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The Emir had been very specific. He had
wanted his new property delivered without any “preparation” as he called it. “I
know you have a very good Centre, Larry my friend, but I was always told a
Kushtian teaches their own, so I’ll do it that way if you don’t mind.” Well, of
course we didn’t mind. It was a whole lot less effort for us that way, all we
had to do was to pack and ship. Harry and I took the van up to the Emir’s new
home. We were keen to see whether he wanted to take delivery of Sarah as well.
We’d got the first six of his fourteen items all wrapped up cosy in the back
and we planned to be back in the Prep Centre that afternoon.
It wasn’t to be quite as straightforward as
we’d hoped.
The main problem was that when we turned up
at the Emir’s place he wasn’t home. Who was home was his daughter.
One of the Emir’s heavies opened the door.
Verbal communication didn’t seem to be his strong point but we managed to make
him understand that there were ten items in the back that needed moving across
to the castle keep accommodation. He grunted to indicate that he’d do something
about it. One of his pals emerged from a room off the lobby to help. The two of
them began to unload the van, wheeling each of the girls off on her own self contained
pallet. Lauren, the Emir’s 19 year old daughter, swept into view. She was quite
small, maybe only five feet two or three tall, but her voice was loud enough to
crack a glass.
“Hey, what’s this?” she called. “Looks like
the curse of the mummy’s tomb!” She wasn’t far wrong with each of the girls
wrapped tightly in the white tape that kept them strapped to their boards. “Dad
said you’d be dropping these off. He’s not back yet. You’d better come
through.” She gestured through towards the lounge. “I hope that this lot end up
being more use than the one you left him.”
I looked at Harry. That wasn’t the reaction
we’d expected. She wasn’t really trained as a domestic slave but we’d thought
that Sarah would have been all right here. We followed the Emir’s daughter into
the lounge. She flopped down on one of the enormous couches.
Sarah was standing at the far end of the
lounge. The pillory had been brought up from the dungeon and Sarah was locked
helplessly in it. “I need to keep an eye on this one,” Lauren said. Poor Sarah
was bent forward with her head sticking through the central hole of the
pillory, her wrists trapped in the holes to either side. In her left hand she
held a heavy leather paddle, in her right a many tailed flogger, in her mouth a
riding crop. “That’s the only way she’s gonna learn, stupid bitch,” Lauren said
with a determined look. I walked across to her, she was dressed in a bikini but
instead of her pants she had been locked into a chastity belt. One metal band
bit tightly into her waist, another stretched down from the middle of her
back between her buttocks over covering
her sex with a pierced metal plate and then running up to be padlocked to the
waist band at the front. It was clearly uncomfortable, red sores could be seen
on the inside of Sarah’s thighs where the belt had rubbed.
Her backside was criss-crossed with wheals
from a vicious beating. She turned her head towards me with a pleading look in
her eyes but kept silent, unable to speak, fearful of dropping the crop from
between her lips.
“Do you know how I found her when I got
here?” Lauren said, “sprawled by the pool with one of these stoopid guards
waiting on her. Sure she had shackles on her but the guard looked like he’d
been having a really good blow job, and she was lounging around like she owned
the place. Jeez! Tried to kid me that the guards had been taking advantage of
her. She had a day in the scold’s bridle for that. It’s obvious what the little
slut was up to. She’s been finding out what slaves are for since I turned up,
haven’t you my dear?” Sarah nodded slowly. “The chastity belt is to make sure
she behaves. The crops and floggers are to remind her what happens when she
doesn’t.
Harry was looking for an opportunity to get
Sarah out of her predicament. “She should sort out the new slaves,” he said.
“Make sure they’re settled into their cells properly.”
To my surprise Lauren looked thoughtful.
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “Dad will want them all ready to go when he gets back.
Here’s the key, you can let her out.” She tossed him a bunch of keys. Harry
caught them and unlocked Sarah from the pillory. “Go on, slut,” Lauren smiled,
waving Sarah off. “You heard the man. Make sure they’re sorted out and tell
them what to expect round here.” Sarah put down the flogger, crop and paddle
and shuffled off, her movements restricted by a short length of chain between
her ankles. Lauren watched her go. “Do you guys want a beer?” she said.
“Shouldn’t we check she’s doing as she’s
told, after what you said?”
“Nah, I’ll show you. Dad’s got all this
sorted.” She picked up the remote control for the TV. As the set came into life
she punched a button on the remote. The channel changed on the TV to show one
of the cells. “Neat – huh?” Lauren said.
One of our captives had been laid on their
back on each of the bunks in the cell. They were still swathed in tape and the
wheels attached to the frame that they were bound to could be seen clearly at
their feet. We heard a click as the cell door opened and heard one of the
guards say. “Sing out when you’ve done. I’ll let you out then.” The still
shackled Sarah came into view. The door gave a clang as it was slammed behind
her.
“Oh my,” we heard Sarah say as she saw the
helpless forms laid out on the bunks of the cell. “You poor things, let me help
you out of that tape.” We watched as the tape cocoons that held the girls
squirmed in response to a friendly voice.
Sarah started to free the girl in the bunk
nearest too her. As the tape came clear of the girl’s head we could see that it
was Greetje. With the swathes of tape removed from her head. The terrified look
in the girl’s eyes could be clearly seen. She tried to wriggle but with her
arms taped to her sides and her legs trapped one against the other she could do
little more than twitch. Sarah eased away the tape that covered Greetje’s mouth
and prised free the wad of cloth that had been gagging her.
“Oh, dank u,” the girl coughed, “thank
you.”
“Hush,” said Sarah, “wait. I must free you
and your friends.” She went to work on the tape that held the girls limbs. Soon
it was lying in a heap on the floor of the cell and Greetje had managed to ease
herself up into a sitting position pushing the board that she had been strapped
to onto the floor. She looked around
her, taking in the solid stone walls, the barred window and the massive door.
Sarah was working to free the second girl.
Greetje got uncertainly to her feet, steadying herself on the side of the bunk.
“Where are we? What has happened to us?”
Femke was next to be freed from the tape.
She sat up shakily and turned to hug Greetje. Sarah went to work on the other
two girls. Talking over her shoulder to Greetje and Femke, she said, “You’ve
been kidnapped by slavers,” she said “and you are in the home of your new
owner. You’ll have to do exactly as you are told. These people are very cruel.
Don’t try to resist them.” We could see from the monitor that both girls were
clearly terrified.
“But why would we be kidnapped? No-one
would pay a ransom for us; we have no rich family; we have no money.”
“No, that’s not the point. It’s not for
money. You have been brought here for yourselves. It’s not for money. You have
been brought here for your bodies. You belong here. Just like this furniture.
You belong to the man that owns this bed. His bed. His table. His room. His
women. You will do whatever he tells you.”
Greetje and Femke held each other in fear.
“It cannot be true.”
Sarah pointed to the anklets and shackles
that lay on the chair beside the bed. “You must put those on,” she said. “We
all have to wear a collar or an anklet and chains.”
“No,” said Femke, “we won’t. You can’t make
us.”
“No,” said Sarah, “I can’t but there are
those that can. They’ll hurt you. Believe me. It’s better to do as they say.”
Greetje and Femke looked at one another and picked up the anklets. Sobbing, they
fitted them around their ankles, reacting in fear as they locked shut with a
menacing clunk.
Back in the lounge, Lauren smirked.
“There,” she said, pointing at the television, “what good little girls. Dad
will be pleased. Anyway, excuse me. I have to use the can.” She got up and
flounced off.
Harry and I just sat and looked at one
another.
Sarah returned having finished “welcoming”
the castle’s new residents. Lauren was still out of the room. Sarah turned to
the two of us. “Please,” she said, “please take me back.”
Harry smiled in response. “I don’t know,”
he said. “It sounds like you’ve not been very good.” He pointed to the chastity
belt.
“I didn’t deserve this, really I didn’t. I
mean the Emir even told the Guards not take any liberties with me. I just was
getting so bored in my cell and they said I could use the pool and the gym if I
did it naked. Well I didn’t mind. And yes they groped me a bit and I didn’t
like that, but that was all.”
Harry looked sceptical. “Come on Sarah, I
know what these guys are like. They’re no different from Rick’s team.
“Well, all right. Yes I did give one of
them a blow job and, yes, he was getting me a coke when Lauren appeared but
that’s all there was to it. I don’t deserve this,” she tugged at the iron band
circling her waist. “Oh, no, she’s coming back.” Sarah picked up the paddle,
flogger and crop and put her head and wrists back in place in the pillory.
Lauren drifted back into the room. She
looked at Sarah in the pillory and pushed its locking padlock closed. “Good,”
she said, “glad you’re learning where a slut belongs. Locked in there you won’t
go sniffing round the cocks of any of the guards will you? Just remember around
here you ain’t the original good time that was had by all.”
She flopped down on the settee as her father came in through the door. “Hi, princess,” he beamed. “Hope you’ve been good.”
“Daddy, you know I always am,” Lauren
batted her eyelashes at her father in a way that must have earned his
indulgence since her earliest childhood.
The Emir looked around at Sarah in the
pillory. “Lauren, I told you that Sarah was to be your babysitter, this doesn’t
look like how I said things should be.” He turned to Harry and me. “Yeah, I
know it seems odd but us Kushtians think a girl needs her father or an older
woman around until she’s married.”
Lauren looked sulky. “Daddy we’re not in
Kushtia now. I don’t need a babysitter and besides you should have seen what
she was up to.”
The Emir looked on patiently. “I will
Lauren, I will. I’ll have a look at the videos later. Now let Sarah out of the
pillory and leave us boys to talk business.”
“Whatever,” said Lauren before unlocking
the pillory and walking off.
The Emir lifted the top bar of the pillory
and helped Sarah out. He took the flogger, crop and paddle from her and put
them on a table. “I don’t know what you did to give her that opportunity,” he
said to Sarah, “but I guess that you’ve worked out that it wasn’t a great
idea.”
Sarah looked apologetic but said nothing.
Brad turned back to us. “So you got all the girls I asked for?”
“Yes,” said Harry. They’re all installed.”
“Great. And what about this one?” He
reached out and patted Sarah’s arse. She looked pleadingly at Harry.
Harry shook his head. “Sorry Brad,” we’ve
looked at it and we want to hang onto her for now at least. I’m sure we could
find you a new PA.”
Brad looked disappointed. “Shame,” he said.
“I was just getting used to her being around. Kind of has the right look for
the place.”
“It’s a shame you never met Cindy.” Sarah
had chimed in from the other side of the room. “She looks just like me, people
used to take us for sisters and….” Her voice tailed off as she realised just
where what she was saying might lead.
“Now that’s interesting,” said Brad.
“Yes indeed,” responded Harry. “Tell us
more.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t, I mean, you wouldn’t.
That wouldn’t be fair. Not at all. No” Sarah was evidently worried. Harry and
Brad exchanged a look that suggested she had good cause to be.
“Don’t be worried,” Brad said to her. “Go
and wait by the swimming pool. Harry, come and give me a hand with something.”
The two of them disappeared. Sarah and I made our way through the house to the
pool. All the way she was saying that she shouldn’t have said anything and she
couldn’t possibly be involved in anything to do with Cindy. She was so busy
protesting to me that she didn’t see what Brad and Harry were wheeling in along
the side of the pool. Dragged up from the dungeon, Brad’s replica of a ducking
stool was pushed into place.
“Please, Larry, speak to them. I shouldn’t
have said anything. I’m sure she doesn’t look like me really. And anyway it was
a while ago and .. Oh!” Sarah gave a startled cry as the edge of the stool
struck the back of her knees. She fell backwards and in a moment Harry and Brad
had fixed her into the seat, strapping her in with a belt around her waist and others
which held her wrists against the stool’s armrests. “No, please no!” Sarah
yelled as Harry and Brad swung the beam of the ducking stool out over the pool.
“Now,” said Brad. “This implement only
dates back to around 1597 and then as a method of punishment for scolds,
prostitutes and witches. However, I suspect it could also have been used as a way
of enquiring into matters of interest to the authorities. Let’s see if it helps
us with our enquiries.” With that he let go of the beam and the stool with
Sarah on it plummeted into the pool. Harry and Brad held their end of the beam
up for a few moments, keeping Sarah submerged before they put their weight onto
it, hauling a spluttering Sarah back to the surface. “And again, I think,” said
Brad, levering the beam up and lowering a now screaming Sarah once more beneath
the waters.
She came up once more, kicking her legs and
trying to break away from the straps that held her in the stool. “Now, perhaps
you’d like to tell us more about Cindy,” Brad called from the pool side.
“No, no, no, n --- ppllpll,” came Sarah’s
voice, first yelling and then burbling as she went under again. Four more duckings
followed, each longer than the last, Sarah yelling more loudly and coughing and
spluttering more violently on her return to the surface, her hair drenched and
hanging limply.
Harry called a halt to the proceedings. “Good demonstration, Brad,” he said. “But I think we need a different approach. Either that or colder water.” Brad looked pensive for a moment.
Sarah was still kicking and complaining on the stool. Brad swung her back over the side and un-strapped her. “Hey, he said. “We didn’t mean no harm. You go and get yourself dried off.” He tossed a towel to the shivering Sarah. “There’s a dress over there. Put it on and we’ll get you a hot drink.”
While Sarah was dressing, Brad picked up the pool side phone and muttered a few quiet words to whoever was at the other end. As she finished dressing, Harry clipped a leash to her collar and scolded her. “Really Sarah, you’re being very difficult.”
Brad, seemingly sympathetic said, “Hey you’ve got to admire the girl’s principles. Not many girls would stand by their friends like that.”
Sarah brightened up. “Thank you,” she said, I’m glad you understand.”
“In fact, I’m so impressed that I’d just like to tell the other girls about this. It will be good for them to see that a slave doesn’t have to have her spirit completely crushed. Might make them accept things a bit easier.”
She said nothing but followed us as Brad
led the way along one of the castle’s corridors.
The winding corridor eventually took us along to the accommodation cells. As we walked by Sarah said, “Aren’t we going to see the girls after all? I thought…”
“They’ve been moved,” said Brad. We turned a corner. Coming the other way was one of Brad’s guards. Clad only in black leather trousers and a leather hood that masked the upper half of his face, his torso glistened with the sweat of recent effort. He and Brad exchanged a few quiet words. The guard took the ring of keys that hung from a clasp on his belt and passed them to Brad. We carried on as the guard pushed passed us. Sarah watched fearfully as he went.
The corridor carried on down into the castle’s cellar and the room that the Emir had fitted out as a dungeon-come-torture chamber. Sarah gave a startled, “Oh!” as she entered the room.
What she saw was the six girls we had
delivered to the Emir, locked into one or other of the Emir’s medieval “toys”.
Femke was strapped to the heavy wooden rack, her arms and legs already stretched
to painful tautness. Peta was hanging by her wrists and ankles which were tied star
fashion to the rim of a great wooden wheel dangling from the ceiling of the
room. She was crying out as she tried to relieve her arm and leg muscles of the
strain of supporting her weight.
Janice had been tied, naked, in a hogtie. She
hung by the ropes that ran around her chest so that her crotch was only
millimetres above a knife sharp block of wood that threatened to split her in
two if the rope supporting her should fail or be loosened. Karen sat alongside
her strapped into a heavy wooden chair with her head locked in a strange frame
that could be tightened by handle and ratchet. Similar boards designed to press
and crush on limbs enclosed her arms and thighs. “We’re missing one,” said
Brad. “Oh yes.” He pulled back a heavy oak box that was hanging from chains. It
was clear from his effort that the box and its contents were extremely heavy.
As he pulled it back a chained and helpless Jillie could be seen struggling,
tied to the frame beneath it. “Terrible thing if this should fall,” he said,
letting it swing back into place. Brad moved across to where Greetje was
standing in a human form cabinet. Naked, bound and gagged, her eyes wide with
terrified panic, she watched as Brad started to swing the door of the cabinet
closed. A grotesque skeleton was painted on the front of the cabinet door
providing a clear indication of the likely fate of the occupier. “This,” he
said, “was known as the Iron Maiden. There’s one in
“Mmm,” said Harry responding. “Yes, she was in a terrible state when we got her out from behind the couch in the caravan after we snatched her. She must be finding this awful.”
“Well, yes. But still. Where was I?” He let the door of the Iron Maiden slam shut absent-mindedly. Sarah gave a horrified squeal. Greetje gave another gagged scream. “Oh yes,” Brad said to the helpless girls. “Thought I’d introduce you girls to Sarah,” he said. “We sort of wanted her to help us out with a problem but it seems like her principles won’t let her. We can’t persuade her to change her mind. I’d planned to do some other stuff this morning but now I’m feeling a bit upset and I’ll need you girls to help cheer me up. I hadn’t really thought I’d put these toys to use but it seems a shame to let them rust.” He grabbed Sarah. “Why don’t you sit down and have a chat with the girls. I’m sure when you explain your point of view they’ll be OK with it,” he said manoeuvring her to a set of stocks. He locked her ankles in the stocks. “Now if you’re going to chat.” Brad walked across to each of the girls in turn and pulled off the tape that gagged them. He opened the Iron Maiden and peeled back the tape gagging Greetje. Immediately she started yelling, hysterically, begging to be let free. “Oh, no,” said Brad, “that won’t work.” He smoothed the tape back down and shut the door again. Greetje’s muffled screams could still be heard from inside. “We’ll talk again in a bit, Sarah,” he said.
“You can’t do this,” yelled Sarah as he got to the door. “It’s, it’s, it’s unfair.”
“Unfair!” the Emir almost exploded. “What is unfair is slaves that won’t do as they’re told; slaves that think they can hold out on their owners. Just you remember girl, a slave owner invests a lot in his property he’s entitled to expect the slave keeps their part of the bargain. We do the owning, you do the being owned. This is all your fault, Sarah, you made the suggestion, now you’re backing out on it. Don’t talk to me about unfair. You can solve the problem yourself. It’s all up to you.”
We didn’t go far. The CCTV link in the next room let us watch the proceedings. Femke, Jillie and Karen were pleading the most convincingly. Janice was adding her own punctuation of groans as their own discomfort increased. Peta could be heard moaning from beneath the box that threatened to crush her. The whole conversation was punctuated by Greetje’s stifled but progressively more panic stricken screams from within the case that held her. Sarah was trying to defend herself.
“I can’t betray my friend,” she tried to explain. “How can I tell them where to find her? And it’s not my fault that the Emir is doing this to you.”
“We don’t care,” came back Femke. “Poor Greetje, locked in that thing, do you think she cares? Of course it’s your fault. If you hadn’t said anything he wouldn’t have thought of this. Who know what they’ll do in the future? You said yourself they are ruthless. You have to take care of the people closest to you and right now that’s us. Maybe they won’t find her. Maybe she’ll escape them. We can’t escape this.”
“I know. It’s horrible. I just don’t know what to do.” Sarah tried to struggle against the steel bands that held her ankles locked.
As she did so, the rope holding Janice above the knife like wooden block creaked and she dropped a millimetre or two. She squealed in terror as she felt the sharp rigidity of the block’s knife edge brush against her crotch. “Nooo!” she screamed. “The rope will break. It will split me in two.”
Greetje screamed again within the Iron Maiden setting off another round of sobbing and pleading
Sarah lasted for about five minutes. Soon she screaming to be freed, calling out that she’d do whatever we asked as long as the girl’s didn’t suffer any more.
We freed a sobbing Sarah from the stocks and took her back to the lounge. Lauren looked up as we came in. “Has she been trying it on again?” she sneered. “I hope she hasn’t talked you into taking that belt off her. She’ll be pushing the guards up against the wall in no time if you have.” Sarah burst into tears again.
“We’re taking her back with us,” Harry said.
“Like I care?” said Lauren.
“There’ll be a replacement.”
“Better send one that’s had her cunt plugged then.”
“Lauren!” interrupted Brad. “That’s enough. Just go to your room.”
“Whatever,” said a sullen Lauren as she slunk off.
“Grief,” said Brad, “she’s getting to be a real pain. And it will get worse when she find out I’ve found a husband for her and she goes back with him to Kushtia.”
“How come?”
“Do you think she’s going to find it easy to swap her trainers and baseball cap for harem slippers and a veil?”
“Ah, I see what you mean,” I said. “Not to mention the shackles.”
“Yupp. But as the daughter of a Kushtian government official she’ll have to and learn to like it. Still the problems of fatherhood, eh? You’ll sort things out with your girl?”
“Yes,” said Harry, “once she’s says she’ll do something she will. It may take us a while to set up the collection. It depends on her circumstances. If there’s any problem I’ll give you a call.”
Harry turned to Sarah. “Time to get you back,” he said.
“Where’s the gag?” she asked, grabbing it gratefully as Harry held out the gell ball gag in his palm. You could almost sense her relief as the gel swelled to fill her mouth. She held her wrists out for the handcuffs and was happy to be led to the boot of our car.
We left it until the following day before following up on the conversation at the castle. Sarah was back behind her desk when I went to join Harry in his office.
“Now,” said Harry, “let’s have a chat about your friend Cindy.”
“Oh,” said Sarah, looking crestfallen. She had evidently hoped the whole thing had been forgotten.
“Tell us some more about her. I hope you aren’t going to go back on your promise.”
“No, no. I couldn’t let the Emir do what he was doing. And poor Greetje. Will she be all right?”
“I think that’s still a bit up to you. I have to give the Emir a progress report tonight and I’m sure Greetje will be fine if I can tell him we’ve got some activity in hand.”
Sarah looked at first relieved and then miserable. “What do you want to know?” she said.
“Well let’s start with who she is and where we might find her.”
Sarah started hesitantly, “Her name’s Cindy Bailey. Like I said she looks a lot like me. Really, a lot, same hair, same build. We used to swap clothes sometimes. She’s two years older than me, people thought she was my big sister. She used to live in the same town; she worked in the next street we’d meet up for lunch some times.”
“OK,” said Harry. “She used to live in the same town, you say. Where is she now?”
“I don’t know. We lost touch about a year
ago.” She saw Harry’s sceptical look. “It’s true. You know I wouldn’t lie. I
really haven’t seen her since then. I know her job was moving – she worked for
another car dealer – BMW it was - and they were closing their garage and building
a bigger one in the next town.” I thought Sarah looked tentative for a moment.
“
“And what did she do?”
“Just admin stuff like me. Booking cars in for servicing, sending out invoices, that sort of thing.”
Harry looked thoughtful, tapping his ruler on his desk. “Hmm, that may be enough to go on. I’ll get Research to do some work and we’ll see how far we get. Don’t think you’re off the hook though. First thing you can do is to type up this discussion as a memo to Rick. Ask him to do the initial research and work up a collection proposal. Better copy Larry here to keep him in the picture. When we’ve got Rick’s response we’ll see how you can help.”
Sarah looked woeful as she picked up her notebook and headed back to her desk.
©
Freddie Clegg 2006
Download
PDF copies of my other stories at my Yahoo Group :
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