by S. J. Lewis
She had thought that last night had been the most humiliating and degrading, not to say painful, experience she had ever been forced to suffer. Being gang-raped by her master’s thugs had been terrible. Being gang-raped by the sort of wealthy, cultured people whose company she had become accustomed to back when she was free was somehow much, much worse. Her master’s thugs had made plenty of jeering, taunting, gloating comments as they had watched her use and degradation. It had been humiliating, but at least she hadn’t understood any of the words. Last night, they had all spoken in English, some of it in unmistakable upper-class accents, and she had understood every vile, nasty word of it. They had called her a slut, a cunt, a slave and a whore. They had marveled over the size and shape and youthful firmness of her breasts, even as they were mauling them with their hands or whipping them just enough for it to sting. They had made crude comments about her pussy, covering its pleasing appearance and even more pleasing tightness. One of the men, who had fucked her conventionally for a few moments before ramming his cock up her ass, had pronounced her equally tight in both holes. They had also commented on her hips, and legs, and waist, and anything else that came to their minds. Long before the ordeal was over, Felicia felt herself burning with shame and anger at how they were treating her. To them, she was just an animal, an attractive piece of fuckable, whippable meat, there for their use and pleasure. Now she was the centerpiece for their dinner party.
“Sheik Ismail,” Felicia heard the one called ‘Miss Nolan’ say, “Please, tell me, where did you get this delectable blonde specimen? We have yet to see all of her face, and to be honest, we know that she can grunt and whine and scream, even when gagged, but we do not know if she can actually speak. There was some speculation that… ah… something might have been done to her tongue.”
The sheik merely laughed. “I can understand your curiosity,” he said easily. “Rest assured that nothing has been removed from that lovely body except its freedom. And as for the rest, is it not well to maintain some small air of mystery about her? Would she be any more enjoyable to play with if you knew her name, or what language she might speak?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Miss Nolan replied after a moment. “It is probably just force of habit that makes us want to put names to everything. But, since she seems to be an authentic blonde after all, I was wondering what color her eyes were.”
“They are blue,” the sheik answered. “A lovely, innocent blue.”
“Innocent?” Miss Nolan laughed. “Certainly not, not after you have put her through her training.”
“There are different types and levels of innocence,” the sheik said. “She was not innocent at all about men and sex, or some of the ways of the world. But as for how she may be punished or tortured, or how abjectly she can be made to beg for that abuse, she is still quite, quite innocent.”
Felicia trembled as she heard Miss Nolan laugh at her master’s comment. She remembered how she had begged Abou that night, and how she had talked about the size of his cock to help her to convince him to unlock her labial rings before he fucked her. It had been humiliating almost beyond endurance. She still wasn’t sure if it had been truly necessary. But she had done it, and she hated remembering the episode. Now she wondered if she was to be made to beg in front of these corrupt and evil people. She probably would be. She knew she would do it, too, and she loathed herself for her weakness. But how much pain, how much discomfort, could she be expected to endure? How long before she broke completely?
“It seems rather a shame that you chose to put her face-down on the platter,” Miss Nolan said, changing the subject, if not the object, of the conversation. “The ropes make those gorgeous tits really stand out, and those silver nipple rings are a wonderful accent.”
“This is true,” Ismail agreed. “But I chose to have her face down so you all can appreciate your handiwork.”
“Our handiwork?” Miss Nolan asked.
“Her equally gorgeous ass,” Ismail replied with a gesture. “You all had a hand in spanking it, paddling it, and whipping it. Now look at the rainbow of colors it presents.”
Miss Nolan laughed uproariously, and Felicia devoutly wished her consigned to the darkest depths of Hell. Then her chin dropped just far enough to be pricked again. She raised her head with a pained grunt. She couldn’t possibly keep this up for much longer.
“Oh, the poor dear seems to be in distress,” a man spoke up. Felicia thought it was the one called ‘Gerald’, but she wasn’t sure and didn’t really care. As far as she was concerned they were all just a pack of nasty animals who took pleasure in torturing, beating, and using her. What did it matter if they had names?
“Yes, she does,” the sheik agreed. “Yet she makes such a lovely decoration, does she not?”
“You simply must tell us, sheik Ismail, where did you find her?” Gerald asked. “I find those faint tan lines of hers intriguing. Perhaps you saw her on a beach somewhere, and had your men bring her here?”
“Your curiosity may get you in trouble one day, my friend,” Ismail said. His voice was light, but the warning in it was unmistakable, even to Gerald, who had drunk a little too much wine.”
“I apologize, sir,” Gerald said quickly. “I have always been curious. I will curb my tendencies.”
“Perhaps we should give our centerpiece a little relief,” Ismail said. He clapped his hands. The prospect of any sort of relief at all sounded very good to Felicia, but for a moment nothing happened. Then she felt herself being lifted, along with the hard metallic thing she was on. Whoever was doing that moved slowly and carefully, but even the slightest rocking brought fresh twinges to her abused body.
“I was rather enjoying the view,” one of the other male guests complained mildly. It sounded as if he’d been sitting at the foot of the table, where he would have had a clear and unobstructed look at Felicia’s pussy.
“She will be brought back after a while,” the sheik assured him. “Do not fear.”
Felicia felt herself being carried away. The sound of the dinner table conversation faded abruptly as she was borne around a corner. She felt a small relief at no longer being so prominently and obscenely on display, but she was still trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, and as her feelings of debasement and shame faded they were replaced by cramps and feelings of pain.
She was put down on the floor, and the sharp, pointy thing under her chin was taken away. She let her head drop with a groan. The next moment she felt hands loosening the bonds on her legs. As each one was freed, she stretched it out, groaning again each time. The ropes hadn’t completely cut off her circulation, but they had certainly put a crimp in it. She felt a pins-and-needles tingling begin at her toes and slowly work its way up her calves. When her wrists were freed, she let her lower arms fall limply to her sides. The ropes around her upper arms and torso took a bit longer to remove. Felicia simply laid there while they were unknotted. That brought her scant relief, because the ropes remained tight around her. Someone hauled her up so that she was sitting and began unwrapping the ropes. It became easier to breathe, but sitting on her bruised and battered bottom brought fresh pains to occupy her attention. When they took the ball gag out of her mouth, her jaws ached. Last of all they removed her blindfold, and even that hurt a little because the lights in the room were so bright. Now that she could see, she recognized some of her master’s manservants attending to her. They handled her limp and aching body with an almost clinical indifference and finished up by dumping her onto a futon. As they gathered up the ropes and other things, Felicia saw that the hard metallic thing she had been trussed up on was a huge silver platter. Then they left the room. Too weak to do anything else, Felicia lay face down on the futon, breathing and aching.
Someone came into the room. It took all the strength Felicia could muster just to turn her head and see who it was.
It was Neha, clad in what looked like dark, loose-fitting pajamas. She looked down at Felicia and shook her head sadly.
&nbs
p; “You look terrible,” she said.
“I feel terrible,” Felicia answered. Her throat was so dry her voice was a weak croak.
“It is no matter,” Neha said as she knelt beside Felicia. “You have only a little time to rest and recover. I can help you.”
“What?” Felicia croaked.
“You must go back to the dinner party,” Neha explained.
“Back?” Felicia worked her jaws and swallowed the tiny bit of saliva she’d managed to work up. “Why?”
“It is what the master commanded,” Neha replied with a shrug. “We are slaves. We are commanded, we must obey.” She reached out and put her hands on one of Felicia’s calves. Felicia flinched. She didn’t want anybody touching her, not even Neha, for a long, long time.
“Please, try to relax,” Neha said quietly. “I can help you to be ready if you let me.”
Felicia didn’t say anything. She just nodded and closed her eyes. A moment later she felt Neha’s strong, nimble fingers kneading and stroking her legs, working out the kinks and driving the cold, tingly feelings away. She worked her way meticulously up one of Felicia’s legs and then the other, stopping well short both times of Felicia’s badly bruised ass.
“How is that?” Neha asked.
“Better,” Felicia replied without opening her eyes. “Much better.”
“Now I will do your arms and shoulders,” Neha said.
That took longer. Felicia groaned and moaned as Neha’s fingers kneaded out all the stiffness that had accumulated while Felicia was playing the part of a centerpiece. She even worked on Felicia’s lower back, which hadn’t been giving her any pains until Neha went to work there. Felicia luxuriated in the massage, and wished that it could go on forever. It was incredibly nice just to lie there and be attended to for a change, instead of being made to service lustful men and sadistic women. When Neha began working on her stiff, sore neck, Felicia even managed a soft purr of contentment.
“They will force us to make love to each other one day, you know,” Neha whispered as she bent over Felicia.
“I know,” Felicia murmured back. She had expected something like that for a while. Back in college she’d experimented just a little bit with other girls, just enough to convince herself that she didn’t really care for it. Here it didn’t matter a damn what she cared for or not, but if she was forced to make love to another woman, she thought that it wouldn’t be too bad if it was with Neha. Even if it had to be in front of an audience, which it almost certainly would be.
Neha leaned closer. “I am looking forward to it,” she whispered, her warm breath tickling the back of Felicia’s neck. “You have a most beautiful body.”
Felicia’s eyes flew open. But before she could say or do anything – or even think about what she might say or do - one of the sheik’s servants came in and barked out an order.
“It is time,” Neha said sadly. “Please be still for a moment.”
Being still was easy. It was also about the only thing Felicia thought she could do. She still ached here and there, but Neha’s skilled fingers had worked out most of the sharp pains and nasty tingles and left her feeling as if her muscles were made of butter – soft butter at the point of melting. She felt Neha putting another one of those damned leather collars around her neck and buckling it in place. At least she didn’t pull it as snugly as the others always did. She heard and felt the click as Neha attached a leash to the collar.
“Can you walk?” Neha asked.
“I don’t know,” Felicia replied.
“If you cannot walk then you must crawl,” Neha said. “When you return to the dinner party you must crawl anyway, but the floors between here and there are very hard and very cold.”
“Help me up,” Felicia pleaded. “I don’t want to crawl all the way there.”
“I think you do not want to go there at all,” Neha smiled wanly. “I understand.” She took Felicia by her arm as Felicia struggled to her feet. Now her muscles felt like rubber bands instead of melting butter. She was grateful for Neha’s help.
The servant barked out the order again.
“We must go,” Neha said. “Can you walk?”
Felicia took one small, wobbly step, then another. Together, the two women made their way back to the dinner party, led by the servant who kept urging them to hurry. Felicia thought that she could possibly go faster if she had to, but why do that if she didn’t have to? Whatever she was going to promised to be just more shame and humiliation. So why hurry?
Just outside the door Neha helped Felicia get down onto her hands and knees while the servant knocked and announced them. The door opened and Neha led Felicia in on the leash.
The guests all ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ as Felicia crawled towards them. Some stood to get a better look at her. They had seen and fondled and whipped her body before, but this was the first look they were getting at her face. Felicia kept her head up. Neha had whispered to her that she must do that once they were there.
“Oh, my, she has the face of an angel!” Miss Nolan enthused. She knelt down alongside Felicia and put a hand under her chin to lift Felicia’s face and stare into her eyes. This was the first good look that Felicia had at Miss Nolan as well. She saw an attractive woman somewhere in her mid-thirties, with straight, shoulder-length dark hair and intense brown eyes. She was dressed in a brightly patterned kimono, which wasn’t something Felicia would ever have expected. “And her eyes are indeed a wonderful shade of blue,” Miss Nolan went on. “Though I wouldn’t quite call them innocent.” She smiled at Felicia briefly, then got up and went back to her seat at the table.
“My friends,” the sheik said as he stood up. “I am sure that you all understand now why I prize this latest addition to my harem so highly. Originally I had not planned on showing you her face, but you were all so complimentary of all her other features that I changed my mind. Take her around the table, Neha, and let all of the guests see.”
Felicia crawled along obediently behind Neha, keeping her head up and trying not to see the faces of the terrible people who had been tormenting and raping her for the past two days. She was collared now, but no longer bound, even though there were still rope marks standing out luridly on her flesh. She completed the circuit, hoping it was over for now and she would be allowed to rest and heal. Well, she might heal physically. Her injuries were many and painful, but they would leave no scars. But she already had plenty of scars that no one could see but she could feel. And then, wonder of wonders, she heard the sheik order Neha to lead her away and take her back to the harem. Felicia squeezed her eyes shut tight. She had to, or they would see her crying tears of relief.
Chapter Sixteen
Felicia awoke cuddled up close to Neha. The couch, which also served as a bed, was small enough to make such closeness necessary. The harem was kept warm, but never quite warm enough for sleeping in the nude, so the women usually paired up for the night. They could have been provided with light blankets, but covering up was apparently forbidden. It was one of the many things that Felicia was learning through observation, since no one, not even Neha, would explain all the rules to her. Well, the other women didn’t seem to speak English anyway, so it was unlikely that they could explain anything to her even if they wanted to. And they didn’t seem to want to. In fact, they didn’t seem to like her at all.
Lying quietly in the dark, Felicia could just hear Neha’s slow, deep breathing as she slept. The Indian dancer’s slim, supple body was pressed closely against Felicia’s back, her arm draped around Felicia’s waist. It felt comforting, and any kind of comfort was very hard to come by in this place.
She thought about what Neha had told her, about how they would be forced to make love to each other for the entertainment of others. She thought that she might be able to bear that, provided that it was her and Neha. She didn’t think she could do it at all with any of the other women. She didn’t know them. To be honest, she didn’t know Neha all that well either, but at least they could speak the s
ame language, and Neha had shown her kindness and care when she’d needed it.
The other women… well, she didn’t think she could count on much of anything from them, not even Sabadta, who seemed to be the youngest. Sabadta always seemed happy, even mischievous at times, and perfectly at ease about being kept naked. From the looks of her, Felicia guessed that she came from somewhere in east Africa, and to her the life of a harem slave must be infinitely better than one of constant war, famine and disease.
For Felicia, life in the harem was better than being kept in a dingy little cell, in isolation for the most part unless they wanted to fuck her. It was more comfortable in here, with actual couches to lie on, and here at least she had some company, however limited it was. She had worked hard to get here, trying to please her master and his minions. Now that she was here, though, she saw clearly that she was still in the same trap, still a slave. Perhaps even more a slave than ever, since she had willingly, if reluctantly, done what was necessary to get into the harem.
Neha stirred in her sleep. Her arm tightened around Felicia’s waist for a moment before going slack again. It was almost like a brief, affectionate hug.
These were the worst nights for Felicia, the nights when she woke up somewhere between midnight and sunrise and could not get back to sleep. There was nothing to do but lie there in the darkness and hope that sleep would eventually return, bringing with it at least a temporary escape from reality. If it did not come quickly, she would lie awake but inert, her mind turning to this indignity or that shameful episode or how she had once more debased herself to escape punishment or get some tiny reward.
Sometimes, lying there in the dark, surrounded by company but feeling somehow even more alone than when she had been kept in that small, dim cell, she would review her lessons. They were still training her, even though she was officially a part of the harem. In fact, all of the other harem slaves were still being trained, probably to keep them in line.
