An Ancient Rite
Part One : Stolen to Order
Abdul al Rafiq was famous for his parties. Even in the darkest hours of the
second world war he still managed to find luxuries to entertain the British
defenders of Egypt. He was a magnificent host, who despite his ancient blood
line was as Anglisized as could be. He was throwing a party on this night at his
Alexandrian mansion, on the outskirts of the city. The white women thrilled at
the smartly dressed urbane middle aged egyptian in his elegant black dinner suit
but they thrilled even more when the rumours that his ancestors had bought their
power with profits made from the aqcuisition of white women taken as slaves by
the Barbary pirates and sold to the Harems of the east. Indeed it was known that
he kept a palace fortress out in the desert that had been built 200 years
earlier as a place to keep and train this valuable commodity.
Amongst the guests of both colonial administrators and British military
officials there were two young ladies who were yet to hear the salacious
rumours. As their host circulated amongst the throng on the large open balcony
and sumptious dining hall, plying his guests with drink stockpiled in more
plentiful times chatting casually they felt in little danger, in fact they were
too excited by the enormity of their adventure. Both well educated young women
they had signed up for service early in the war and had been commisioned
straight away. Abdul never let the hunger show in his eyes as he exchanged
pleasentaries with them and they thought of him as nothing but a sycophantic
colonial trying hard to curry favour with his imperial rulers who for the time
being were all that stood between his business interests and the fascist armies
only a few hundred miles away across the desert.
No one noticed as Abdul slipped through a small door concealed under the stairs
in the main hallway. He passed down a series of corridors, unlocking two more
concealed doors as he went. At each he was careful that no one could have
slipped through behind him and that each portal was secured before he proceeded.
Eventually the noise of the party grew louder as he entered into a luxuriously
appointed apartment.
'Is this my new addition to the house of Attla?' He asked as he entered. The
small weasly Arab man who had been sat at the desk leapt to his feet and
salaamed deeply.
'Yes Lord, she has already been cleared as having left for the Indies, she won't
be missed.' He gestured towards a large blackman wearing cream slacks and a pale
blue shirt stretched tight over his magnificent physique. The muscles of his
left arm bulged as he pulled tight on a leash which in turn pulled around the
throat of a girl on her knees. She looked terrified her wrists bound behind her
back wearing a beautifully tailored silk dress of bergundy with large white
polka dots.
Abdul ignored the two men as he gripped her chin and lifted her head. She tried
to turn away but he slapped her hard across the face.
'Look at me, whore!' he yelled in Arabic. The girl didn't understand the words
but she knew she had to look at him. She was a Russian girl, the daughter of
aristocrats who had been rescued by the Allies in 1919 after the civil war
started. Her parents had her educated around Europe but now poor she had drifted
the world living like so many as a virtual refugee. She had short dark hair and
pale skin. 'At least she has grey eyes. They will command a good price,'He
dropped her chin and strode past her to a screen in the next room. 'Come
faithful servant I will show you how we will profit greatly'.
The passages had led to position overlooking the main room of the party, where
everyone was gathering away from the chill night air. He gestured at the two
young women who had arrived on the troopship only a few weeks earlier. They were
talking to a general as well as a senior RAF officer and his wife. They were
both stunning. The shorter of the two was a sublieutenant in the Wrens or womens
royal Naval service. In the smart black uniform, tricorn hat, white blouse and
tie, with blue embroidery that showed her position as an officer. She was of
medium height and slim build but the reason that he was so interested in her was
her shimmering short red hair and even at the range the emerald green slightly
almond shaped eyes. Oh yes she was very valuable. Her colleague was taller,
almost six feet tall and was dressed in the Khaki uniform of the army. Her
shoulders carried the rank of full lieutenant. She had bright blonde hair
elegantly coiled under her uniform cap humorous blue eyes as well as that slim
figure. The line of her uniform disturbed by her large breasts that you rarely
saw on such a slim white woman. As he watched them in his house smoking,
drinking conversing with men as equals he knew that he could never give them the
punishment they deserved for such temerity. These hussies, these whores, these
concubines of Satan.
'I think my faithful gatherer that we shall have the overseers start their
training. It would be a shame to let such wantoness in my home pass.' Strangely
for a slave trader Abdul had never been known to use any of the women that
passed through his hands. Indeed he only had one wife who he had a loving
relationship with. The members of his organisation though knew how much he hated
white women for all their lack of virtue and he would watch with relish the
black overseers put them through their paces as they were prepared for the
auction block. Once they were sold he loved to hear the customers tell what they
had done to the little whores once they were irretrievably locked in the Harems
far out into the desert.
'Make the usual arrangements but don't bring them here. Arrange a trip to the
ruins and from there take them to the desert. Now shall we see how our Russian
friend dances?'
With that he settled back in his chair and motioned the huge black man to start
with the terrified grey eyed girl.
