hawkins looked reflectively at Leila. “Tell me! ” he asked. “Why all this fuss about two slave girls? I am sure both are beautiful but,” he indicated the kneeling Egyptian, “surely you have other women just as lovely? ”

  Zamil scowled, clearly prepared to give him an argument about the ownership of the Egyptian.

  As if totally unaware of the black’s disapproval, Hawkins went on: “Is this one so special that you would risk your life for her? ”

  Khalif hesitated, looking a little uncomfortable. “One of them is English,” he said finally.

  “English you say! Who is she? ”

  “She is . . . was . . . the Lady Charlotte Brandon, niece of Sir James, the English Special Envoy to Spain and the Knights of Malta. She was a passenger on the San Cristobal. ”

  Hawkins let out a low whistle of surprise. “I see. No wonder you want her back! She must be worth a King’s ransom. ”

  Again Khalif looked uncomfortable. “Yes,” he said. “Jahwar took her for revenge, thinking himself slighted. ”A note of desperation crept into his voice. “Allah knows what tortures she has suffered because of me. If she is still alive, I must reclaim her if I can. ”

  Hawkins’ eyes widened a little at the desperate note in the corsair’s voice. Suddenly he understood. This was definitely not a matter of ransom. “I am sorry, my friend,” he said quietly. Reaching down, he traced the lovely line of the Fleur’s cheekbone. “Now I understand. We owe you our lives. Of course we will help! ”

  The climb was every bit as dangerous as it looked. Twice, disaster threatened; the first time when Zamil had slipped and slid some fifty feet or so headfirst down the treacherous rocky slope, the second, further along the ridge, when the same thing had happened to Frith. This time, the straps holding the English gunner’s pack had snapped during his headlong descent, allowing the leather-wrapped bundle to finish up on a ledge a further fifty feet down. It had been Zamil who, climbing down somewhat precariously, had retrieved the precious pack containing, amongst other things, the two longbows which Matthew Hawkins had insisted they take with them on their mission.

  Luck stayed with the little party, however, and a few hours later saw them none the worse for their adventure, save for a few bruises, and gingerly crossing a rickety rope bridge over the deep ravine at the far end of the ridge.

  “Keep close together! ”Khalif’s whisper reached Hawkins’ ears clearly. “Soon we will be close to the village I told you about. ”

  Carefully and silently they moved down the rocky path until, at last, the ground levelled out and they were able to quicken their pace until, a hundred yards or so ahead of them in the gloom, among groups of slender palms, pepper trees and plantations of mandarins, the white-painted shapes of houses could be made out in the semi-darkness. They had not gone more than a few yards or so towards these, however, when Zamil’s hissed warning brought them to an abrupt halt.

  “Someone follows! ”

  Khalif reacted swiftly, indicating with silent, pointing gestures that they should spread out in a semi-circle and take cover. Then, drawing his own sword, he too crouched down in the shadow of a small outcrop of rock. They did not have long to wait. Small noises, as if of the scrape of a foot on gravel and faintly whispered words heralded the cautious approach of two hooded shapes, obviously following them. Silently, as the shapes passed by, Khalif moved out from cover, as did Zamil and Hawkins. Khalif and Zamil pounced at the same time, pulling the hooded forms to the ground to a chorus of feminine shrieks.

  “Fleur! ” exclaimed Hawkins, as the hoods were pulled back to reveal a pair of very wet, frightened girls.

  “Leila! ” rumbled Zamil.

  “What do you think you’re doing? ” growled an exasperated Khalif. “Don’t you know you might have been killed? How did you come ashore? Why are you following us? ”

  Leila, winded by her fall, merely threw her arms around Zamil’s neck as she gasped for breath. Fleur looked up entreatingly at Hawkins as Khalif released her. “Please, oh please, mon amour,” she pleaded. “I have almost lost you once already. Do not send me away! ”

  Hawkins looked at Khalif with a somewhat bemused expression on his face. Obviously he was only now coming to terms with the depth of the French girl’s feelings for him. “So what do we do with them now? ” he asked. He glanced at the still-wet robes of the girls. “I don’t know how they got away, but they have . . . and swum ashore to boot, by the look of them. ”

  “Allah help us! ” groaned Zamil, his arms full of wet and deliciously wriggling girl . . . a girl, furthermore, who it could now be seen was quite naked under the loose and flapping robe.

  Khalif swore softly. “I know . . . I know! But we can’t just leave them here. Mulay’s patrols will pick them up as soon as it’s daylight. We have no choice. We will have to take them with us! ”

  “Mishallah! ” rumbled Zamil. “I think I whip you good, Leila! ”

  “Yes, Lord,” agreed the Egyptian, pressing herself even closer and entwining her arms around his neck. Delicately, she nibbled at his cheek. “Whatever my Lord wishes. ”

  Hawkins couldn’t prevent a smile forming on his lips. “Watch out, Zamil! ” he chuckled. “That little bint has her eye on you, that’s for sure! ”He reached down to part Fleur’s robe, clucking in feigned disapproval as yet another naked, shivering girl was revealed. “What . . . you too, Fleur? Where are your clothes? ”

  “It was our keeper, the boy Achmed, mon amour. Hearing us planning to follow you ashore, he commanded us to remove our clothes, then locked us in the cabin. There were cloaks in one of the chests, so we made bundles of these, then climbed out through the port and jumped into the sea. The ship was at that time only just under way, so we were able to swim ashore. ”

  “And what about currents, or cramps . . . or perhaps sharks? ” growled Zamil. “Did you not think about these things? ”

  Leila buried her head in the big Nubian’s shoulder. She was still trembling with cold. “I had to be with my Lord. ”She paused for a moment, then went on: “even had these thoughts come to me, still would I have followed. ”

  Loosening the clutching arms around his neck, Zamil set the shivering Egyptian on her feet. “Disrobe! ” he commanded gruffly. Leila shrugged off the soaking garment with alacrity, standing proudly as he first dried her, then covered her nakedness with his own heavy woollen cloak. “Maybe we can find you clothes in the next village,” he muttered. “Meantime, keep yourself covered! ”

  Hawkins, not to be outdone, removed his own cloak and wrapped it around the tremulously smiling Fleur. “Dunno what you’re smiling about, girl! ” he said seriously. “Zamil is quite right; you both deserve a good whipping. ”

  “Oui, mon amour,” whispered Fleur, drawing close and pressing herself against him, “and if this is your wish, gladly will I bear it. But I could not bear to be parted from you again. ”

  “Have you two quite finished? ”Khalif’s irritated voice interrupted them. “If you can control your women for a moment or so, perhaps we can get on with the business in hand?

  Zamil squared his huge shoulders defiantly. “Yes, Khalif, of course! We can leave them here while we reconnoitre. ”Turning to Leila, he growled: “Stay here and make no noise! ”

  Khalif spoke seriously to Hawkins and John Frith. “Matthew, it would be best if you and your gunner stay with the two girls while Zamil and I take a look at the village I spoke about. ”

  Hawkins nodded. Still not over his ordeal on the rowing bench, the climb had tired him more than he cared to admit.

  As Kahlif and Zamil made their way off into the gloom, Hawkins and Frith settled themselves down with the girls; Fleur beside her lover, nestling contentedly under his shoulder and pressing up tight as if to draw warmth from his body. Leila, still shivering, moved so that she could sit at Frith’s s
ide and, with a little sigh, the gunner put his other arm around the other bundle of feminine pulchritude. And so they stayed, drawing warmth from each other as the minutes passed.

  It was an hour or more before Khalif and Zamil returned, leading four horses. Hawkins, who had been dozing, woke with a start as they approached. “Khalif? Zamil? ” he whispered into the darkness, leaping to his feet and drawing his sword. “Is that you? ”

  “Quickly! ” came Khalif’s urgent whisper. “Let us be away from here! Some of the villagers were most curious about us! ”

  “What about clothes for Fleur and Leila? Did you get anything?”

  “Yes . . . but there is no time now. They can change later! Quickly now! The girls can ride double with you and Zamil. ”

  Quickly the little group mounted and, with Khalif leading, moved off into the night. They took a wide swing around the little white-painted village, before coming back on their original course which would take them into the city itself. It was cold and the girls hunched themselves deep into the woollen robes as the little party made its way across the valley and into the flatlands. Daylight brought a welcome warmth from the sun and found them well on their way, riding alongside a broad, swirling river. They managed to cross at a shallow point and here, as dawn broke over the land, Khalif called a halt in a small grove of palms and acacias. The early spring smell of jasmine was in the air and Hawkins breathed deeply and pleasurably as he dismounted and lifted Fleur from the saddle.

  “This is where we stay for the time being, so I suggest everyone make themselves comfortable! ” said Khalif, as Zamil tethered the animals in the shade of the trees.

  “How far to Tunis from here? ” asked Hawkins.

  “About an hour’s fast riding. ”