Comara Prisoner

Synopsis

Caught smuggling cannabis into a country with strict rules against drugs and where criminals are little more than slaves, Claire finds out first hand the harsh penalties imposed by the mediaeval justice system.

Comara Prisoner

by obohobo

Warnings

Please take note!

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

MF bg NC. Spanking

If you are underage or offended by such material, or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental. The ideas and thoughts that follow are pure fantasies.  In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant and probably illegal. Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation.

Copyright obohobo 2007

Chapter one. Arrested

“You don’t need me to tell you that you were a very foolish young woman Claire.”

I shook my head and looked at Michael through watery eyes. He was only a junior diplomat at the British embassy in Comara but at least he was English and my legal representative at my forthcoming trial. “If you can stop staring at my tits for a few moments, perhaps you could tell me why they didn’t send a senior diplomat and what is likely to happen to me,” I snapped knowing he didn’t have much choice but to look; the short, translucent smock provided by the guards after they’d completed a lengthy full body search, left little to the imagination.

“Sorry Miss Hawkins. The fact is, whoever the embassy sent would make no difference to the result. You were found with cannabis in your luggage and importing drugs here is a serious offence…”

“But is was only a bit of weed!”

“Unfortunately King Munigo doesn’t see it like that and since his eldest son and heir died from an overdose of cocaine, he’s ordered a ruthless crackdown on all recreational drugs. His son started on cannabis too. You must have read and signed the disclaimer on the aircraft before landing.”

“I signed it… I didn’t think they would find it… What will they do? Will I just be fined? Deported?” From the stories I’d heard, I wondered if I’d get away as leniently as that. Michael confirmed it.

“Sorry Miss Hawkins, the penal system here is medieval in its approach to punishment. Neither your father’s money nor the embassy will influence it. Do you really want to know what will happen to you?” For a few moments I hesitated before nodding yes. “You will be taken from this little prison in the tourist sector, and held on remand to use the British term, in the main prison the other side of the fence until the court convenes on Tuesday and there you can either represent yourself or I can act as your representative. You will be charged with bringing banned substances into the country. In Comara you are assumed to be guilty and have to prove your innocence but in your case there is no doubt of your guilt and we will have to try and plead mitigating circumstances. I doubt that will have any effect but if you look contrite and ask for forgiveness, they might, and I can only say might, reduce the sentence a little. From what I’ve seen of other cases with foreign nationals, the result is a foregone conclusion.”

“What will they do to me?”

Michael’s face fell and he looked very sad. “Sorry Claire but from what I’ve seen in the three months I’ve been here, the punishment to our eyes will seem barbaric. You will be given a public whipping and sentenced to eight months in prison…”

“NOOOOOOO!” I screamed, “They can’t whip a woman surely…?”

“Sorry, they can and they do, the only variable is the number of lashes. Anything between twenty and eighty is normal and the actual number may depend on your contriteness in front of the judge. And that’s only the start of your punishment. Criminals, and you will be one after the court hearing, are not considered citizens and are treated more like slaves. Claire you will be kept naked, raped time and time again, and beaten if you do not perform any task well enough. The eight-month sentence is deliberate for women, especially young and attractive girls. At the end of your term, unless there is something physically wrong with your reproductive system, you will be well and truly pregnant but will be returned home before giving birth. That’s only because this country does not want to pay your maternity medical expenses. Because you’re attractive, you’ll probably serve your sentence in one of the state brothels or at the palace. You’re the first Brit I’ve had to deal with but that’s what happened to two American and one European girls. Men often get a more severe whipping and harder work but only a six month sentence. Their governments protested but it made no difference, Comara is well enough off not to worry about threats of sanctions and no country is going to risk this escalating into a major incident over one girl. Human rights activists keep knocking the country but they don’t get very far.”

“Can’t you do anything to get me off?”

“No, sorry, in all previous cases we’ve tried but the king is adamant that we do nothing to interfere with any court ruling. As the only western embassy in this country we have to walk a very fine line just to keep the embassy open and to be able to liaise between the victims and the parents or folks at home. If you are lucky, and with your looks you might well be, you will be taken to the palace to work but even that will not be a picnic. Glenda, an American girl who finished her sentence there a few weeks ago, said it was like being an unpaid whore in a brothel with a cane or strap payments for unsatisfactory performance.” I broke down and wailed bitterly and hardly moved when he put his hand on my shoulder, “I’m allowed to check on you once a month and if I’m in the palace or wherever you are working, I will be offered your services, services neither of us can refuse, you because you will be a criminal and me because it would be discourteous to my host so I’ll keep an eye on you and do what I can to minimise your punishment but it will be little enough.”

I continued to sob and then remembered to ask, “You mean you get to fuck me too? What about my friends? Were they arrested too?”

“Yes, I will have that pleasure. No, they wisely denied all knowledge of your having it and their luggage was clean. You could tell the court it was for them too and they would then be arrested and receive a similar sentence to you but it wouldn’t make any difference to yours. Be wiser for you to say it was all for your own use. If some was for them, you might be considered a distributor and get extra lashes for that. I know there wasn’t a great deal in the packet but the fact that you had some, is all the court will worry about. You will undoubtedly be found guilty.”

I broke down completely at this and it barely registered when he left the room and the door locked. I was left alone to contemplate what happened and my future.

“You like water?” A burly black guard entered the room soon after Michael left, smiled at me and placed a bottle on the table. It was hot and humid in the airless room and I hadn’t had a drink since an hour before arrival.

“Thank you,” I whispered and went to pick it up. Immediately he whipped it away.

“For water you suck this first.” Dropping his shorts he presented me with a fat, semi-hard prick. I turned my head away. He laughed and showing his white teeth went on, “No suck, no water. In two days you have to take prick in mouth, in cunt and arse otherwise…” He unhooked a strap similar to the one the captain had, from his waist and slapped it with a tremendous crack on the table. “Truck come to take you to Loquiot in one maybe two hours.” Loquiot I knew was the main prison. “You get very thirsty before you get there. You still not want?” Again he proffered his prick and again I refused and I heard the door slam noisily as he left taking the water with him and, alone and sobbing, I went over the events in my mind that led to my being incarcerated in that room.

I suppose I could have blamed Janette but really it wasn’t her fault. She picked up the brochures from the travel agent and persuaded us that it would make a good holiday destination. Four of us agreed to go; me, Jan and her boyfriend Toby and Steve, a semi-boyfriend of mine. We didn’t go steady but we got on well together and had some good sex. It was probably the sexual freedom Comara offered that clinched it as far as we were concerned. It was an expensive place to visit but we were all well off financially and the place offered good hotels and long white beaches with clothing optional everywhere, even in the shopping malls. It seemed like a tropical Denmark where casinos, brothels, sex parlours and pornography were openly on display and the lure of a week there during the February half-term holiday was too great to resist. Who wouldn’t wish to spend a week in the sunshine instead of the drear weather in England?

The brochure showed the island off the east coast of Africa, to be roughly figure-of-eight shaped but with many inlets and bays. The tourist part was the smaller loop of the eight and the brochure went into great detail on the amenities it provided but said little about the much larger ‘natives only’ loop. It showed the palace roughly in the middle, the fence that spanned the narrowest part of the eight and a road that ended just passed the fence. Only in the small print was mention made of the gruesome punishment methods used on those who broke their laws. Toby found a little information on the web but by then we’d booked the week and knew that very few of the thousands of holidaymakers who visited the island each year, got into trouble. Unfortunately I was one of those who did and until then I was arrogant enough to believe I could get away with it.

At college I smoked cannabis fairly regularly and it added to the sexual thrill when a boy, or on a number of occasions, several boys, and I smoked it together so I thought it would help on the holiday. I only had a few ounces hidden in my underwear but I’d hardly collected my case when that little yappy dog ran to it and started barking. Immediately a group of big black men surrounded me and took me into a side room and searched my case. The dog went berserk when I unlocked it and opened the lid, so I knew I was in trouble, but I still thought a little money would get me out of trouble. The other three had to open their bags too but the dog ignored them and they were sent on their way. In the background I heard Jan ask if they could wait for me but the man in charge, a captain something (I didn’t catch his name) abruptly said, “No. Go on your way. We know which hotel you are staying at and may wish to contact you again. Notify your embassy and they may send someone to check on her, but I can assure you this one won’t be returning for a long while.” Two officers escorted them out of the airport.

Meanwhile my humiliation was only just starting. “Remove all your clothing for a full body search,” the captain ordered. Bewildered, I looked around but there was nowhere private to go. The room we were in had one wall open to the main concourse like the neighbouring arcade of shops, and passengers and staff looked in as they passed. Already a crowd was gathering to watch. I shook my head. The only woman officer in the room stood at the back with a grin on her face. She wasn’t going to come to my assistance. They wanted me to strip in public and in front of six men some of whom already had erections. No way! The officer seemed to expect my reaction. “Miss Hawkins, if you had read and taken notice of the information sent with your travel documents, you wouldn’t be in this situation and you would also know that we do things very differently here to England. We don’t molly-coddle those who break our laws and if you refuse to co-operate and remove your own clothing, we will do it for you and give your arse a warming with this afterwards.” He showed me a broad, black leather strap. “I’m sure you’ll be more careful with the material of your dress than us clumsy fisted policemen.” Seeing no way out of the situation and seeing the smile on his face as he gently tapped the strap on the palm of his hand, I started unzipping my dress. An unknown hand swiftly pulled it all the way down. Within seconds it lay puddled by my feet and my blushes closely complimented my hair colour. My bra and knickers swiftly followed and finally my trainers. Everything was stuffed haphazardly in my case. “You won’t need them for a while,” the policeman smiled. They didn’t even allow me to cover my breasts and mound with my hands. Two men grabbed my arms and held them sideways so the captain, the other officers and passengers could see everything.

“Well, at last we have a real red head. You’ll be very popular,” the captain remarked as he pushed my legs apart and looked closely at my pubic hair. “Bring the dog,” the captain instructed one of the officers. They did and the beast was made to sniff and lick my slit and bumhole. Of course I tried to close my legs but they were having none of that. A quick movement and I was on my back on the floor with my legs pulled back to my ears and both my openings fully on display to the officers and the crowd that now lined the doorway. Again the little dog was made to sniff my sex ostensibly to see if I had drugs hidden there but I’m sure it was more for the show. By now I was blubbing like a baby but they had no sympathy, indeed they delighted in humiliating me further by squeezing my nipples and making them stand out and fingering my slit until I became wet. This went on for ten minutes or more before the captain terminated it by ordering that I be locked up while he arranged transport. “Give her a smock,” he added, “She’s not yet been sentenced.” The woman officer came forward with a translucent paper dress that was little more than a bag with head and armholes and barely came down to my crotch. I was as near naked as without it. A pair of handcuffs held my wrists behind my back so again I couldn’t cover myself.

“Please let me contact my father so he can arrange for a lawyer to defend me,” I pleaded,

“No lawyers here and you won’t need one. You’re guilty and will be properly punished and then made to serve the community. We like it when we get rich white women to play with. Take her away.” The captain grinned at me and then gave my breasts a final squeeze. I remembered Toby saying they kept prisoners as pleasure slaves for those in power and for privileged visitors and we’d joked about what we’d do if we had one for our use. The reality was I was to become one of the pleasure slaves.

Two men took me to a toilet, sat me on the seat and watched while I peed and then locked me in a room with two chairs and a table. Before leaving, they did at least remove my cuffs and one of them pointed to a camera in the corner of the ceiling so I knew I was being watched.

For a while I cried, then prayed and hoped the others and the embassy would be able to free me. Eventually, after nothing happened for what I guessed was an hour, my tears dried up and I heard the door being unlocked and a young man walked in carrying a brief case. “Good afternoon Miss Hawkins, I’m Michael Cairns, a junior diplomat at the British Embassy. I’ve been asked for your version of the story but from the information I’ve been given, there’s little hope of getting you released immediately so we’ll have to see what we can do to minimise the sentence.”

Chapter two. On remand

My first real insight into the cruel way the Comarans treated wrongdoers came about half an hour after the guard left. I was becoming increasingly thirsty and even a little light headed, when the door opened and a naked man was pushed in and collapsed on the floor crying in pain. It was easy to see why; he’d been whipped. I guessed him to be about thirty and sporting a shaved head and tattoos on both arms, one would have expected him to be a tough guy but in his agony, he cried out unashamedly. I tried to get him into a chair but seeing the welts across his arse, I understood why he didn’t wish to sit. The ridges and grooves extended from his neck to his knees across both sides of his body and were fiery red and deep but the skin had not been broken. Eventually he stood and, clasping the table, told me his name was Paddy. “What did you do to deserve this?” I asked gently touching his skin.

“Got drunk, smashed a window, beat up a couple of men and then tried to punch a policeman. Buggers stripped me starkers and put me in a cell last night and this morning before they took me to court, two of the fucking guards screwed my fucking arsehole and I guess you’ve seen the size of their pricks! I struggled but my wrists were still in cuffs and they held me over a bench and had me, one after the other. That fucking hurt and the effects of the booze was wearing off so I could only holler and curse them. They took me to court and the bastard judge, without giving me a chance to say anything in my defence, ordered eighty lashes and immediate deportation. They took me naked like this to the main square and pulled my arms up to that gallows thing and then this fucking bloke with a hood came and whipped the shit out of me in front of everyone.” I found out later this sort of violent ‘misdemeanour’ was often dealt summarily in this manner by the court.

The police throwing his holdall into the room interrupted his story. “Get dressed, we’re taking you to the airport in half an hour,” they informed him, “And keep your prick out of the bitch.” He could hardly stand, let alone dress himself or fuck me. I had to help him put his clothes on and was surprised at the smallness of his prick curled between his thighs compared to the size of the man. I didn’t comment on it but I did wonder at the suffering he would go through sitting on the plane during the long flight home. I’d just managed to tie his shoelaces when they came and cuffed his hands in front of him and forced him to carry his holdall to the van.

Then he was gone and I sat alone in the room again and could cry and speculate on the severity of my punishment. Michael said I could get eighty lashes too but I wouldn’t be deported afterwards; I would be a whore for eight months. Why? Why? Why? I asked myself. He’d damaged property, injured people and fought the police and gets thrashed and sent home. I bring in a small amount of weed and don’t hurt anyone but I’m likely to get a similar thrashing and be imprisoned here for eight months. Not fair! Only when my belly’s full with a black bastard will they send me home.

I tried not to cry too much because I was already dehydrated and becoming more and more light headed and wondered if I would again be offered the bottle of water in exchange for a blowjob and contemplated whether I would take up the offer. From what had been said so far I would be forced to do it in a few days time and I knew the island was pretty much free of STD’s because of the policy of everyone entering, having to produce a recent blood test and the islanders had them regularly. This was explained in the brochure and I’d had one a week before leaving. He must have been watching and waiting for the right moment because just when I began to fade, the guard came in with a tiny paper cup with one mouthful of water. I swallowed it eagerly but that only whetted my appetite for more.

“I have nice bottle of water in other room. You suck, you get.”

“Do I get the whole bottle?”

“Whole bottle for whole suck and swallow.”

I nodded and again he dropped his shorts. Although no stranger to giving blowjobs, this was the first black prick I’d had and it was longer and fatter than any other I’d seen. I wondered if the spunk would taste any different or how much they would produce. Tentatively I sucked the end but he was having none of that. Grabbing my ears he painfully pulled my head close to his belly and I could smell the musky odour of sweaty black flesh. “You taste plenty man prick before you get home; you take man prick down throat.” He tried to force it down my gullet but I gagged and retched and he had to be satisfied with a normal blowjob and it wasn’t long before he shot his load into my mouth, and yes, there was certainly much more than Steve produced but it tasted much the same.

Fortunately he kept his word and gave me the water. I used the first mouthful to rinse my mouth but I even swallowed that. “You get used to the taste in next days,” the guard grinned widely, “No one fuck you until you get sentence but many want sucking. Women too.”

Not knowing when I would get another drink, I tried to make the water last but in the heat the bottle emptied quickly. In any case it didn’t matter, a van pulled up and I was handcuffed and escorted into it. At least it had seats, albeit of the hard wooden slats type, and windows at the front and back and from my position I could see where we went, although my escort feeling my tits and cunt, continuously distracted me.

It was only a short distance to the fence. Probably most times the van would be waved through but today two sentries decided to inspect the contents. They flung open the rear doors and peered in.

“You ever see red-haired cunt?” my escort asked and raised my smock. Not that it needed raising much and my sweat made it completely transparent especially where it clung to my body. They took it as an invitation and jumped in and looked closely at my mound. “She tight,” the escort observed, “Only had white pricks no doubt.” They joked about it in an abbreviated form of English with a smattering of Comaran words for a few minutes before we drove off again.

The sight of the prison, an imposing stone building surrounded by a razor wire fence with a high wall inside that, filled me with horror. They took me directly to the governor’s office, where I faced a huge man with a shirt opened almost to the waist. A woman almost his size, stood alongside him. “Are all the Comarans big people or is it just the policemen and women?” I wondered. All the ones I’d seen so far looked well over six feet and broad with it, contrasting with my petite five feet four.

For a short while both looked me over with a wide grins on their faces and I knew they were mentally undressing me, not that needed much imagination. “Welcome to Loquiot.” His grin widened, “You’re the first true redhead we’ve had here. I’m sure we will enjoy your stay. Whether you do or not will depend on how well you co-operate with us – and how much you enjoy being fucked.” He paused and came around his desk, gripped the hem of my smock and lifted it over my head and let it hang loosely from the cuffs behind my back. “No doubt that was one of the reasons you chose Comara as a holiday destination and why you brought cannabis with you. You’ll certainly get plenty of sex in the next few months unless you can convince the court of your innocence and the cannabis was just a figment of our imagination.” He and the woman burst into a fit of laughter. “I suppose the man from the embassy told you of your status as a prisoner; a criminal? A plaything for the rest of us.” I nodded, tears again starting to flow down my face. “You answer, ‘yes Sir’ to me and other men on the staff and ‘yes Ma’am’ our female staff.”

“Yes, Sir,” I muttered.

“And he told you we couldn’t fuck you until after you are sentenced?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And we use the strap on prisoners, even those on remand, that do not do as the are told?”

“Yes, Sir.” He was still laughing as he said it but I sensed I was being tested and that he wanted me to make a mistake so he had an excuse to use the strap.

“Kneel and suck my prick.” I did hesitate but it was more to consider how I was to do it with my hands still cuffed. Just as the woman reached for her strap, I fell to my knees and tried to grip the waistband of his shorts with my teeth.

“Nearly Claire.” It was the woman who spoke and surprisingly used my name. Eventually I hooked my teeth into the material and worked his shorts down. His prick sprung free and, as I suspected, it was another monster by my standards. Like the guard previously, the governor gripped my head and worked it back and forth on his prick, several times causing me to gag, but at least I didn’t have to worry if I was doing it right. The woman, Najomi, was in charge of the woman’s side of the prison, and the two guards who’d brought me, gave encouraging remarks but they only added to my degradation. My jaw began to ache and I was glad when I felt his fluids hit my throat and, while I couldn’t actually see the amount of sperm, it again felt as though there was far more than my boyfriends produced.

“My turn,” giggled Najomi, “Get mine down and give me a treat too you lovely white slut.” This time I was too slow.

Without thinking of the consequences, I looked at her and shook my head just once. That was all it took, one little shake of the head. The smile never left her face when she said, “So you think my black cunt is too disgusting for you to put your tongue into Miss?” I did but I didn’t say so. “Put her over the desk boys, we’ll see if she still thinks the same way after I’ve coloured her arse a bit.”

“No! Please, I’ll do it!” But it was too late. The two guards lifted me and draped me across the governor’s desk and one held me there while the other moved the remnants of my smock out of the way and opened my legs so my cunt was in full view.

Najomi pulled my arse cheeks apart and remarked on the smallness of my slit and bottom hole. “I’ll be opening them after her sentence on Tuesday, and by the end of the week she’ll be as loose as all the other criminals. Go on, show her how we treat prisoners who don’t do as they are told and think they are superior to us.” The governor treated it all as a joke too. For me it was no joke.

My first indication that she’d swung the strap was when it contacted my bum and a horrendous band of pain burned its way into my arse. I screamed. “Put your prick in her mouth and if she bites, we’ll let you give her a flogging,” the governor ordered the guard holding me down, “You hear that Claire? Suck his cock and you get four strokes, bite it and he flogs you.”

I seriously began to wonder how anyone would survive eights months of this treatment and not go mad or die but it seemed I had little choice. The shorts in front of my face slid down and another large black, fully hard prick was presented to my mouth. Reluctantly I took it in, knowing I dare not bite.

SPLAAT!! The leather bit into my bum again but this time my screams were muffled by the cock being pumped vigorously down my throat. Twice more that dreadful instrument lashed my sore flesh but the guard fucking my mouth didn’t let up until he’d shot his load.

“Swallow it,” Najomi ordered, “I don’t want you poking his stuff in my cunt.” Crying and wailing I was forced to kneel with my face at her crotch but this time she lowered her short skirt revealing a hairy black bush. “Get your tongue right in there Claire, it is clean. The girls in my charge clean it many times each day. Maybe you’ll be one that sits under my desk and services me while I do my paper work.” She had a huge smile on her face as she said it; indeed almost everyone Comaran I met seemed happy and even most of the prisoners except, of course, when being punished. The sperm in my mouth didn’t have any undue taste but the idea of licking her black cunt still repulsed me, even so, I ran my tongue along her slit and pushed it inside and then found her prominent clit and sucked that. It wasn’t my first experience with a girl, Jan and I had slept together a number of times and played with each other but it wasn’t like this. I wasn’t forced and I wasn’t in pain from a thrashing and I wasn’t being humiliated in front of others. I guess my previous degradation had turned her on because she came quickly and pushed me away.

That part of my initiation into prison life was almost over apart from having to service the remaining guard, and then with more admonishments as to my behaviour they removed my cuffs and led me to a large cell already occupied by five big, black Comaran women, all dressed in transparent smocks similar to mine but on them they looked even shorter and didn’t properly cover their pubis. Four were older but one was about my age and it was she that came forward and hugged me tightly to her breasts and kissed me. “That’s right, Illyano, this is Claire and she’s English and doesn’t understand our ways, you look after her and keep her from getting into too much trouble,” Najomi grinned when she left and the door was locked behind her.

“Everyone call me Illy,” she said and then introduced me to the others. Three smiled and greeted me but the fourth sat apart from them and barely looked up. “Leave her, she in much trouble. We get taken to food hall soon, we talk better there,” Illy informed me in her stilted english so I guessed she was from the poorer classes and had little education. Still she was friendly and a comfort.

“Prisoners waiting to go to court eat separate from inmates,’ she told me as we entered a large room with many tables. At the far end were a group of men in similar smocks to ours and I correctly supposed they were ‘on remand’ too. Illy and I got our food, a plain flat bread and some meaty substance with vegetables which were fairly tasteless but not having had any food since a snack at Heathrow airport early in the morning, I ate. We sat at a table on our own, watched over by a female guard. “She want play with you afterwards, you let her else more strap,” Illy warned me and then asked how I came to be in prison. I told her and asked her story. It was far more shocking than mine and she was innocent.

“My sister steal twenty-five dollars from hotel where she work. Not her first time so they now…” She made a chopping motion across her right wrist. “I take blame so save her hand. I no steal. Court know but accept it and will whip me like I did steal money. Better than sister losing hand. Government have to look after her then as she not work properly. I heal in one month perhaps.” My thoughts flashed to my forthcoming punishment and wondered if I would heal in a month. Were their black skins thicker than mine? Did they feel pain like I would?

Soon we were hustled back to the cell and we all took turns in using the one toilet.  Illy proved right, the guard did come in soon after and singled me out. First she played with my tits and then, much to my embarrassment, masturbated me in front of the others. Fortunately Illy stayed by my side and told me what to do and assisted when she could. Finally, the guard licked my cunt and made me lick hers. I had to do it to another before bedtime and then I spent the night being cuddled by Illy but didn’t get much sleep.

Sunday, apart from the twice daily meal times, we were confined to the cell but were required to service a number of guards, male and female. Najomi came and Illy and I had to service her at the same time, Illy sucked her clit and I suckled her tits. In the short time I’d been there, I’d become inured to female-to-female sex even though I didn’t enjoy being forced into doing it. It did surprise me though, when she asked if I had pleasured Illy and on finding out that I hadn’t, laid us in the sixty-nine position and told the duty guard to make sure I did it well. As I was on top and my arse exposed, I knew how she would ensure I did. My arse felt the strap a couple of times and I still don’t know what I did wrong, perhaps nothing, but they weren’t hard, although they caused me to yell. She only laughed.

Three of the older women in the cell had ready smiles even though I guessed they too were worried as to the sentence the court would impose on Tuesday and punishment that would be carried out on the following Saturday. They and Illy kept my spirits up but the fourth woman looked miserable all the time and was shunned by the others. Even the guards left her alone. When I asked Illy why she said the woman and her husband had abused and beaten their eight-year-old daughter and the punishment for that would be severe but she wouldn’t be drawn further.

Monday afternoon I was taken to an interview room and Michael arrived and explained what was going on. Father had made representations both to the British government and to the Comaran and wanted sanctions imposed, including the banning of all flights from the UK to Comoro. Details had also been released to the tabloid press and several reporters from the papers had arrived in Comara to cover the story. “I cautioned your father that any threats to Comara might result in additional punishment for you and he finally agreed to let the embassy handle things but not before he’d sent a strongly worded defamatory email to King Munigo,” Michael informed me. I could see from his manner that he thought it would have the opposite effect to what my father desired but he said he’d made representations to the King and tried to smooth things over. From what he said, I knew I would not be released and sent home and that I would receive a whipping. All he could do would be to keep the number of lashes to the minimum. He stayed a lot longer than his allotted time mainly to try and calm me down and he asked about my life in prison over the weekend. Probably I rambled on about how I was forced to be a sexual slave to the warders and told him about Illy and the others.

Chapter three. Sentenced

On Tuesday morning the six of us were given clean smocks, then handcuffed and taken to the court. Being the last one, I was a basket case and sobbing bitterly with apprehension by the time I was led into the courtroom. It was nothing like our courtrooms. A small room with one judge with an advisor sitting at a table raised on a low platform at one end and a few seats facing them. Michael entered with me and stood close by while the judge read the charge.

“Claire Jane Hawkins, you are charged with bringing a banned drug into the country and I understand you are pleading guilty and that you wish Michael Cairns to speak on your behalf.” I tried to answer but the words wouldn’t come until I’d made several attempts. Michael then spoke eloquently on how I was young and innocent to the ways of this country and how remorseful I was. I don’t think it made any difference to my sentence.

“Claire Hawkins, ignorance of our laws is no excuse especially as you signed the notification form which gave you the information, and however much you regret your action, bringing drugs into this country is considered a very serious offence. I would have considered a more lenient sentence had not your actions not been publicised and our country denigrated in the British press and had not your father insulted our king and tried to sway our judgement. In view of these circumstances, I have no other course than to make an example of you that will deter others from doing the same. You are to be publicly given forty lashes with the standard whip for ladies and confined at our pleasure for eight months.” I fainted.

When I came to, Michael was holding me. “Sorry Claire, there was nothing much I could do after your father interfered. I’ll do what I can to make it easier for you but it will be little enough.” The guards terminated our conversation and almost carried me back to the van because I was shaking so badly that I couldn’t walk. Illy was already there and sat close but as we were still cuffed, she couldn’t put her arms around me like I knew she wanted to. Several times she asked what my sentence was but it was a while before I could get the words out.

We were almost back in the prison before I thought to ask about her sentence. “Twenty and I free to work during day. I an open prisoner. I report back here at night or some other place prison say I stay. They give no-baby jab.” It seemed she could work and earn money during the day but had to be available for fucking at night. I wondered how much work she would be able to do after her whipping. That thought reminded me of mine and I fell to weeping and shaking with fear again.

Soon we stood in the governor’s office. Three completely naked male prisoners, one of whom was the husband of the sour woman from our cell, were already there. Us six women soon lost our shifts too and we stood, our hands cuffed behind our backs, all in one line in front of the desk. I’d started to protest when a guard felt my tits but fortunately Illy hissed at me to let him otherwise I might have felt the strap again. They obviously enjoyed their work and grinned as their hands kneaded our tits but I still found it repugnant to allow myself to be handled in that way by men who, up to a few short days ago, I would have considered well beneath my dignity to actually speak to. Now my status was far below theirs.

Finally the governor arrived and inspected us and once more I had to suffer the indignity of my sex being felt crudely. “I don’t suppose you’ve had a black prick up there, have you Claire?”

He spoke in a friendly way and I just shook my head and muttered, “No.”

WHAAAAP!!

One of the guards slapped my arse hard. “Answer properly girl,” he growled.

“No Sir.”

“We’ll rectify that shortly.” I knew then he would rape me and I would have no redress, not now, not later.

He inspected everyone, even the men. I tried not to look but I did notice they all had erections and heard him comment to one, “Make the most of it Jako, you won’t have it much longer.” Jako burst into tears and I hoped it didn’t mean what I thought it meant. I didn’t have time to contemplate it because the governor went behind his desk to give us a pep talk.

“You are all now convicted criminals and as such have no status in the community. Every free person in this country is able to give you orders and make you work or use your body in any way they please if you’re not working or in the charge of a higher ranking person or in a public place. It doesn’t matter who you were, how much money you have, or whether you have friends in high places, you are now little more than a slave.” He looked directly at me when he said that. “The only exception is Illyano who is an ‘open prisoner’ and will only be subject to these rules when not working. You four,” he pointed to two men and two older women, “Will be sent to work on fruit farms in the north. Jako, you and your wife, when you have recovered sufficiently, will be interned in the psychiatric ward as playthings for the inmates so you’ll get to know what your daughter went through. You two,” he indicated two women, “Will clean in the main hospital. It will be shift work and they will provide accommodation for you but we will check on you several times each week. Illyano you are able to find work for yourself but must report back here each night unless your place of work provides accommodation. If it does you must let us know and expect us to check on you when you least expect it. Provisionally, I am placing you Claire and you Naobi in Madam Dorothy’s brothel but I suspect that after the king sees you being punished Claire, he might transfer you to the palace. After the way your father tried to humiliate him, that might not be the easier option that it usually is.”

“That wasn’t my…”

WHAAAPP!! A large hand hit my arse again and I realised I’d spoken out of turn. “Sorry Sir,” I muttered.

He didn’t even acknowledge it but went on, “When you decided to come to Comara did you expect to get fucked by a black prick or were you just going to have sex with your friends?”

“I guess I thought about it Sir, but didn’t really expect it to happen.” I tried not to give the impression that I’d considered black men beneath my dignity especially as I knew I would be fucked many times by them now, whether I wanted to or not.

“Sit on my desk Claire.” I did so and immediately two guards forced me on my back and pulled my legs alongside my ears. Never before had I been fucked in that position; both my holes were easily available and everyone present could see them. My cries of protest only brought more hard spanks to my very exposed arse and my wailing only brought laughter from the men present. “I doubt you will have been off the pill long enough for me to fertilise you but someone will before long and by the time you go home, it will be too late for an abortion. Hold her head up a bit so she can see what is going in her.” Half knowing what to expect from having sucked his prick earlier, I was still unprepared for the thickness and length of it when he forced it in my opening. Fortunately my juices had begun to flow but even so it felt as if he was splitting me and when he finally pushed all the way in, the knob painfully hit my cervix but as his thrusts continued the sensations became more pleasant although I cannot say I enjoyed it. That was of no consequence to him, of course.

“Okay boys, who’s next? Leave her arsehole, I want to open that later. The remaining six guards raped me one after the other until my poor cunt was sore and inflamed. Finally we were taken to another cell but this time in an annex to the main prison section where prisoners were held until their sentence had been carried out. Here male and female guards would visit the prisoners when they went off duty but they told me I was lucky because there were only twenty guards in that section. I lost track of the number of times I was raped, although they didn’t consider it rape, but I think all of them had me in the three days before my punishment and most of them fucked me several times. Illy too, was popular with the men and I know she took some of the burden from me.

From midnight until early morning, we were allowed to rest but even so, I was fucked many times a day. The governor fucked my arse the next day and, although he did use some lubrication, I couldn’t help but scream with the agony of it and thereafter, it seemed that hole was available to anyone. Luckily for me, the female guards had access to my body too and that gave me a little respite from the rapes but as the week progressed I became more and more depressed at the thought of this continuing for another eight months and the almost overwhelming thoughts of the thrashing I was to receive on the Saturday. No one would tell me much about what would happen but Illy did try and allay my fears about being cut to ribbons by the whip. “It will hurt bad,” she said, “But it no cut you. It may hurt so bad you pass away but they throw water or they put stuff under nose and you wake up. You not die, you not see scars in a year.” It was a little reassurance but not much.

Michael visited on the Friday. His news did nothing to cheer me. “Your friends have been ordered to attend the punishment day in the arena and will be given a DVD of your whipping to take to your father. He already knows of the court decision to double the strokes you would have been given if he hadn’t interfered and the king even suggested he pass the pictures on to the press as a warning to any others who might think of bringing drugs into the country. The tabloids have already printed the pictures of that other lad’s whip marks which caused a bit of a stir but not all of it was against Comara and a goodly number of people believed Britain should return to the days of using corporal punishment as a deterrent to crime. I’ve sent a strongly worded plea to the palace asking them not to take your father’s actions against them into consideration for the way they treat you but no response so far.” I left the room in tears again and half considered ending my life but I couldn’t see a way of doing it with so many people around me all the time.

To my surprise, shortly after I returned to my cell, Illy was taken to see Michael but when she returned she would only say they talked about me and how I was faring in prison.

Chapter four. Punished

By the time Saturday came I was a total wreck. I hadn’t slept at all the night before or the previous two nights and I don’t think the others slept much either. My body, already sore from the rapes and from the mauling and spanks I’d been given for not performing as well as they thought I should, I knew would be in a far worse state by the end of the following day. Each night I thought more and more about ways to end it all but that too seemed impossible. As usual I lay cradled in Illy’s arms but I know she only dozed fitfully and I heard the others in the cell moving around or whispering. Illy, I knew, was almost as afraid of the whipping as I was although she put a brave face on it and my supposition that black people didn’t feel pain like white folk was already dispelled by the way I’d seen them react to spankings and the strap.

Fearing I would be sick if I even attempted to eat the porridge stuff they supplied for breakfast, I gave it a miss but drank plenty of the watered down juice to help overcome any dehydration problems caused by sickness or crying. At nine o’clock the ten of us were cuffed with our hands in front of us this time and herded into a van and driven to the arena. Most of us cried during the journey and one woman pissed but none of us thought anything of it, our thoughts were on our forthcoming ordeal. The van parked outside the gates and, like slaves, we were chained together and had to walk through the gates into the arena of the amphitheatre. Trumpets sounded and the crowds, already in their seats, shouted and cheered as we were marched around the perimeter. It reminded me of stories of the Roman games and I guess this whole thing was modelled on them. I stumbled and fell but a few strokes with the strap quickly brought me to my feet and we moved on again. Jan, Toby and Steve were there and had ringside seats. Jan was crying but I couldn’t speak with them, nor they with me as the coffle was kept moving. I noticed very few other white faces and later learned that the tourists were largely kept away and in any case they needed a pass to get to this half of the island. Halfway round we passed the king’s box and I had a quick glimpse of him but all I saw was his white teeth grinning at me. I hated him and all the others there waiting to see us suffer, but more so the king because he could easily have pardoned me and send me home without having to endure this barbaric torture. At the completion of the circuit, they put us into individual wooden cages standing upright at the ringside, to await our turn in the arena.

One of the men was the first to be punished. His crime, relayed to the crowd through loudspeakers, was that he’d drunkenly beat-up another man who had stepped in his path on the way home. His victim spent a week in hospital and it would be several more before he could work again. For this he was given eighty lashes and six months hard labour. A steel tubular girder spanned the arena in a high arch and from this hung various pulleys, most of them pulled up out of the way. The centre one hung down and the man’s wrists were fastened to it and hoisted up so he stood almost on tip-toe. Two huge TV screens stood side-by-side at the gate end, one showing the view of the man from the front and the other from the back so that everyone would be able to follow our punishments in the minutest detail and they even gave action replays any particularly vicious stroke or other notable event. From my ringside position, I had a close-up view of the man and could clearly see the screens and even though I didn’t want to watch, I could not do otherwise.

A roar from the crowd heralded the arrival of two men carrying long, single tail whips, I would have called them bull-whips but they had a local name for them. Each tail was about six feet long and I almost fainted at the thought of the damage and pain they would cause when wrapped around my body.  The men took up positions on either side of the prisoner. “Ready to begin,” the announcer called over the loudspeaker. Whip man one, swung his whip in a wide arc and brought the main part down hard across the prisoner’s shoulders and the tail end curled under his armpits and around the front of his chest just above his nipples. A tremendous yell escaped from the man but the almost impassionate voice on the public address system just said, “One.” I was horrified at the deep welts that appeared and showed so clearly on the TV screens, knowing my body would receive a similar treatment shortly.

After a short delay, whip man two backhandedly lashed a similar stroke that added a welt just below and almost touching the first. “Two.” The whip men moved a little and the next two strokes were across the front of the man’s chest with the ends curling around his back and digging in to the welts already there. My mind was awhirl. Would they thrash me front and back? Surely they won’t hit a woman on her tits? But my mind knew they would. I started to fade, but the cage I was in, kept me upright and when I came too the count was “Forty-four” and his back and front were a mass of livid welts. He must have passed out because water was being thrown over him and there was a pause before his whipping continued, now at a slightly faster rate. His yelling continued but at a lower level and hoarser than earlier and by the end of his eighty he just hung limply from the beam. It surprised me there was little blood. Only in two places where the whip tail had doubly caught a particularly tender spot, was the flesh broken but there was no doubt he would be in severe pain for a long while. Guards carried him back to his cage and for a few minutes the screens showed replays of the punishment particularly when on two occasions the whip tail caught his prick and balls.

One of the older women was next and she ‘only’ had twenty strokes and eight months in prison. My fears that they would whip her front were justified and four of her strokes were directly across them leaving ugly red welts which showed even on her dark skin. She passed out on the twelfth and was revived. At the end, her tits and cunt were shown to the crowd so they could see how badly they were injured. At that stage I could only imagine the pain she was going through.

So the thrashings went on and I wondered when my turn would come. In some ways I wanted it to be over and yet I dreaded it coming. Illy was the seventh one and my heart went out to her. She was innocent and yet her young body had to take this dreadful punishment. Twice they revived her before her ordeal was over and they carried her back to her cage. Then it was my turn. I passed out two steps from the cage, much to the amusement of the crowd and an acrid capsule was taped to my upper lip to keep it from happening again. I heard the announcer reiterate my crimes and how my father had doubled my punishment. I pissed myself. Methodically they heaved my arms above my head and I knew I was about to die. I knew I would never withstand such heinous punishment. “Ready to begin.”

“NOOO!!” I screamed at the top of my voice but seconds later I felt the horrendous fire and pain across my shoulders and my right tit as the first stroke hit and curled around my body. I screamed and screamed and pleaded but it made no difference. Another line of fire across my back and around on to my left tit. I wanted to die. I wanted to pass out but whatever it was under my nose, kept me awake. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the whip men move and take up positions a little in front of me. “NOOO!!” I screamed again but as before it had no effect except perhaps to increase the drama to the audience. Through wet eyes I saw the lash coming, saw if flatten the top of both tits and instantly felt the pain. I knew I could not withstand forty strokes like that but they of course knew differently. While the stuff in the capsule kept me awake my body shut itself down to some extent and by the end I only moaned and groaned in agony. In a blur I remember them letting me down and carrying me to where my friends stood and them crying and spluttering a few words before I was taken to my cage.

Fortunately I was too far gone to take in much of the last whipping, the couple who had abused their daughter. They were whipped side-by-side and with rapid strokes. I did notice they had a capsule taped under their noses too so their hundred strokes was done without interruption. Worse was to come. Men in white coats arrived and laid her on a trolley and the lips of her vagina exposed and held to open by clamps. To my horror, they performed a clitectomy with a pair of shears. They wheeled her away on the trolley. I fainted at the sight of the blood and when I came to, a gauze dressing covered the wound.

Jako must have known what was in store for him. He struggled and it took several men to subdue and fasten him to a sort of bench with his prick and balls stretched out in front of him. The two screens showed this clearly. By then he must have resigned himself because when a man appeared with a butcher’s cleaver he just closed his eyes. I did too but opened them again in time to catch the replay of the cleaver severing his manly appendages from his body. Again, medics were there to staunch the blood flow and he too was wheeled away.

Vaguely I remember being helped from the cage and carried into the van and huddled against the others who were, like me, crying and moaning about the pain. We all ended in a prison hospital and were given a shot to ease our suffering and put us to sleep.

Chapter five. Illy put in charge

“Calm yourself Claire.” I awoke with a start, something was pressing against my chest. Instinctively I moved and pains shot through my body causing me to yell and scream. It was only the doctor checking my heart with his stethoscope. “Lie still and try and move slowly.”

“What’s going to happen now?” I tried to move but my whole body hurt and the skin felt tight and my muscles felt like lead. My voice sounded very croaky and I had difficulty in getting the words out.

“We’ll give you another injection at ten o’clock so you should get a nights sleep and that will help your recovery. They’ll want you working as soon as possible.” Work? I thought, I can’t even move. “The orderlies will bring some drink and some fruit shortly, drink and eat as much as you can and try and move a little even if it hurts. I’ll come back and talk with you after I’ve seen the others.”

I did try and move, at least I moved my head. The wall clock showed 7:15, nearly three hours before another jab. The pain at the moment wasn’t tremendous but I ached and hurt all over. Looking down almost caused me to faint. My tits were swollen and the welts were fiery red with purple and yellow bruising. I guessed the rest of my body was a similar colour and I knew it would be a long while before the colour faded to some semblance of normality and I doubted I would ever wear a bikini again. I tried to sit up but didn’t dare put any weight on my arse.

“You try kneeling Claire.” Illy’s voice came from behind my back. It hurt to move but I twisted my body enough to see her. She knelt on ‘all fours’, calves and forearms on the bed and her tits hanging down. At least none of her welts touched the bedding. I saw the others were in that position too, even the men. Eventually I got my self into a position to copy her but I didn’t feel up to talking and she seemed understand. Probably she was in a similar situation.

The orderlies came. They too were prisoners and were naked apart from a chain choker similar to those used to control large dogs, around their necks. Their bodies showed signs of having received doses of the strap and two of them still bore the signs of a whipping so I guessed they were recent arrivals. One was obviously well pregnant so she was near the end of her sentence and no doubt looking forward to going home. For a short while I was the unwilling star attraction on the ward because my fair skin showed the colourful marks of the whipping far more grotesquely than the native men and women. A sharp word from a guard and they became businesslike again. “You need piss?” I did but didn’t relish the thought of sitting on a bedpan or walking to the loo. Perhaps I shouldn’t have expected anything hi-tech like a bed pan or urinal bottle, but one of the girls took a polythene jug from the trolley and held it under my crotch. “You piss now, it no hurt.” When I couldn’t start, she tickled around my hole until I did. Again I cried out when the acid liquid splashed on my tender places where the whip had caught my cunt lips. None of the others cried out so I suppose I was being a bit of a baby but at the time, I didn’t care. They left a pear and a banana and a jug of the watered down juice on the shelf by my bed head and then went on to Illy.

The doc came back. “You probably think this is a very cruel country Claire and in many ways it is, but you haven’t seen anything of the real country yet. The majority of the people live happy lives; only the wrongdoers get to know the cruel side of life here. Most of us believe these harsh punishments are necessary in order for everyone else to have a peaceful and safe existence. And of course, there is the pleasure aspect of having slaves that can ease our sexual frustration and bring in some income if they are good enough to place in the state tourist brothels.”

“Will I really be put in a brothel?”

“Maybe. That’s not up to me. All I can say is that tomorrow and the next day, you will be here. Tomorrow you will be made to get up and walk around and do your own toilet or help each other. The following day, you will help the orderlies and do some cleaning and the following day you will be released from hospital and returned to the main prison and given your duties from there. Usually the governor gives you some idea before you’re punished but it can get changed. Even while you are in here, you must submit to any free citizen, that means the doctors, guards, nurses and any visitors, but we discourage it at least until Monday. We don’t get many white girls through here so I shall look forward to having you before you leave.”

That shocked me. Where were the ethics of doctor/patient relationships?

Monday came and true to his word, in the afternoon the doc checked me over and then fucked me doggy style. That seemed to be the signal for other free men and women to visit the ward and I was painfully raped several times. The guards were the worst in that they made me lie on my back and pull my legs up which stretched my swollen skin until I fainted with the pain which made them angry and they fucked me harder when I came to. The two men that were whipped with us and another prisoner who was in for another medical reason, were fucked too, which remembering Paddy’s story, made me wonder if homosexuality was rife in Comara.

Monday saw me washing dishes and glassware and doing other light cleaning jobs. Illy’s sister came in early in the morning and brought her a light flowery dress and the pair left together even though Illy could hardly walk. I missed her terribly but I knew she had to return that evening. When she stumbled back in, tired and sore having overworked her muscles, she greeted me with a huge smile and then announced, “I get job Claire.” She waited ages before she went on, “Your daddy pay me to look after you! Mister Michael arrange it.” I was flabbergasted and then remembered Michael seeing her in the interview room. Illy wasn’t finished. “I open prisoner, you not. I in charge of you, you do what I say.” Her grin increased when she opened a paper bag she’d brought back. “You lie on bed, I put cream on you, then you do to me. Mister Michael pay some in advance.” The cream did seem to help and we spent time putting it on places like my labia that were still really sore, not just from the whip but also from the rapes.

Later when I lay on my side, the least painful way to lie down, I wondered at how my life had changed. Previously I’d been the queen bee, a girl with assets, physical and financial, that set her above most others. Now I wasn’t even recognised as being a person and I had a young black girl who was effectively my mistress and as far as I knew I was to work as a whore in a brothel. Would I ever be able to live that down? Would I survive the next eight months and not end up in a mental institution? How would my friends and family treat me when I had a black baby? The pills they gave us dulled the pain for now but what about when we left the hospital in the morning?

Eight of us hobbled our way unsteadily into the governor’s office the next morning. What happened to Jako and his wife thankfully remains a mystery for we never saw them after the ambulance took them away following their whipping and mutilation. Illy wore a dress but the rest of us were naked. The governor more or less reiterated his instructions as to where we would be sent and apparently arrangements had already been made for Illy to be with me at Madam Dorothy’s but she wouldn’t have to service clients unless she wanted to. I couldn’t really imagine anyone wishing to pay to use us with our bodies in the state they were in; the bruising and welts on mine still looked awful and disfigured me in a way I felt was repulsive. Surely no man, or woman for that matter, would ever want to pay money for me in this condition.

“Put the chokers on them,” the governor ordered. These were indeed choker chains. Made of stainless steel with links about a centimetre in diameter with a larger one on one end. A guard showed me how it worked. When it was around my neck, the small end was threaded through the large link and a padlock clipped to it. A leash could be clipped to the link too and a pull on it would tighten the chain and strangle the wearer. Illy didn’t get one but she was given a leash and told to clip me to it when we were outside the office. “If she doesn’t respond to a tug on the lead, it is long enough to use the other end on her arse,” the bloody governor joked. Except that it wasn’t a joke.

“Claire you also have to have one more thing. Madame Dorothy wishes to keep your skin as white as possible but as a convicted criminal you are not allowed to wear clothing so you must use this parasol to protect yourself from the sun.” Although it was given for the wrong reasons, I was pleased to receive it because my fair skin burnt easily even in our British climate and I could only wear a bikini for short periods without covering my skin. High factor sunblock was only a partial remedy at home and I doubted it would help the healing of my welts. In any case, it was with the rest of my stuff locked in a prison storeroom somewhere.

Transport arrangements were then dealt with. The farm workers were to be taken by truck to the inland farms, others could walk to their destination, Illy, Naobi and I would be driven to the main gate and then we’d have to walk to the brothel. “It’s only a little more than a mile,” we were informed. I surmised that making us walk was more to humiliate us than it was necessary. Seeing my questioning look he remarked, “If Illyano is leading you, no one will interfere with you. You will be a slave under escort and in any case you won’t be fucked openly in the street, especially not in the tourist area. I’ll give you a lead for Naobi too,” the governor added to Illy, “Just to make sure she isn’t molested on the way.”

“Sir?” I started tentatively, “Will we be given shoes? I don’t think I can walk that far without them.”

“You can and you will. Being naked means exactly that. No clothes. Only if you have a period, and probably you won’t after all the men that have filled your cunt with sperm, and need to hold a pad in place with you be allowed a thong type panty. Other than that, no clothes until you are ready to board the plane for England. You will not be treated differently to the others.”

“No, but they’re brought up not to wear shoes so their feet are hardened to it,” I thought but said nothing.

The journey to the main gate was hell. The rough road and the hard, slatted wooden seats battered our poor arses and backs and we were all crying when the door opened and we were told to get out. They did allow us a few minutes to recover before sending us on our way.

“Ask them the way to Madam Dorothy’s, Illy. We don’t want to walk further than we…” To my surprise she jerked the leash and the choker tightened on my neck.

“Hold tongue worthless white woman! I take the way I think. Maybe coast road, that eight miles.” The harsh tone of her voice surprised me further. “Come, follow this way.” We limped along for several hundred yards and then she turned to me and her big smile was back. “Claire, sorry but you must remember I in charge. You slave. You not try and take over in front of others. If they see I not control you, they take you away.”

I could see her point although in many ways I objected to being led around like a dog by a black girl slightly younger than myself, that was better than by some guard. “Sorry ma’am.”

So we staggered on. People we passed stared especially when we came to the tourist part proper. Soon a crowd formed around us and we became the centre of attention of camera wielding people who knew my name from excerpts of my whipping that had been shown on the TV news. We must have looked a comical sight. Three women limping along the road, a young black girl holding the leads for the other two slightly older women, one black, one white and the white one holding a buff coloured parasol. Their questions and presence hindered our progress until a policeman cleared the way and escorted us for the remainder of the journey. By the time we arrived at the brothel, my stiff muscles were easing slightly but the dust and sweat aggravated my raw welts and I was sure my feet were cut and bleeding from walking along the hot, rough pavement.

Chapter six. Madam Dorothy’s

“Come in ladies,” a huge coal-black woman greeted us. She smiled and seemed a friendly, motherly person. Her size overshadowed that of Illy and even Naobi who was a big girl too, and made me look like a baby in arms, but immediately our attention focused on her enormous tits that overhung the top of her dress. “She could feed quadlets with them,” I thought irreverently and wondered if I would have to suck them like I’d done at the prison. “Come in, make yourselves at home, well this will be your home for a while. I’ll get one of the maids to bring you some juice and then you can shower and clean all that dirt from your bodies. I’ll explain your duties after you’ve cleaned yourselves. I doubt if any of you have been inside a brothel before, let alone worked in one.”

A maid helped us in the shower and shaved all of Naobi’s pubic hair but left a neat triangle of mine because ‘men will want to see you are a true redhead’.

An hour later feeling cleaner and fresher and, after using the perfumed shampoo, smelling nicer than I done since my arrival, but feeling stiff and sore after our walk, we sat in soft chairs waiting for Madam Dorothy to tell us our duties. She handed me a leaflet. I was astounded.

Centrally and prominently placed was a colour, full frontal photo of me taken at the end of my whipping showing the livid stripes across my breasts and body. My face revealed the pain and suffering I had endured. Surrounding it in gaudy lettering:

As seen whipped on TV

The gorgeous British drug smuggler

Lady Claire Hawkins

See her at Madam Dorothy’s

Photograph her from any angle between 8 and 10 p.m.

for only US $50 per half hour

Other services available from 10 p.m. at reasonable rates

I don’t know who gave me the status of a ‘lady’ but I certainly didn’t feel like one now. Dorothy must have noticed the look of horror on my face because her grin increased. “Did you expect to be hidden away in a little bedroom and just service a few men? This is actually at the king’s suggestion. He wishes to get the most publicity from this and I’m sure your picture with all the ugly stripes showing, will appear in newspapers worldwide. I think most of the TV news programmes have shown your punishment in full or in part anyway. You’ll get plenty of time to lie down and open your legs after ten o’clock. I’ve bookings for you already. Two German men want you while you are still nice and tender.”

My mind recoiled and I uttered, “Oh no!”

Immediately her expression changed, “Oh yes, young lady. You are here to be fucked. Men, and women too, will pay to fuck you and fuck you hard in any way they wish. As you are a criminal, a criminal under my protection, you will do anything they ask. Forget you were once a lady of means, now you are a whore and not a cheap one either. You’re not a slave though, you get ten percent of your takings which is more than you’d would get if they’d put you in the palace and don’t forget, I’m employing you and therefore if you fail in your duties, fail to give satisfaction, I can and will add to your stripes.” Tears flowed down my face again as she went on to outline the duties of Illy. Hers was more or less to look after me and help any clients I had and to change the sheets if necessary between clients, and Naobi, who would be a serving maid for a few days unless anyone wanted to fuck her.

A girl announcing, “A mister Michael Cairns is here ma’am,” interrupted us.

Madam Dorothy enveloped him in a hug that thrust his nose into her cleavage, “Good morning Michael, I suppose you’ve come to see how your girl is getting on. Well, she doesn’t seem too keen on the work she’s expected to do at the moment. Why don’t you take her upstairs and give her a good poking and tell her how much better off she is here than working in the prison or even in the palace. Room 104.”

I expected him to refuse her offer but to my amazement he replied, “Thank you Dorothy, I always appreciate your hospitality,” and turning to Illy he said, “Bring her upstairs please.” Illy clipped the leash she’d tied around her waist, to my collar, grinned, and gave it a little tug.

“I don’t need it…” I started to protest but Illy gave my bottom a token smack and told me that criminals didn’t speak without permission. She was certainly enjoying her new-found position but I didn’t believe she would harm me and still considered her a friend; probably the only one I had on this island.

Michael closed the door and started to undress. “It’s okay Claire, you can speak freely while were in here. I’m here to help you as much as I can.”

“You’re really going to fuck me? I thought the ethics of being a diplomat would have prevented you from having sex with a client.”

“Normally they would but in Comara sex is the main source of income and in order to keep my good relationship with Dorothy, I dare not refuse her invitation. In any case, you are an attractive woman, even with those terrible marks over your body, and like most men, I like to fuck an attractive woman. I’ll treat you gently.” Illy helped him with his clothes and folded them on to a chair and gave his prick a couple of rubs to make sure it was fully hard. “I suppose there is about a 100:1 chance that you’ll have a white baby.”

I thought, “The bastard wants to give me a baby as well.” But I replied, “Well if I hadn’t been on the pill before I came, this would be my fertile period but since I haven’t taken any for over a week and I don’t know how long they are effective for, there is still a chance for you but with all the sperm that’s been pumped into me recently, and will be in the future here, I guess the chances are slim.” By then Michael had entered me and was fucking me steadily. Fortunately the mattress was soft and he tried to keep his weight off my body so I half began to enjoy it but all the time my mind rebelled against being forced to have sex by a junior British diplomat who I thought was supposed to look after my interests. Pretty soon though he came and held his prick inside me until it went soft and then asked me to suck it. Having done that to many others, I couldn’t refuse him.

“Michael, I thought I was going to the palace?”

“You will Claire, but first you will spend a few days here. I don’t know why but the king didn’t want to see you for a few days. Unless you displease Dorothy, you should have an easier time than at the palace. The king isn’t too pleased with your family and probably wants to wait until the stripes have faded a bit. You need to remember, there you will be available twenty-four hours a day. Here they’re mainly open for business during the evening and until two or three in the morning and you’ll be able to sleep in undisturbed until late.”

“But I’ve got to pose for photographs that will be printed in magazines and newspapers and probably put on the Internet too.  People all over the world will know the sort of woman I am and what I did. Did you know about that?”

“Yes, and I thought it would give you a couple of hours respite from being fucked and when you get back home, everyone would know about the baby and you wouldn’t have to explain it to them.”

“But everyone at home will know I was a whore!”

“They will know you were forced to be a whore. That’s common knowledge now and something you will have to live with. All I can try and do, is to minimise your hardship, but that will be little enough. I have very few powers here.”

We discussed things for half an hour and then I noticed his prick was getting hard again. “Can’t you control that thing?” I asked but I knew he couldn’t.

“Not when I’m sitting in front of a naked young girl and knowing she’s available anytime I want and dare not refuse,” he laughed and lowered me carefully on to the sheets again and fucked me a second time. True to his word, he was gentle and showed some affection, which is more than any other men had shown while I was there.

Immediately Michael left Madam Dorothy came in and showed Illy how to douche me. It seemed strange after all my previous sperm deposits were left but when she told Illy only to do this when I’d been fucked by men who were not Comarans, I knew the reason. They wanted me to have a black baby.

A little before eight, Dorothy came in with a pot of ointment and asked Illy to rub it in to all my welts. Illy made a face when she read the label written in Comaran, “Sorry Claire, I have to do this. It not soothe your welts like cream I bring, it make them look red. It make them feel hot. It not harm you but you not like.”

Indeed it did. It wasn’t unduly painful but it warmed the skin and made the abraded skin show redder than it really was and it made them itch so I had to resist the temptation to scratch. I guessed it was a cream normally applied to sore muscles, and even with the air conditioning, I began to sweat. A maid came and showed us into a large room with a central stage and spotlighting. Madam Dorothy entered, “You are not to answer any questions, only pose for pictures. They can ask you to pose in any position they like and take close-up pictures of your cunt or welts but they must not ask about you or what happened. The press will try and sneak in but if they want an interview, they will have to arrange a different time and pay for it. You will get a five-minute break at nine and some drink and again at ten before I send clients to your room. Remember, they can film or photo you in any way and use any of the props around here. Remember too, any complaints and you’ll feel my strap. Illy will fetch me if she thinks you will be harmed by any thing they do to you.” That didn’t reassure me too much.

Soon people, mainly men, sporting expensive cameras came into the room and at first I just had to stand but there must have been professional photographers amongst them because they began ordering me to take erotic poses even when they knew such poses would be difficult for a fit model but near impossible for me.

About halfway through the first session a woman whispered, “I’m from GoGo magazine, would you like to say…” I stared at her for a second and then realised her camera was actually a tape recorder. A real photographer cut in took a couple of pictures and I turned back to the woman wondering how much trouble I would get in if I did speak to her. I needn’t have worried. Two burly men followed Illy into the room, one grabbed the woman and forced her to kneel and bend over the platform I was on. She struggled but the other calmly pulled her shorts down, bared her arse and laid into it with a strap. For a short while, I was forgotten and all attention was focused on the GoGo woman getting a hard thrashing. When it seemed she couldn’t take any more the two men carried her to the front door and threw her out. The men hadn’t said a word; they didn’t need to. No one else tried to speak with me that evening.

Promptly and ten, Madam Dorothy cleared the photographic studio and ordered me to have a quick shower and get into my room. I certainly needed the shower because I’d been sweating profusely under the hot lights and the effects of the ointment. Illy gently sponged it all from me and after a warning to hurry, I lay down on the bed.

The two Germans arrived together and were pretty rough in the way they handled my body and then wanted to take me in my bottom and cunt and the same time. By now I could take pricks in my arse, if not with comfort or enjoyment, without too much extra pain especially if a lubricant was used. These wanted me to feel it and the first one thrust in dry causing me much grief and then, with him underneath me, the other started to fuck me from the front. I cried again with the pain but fortunately the session with them was soon over and those that followed were more considerate. After each customer, Illy douched me with liquid from a plastic container. There must have been something in it that soothed my vagina a little but by the time the brothel closed at about 3 a.m., I was sore inside and out. Illy and I showered together and put cream on our whip marks and cuddled up on the bed. I did wonder how the GoGo woman was feeling but after all I’d been through, it was a minor thrashing.

Chapter seven. Birthday present

I spent nearly a fortnight at Madam Dorothy’s and began to get into the routine. For the first four evenings, I had to pose for photos but on the last night the numbers had dwindled and although the cream made the whip marks show clearly and the horrible blue yellow bruises were much in evidence, interest in that side of my body became less newsworthy. The clients that pre-booked me also fell and so at the start of the evenings I had to sit in the main foyer or by the ‘shop window’ and look attractive. I still thought I looked grotesque but customers paid to take me to bed. I guess it was the novelty of having a British redhead who’d been flogged on TV. Nevertheless, after the first few days, life was easier and I could move better and with the number of men fucking me each night below double figures, my mood began to improve. Surprisingly I had at least one woman each night but some of them could be cruel too, especially when they wanted to knead and bite my tits and one even bit my clit. That really made me scream and I expected to find it half bitten off, but Illy stepped in before any real damage was done.

Most of my clients were foreign tourists but a few were well-to-do Comarans that could either afford me or to whom Dorothy owed a favour. The physical size of these men always made me feel like a doll in their arms and with pricks commensurate with their stature, they always gave me a good fuck and by the end of my stay there, I started to look forward to one bedding me.

Once, after I’d been there ten days, late in the afternoon Dorothy called me into her office. “You had a Japanese man last night and he complained loudly that you made no effort to satisfy him. What have you to say?”

“I did my best but whatever I did he wasn’t pleased.” That wasn’t quite the truth because I’d taken an instant dislike to him and didn’t put the effort in that I did with most other men.

“I checked the video tape.” I knew then I was lost and would be given a reminder of my position. “Over the stool with you.”

“No please,” I begged, “I did do my best.”

“Over the stool now!” Reluctantly I bent over and then felt the arms of one of the bouncers holding me in place. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Madam Dorothy wasted no time in applying the strap across my still tender arse. “Get to your room and when he returns tonight, make sure you show him your arse and give him the good time her paid for yesterday.”

I did and he seemed in a better mood when he saw and felt the additional stripes across my bum.

Most of the other girls were Comarans but there were a smattering of Asian and Caucasian women too and a few men. Naobi fitted in quite well and I saw her take a number of clients to her room and when we walked along the beach one afternoon she said she didn’t really mind the work. Her welts were beginning to fade and the bruising didn’t show as prominently as mine and I believe the cream used for my photographic sessions delayed my healing even though it wasn’t on for long at a time. Or maybe it really is a case that a white woman’s skin in thinner and the whip marks penetrate more.

Illy looked after me conscientiously and several times joined in when a group of men wanted to fuck me. At Dorothy’s insistence, she also took me out in the afternoons and, half hidden under a new blue parasol, paraded me along the beach. For the first few days I was even allowed light slippers to prevent the sand getting into the open wounds on my feet caused by the walk to the brothel and, when my body was healed enough for the salt not to sting the welts too much, we went swimming; nude swimming was something I planned doing on my holiday but I didn’t expect it to be as a near slave. The walk along the beach and the swimming did help to ease the stiffness of my muscles and Illy’s too but several times we attracted the attention of boys and men who propositioned me and invited me to their hotel. Illy pointed to my collar and told them I was available at the brothel. Often other girls from the brothel would accompany us and frequently six of us, naked and wearing criminal collars, frolicked along the shoreline and for a space of an hour or two we’d be free, or almost so, and happy.

Some afternoons Illy would leave and go to her home and then I had to stay in and under the charge of Madam Dorothy but always she came back with some little gift that she bought from the native side of the fence because it was less than half the price of the same thing on the tourist side. I couldn’t buy anything because I had no money; the ten percent I was supposed to receive was paid ‘at the end of the month’ but in fact I didn’t get it until the end of my sentence. Illy, by Comaran standards, was earning a good wage.

To my surprise I had a period after I been there ten days so I guess my contraceptive pills worked longer than I thought. It annoyed madam as I had to wear a pad and brief knickers and not many customers wanted me in that condition. I gave a few blowjobs and a couple of men fucked me and made such a mess that Illy had to change the sheets.

The little world I’d become accustomed to, changed again when almost a fortnight after his last visit, Michael turned up. It was mid morning and Illy and I were asleep on the bed when he came in and woke us. He’d already undressed so I knew what I’d have to do for starters and I knew too that I’d better put some effort into it because my arse was still sore from its last acquaintance with the strap. I did, which caused Michael to comment that I’d improved a good deal in the time I’d been in the brothel.

“Tonight will be your last one here, tomorrow you will go to the palace. They’ve some sort of celebration on and you’re going to be part of it. They wouldn’t tell me what and said that even if I guessed, I wasn’t to tell you or my contract in Comara would be cancelled, so don’t bother asking.”

My mind reacted by trying to imagine what celebration would be one and what my part would be. Would I be whipped again for their entertainment? Would I be forced to do even more obscene things for them? Would I be part of a harem controlled by eunuchs with whips? But then I noticed Illy alongside me. “What about Illy?” I asked.

“I’ve arranged for her to go too as a sort of maid if she wishes, something like she is here but Illy, you will also have to allow yourself to be fucked if someone asks for you. You will be given a dress to show you are not a slave and most of the time you’ll be with Claire but you’re attractive too and someone will undoubtedly fancy taking you to bed. They may give you presents too and you’ll still get the allowance I arranged for you as long as you are with Claire.”

Illy quickly agreed. In her eyes just to get a job inside the palace where she might be noticed by the king or one of the other notables, was a step up in her social life and to get paid for it with bonuses if she let others fuck her, meant she’d earn the sort of money girls in her social class didn’t normally earn. I’d discovered that, although her command of english was limited, she was intelligent and even had a bank account and most of her money was paid into it.

We chatted for a while longer about what I would have to do at the palace but Michael either didn’t have the information or he wouldn’t tell me. At one point he again enquired if I was pregnant. “I had my period only a few days ago and Illy has douched me after every customer so I’m probably not.” The news pleased him but he gave no indication as to the reason but that made me think he knew more than he was saying.

Madam Dorothy must also have been told because a little before the place opened for business she called me into her office. Fearing another dose of the strap, I had tears in my eyes when I entered but that brought a big smile to her face. “It’s okay Claire, you’re not in trouble this time, it’s just that you have to wear this.” She held up a peculiar arrangement of straps with a black dildo fastened to part of it. “The king has asked that you are not fucked tonight so you must wear this and only do blowjobs.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t you recognise a chastity belt when you see one?” She was laughing at me, “No I guess you don’t, chastity is not in your nature.”

The rather small dildo easily went inside my vagina and the straps held it tightly in place but my thoughts were on why I was to wear it at the king’s orders. What had they planned for me? Was I going to be ritually fucked until I conceived? By the king? Or had father secured my release and I was going to get a pardon? For most of the shift I sat in the foyer with Illy alongside holding my leash and pondered many possible scenarios. Only two clients in the five hours but it was pleasant to have a break even if it did allow my thoughts to run riot on what might happen tomorrow. I felt out of place because my white skin, or at least it should have been white, remained a motley of bruise colours although they were fading now but the welt ridges were still clearly visible. Would they be renewed at the palace? Was the small dildo to allow my cunt to contract in preparation for a ritual raping? By contrast, you had to look closely to see Illy’s marks but she’d only had half as many as me.

I didn’t even sleep late the following morning but got up and went to the kitchen room and made coffee while Illy still slept. One of the older cleaning girls was there and we spoke. She was nude and had a chain collar so she too was more or less a slave but her whip marks were faded. In her halting english she reassured me that I would be okay with the king. “You open legs wide, you okay,” she grinned in the way all Comarans did. “I know girls who do good after go in palace. Nice men take them home, become wife.” I prayed that I would be treated well too but wasn’t about to become wife to any Comaran.

In the end I woke Illy and she pretended to be annoyed and chided me for waking her. “Slaves should not wake mistress. You bend over bed now.” Pushing me down she gave my bum a couple of playful smacks that actually stung and ordered me to fetch coffee for her but when I asked her to take me for an early swim she did so without further complaint. She must have known how worried I was.

A limousine arrived at the brothel in the afternoon and when Illy led me out on the leash as usual, the driver opened the door for us and bowed slightly. The leash probably wasn’t necessary but it kept her authority and I’d gotten used to it and took much of the decision making away from me. A towel was already on the seat for me to sit on and we sped away. In minutes we arrived at the fence and the gate opened immediately, the sentries saluted and I felt I should wave and smile like the Queen, but I didn’t. I supposed they saluted the limo every time it passed through the gate regardless of who was inside.

On arrival two young criminal slaves ushered us into a room with a small bathing pool, baths and showers. Everything was elaborately ornate and ostentatious; a palace in the true sense of the word. The place reeked of money. For two hours another group of women bathed us in warm scented water and did our hair and nails. Illy and I were treated like royalty but no one would say what was going on. I did notice that very few of the slaves or the other women showed any evidence of being whipped or even strapped. Only one had a well reddened bum so I figured that perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad here. At the end I felt more pampered than after a day at the health farm. They dressed Illyano in a nice outfit that showed her tits but was otherwise respectable. I, of course, remained naked.

Shortly a voice called out, “The Queen,” and everyone knelt. We followed suit but Queen Julina ordered us to stand and inspected us closely, me particularly. I couldn’t help but look at her too although I didn’t dare to look her in the face. She towered above me and was well proportioned with it. A very striking figure that walked with grace and ease and from the way she smiled, I hoped she was a friendly one but I knew from previous experience, the smile on the face of a Comaran did not necessarily mean friendship. However, when she spoke, it was in a pleasant tone of voice.

“Do you know why you are here?”

“No ma’am, only that it is part of my sentence and I will have to service anyone who wants me.” I hoped ‘ma’am’ was the correct form of address for a queen but she didn’t correct me if it wasn’t.

“You’re a birthday present for my son, Prince Maurem. He saw you punished and mentioned to his father that he would like to teach you never to do drugs again. He’s still bitter over the way his older brother died and we didn’t know what to get him for his eighteenth birthday so when Michael was here and spoke about you, I suggested you would make a nice gift for him. His birthday is tomorrow but we give birthday presents on the eve before and because he is heir, tomorrow’s a state holiday and he’ll have all day to enjoy you instead of going to college. He’s had a few young white girls but they’ve quickly gone away after experiencing his prick inside them. You don’t have that choice but I expect he will tire of you before the end of your sentence and you can return to Madam Dorothy’s.” My mind was a whirl again and I must have looked ready to cry because she stroked my cheek, “Don’t worry Claire, it only hurts the first few times and the other perks for living here compensate for that. Look after them girls,” she spoke to the ladies who’d bathed us, “We’ll pack her up after tea so she’ll be ready for the opening at the end of dinner. Don’t tell her too much, let it be a surprise to her too as well as for the prince.” With those words she left the room.

We were indeed treated like royalty and after a light meal the girls took us to a place where we could rest until it was time for me to be ‘packaged’. I’m sure Illy learned more of the arrangements by talking to the girls in their native tongue but I had no idea what was said.

“You lie in box.” The girl indicated a coffin sized box lavishly decorated with geometric patterns, sitting on a wheeled trolley. It was on the short side and I had to lie with my knees drawn up to my chest. “When lid opened you sit up and smile and say, ‘Happy Birthday Prince Maurem, I gift your mother and father and sister give you. I hope you enjoy me’ and then he lift you out and show others present.”

“I think she will use better english than that Canan, but the sense will be the same.” The queen entered the room and checked I fitted the box. “Wait until dinner is nearly over before putting on the lid and tying the ribbons,” she instructed the girls and then addressed Illy in Comaran so I guessed she would be part of the presentation too.

Inside the box it was dark and hot and the amount of ventilation was barely enough but I hoped it wouldn’t be for long. I’d been ordered not to make a sound on pain of a thrashing so I kept quiet and tried to control my breathing but I could feel the perspiration trickling over my body. Twice Illy whispered through the vents to reassure me until finally I felt the trolley move and suddenly we were in a room and the guests were cheering and clapping. Music played and a song sung lustily so I presumed it to be their version of ‘Happy Birthday’. The prince must have suspected a girl was inside because I heard him say, “With most presents it is traditional to pick up the parcel and give it a shake to guess at the contents. I don’t think I’d better do that with this one.” His speech was followed by laughter from the guests and the sound of the ribbons being undone. “One, two, three!” Amid more applause, the lid was whisked off and, jack-in-the-box-like, I sat up and in the silence that followed my appearance, gave my speech.

I was clearly not the girl he and they were expecting but his smile returned, his arms lifted my sweat covered, bruised body from the box and held me up like a baby so all could see. According to Illy, I went red all over and I know I was embarrassed despite having been naked for about three weeks. Prince Maurem thanked his parents for the unexpected gift and when he put me on the floor, Illy clipped my leash on and handed it to him. “Claire Jane Hawkins for you Sir.” Somehow it showed a symbolic handing over of ownership but he held it only for a few moments and returned it to her. “I’m sure I will have need of your services too,” he told her and her face lit up with a big smile.

For the next half hour with Prince Maurem holding my hand and Illy the leash, I was introduced to the king and other guests. Even the king greeted me in a friendly way. “Welcome to the palace Claire. I hope you will keep my son happy for a while and perhaps teach him some of the better things that go on in England so he will be ready when he goes to university there.”

That surprised me. “Thank you Sir. I will do my best and I also apologise for my earlier behaviour and for my father’s insults.” I decided grovelling was a better policy than complaining about my treatment. Complaining might anger him again and I didn’t really wish to go back to the brothel or worse, certainly not after the treatment I’d received in the palace.

“Thank you but you have already paid the price for those and the slate in now clean, or will be in a few months time.” He also spoke a few words to Illy and made her feel very important too.

Prince Maurem introduced us formally to the queen and to Beanti, his older sister and many other people, male and female. All greeted me as though I was a member of the family but I had no idea of their real thoughts that lay hidden behind their smiles. Fortunately from attending somewhat similar gatherings in England, I more or less knew the protocol although there were slight differences, apart from my being naked and showing the aftermath of a whipping. When we’d completed the circuit, Maurem stood and banged a brass gong to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming and especially to my mother and sister who I suspect were the real instigators in getting my present. Thank you all. Now I hope you won’t mind if I take my leave of you and enjoy my gift.” There was more cheering and laughter and then he turned to Illy, “Follow me please.”

Chapter eight. For Leon

“WOW!” I heard Illy exclaim as I entered the bedroom from the toilet. Actually it was a word like it in her own language and I immediately saw why. Maurem had undressed and was sporting an erection, an erection bigger than any I’d seen outside porn films. I’d already been fucked by some large pricks, certainly by my standards at home, but this one beat them all and I wondered whether I’d have been better off to have stayed at the brothel but Maurem just laughed, “Don’t panic Claire, it will go in easily enough when you’re ready. Even some Comarans go pale when they first see it and if Illy gets you nice and wet and you do the same with this piece of flesh if won’t hurt too much, less than a spanking anyway. It’ll feel tight at first but in a couple of days it will go in easily.”

His words proved true. I knew from the way he’d picked me up to show his present to the people at his party, that he was immensely strong, but he had the power to be gentle. Like a small child he laid me on the bed, my head propped on two pillows, my feet alongside my bottom and my knees wide apart; a position that I was fully open to him and I could see when he pushed the purple-black head of his prick into me. First though, Illy pushed her tongue into my slit and nibbled and sucked my clit until my cunt flooded with its own lubricants. Meanwhile I slavered on the prick he offered to my mouth. As soon as Illy deemed I was ready Maurem climbed between my thighs and she guided his weapon into my cunt.

It did hurt and it stretched my vagina to its fullest extent but he entered slowly and it was nothing I couldn’t stand and I didn’t cry out although it seemed as though he was forcing my whole crotch apart. His pre-cum and my juices combined to lubricate my vagina and soon he fucked more vigorously, much like a man of normal size would. Gradually I was able to accommodate him and before he shot his load, I thrust back to meet his lunges and moaned with delight. Illy stood and watched with wide open eyes and I think she was slightly afraid she might be reamed with the prince’s prick before too long, or maybe she was wishing it was her on the end of his prick.

Finally he released his seed and collapsed on to me but did not withdraw until I pleaded with him to lift his weight off my still sore body. Illy seemed delighted to suck him clean afterwards and then do the same to me before applying a soothing lotion to my tender cunt. “Not many girls can say they taste royal sperm,” she whispered to me when we were alone.

For a while we lay on the bed cuddling and talking as though we were real lovers. He examined my body closely, played with my tits and touched the worst welts and asked Illy what she put on them. It was a local herbal remedy that seemed to work and she was told to carry on with it remarking that it was as good as the branded creams on the market. Before we actually went to bed for the night, I had to take his prick once more and again I tried to give him satisfaction even though my cunt was sore. Perhaps it was the training I’d had at Madam Dorothy’s and the fear that even here I might get a dose of the strap if I didn’t, or perhaps it was because I wanted to. Of course he took longer to cum this time and I managed several orgasms before he did so. That was a first for me.

“I can get used to this life,” I said to myself next morning. Two proper maids (not criminal slaves) brought breakfast to our room and addressed me as ‘Miss’ and with smiles on their faces asked their master, who was as naked as me at the time, if he wished the sheets changed. We’d had another fuck session early that morning and the sheets were indeed messy but he suggested they wait until we’d finished eating and were cleaning ourselves.

“We’ll go for a swim afterwards and make a start on getting your muscles back into shape and then I’ll give you a quick tour of the grounds but it will take a day or two before you begin to know your way around.” Maurem planned my morning as though I was an invited guest. “After lunch I’ll take you to my private study for a serious talk. I need to find out more about you, your life, why you take drugs and what will happen when you return. I will also need to arrange for you to be occupied while I’m in college.” Even Illy seemed puzzled by him being concerned about my welfare, as the only welfare I expected him to be concerned with, was the welfare of his prick.

At the main outdoor pool we met a college friend of his, Ka’an and the four of us frolicked in the water for a while until Maurem suggested, well it was really an order, we did some serious swimming. The two boys cut their way powerfully through the water and soon left Illy and me trailing. We did perhaps a dozen laps before we eased down and went into the lanes for the less serious swimmers and eventually, tiredly pulled ourselves out and laid ourselves on the grass surround. Everyone swam naked, even with children present, so I wasn’t out of place but I only saw one other girl and a man with criminal slave collars. The teenagers present openly stared at me but most treated me as they did everyone else.

We ate at the same table as King Munigo and Queen Julina. Princess Beanti got a severe look when she arrived late but she shrugged it off and apologised. Julina was keen to find out whether her son had enjoyed his present and appeared delighted when he unashamedly told her of our couplings. They all laughed when I blushed deeply. Ka’an lunched with us and chatted more to Illy than to me so it was no surprise when he asked to be allowed to show her a little more of the palace during the afternoon. I think Maurem put him up to it because he wanted to talk to me alone.

With some apprehension I left the dining room and followed him to his study adjoining the bedroom. I wondered about his reaction to my lazy way of life and especially to my drug taking. Like the king, he’d been deeply upset over his brother’s untimely death.

The ‘talk’ was almost an interrogation. Before we started he made it very clear that it wasn’t going to be a little pep talk like I’d had with counsellors at college. “Claire, I’m going to ask you some very personal questions and you will tell me the truth whether you think I will like it or not. I want to know not only about the things you’ve done in your life that led to your being here, but also the motivation behind them. I think your legal system uses a phase something like ‘to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth’. Our system works very differently as you found out, but for the moment, you’re not on trial, but you will answer my questions in the manner your legal system dictates. Truthfully. Only then can I help you. However, if I find you’ve lied to me, even if it is the day before you return home, then I promise you, your arse will be sore for many days.” I had a feeling he would keep his promise but besides that, it flashed through my mind that he intended to keep me for the rest of my time in Comara.

Before we really got started, I learned a little about his life too. College life for him wasn’t all the playboy scene I surmised. He had serious studying to do and, like everyone else in college, if his work was not up to scratch, his arse received its quota of the strap. “I was strapped several times after my brother Leon’s death because I couldn’t concentrate on anything else but that didn’t wash with my tutors. They set the work the same as for everyone and like them I had to do it or pay the price. I guess that made me get over the melancholy of my loss quicker than I would have done.” Like me he was doing economics and maths but our other courses were completely different. He was also into sports, particularly swimming and weight training which no doubt accounted for his ability to lift me so easily.

We went on to discus my life and I saw no reason to hide anything. My drug taking and many other aspects of my home life were well known so the threat of a thrashing didn’t have too much impact. “Why did you choose economics?” he asked.

“As a sop to father. He’s in business and pays my college fees but I’m not very interested in it and am majoring in English Literature and I scrape through with a pass mark in that. We also have to take maths and another language and I’m doing German, mainly because I had a German boyfriend for a while.”

“I sounds as though you are not bothered if you pass your course or not.”

“There is no incentive for me to do so. I’ll get by and I’ve money in my own right so why bother with qualifications? If I did all the studying I should, there would be little time for parties and social events.”

“So you are not bothered about losing a year of your college course? Or perhaps longer if you have to take care of a baby? Do you see yourself as some idle model drifting around from one boyfriend or affair to another or even finding yourself a husband who will provide for you?”

He had to prod me for an answer. “I suppose I will be disappointed not to complete my course and not to graduate from college with my friends and I had half made up my mind to do a little better for the rest of the year but I wouldn’t have kept that up for long. Too many distractions. Your description of how I might end up implies that I would just be a brainless bimbo, if a red haired one and not a blonde. I know I have brains and am not dim, in fact in my early years I did well at school, but then boys entered the picture and sex and drugs… and I ended up here.”

“Why did you take drugs?”

“Boredom. To heighten my sexual experiences. To suppress a little depression. So many little things I suppose. They just took my mind away from the real world.”

For a while Maurem sat silently looking at me obviously planning something. “Firstly I am going to fix my seal to your choker. It’s only an engraved metal plate but it will show everyone that you belong to me even if Illyano isn’t holding your leash. No one should interfere with you or try and fuck you or they will likely end up in the arena.” He fished around in a drawer and found the rather small broach-like plate and fastened it to my choker so it hung between my breasts like a crucifix. He then continued to voice his thoughts on my life and my future. “I wonder if your coursework could be forwarded to Comara College and you do the work there? You would have to work then or you wouldn’t sit in comfort. They may not run all the courses you take but I’ll see what I can arrange.”

“Why would you bother? I thought I was just here as a fucktoy. Maybe I don’t want to go back to college. Maybe my role in life is just to be screwed by anyone who fancies me. Maybe I just want to enjoy life…” I broke down then and started crying. His eyes were watering too but for a different reason.

“They are almost the same words as Leon used when I discussed it with him while he was still on relatively soft drugs. You are not going down that road Claire, not if I can help it. He had a choice; you don’t, not for another seven months anyway. Until you are sent home, you are in my charge and you will not have access to any drugs so with that temptation out of the way, the only other pitfall to you restoring yourself to some sort or normality is boredom and I will see to it that your life is too full to become the least bit bored. I’ll contact Michael right away and see what he can arrange with your college through embassy channels. Tomorrow I will have a talk with the college dean and see if we can get you enrolled and if they can liaise with your college. Does Janette have access to the college work you’ve done so far?” I nodded. “I presume she has email?” Another nod. This was all happening too fast for me. “We’ll email her to get your stuff to the embassy or to your father for shipping here. Maths will be no problem, we’ve an excellent maths tutor even if she is rather strict. You’ll definitely have to learn from her.”

“Why are you bothering to do this Maurem?”

He didn’t appear to hear me but went on. “Arranging that may take a few days. Tomorrow Illyano will take you to the Comara Country School and you can help them with their english. Teach them, and Illy too, how to put a sentence together properly and not disjointed words.”

“Why are you bothering to do this Maurem?” I repeated. I knew the answer but I wanted him to say it.

“For Leon.”

Chapter nine. At school

“So what have you been up to this afternoon?” Illy had a huge grin on her face but she put her nose in the air and gave the ring on my choker a pull, a clear indication that I shouldn’t question my superior. Maurem looked up and grinned too but Illy could only contain herself for a short while and I knew she was dying to tell me.

“If you must know, Ka’an take me round garden and his home.”

“And?…” I risked another pull on the chain.

“He fuck me… good.”

“Well he won’t be doing that tomorrow,” Maurem cut in, “You are going to school.”

“Sir? … I too old. I no do good at school.” The smile had gone from her face and it was my turn to laugh.

“You will take Claire to the Country School and she is going to teach them english. You will sit with the children and do the lessons with them.” I hadn’t expected that and nor did she. Worse was to come for her. “While she is the teacher, she is in charge of you and if you do not work properly and well, she may give you the strap.”

For a moment her face fell but as usual it brightened again and she shrugged, “Okay, I do good.”

My mind wondered again how I would get on standing naked in front of a class of five to fourteen year olds and trying to teach them. Maurem reassured me that would not be a problem but teaching any group of children filled me with dread. I recalled the many times I and other pupils at school had made the teacher’s life miserable and difficult by our behaviour and now, not only was I to teach a group of kids, it was in a foreign country under unknown rules and with them staring at my unclothed body. I saw it as a recipe for disaster.

After my interrogation, things became a whirlwind of activity with the prince using the power of his position to get things organised. He phoned, faxed, and emailed various people and organisations and called a technician to set up his old computer in his study room for me to use but did not give me an Internet connection. “For security reasons, I want to see any emails you wish to send Claire so you can type them on your computer and save them to a flash drive or disc. I’ll read them before sending them on my machine. You can tell them candidly of your treatment here although I expect a distorted version of it has already appeared in the newspapers. If you need to access a web site for your coursework, then it will have to be supervised. I took the opportunity to send an email to Jan, Steve and to mother’s home account. After his interference had caused me so much extra pain, father would have to get the information second-hand.

We finished a little over an hour before dinner and had to wait for replies to come in. “Time for me to play with my present again,” he announced gleefully, but instead of going through to the bedroom, he sat me on the edge of a desk, spread my thighs and fucked me that way. Not the most comfortable position for either of us, and penetration hurt, but I clung to his body in an effort to slow the pace down. At one point I looked up at him at the same time as he glanced at me and on impulse, we kissed. At first it was only a brief peck but then I put my arms around his neck and held him.

Immediately my mind told me it was a stupid thing to do. “You’re only a slave girl, his fucktoy. Any relationship can only last, at most, until you go home. Just because he’s treating you like a human being and not a criminal, doesn’t mean he has any real feelings for you. He’s only doing it for Leon’s sake.” Another part of my brain countered with, “Go with it. So what if he shows some feelings for you and you have to leave him in eight months? At least it might make your life here a little easier. Maybe he is only doing it for Leon but if you can benefit from it, do so.” Both arguments hid the fact that, although we only met a few hours previously and he was my master in all things, I had begun to like the man and he was only a few months younger than me.

School started at seven in the morning to take advantage of the cooler conditions. The college had air conditioning but at the country school they rolled up the canvas walls on three sides so air could blow through. The limo took us to the college and then Illy and I had to walk the mile or so to the school, partly because the road was no more than a dirt track and I suspect partly to bring me down to the level of the children. He did give me a new bright blue and rather gaudy parasol, which, of course, attracted a lot of attention and almost became my trademark in the coming months. It was necessary for me because my skin was already badly sunburned from our session by the pool the previous day.

No one expected us but of course they knew who I was and the woman teacher welcomed me and introduced me to a class of about forty ragged clothed children all sitting cross-legged on the dirt floor. Most had some sort of notebook or scrap paper and pen but little else. After the luxury of the palace, the conditions at the school were appalling. The initial chatter quickly died down when we entered the school and the children sat quietly and looked up expectantly while the teacher introduced me. I found the situation most embarrassing and blushed deeply. Standing at the front of the class with all those bright eyes I just knew were focussed on the red hair and puffy lips of my cunt. In actual fact, while they did look, to most of them I was just another lady and it was more the colour of my skin that attracted their attention. My nipples stiffened and I wondered if they noticed that too and I knew I had to do something to distract their attention, and mine! “Good morning children,” I called out recalling my junior school days. To my surprise they responded with a cheerful if discordant, “Good morning Miss Claire.”

After that the morning went very well. I introduced Illyano. “She’s my supervisor but for this morning, she is joining you and will sit with you and take part in the lessons.” Illy gave me a ‘just you wait look’ but said nothing and sat on the dirt floor with the others. “You all know why I am here and why I wear this chain around my neck and why I’m not at home in England but you may not know that I was given to Prince Maurem as his birthday present and that he has decreed that I start at the college here instead of being idle. While that is being arranged, I am to talk to you and, more importantly, you are to talk to me in english. If you don’t understand any words I use please put you hand up and I will try and explain them to you. If you have a question, same thing. The catch is you will have to use good english and proper sentences.” Half expecting heckling and comments, as would have occurred at home, I experienced only quiet attention.

The morning flew by. I told them about life in England but I learned a great deal about their lives, lives that were for many only a little above the poverty line. It wasn’t long before I forgot my nudity and joined in the general laughter with the children. I even brought Illy into the conversation and had her and other children correct her sentence structure but I don’t think she took offence.

Mid morning we had a little break and I needed to use the loo and to my disgust the teacher pointed to a simple canvas windbreak that the girls were using. If I hadn’t been desperate, I would have held on but I had no idea how long it would be before I returned to the palace. How different the pole with a deep trough underneath was to the gold-plated fittings of the Prince’s toilet. The girls were unfazed by my sitting alongside them and one even brought me a handful of soft leaves to wipe myself.

The teacher generously offered me some of her water and I noted that the children brought their own and their own food at lunchtime and I resolved to bring mine if I came again. Lunch was the end of school for the day but for a while I sat in the shade and talked more with the children on an informal basis until the teacher thanked me and suggested the children ought to be getting home. Many had a long walk and they’d have work to do when they got there.

Not knowing how long we would have to wait, we sat in the shade on a seat inside the college grounds until a few students passed by and Illy asked when the classes ended and when the prince would be out. “All classes end in an hour but some before that. I don’t know which one his highness has at the moment,” he replied and we settled down again.

Then Illy’s sharp eyes spotted Ka’an and she was off like a shot. They cuddled for a minute and then looked in my direction. I went over. “Maurem is inside trying to arrange your schedule. Come on, I will take you to the deans office and introduce you.” The prince wasn’t there but the dean greeted me cordially and outlined the situation so far. My college was not being very co-operative as far as distant learning was concerned and had only replied to one email and that was to acknowledge the receipt of his. “We hope the embassy can put some pressure on them and you will receive a visit from Mr. Cairns this afternoon but it may be a day or two before we can organise things enough for you to start here.” We chatted some more and he asked how my day at the school went. Illy nudged my back when I remarked on the poor conditions the children were taught under and the need for desks and books. “Maybe that is something that is within your power to rectify Claire,” he answered after a moment’s thought, which made me wonder if it was something I could do. I resolved to do my best and to tackle Maurem about it.

Ka’an travelled back with us in the limo and spent the time cuddling Illy. That had a knock-on effect with the prince. Not to be outdone, his arms went around me and openly fondled my tits and he kissed me a few times. “I’m allowed to play with my present,” he grinned when I didn’t respond immediately.

Jan replied to my email.

<Great to hear from you Claire. We knew you were alive from the lurid pictures of you at the brothel that the papers printed but the whipping marks looked really dreadful but I didn’t know if they’d faked the pictures a bit. I still have nightmares after watching your punishment and the barbaric way they treated that man and his wife. I suppose it does keep the crime rate down but the whipping you had was quite unnecessary and utterly cruel.

Wow, you seem to have risen up in the world. You did say you wanted to try a few new pricks before we left here and I guess you’ve had a few more than you expected and if they are like the ones we saw in the amphitheatre, I guess you’ll find Steve’s a bit on the small side. Is your Prince Charming well equipped? I daresay, you’ll be lying down in the lap of luxury all day long except when being sent to do your duty as a harem girl!!!

And you have to study as well. I did collect up all your stuff and I’ve boxed it up but your father doesn’t want to know. He said he’d tried to help before and got blamed for making things worse so he was keeping out of it this time. It’s quite a heavy parcel but I could post it to you if you wish and give me a postal address. They say it will take a week by air freight.

Luv Jan>

Michael came and Maurem interrupted his homework to deal with him. Our college was on the outskirts of London and Michael said he would try to get the London embassy to send someone personally to the college to get them to send the course material and maybe he would also pick up the parcel and send it here in the diplomatic bag.

I communicated this to Jan and added:

‘Steve’s prick would fit inside the pee-hole of the one I have to service here! And I think he is truly trying to make me pregnant but I’m past caring about that now. Another couple of weeks and I will know if I have missed my period.’

At dinner Queen Julina enquired of my day and I forcibly voiced my opinion of the poverty of the school. The king frowned and Beanti kicked me under the table but I didn’t back off and asked who controlled the finances for education. I learned that there was a controller of education but ultimately the purse strings were held by the king. A silence fell on the table and I knew I’d committed another faux-pas and wondered what the sentence for that would be. Fortunately, the king smiled.

“Did you find any evidence of drug taking?”

“No Sir.”

“Was there any evidence of misbehaviour?”

“No Sir, quite the reverse.”

“Were the children unhappy and demoralised?”

“No Sir… but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t do better if they had the proper equipment to work with and books to study. I don’t think the children there have the best chance in life even though some seemed very bright.”

For a few moments the king looked at me and again I wondered what punishment I might expect for being so outspoken. Again he looked up and smiled. “I’ll match dollar for dollar, book for book, desk for desk, any resources you find outside this country for the school. If you feel so passionately over the school, you work to improve things. You do your part and I’ll do mine. I think your expression is, ‘the ball is in your court’.”

It was the second time that day the suggestion had been made and the offer did indeed place the onus on me but I thanked him and saw it as a little test whereby I might prove myself to be a useful member of society and more than a criminal who used drugs. “Thank you Sir…I will do my best,” I stuttered.

King Munigo smiled broadly, “I’m sure you will after Maurem has spanked your arse good and hard for talking without being asked and at the dinner table too.” I was about to remark that Queen Julina had asked the question but decided that might increase my punishment.

Chapter ten. Punished again

“Were you naughty again Miss Claire?”

As I expected, the children were all well aware of my sore bottom as Illy led me walking very stiffly into school the next morning. “I didn’t think so. At dinner last night, I only asked King Munigo for funds to improve this school.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t get another whipping for that,” commented Semala, the teacher, “I’ve been trying to get funds out of the controller of education for years. I only asked for $1,000 Comaran dollars but it seems that this school isn’t worth that much to them.”

“I’ll get you a lot more than that, Semala. The King agreed to match any money I get with a similar amount of his own. That’s why Illyano has brought the camera this morning.”

“Why you get spanked Miss?”

“Then why did you get spanked Miss?” I corrected the boy and made him repeat it. “Because of this.” I pointed to my choker, “I should not have spoken without permission.”

“You really think you can get more than $1,000 dollars?” Semala sounded incredulous.

“I’m sure of it. If I can it will be worth the spanking the prince gave me.”

After the meal I fearfully followed Maurem to our study. “That was either a very courageous or a very foolish thing to do Claire but I’m proud of you and will do what I can to help raise the funds. Sorry I will have to spank you and do it hard…”

“Yes you will because I have to watch you do it.” Princess Beanti had entered the room. “Sorry Claire, I agree with my young brother but father ordered a hard spanking so a hard spanking it will have to be.”

“Why? I was only trying to help the children.” Tears filled my eyes. “Haven’t I suffered enough already?”

“Yes, you probably have but it could have been worse. He could have ordered the strap or the whip. You broke one of the criminal rules in that you initiated a conversation without permission. You would probably have got away with if it had been an ordinary day-to-day talk but by implication you were slightly critical of his handling of the school even though it is not really his responsibility. Are you going to do it now Mauren?”

“No, I think I’ll wait until bedtime that way I can play with my present for a little while and finish my homework without her blubbing all the time and she can work out how to get the money to fill her part of the bargain. I’ll send Illy or her to fetch you when I’m ready.”

I know I wasn’t very responsive when he fucked me and I think he realised it was the worry over my punishment and didn’t comment but what annoyed him more was my listless pacing of the room afterwards while he was doing his homework. Finally he could stand it no longer and grabbed my hand and dragged me in to his sister’s room. He walked right in without knocking and even discovering her naked on the bed watching TV held no embarrassment for either of them. “Will you look after her for an hour or so for me Bee? I must get my work done before the morning and she’s driving me round the bend. Perhaps you can work out ways to raise the money she wants – after you’ve played a bit first.” His mood changed and he laughed.

Like her mother, she was a large statuesque woman and I quickly found myself folded in her arms with her lips on mine. I reminisced on the lesbian activities I had in prison and at the brothel but this was different. She dominated me but did so gently and soon both of us climaxed several times. She didn’t even find her brother’s sperm still oozing from my cunt, too disgusting although she commented on it. We rested for a while and then began discussing ways of raising money. I soon found out that she was an intelligent girl and it was her idea for me to borrow a camera. “You’ll need a fairly simple one if Illy is to use it or maybe one of the children or the teacher. You need to get photos of you with a red bum and the bare classroom…”

“And the toilet,” I interrupted and thereafter we acted like two schoolgirls planning a party, throwing ideas off one another. It wasn’t until Illy knocked that we stopped and my depression returned.

Maurem gave me a hug before he started, “I’m sorry dear,” he actually said ‘dear’, “But I have to do this and do it properly. You broke the rules although it was with the best of intentions so I hope the school appreciates it. Bee? Will you be the judge as to when I should stop? Illy, hold her legs so she doesn’t kick.” I noticed he never said please or thank you and he would have to learn to do that before going to England.

Anger at the unjustness of it filled my mind. I was being punished harshly for the third time in this country for something that was quite trivial. When he gave me his leather belt to bite on, I knew this was going to be a really hard spanking, probably worse than the relatively short strapping I had from Madam Dorothy. And it was. It went on for a long while before Beanti called a halt and I lay sobbing across Maurem’s lap. At that moment, I hated Maurem and his sister and it was only after they’d tenderly applied creams that I began to realise they had to conform to rigid rules too. We showered first and Maurem gently massaged the cream into my sore arse; it helped but my flesh felt as though it was burning with an intense fire. My master’s hand was indeed large and powerful and hurt far more than the strap. Afterwards though, he cradled me to his chest and snuggled down to sleep.

Sleep didn’t come easily but I was afraid to wake and annoy the prince and just let my mind wander over all the things that had happened to me in the past few weeks and on my future. How many more thrashings will I get before I leave? Sounded as though if they get me into the college, I could get more there. What is Jan and the others doing at this time? Partying no doubt. Had Steve found someone else? In a way I hoped he had and I now regretted the comment I made on the size of his prick. Why hadn’t mother replied to my email? Pressure of her charity work? Would she help raise funds for the school? How would I face the children in the morning? They would obviously see I’d been well spanked and find it painful to sit. My thoughts rambled on for a long while before I fell asleep and then had to be roused to get up for the early morning start.

Of course, the children wanted to know more about how and why I was punished and the fact that I ate at the same table at the king, held them in awe. To them he was a god above gods. They tried to understand what I was doing for them but many found it difficult to comprehend that I, a stranger to their country and a criminal as well, would even consider helping a group of poor children. We spent much of the first hour discussing it, with me making sure they asked questions in good english.

Illy was pretty useless with the camera. She giggled and laughed each time she took a picture so they were rather blurred and I deleted them. “Ask Combie,” suggested Semala and indicated a boy rather smaller than the rest but one who I knew from yesterday, spoke better english and asked intelligent questions. After explaining what I wanted and checking his first few pictures, I left him to it and he seemed to have a knack of getting some of the dramatic moments, including when he sneaked around the toilet screen when I was peeing. I almost deleted it but then thought, in England they wouldn’t dare print pictures of children on the toilet but they might do of an adult.

We tried doing some maths or really it was simple arithmetic and with such a wide age range, the class was split into groups. I showed some how to do a problem on the blackboard, well really it was a tatty pale grey board and the chalk was a lump of natural rock chalk. For a moment I’d forgotten that I had my back to them and it was a minute or two before I realised all the children where staring at my colourful bottom but I tried to ignore it and carried on. Finally that morning we had a reading lesson with only ten battered books between thirty children. I even made Illy read and to her consternation, she wasn’t as good as many of the children. “I will set you a reading homework project each night,” I informed her in my best teacher mode voice. She made a face then laughed and held up my leash, believing that she was my mistress and superior, I couldn’t enforce it.

Soon after Prince Maurem paid a surprise visit, wanting to see for himself the conditions I’d talked about the previous evening. All the children and the teacher went down on their knees and I thought I’d better do the same. He said something and everyone relaxed but watched him as though he too was a god. Royalty never, ever visited that school. I introduced him to Semala and he asked her how I was performing and to my relief she gave a glowing testimonial. We toured the classroom and questioned a number of children as to what they were doing until we came to one girl abut seven years old. She was young enough not to be fazed by his presence and looked at him with wide open big brown eyes and boldly asked, “Why you spank Miss Claire when she try help us?”

“Because even I must do as the king commands,” he mumbled a reply, “But I will help her to help you.”

When I explained the problem of the books and asked if there was anywhere we could buy enough for a class he thought for a while. “Come with me.”

We walked back to the college where his limo was waiting, at least he walked and I stumbled painfully behind with Illyano once again holding my leash. Even had I been fit I could not have kept up with his long easy strides although by then I’d more or less become used to walking with bare feet. “Ka’an won’t be out for another hour, my lectures finish early on a Wednesday,” Mauren informed Illy when she looked around, “And we should be back by then.”

The limo drove us inland for a mile or so to a large, whitewashed mud building and stopped in front of an imposing sign, “The King’s School”. “This is the school I went to,” Maurem informed me. It was such a contrast to the school where I was teaching. The three classrooms were well equipped, the children had separate desks and there were proper washing and toilet facilities. A surge of anger welled within me but I fought to keep it under control. Here too all the children knelt when we entered the room and only rose when instructed. Again I thought it politic to follow suit and apparently I did the right thing. Maurem introduced me to M’chombe the headmaster who was teaching one of the classes and explained my request for books. “Well of course we can find a few books for them but are they really necessary? They are only farmers and peasant children and have no need for much learning. The school is only there because of our laws.” His voice showed his contempt for the school. I seethed with indignation and would have spoken out without thinking had not Illy pulled on my leash.

Remembering the spanking my words cost me yesterday, I asked Maurem for permission to speak and it was granted. “Sir, the children at the school may be from farming folk but I can assure you they are bright and intelligent and would do at least as well as the children in this classroom if they were given the facilities and the staff to teach them.” I heard a gasp from the children in the room but Maurem didn’t stop me so I blundered on. “Very shortly the plight of that school will be highlighted on world news and from the reaction and funds, funds the king himself has pledged to match, I will build a school that will put this one in the shade. I will see that funds are available for free tuition and free books but, unfortunately, that will not happen for a little while. Meanwhile, we have to beg for funds and books and surely it will be better for your image, if a message is placed on the web site, that The King’s School donated books rather than you refused to help.”

M’chombe was clearly taken aback by the forthright speech and looked at Maurem to see if he would reprimand me but he didn’t. “As you can tell headmaster, this little criminal has big ideas but as the ideas are aimed at helping our people I am inclined to go along with them. King Munigo did indeed pledge to provide an equal amount of money to that which she could raise outside of the country and therefore it is likely her plans will, in time, come to fruition and as you can see, she’s determined to achieve her aim. Meanwhile it behoves you to assist the school as generously as you can. I’m sure there are books in your store cupboards that are just gathering dust that could be donated to a less well appointed school without any loss to the children here.”

We came away with three boxes of books. Fortunately my two companions and the caretaker, helped to carry them to the car. Although I was pleased with this minor achievement, I began to doubt whether I could fulfil my brave words to the headmaster.

Chapter eleven. Campaigning

“Stand up girl, turn around.” I was dreading dinner and once again feared the king was going to take revenge on my body. “That will do I suppose. Sit down.” His words were grudging but his voice held some amusement.

Queen Julina was smiling and I wondered if she knew of some further punishment that I was to endure. “I hear you upset M’chombe this morning?” she commented and I knew I was expected to reply.

Here it comes, what will be my punishment this time? “I was able to persuade him to donate some of his precious books that hadn’t been out of the box since Princess Beanti’s time at the school, if that’s what you mean Ma’am.”

“And I also hear that you have enlisted my son and my daughter to help your cause.” It was the king’s turn to comment.

“They are making sure I use the right protocols Sir and seeing that I don’t overstep the mark.”

“And you have grandiose plans to build a completely new school with free tuition, which we already have, and free materials which will be an innovation that our controller of education will have to pay for.”

“I plan to set up a trust fund to pay for that out of donations Sir.”

“And you plan to raise so much money it will leave us destitute if we match your contributions.”

“I hardly think that will happen Sir, and it was your suggestion to contribute to the cause Sir but if you wish, we can put a time limit on it, say the end of next month Sir.”

“We’ll see.” The expected pronouncement of another chastisement never came.

Princess Beanti had certainly taken more than a passing interest in my cause. I was in the shower having only just returned dusty and sweaty when in she walks and asks about my day and how many pictures I’d taken. Maurem came in then ready for his shower and recounted the episode with M’chombe. “He always was a pompous sod,” Beanti remarked, “It won’t hurt for him to lose his status as the supreme school in Comara. I’ll download the photos on to my computer and we can sort out which ones to send.”

Combie had done a very good job and we picked a dozen pictures to send and emailed them to Jan in four batches with a text document explaining the situation. We did it all from her computer but called in Maurem to check the wording. I just hoped that Jan would show some enthusiasm for the project too but we would have to wait at least until the next day for a reply. We discussed plans for the school and where to get other services until it was time to make an appearance at the dinner table.

“I don’t do homework. I not at school, I your mistress you not tell me what to do,” Illy protested when I asked her to read. I found two copies of a schoolgirl novel in one of the boxes and set her to reading them while I was with Bianti. “I will hear you read the first chapter after dinner,” I ordered but I had a feeling she would resist.

“Did she say you had homework while she was a teacher at the school?” Maurem asked and when she muttered a ‘yes’, he went on, “Then you have to do it. In any case Ka’an won’t want a woman that can’t read and speak properly.” The last sentence hit home. The pair of them had cuddled in the back of the limo on the way home and they really seemed to like each other. Even if she saw the need to be able to speak and talk well, it didn’t stop her giving me the, ‘I’ll get you later’ look.

Ka’an actually phoned a little later and Maurem took the call, “Her teacher has grounded her until she’s done her homework properly. She has to read a passage from a book – hey why don’t you come over and hear her do it and if it is not good enough, I’ll have one of the girls from the harem sent up for you.” Illy’s face fell and I had another of the ‘I’ll really get you later’ looks because she certainly didn’t want one of the pleasure girls stealing Ka’an’s affections. I did try to soothe her a little and went through parts of the text with her before he arrived and indeed she did improve but her reading skills were below those of a ten year old.

“What do you think Ka’an? I asked after she stumbled a number of times over the passage.

“Not very good Claire, I don’t think she put very much effort into her homework, do you?” I had to agree. Tears filled her eyes and she anticipated another girl with him but he went on, “I think she just needs a little more encouragement to do better and it’s the sort of encouragement you can’t give her. Come here Illy and take that dress off. In front of us he spanked her bum but not with any great intensity. He stung her and made her squeal but there wouldn’t be any bruises to show in the morning. We didn’t see them again until breakfast the next morning, they having spent the night in one of the nearby guest rooms.

“How are we going to get the books to the school?” I questioned Maurem as the driver dropped us at the end of the dirt track.

“That’s just another problem you have to solve,” he grinned.

Illy had the answer. “We wait. Children come this way. We give some each one.”

“We’ll wait until the children come by and give every one a few books,” I corrected. That was a mistake and reminded her of her spanking which had almost been forgotten after the pleasure of spending the night with her boyfriend.

Before long, all the books were being carried and Illy and I walked empty handed except that she held my leash. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.” The end of the leash stung my still sore arse. I knew she was getting her own back but I couldn’t do anything about it. However, one of the older boys came to my rescue. I’d received half a dozen swats by then.

“WHAAP!!’ followed by a yell from Illy. “You will not hit Miss Claire because she does so much to help us and she already suffer for it.” I didn’t correct his slight grammatical errors.

“Thank you,” I acknowledged and he grinned and a few yards further on, Illy did too. It wasn’t in the Comaran girl’s temperament to remain angry for long.

Semala could hardly believe her eyes when each of the children handed her books as they arrived and I was given a big hug but I didn’t try to explain how I’d persuaded M’chombe to part with them.

That afternoon I had three emails. Michael’s informed that my college wasn’t going to co-operate and send material to me. I would have to start the courses again when I returned. He said that they were adamant even when the diplomats tried to pressurise them. In view of this, Jan was keeping my coursework stuff. I hoped that would curtail me going to the college here but Maurem said, “You’ll just have to take some of our courses. I’ll try and arrange it so you can teach at the country school as well.” He was going to make sure I wasn’t idle.

Mother’s email was brief. She apologised for not replying earlier and promised to help me and father would too if she told him.

Jan’s was more interesting.

<So you were a naughty girl again!! Or did you want your bum the same colour as the natives? Fancy you getting yourself involved in the politics of a foreign country. We (I’ve showed the piccies to our friends) were appalled at the plight of the children and I don’t know how you had the nerve to stand in front of them naked like that and give a lesson. Over here you would have been raped and had to withstand a lot of abuse. We’ll have to obscure part of the one of you peeing but yuk, that was more than primitive.

Do you remember Toby’s friend Godfrey – the computer geek? Well Toby got him involved and he’s setting up a web site on his free web mail account and when that’s up and running with your pictures, we’ll publicise it all we can. Talked on the phone to your mother just now and she’s going to set up a bank account for us to use and says she’ll get your father to advise us on the best ways to donate funds. She’s certain he’ll know a way so we can accept credit card donations. All of us will contribute. Things are underway but that’s as far as we’ve got.

Some people in suits came from London and talked with the dean but they’re not going to let you continue with your coursework. Seems they don’t wish to support a drug addict and don’t want the hassle of sending stuff abroad. Whether that will change when we start our campaign, I don’t know.

Are you still getting plenty of that monster prick? Sounds as though you are enjoying part of your time there. Are you pregnant yet?

Take care, we’ll do all we can to help at this end. After what you have been through and with the prospect of it happening again, it is the least we can do.

Luv, Jan>

I replied emphasising they do nothing that derided the king but to make sure to include that he was generously doubling any money raised. “I have no wish to return to the amphitheatre again,” I added.

For the rest of the week I went to the school each morning and in the afternoons planned the new school. Maurem promised to take me to a prominent architect when it looked like we would attract the sort of money needed to build the school. From what I’d been told, it would be surprisingly cheap by our standards, converted to GB pounds, about £10,000. A conservatory would cost more than that at home.

Jan and mother kept me informed of the progress in England. And on Friday Jan wrote,

<Hi Claire

Web site is up and running, see www.clairesschool.com We’ve had a field day advertising it. We dropped little slips on to desks and tables saying “See Claire at her new school - visit the web site.” We’ve also sent leaflets to the local and national papers that covered the story and some boys from the climbing club, scaled the front wall of the school and hung a banner with the same wording. They had to get a firm with a cherry picker to take it down and we made sure the local paper and radio station were there to witness it. Of course no one knows who put it up. I’ve been interviewed by the dean and by the papers and TV so the site is getting well known although it’s only been up for a few hours. Godfrey said that about £1700 had been donated already. He’s got one of those thermometer things that indicate the amount raised. You’ll be able to make a start on your new school soon.

Luv Jan>

We logged on and Godfrey had indeed made a professional site and had made much of the fact that the tourists who visited the country didn’t see the true picture of the poverty that existed on the other side of the fence. What shocked me was they asked for donations for the building of the Claire Hawkins School for Underprivileged Comarans. I wanted it changed but Beanti and Maurem forbade it and from their remarks I knew they were behind the naming of the school.

My elation was somewhat suppressed when Maurem said, “From Monday you will only be working at the school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You will attend the college on the other three days.”

“What courses will I do?”

“Maths, science, Comaran History and Comaran Language.”

I thought I could cope with the first two but Comaran History? Why would I ever need that? I might have more need for learning Comaran if I had to talk with the natives doing the building but so far I had only picked up a few words from Illy and the children. Everyone I’d met so far, at least spoke a form of english akin to Illy’s but which was understandable.

Chapter twelve. Another visit to the arena

I’d been with Maurem about a month when the next incident of note happened. As expected, I missed my period and a doctor confirmed my pregnancy. We knew it was Maurem’s child and he seemed delighted and I wondered if he would demand I stay past the end of my sentence, perhaps on another charge so the baby would be kept in Comara. My feelings for him had grown and I knew even then it would be a wrench for me to return home and go back to my former life. He seemed to have feelings for me too but only let them slip in unguarded moments when we’d made love, rather than fucked, and were cuddling each other.

College was a mixed blessing. Maths and science were relatively easy for me but Comaran history was very complex with invasions from many countries, which, in turn, made the Comaran language a mix of many, and thus led to english being the common factor. I learned both slowly and not without receiving the strap on several occasions. Illy delighted in correcting me when I spoke incorrectly and I did the same to her but neither of us used the strap.

At college the strap was used several times a day, often at the beginning of a lesson when a student hadn’t done his or her homework. It was mainly boys who attended college but whatever sex the student had to remove their trousers, bare their bottom and bend over a desk without being held. The usual punishment was two strokes of the strap but four was not uncommon and for the rest of the lesson, they had to remain bare bottomed. I think I saw most of the boys’ pricks and can say with some authority that all were larger than the boys I’d seen at home. The girls were treated in the same way and when I’d made several mistakes with my history homework, I knew what was going to happen but at least I was saved the embarrassment of having to remove a dress. I thought the first two strokes I had were extra hard but Illy said they weren’t and the ones I had subsequently were much the same. She had to sit at the back of the room and I gave her a book to read or she listened in to the lecture. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I delicately sat on the hard wooden seat but I didn’t cry out.

I wondered if the boys would try and fuck me, like I’m certain would have happened in England, but they knew I belonged to Maurem and in any case the penalties for rape were too severe to contemplate them doing it so. While some had erections just from looking at my body, they didn’t dare attempt to seduce me.

The school building fund now approached £60,000 more than enough to make a start and money was still coming in. Mother said father had persuaded some of his colleagues to give generously and Jan, Toby and Godfrey worked tirelessly behind the scenes and must take much of the credit for the huge amount raised. When the amount topped the £20,000 mark, I asked for and was granted an audience with the king. That might sound dramatic but I just went to his lounge with him after dinner. He seemed more kindly disposed to me now, partly I think because of the way Queen Julina and Princess Beanti treated me. He thanked me for my consideration when I suggested we put a cap on the amount of his wager and actually praised me for the work I was doing and went on, “Claire, I know you suffered badly at the beginning of your stay and I know you are not going to agree with what I am about to say. The whipping and the other punishments did you good. Had we just deported you, your life would still be drear and mediocre. Your smoking that weed would have become injecting harder drugs until you were hooked into selling your body just to get another fix. Here you have a reason to live, plenty to occupy your time and something worthwhile to fight for. I didn’t expect any of that when Julina suggested giving you to Maurem. The problem I fear is what will happen when you finish your sentence, not just to you but to Maurem.” Over the weeks I thought a lot about that too but refrained from speaking of it.

At the time of the incident I commented on at the beginning of this chapter, work had started on the school site. First it had been necessary to bulldoze a wider road to get trucks and machinery to the area and an underground electric cable put in. There was also a need for a well and a mechanical pump to supply water. These items cost almost as much as the school and were things I hadn’t thought of when I first dreamed up the scheme. By western standards the work was very labour intensive and gangs of men slept in camp half a mile away. Work had started to lay out the site with poles and markers ready for foundations and the erection of the walls.

I guess M’chombe was still breathing hate of the project into the pupils of his school because one night five of them, four boys and a girl, trashed all the markers and made a mess of the site. Unfortunately for them a worker from the camp was passing just as the group were about to leave and caught one and saw the others in the moonlight. All were arrested and like me, were assumed guilty but in their case too there was no doubt and when one owned up hoping for a lenient sentence, the others did too.

“What will happen to them?” I asked Maurem, “They won’t get whipped will they? They’re only sixteen year olds.”

“Probably. At sixteen they are considered to be adults. Maybe they’ll get some form of community work like Illyano. Depends on the judge.”

“The whip will mark them for life. My marks are still clear and Illy’s can be seen when she’s in the shower. They’re too young to be whipped.”

“Only two years younger than you. I don’t suppose they will get off lightly because it will be considered vandalism.”

“Is there nothing we can do to prevent it? Can I not press charges?”

“No but as the aggrieved party, you can speak at the hearing and ask for leniency. That will be a little unusual; most want the criminal to be punished to the full and for someone who is already a criminal to plead leniency is probably almost unheard of. If you wish to speak up for them, I’ll let the court know.”

So I ended up in the courtroom again. The five children were brought in wearing the paper gowns that I remembered so well. They had haggard expressions and I guessed they’d been treated the same as I had and when they saw me in the room the girl burst into tears and the boys looked downcast. The charges were read and they all pleaded guilty and said how sorry they were and it was only a childish prank. “I believe that childish prank cost a days work for the site workers,” commented the judge without much sympathy, “We’ll hear what Miss Hawkins as the person in charge of the site, has to say.”

If I do say it myself, I gave a very impassioned speech pleading for clemency and no whipping. “Their young bodies and their minds will be scarred for life and a prison sentence will lose them their education to the detriment of Comara in later years.” I know I went on a bit in that vein and then suggested, “It would seem the motive behind this prank lies in the belief prevalent at the King’s School, that they will be somehow demoted when my school is built and the children attending it are somehow substandard. This is not the case and if I may suggest for your consideration, the five are made to attend the country school for one day a week for the term of their sentence to help with the children there. In this way they can help the education of less fortunate children and find out for themselves how bright and normal they are.”

Even the judge looked surprised that I had spoken so openly in their favour and it seems he waited far longer to deliver his verdict than he did for me. “I had planned to have you all thoroughly whipped and jailed for what I undoubtedly consider wonton vandalism but Miss Hawkins, the woman whose cause lost money because of your actions and who herself suffered the whip not so long ago, has pleaded on your behalf. However, it would be wrong of me to let your actions go unpunished, that would send the wrong message to any others who felt so inclined to emulate you.” He paused for the longest time, “I therefore sentence you to twenty lashes in the arena but with a strap and not the whip. Thereafter you will serve the equivalent of a six month prison sentence. To show people that you are criminals you will remain without clothing for that period and I am going to accede to Miss Hawkins’s suggestion that you help at the country school but I will increase the period to two days per week. The choice of days being arranged to suit both parties. In view of her age, I permit the girl to receive the contraceptive injection but otherwise all the criminals will be treated as such.”

It wasn’t quite what I hoped for but at least they would be spared the whip and it was only twenty strokes. That would be bad enough because I knew the whip men wouldn’t spare them and with only their parents to look after them, when they were out and not working, they could be expected to give sexual pleasure to anyone.

“You do realise that we shall have to attend the punishment sessions on Saturday, don’t you Claire?”

Even the thought of going filled me with horror, to witness the punishments made me feel sick. “Do we have to Maurem? I’m sure I couldn’t stand seeing those poor people whipped and the lads and girl flogged with a strap.”

“Sorry Claire, nothing you or I can do to stop it and as you were one of the aggrieved, you have to witness their punishment. Fortunately this week they are all relatively minor whipping; one man has sixty but most are twenty or forty. No rapes or second time thieves so no mutilations either.” Illy looked up when she heard that remark; we hadn’t seen or heard of her sister since we left the prison hospital. “Can I be excused from attending?” Illy asked and Maurem quickly decided there was no need for her to suffer as well as me.

Saturday was unusually overcast which added to my morose mood. Maurem took the precaution of bringing several plastic bags but I didn’t have to use them, partly because I fainted when the first man was whipped. I almost did when the criminals were paraded around the arena and I saw the five teenage vandals who looked pathetically young compared with the three older men and two women. All I could say was ‘I did my best for them’ and prayed they wouldn’t be hurt too badly. Worse was the way all my memories flooded back and I vividly remembered being in that chained coffle and being shut in the ringside cages. Maurem supported me as I stood in the royal box between him and the king but when the first lash landed the memory of the first lash on my body returned as a vivid nightmare and I gave a little cry and sank to the ground. Only those in the box saw it and even when I returned to consciousness, they left me there.

“You must stand up now Claire, they are leading the girl into the arena. You must be brave and stand and watch. Two arms now supported me, the king’s and Maurem’s and I guess they must have suspected I would pass out at the sight because one of them, broke a capsule under my nose. I again remembered the smell. She was a pretty young girl, taller than me but small compared to most adults. Tears ran down her cheeks but I could see she was trying to be brave and hold her head up but as soon as the rope pulled her arms up, she broke down and when the first stroke landed across her shoulders, she screamed loudly. I cried and sobbed too as stroke after stroke was laid alternately across her back and front. The images on the screen showed clearly the strap flattening her young breasts. Only two strokes were placed across them but with the replays on screen, it seemed like many more. Finally it was over and when her bonds were released, she collapsed in a heap on the ground and had to be half carried back to her cage.

The boys followed, one at a time. Each tried to walk proudly into the ring but all were reduced to tears and needing support for their return to await transport to the hospital.

Five nervous, naked teenagers awaited my arrival at the school on Tuesday, the girl looking particularly downcast and I guessed she been raped many times in the prison and in the hospital. Taking the initiative, I hugged her and whispered, “I know what it’s like but it can get better. You won’t be hurt or fucked while you’re here unless you do something stupid.” I gave the boys a hug too and then introduced Semala and introduced them to the children. “As you know, they damaged your new school and they’ve paid the price for it. You can see they are very sore at the moment so I’m asking you to treat them kindly because they are here to help you with your work. For this morning they are just going to sit amongst you and when they do, please tell them your name and show them what you are doing and ask for any help. Make friends with them and don’t mock their suffering. After today they will come here two days a week but not altogether so we’ll have to work out a timetable and you’ll have them as student helpers for the next six months.” I didn’t refer to their nudity because they’d become used to my being there and knew the reasons for it.

Later I took each one aside and arranged their days and expressed my disappointment at not getting their sentence reduced further. Nepta, the girl, was particularly remorseful and thanked me for doing what I did, “The whip would have been far worse and it would probably have been forty lashes had you not intervened. You still show the marks after all this time.” We talked for a while and I asked her how she was coping with having to give her body to any men that wanted her. “The governor was the worst and perhaps the time before our trial when I was in the cell with the other women. I’d not done that before.” If I could have seen, I’m sure she blushed, “And at school yesterday, I had to service the headmaster and two teachers. Perhaps it would have been better to have been sent to the whore house.” They boys told a similar story of being held in the toilets and gang raped by their classmates without any of the staff stopping them. I began to realise more that I had earlier, how lucky, if that could be said of my being caught in the first place, I was to have Maurem as my protector.

When I told Beanti the story she quickly said, “Bring the girl here and if I like her I’ll put my seal on her chain.” Knowing she was a devout lesbian, I wondered if Nepta would see it as an improvement. However, when I walked in on the following evening, they were in the sixty-nine position and enjoying munching each other’s slits and next day, Nepta looked a lot happier.

Chapter thirteen. Reporter caught

“What are your feelings for my son?” Julina asked directly, “Your true feelings.” I’d often been in her study but this time Beanti was there too and there was a seriousness to the atmosphere.

It was now the end of August, the rainy season was upon us, six months of my sentence was over and my belly showed the growth of the baby within it. I’d generally enjoyed my time in Comara and felt I was achieving things I never believed I would. Six months ago I hated the place and could not have foreseen my wanting to stay but now I had a purpose in life and a man I truly loved. I no longer drifted from one party to the next and barely doing enough work to stay at college. Now I found myself organising men and women and having to do from a humble slave’s position, albeit one with access to a powerful hierarchy. The school was built and in use, and I mused that at home a similar school would still be the subject of a public enquiry and subject to all kinds of planning restrictions. In Comara only simple plans were made and it was up to the knowledge of the builders to construct a place that would withstand the weather.

I passed my maths and science courses, narrowly failed Comaran history and was struggling with the language and most weeks I had to take several swats of the strap over that. Illy delighted in correcting me and several times she gave me a token spanking but then I did the same for her when her english wasn’t up to standard, and I had to do it at school in front of the children because only there did I have authority over her. The cruel punishment system still grieved me although it had turned my life around, I didn’t believe the whipping and the rapes were necessary. When I discussed it with Maurem, he just said the system worked and kept the crime rate down. It was meant to be a preventative method as well as a punitive one and the crime rate was indeed low for the size of the population. He pointed to our overcrowded prisons and would argue theirs was a better system.

Julina brought my mind back to the present by asking the question again and this time I had to reply. “I love him and want to stay with him.” I burst into tears because I knew that in less than a month he was due to go to England to start his university course.

“You will return to England soon too. What then?”

“We’ll be together. I’ll move to his university town and have his baby and… I don’t know what will happen. I want to be with him; I want to be here; I don’t want to go back to my old ways with nothing worthwhile in life to do.” By then I was openly crying.

“You know Maurem feels the same way too,” Beanti commented kindly, “And he’s not keen on staying in England after what your friends have said in their emails about the weather.” I nodded. “Have you discussed it with him?”

“Not really. He won’t be allowed to take me as his wife, not with him being heir to the throne. And if he could, my work here would suffer if I spent the time in England or we’d be parted for three years if I stayed and he went to university.”

“Are they the only solutions?” Julina asked quietly.

I waited a long while before replying. “No, but its not one that I think would be fair on him. He could study an Open University course but he’d miss out on university life and getting proper lectures from tutors…”

“If life at university is like your life was at college, that would be something I would be pleased he would miss.” Julina put her point forcibly. “Tell me more about the Open University.” We logged on the their web site and downloaded the details.

“But he wouldn’t be allowed to marry a foreigner; I would only be a mistress to him.”

Beanti laughed, “If you’d studied Comaran History a little more, you would know that many Comaran kings and queens have married foreign women, mainly black women, that is true, but certainly not native to this country.”

“Go and talk it over with him now and then we’ll all meet again after dinner,” Julina added, “We’ve already had a talk with Maurem and know his views but we didn’t know of this other university option.”

We were still discussing it when we went to dinner. Maurem wanted to visit England and he also thought I should continue with my education and go to university too to which I hotly replied, “You should have thought of that before you put this baby in my belly.”

The king was opposed to any formal union between us but this sparked off hot retorts from his wife and daughter, pointing out the precedents in history and all the work I had done for the country, not only in getting the school built and helping the under privileged children, but the spin-off publicity that brought tourists in. He didn’t really cave in despite the pressure, but his gruff comment, “Well she can’t while she’s still classed as a criminal!” led me to believe it could happen afterwards.

That night we made love, not as master and slave, although it had never really been that, but as a truly loving couple and afterwards we continued our discussion. Illy joined in, wanting to know what would happen to her. “You can be my maid or marry Ka’an,” I laughed and I guessed which option she’d prefer. Finally we agreed Maurem would do the economics course at the Open University and would come to England with me at the end of my sentence and stay until the baby was born. However, when I saw the facilities in Comara, I decided to have the baby there and afterwards, when I was able, I would take the English Literature module with the O.U. Fortunately my science and maths modules done in Comara would be accepted by the O.U. and would count towards my degree course but they would not acknowledge Comaran History or Comaran Language as counting. Maurem insisted I continued with them anyway.

News of my ‘marriage’ although it hadn’t even been agreed, must have leaked out because a week later a white woman appeared at my bedroom. Only Illy was there at the time and the woman flashed a wad of dollars at her. “Can you ask Claire to come and speak privately with me?’ she whispered, “I’ll make it worth your while.” Unfortunately for her, Illy recognised the reporter from GoGo magazine from the episode at Madam Dorothy’s and with great presence of mind, suggested the woman hide in the closet until she could bring me in. I was talking to Beanti and Nepta and Beanti insisted we call the guards who quickly handcuffed the reporter and were about to take her away when we went in.

Had she not turned on Illy and called her, ‘a betraying black bitch’, I would have had more sympathy for the woman but even so I had no wish to be responsible for her being flogged in the arena. “What will happen to her?” I asked knowing full well what the answer would be.

“First we find out how she got into the palace and why security didn’t find her,” M’jobo the chief guard replied, “Then we take her to the prison and she’ll be punished.”

“You can’t whip me, I’m only doing my job. I’m Evelyn Newcombe and it will be reported. I’m not a citizen of this country…I’m a British citizen…”

“So am I.” Panic went across her face and she could see the whip marks still faintly visible across my breasts. Two of M’jobo’s assistants took her away to save us from her vindictive remarks but not before she’d spat at me and hurled further abuse at Illy for having taken her money and betrayed her.

Maurem arrived having heard of the problem. “Can she be spared the arena?” I asked him, “I don’t think I could watch another lot of punishments there. They might make me sick enough to have a miscarriage.” I certainly had no wish to watch another of those gruesome spectacles and I knew, as one of the aggrieved parties, I would have to attend and so played the baby card to it fullest.

“She’s got to be punished severely otherwise we’ll have a plague of reporters trying to get in,” Julina stated and this was accompanied by noises of agreement from the others.

“And I must find out how this breach of security occurred,” M’jobo added.

“That’s the first priority,” Maurem agreed, “But this happened in the palace which is private property so we could punish her ourselves. Father would need to make that decision. He would need all the facts first so question her in your offices M’jobo and bring her back when you’ve found out how she got in and who her accomplices were. She must have had some.” I wondered what state she’d be in when security finished their questioning, as I knew their questions would not all be verbal.

It was a little before dinner when M’jobo informed us that a delivery van driver had been bribed to bring her right inside the building inside a box of equipment. “He’s been arrested and is being taken to the prison for questioning. The girl’s pretty tough and took some persuading before she told us and kept claiming reporters didn’t have to reveal their sources of information. She did in the end but it might be better to wait an hour or so before you talk to her.” He gave a wide grin, “She’ll not want to take a man’s prick for a while.”

We assembled in the Audience Room after dinner with the king presiding. We all had a say on the matter, even Illy who strongly objected to the racial remarks made against her and the Comaran people and wanted the woman punished to the fullest.

I asked about the woman’s personal details. “She is 26 years old from a place called Croydon which is near London, she said. Divorced. Her husband left her but she didn’t say why. No children. Has worked for GoGo for three years and got several exclusive stories,” M’jobo informed us. I put in a plea for her not to be sent to the arena and for an element of leniency but it wasn’t the impassioned plea like I made for the children. The decision was for King Munigo to make and his alone.

“Bring her in.” She must have been held outside the door because immediately they dragged her in, naked, gagged and walking unsteadily and bow-legged. From the intense redness around her crotch and the inside of her thighs, it was obvious where the strap had been applied and with vigour too. No wonder she finally gave them the information they wanted She was an attractive dark haired girl, with breasts larger than mine but she had an arrogant attitude. I began to feel a little sorry for her but she showed no remorse for what she’d done or for her words to Illy.

“Evelyn Newcombe, I find you guilty of trespassing on my property, bribing at least two of my citizens and trying to obtain personal information about my son and his property.” I winced at the word ‘property’ but the king didn’t notice and continued, “Your nosiness has landed you in serious trouble and under our laws, laws you were no doubt aware of having suffered in a previous attempt to get information, this a punishable offence. Normally you would have been taken to the prison, and tried by a court and sentenced to a public punishment in the arena. I have no doubt because of the seriousness of the offence the judge would have sentenced you to between 40 and 80 lashes with the whip and to be imprisoned for eight months. During that time you would be kept naked and treated as a non-citizen. Claire requested clemency and a less public punishment but in view of the nature of the crime and the lengths you went to deceive us, I cannot order less than 40 lashes, but will accede to her request that the sentence be carried out here and not part of the arena spectacles. They will be delivered here in the courtyard at first light and will be witnessed by those present and any staff who wish to see it. Your punishment will be filmed and a DVD sent you your magazine and you will be kept within the palace walls for the next eight months and serve as a cleaning woman for the security and admin offices and accommodation. You will of course have to service those staff as often as they require. As of now, for the next eight months you have no rights and will have little time to pry into the affairs that do not concern you. Take her away.” The poor girl fainted. I’d mixed feelings on the sentence. It was harsh but in many ways she’d got off lighter than I had and I’d only brought in a small amount of weed whereas I felt her crime was far more serious.

Early next morning M’jobo came to tell us Evelyn was in the courtyard ready for her whipping. “How is she?”

“A little sore between her legs and in her bottom,” he grinned.

It was chilly in the courtyard at that hour and I shivered partly from the coolness of the air and from the memories of my own ordeal. Evelyn was already strung up to the bough of a tree and the two hooded whip men stood ready on either side of her. I supposed they brought them in especially for the job. The king and queen arrived and sat in seats placed in readiness for them. With a movement of his hand the king signalled for the punishment to start.

I was glad there was no large TV screen and no playbacks but the whip men performed the same ritual as in the arena. Two strokes to her back, two to the front, gradually working their way down her body until both sides were striped and swollen. In the quiet of the morning, her screams sounded loud and reverberated from the walls around the courtyard but nothing stopped the inexorable and relentless strokes of the whip. She begged and pleaded for release but there was no escape. Every ten or fifteen seconds, we heard the hiss of the whip followed by the snap as the end curled around her body followed by an agonising scream that became hoarse as the fire and pain penetrated her body. Someone in the shadows called out the number of strokes and after she’d fainted twice, they taped the capsule under her nose like they for did me. I felt sick but at the same time I was fascinated by the pattern of the marks left on her skin. These were much more noticeable than the ones I’d seen in the arena, partly because we were closer and partly because, even though she had a healthy tan, her fair skin showed them clearly.

Two days later I visited her and when I arrived at the security office, she was bent over a desk and a burly guard was fucking her hard. He saw me and grinned and carried on until he’d sent his sperm into her. “May I speak with her please?” I asked when he withdrew and offered his prick to her mouth. She dully accepted it almost in a trance.

“What do you want?”

I tried to give her a little comfort but doubted she was ready for it at the time. “Evelyn, I know what you’re going through, I’ve been there. I know you’re probably contemplating suicide. Don’t, even if you get the chance. It will get better although these next few weeks will be horrendous. I’ll do what I can to help but it will be little enough. Like you I am a criminal slave but I’m fortunate in now having a seal, which means I only have one master and because of the work I did, I do have the respect of the king and his son. You’ll have to earn that respect in other ways. One thing I will do if you wish. My release is due shortly and I’m returning to London to visit parents and friends. While I’m there, I will also visit the GoGo offices and grant them an interview and ask that your name is on the by-line.”

She shrugged as if to say, “What does it matter?” I left and the guard returned and started her polishing the desk.

A fortnight later Michael came to see me. The embassy had sent him on a futile mission to try and secure her release and took the opportunity to visit me. “Have you seen her lately?” he asked. I hadn’t. “She’s in a bad way and it looks as if she is giving up her will to live. They’re making her do physical work like a native woman and she hasn’t the strength for that, they’re fucking her continuously and strapping her when she doesn’t respond. She needs help Claire otherwise it will be her body that is shipped back to England.”

Unfortunately what he said was only too true. When I arrived she was collapsed on the floor lying beside a mop. A guard stood threatening her. “Leave her!” I ordered. He turned and swung the strap at me. It caught me painfully across the chest and I remembered I was still a criminal and should not have ordered him but he must have also realised who I was because he lowered the strap and didn’t strike me again when I knelt beside her and felt the heat of her forehead. She had a burning fever and needed urgent medical treatment.

“Where’s M’jobo?” I asked respectfully and in Comaran.

“Away for a few days,” he replied in his own language.

“Please leave her. I will arrange for her to go to the clinic. She’ll die if she’d not treated. She’s not a strong a Comaran woman.” I wasn’t fluent in the language but at least I could make myself understood and it seemed to impress the guard a little.

Through Julina, I was able to get Evelyn moved to the palace clinic for a few days and when he returned, went and spoke with M’jobo. He was more educated than the other guards and I was able to get him to agree to reduce her work load a little. “Could you put your seal on her?” I asked. I knew as head of his department, he could.

“Maybe I will Claire but I will have to allow others to have her too otherwise it create a bad feeling in the workplace. I would be able to control them better though.”

I saw her again with Michael a week after she’d been discharged from the clinic and she looked a lot better. They were working her hard and most nights she slept in M’jobo’s bed even if he’d another woman with him but during the day at set break times other men fucked her. She wasn’t happy with the arrangement and charged Michael with not working hard enough to secure her release but we both pointed out that the embassy had no power to influence Comaran laws and she was stuck with them until the end of her sentence, just as I was. It took a little while for her to acknowledge that what I had done had eased her life a little.

Chapter 14. Home and back

“I’m sorry that one of my staff caused you problems Sir,” Karen Sayers, editor of GoGo magazine apologised. We sat in her office a week after coming to England. She had a pleasant and bubbly personality and I took to her immediately.

“I’m sure she regrets her actions now too,” Maurem commented with a wry grin.

“What was she like here?” I enquired.

“Over-bearing; devious. I thought at one time she was trying to oust me from my job. That’s one of the reasons I sent her to Comara and to get her used to the sexual side of life. A far as we knew, she’d never had a boyfriend after the divorce, at least not while she was here.”

“She’s certainly had plenty of men in the last few weeks,” Maurem commented.

I explained how she was virtually a slave to the workers in the admin department of the palace. “Maybe that will change her attitude a little for when she returns. I don’t agree with the barbaric way you treat criminals but making her submit to others might alter her superiority complex. She’s a good story writer though and readers who don’t know her personally, praise her work highly.”

“You realise she’ll need to go on maternity leave soon after she gets back? She’ll be as pregnant as I am now with a black baby and an unknown father.”

“When is the marriage taking place?” Karen asked.

“How do you know we’re getting married?” I countered.

“A journalist doesn’t reveal her sources,” Karen smiled.

“Probably not in England but Evelyn was persuaded to reveal hers. One advantage of our barbaric culture. We didn’t waste days trying to persuade her,” Maurem remarked.

Karen looked at me questioningly. “They stripped her naked and laid her on a table. Two men pulled her legs back to her head and held them wide apart while a third man strapped her sex hard. After twenty straps he raped her and started again. By then she would reveal anything. Her male accomplice was given a similar treatment until his testicles were many times their normal size and his arse was wide open.”

Poor Karen’s face went ashen. “Is there nothing you can do to ease her situation?”

“I’ve already done a little but maybe when we get back I’ll se how she is coping. I’ll then have a little more authority as I am no longer a criminal.”

“You’re still wearing your choker.”

“But there’s no lock on it, only Maurem’s seal. It shows that I am under his protection and I’ve become used to wearing it.”

“Was there some sort of ceremony when your sentence finished?”

“Nothing major. I was taken to the courthouse and formally told that I was no longer a criminal, given a standard lecture on my future behaviour like I was a naughty schoolgirl, and I was now a free woman and could dress and leave the country if I wished. An official then undid the lock and Illyano gave me a native style maternity dress to wear. Although it was nice light cotton, after all those months without wearing anything, it felt itchy and uncomfortable. I took it off when I got back to the palace. Over here in this cold, wet weather, clothing in not an optional item.”

We spent most of the afternoon with her before returning to my parent’s house.

The three weeks in England sped by. I appeared in a couple of TV chat shows and did some fund raising interviews for a village community centre that I was planning. I of course visited Jan and my other friends but we didn’t really go partying and because of the baby, I didn’t have any alcohol. It was more catching up time on all that had happened in the last few months. Emails gave a general idea but were a poor substitute for face-to-face conversation.

“M’jobo, you are to take Evelyn to the festival at Makato tomorrow. The king has given her permission to do a report on the fishing festivities and I’m sure you won’t mind having a day away from this office.” He gave a nod and a grin. “On the way you will pick up Combie from his farm and he will take photographs of the event.” After his first attempt at photographing me at the original school, I used him to take photos throughout the construction of the new one and found he was a natural at it and was adept at using the new camera that Maurem loaned us. “If his parents query it, say he will be paid by the magazine for any photos they print and that could amount to more than they earn in several months. She is allowed to carry a plain parasol and to take notes. Make sure you keep her out of trouble and change your seal for a palace one so that she actually sees the festival and can report on the event and not be forced to lie on her back all day.”

I turned my attention to his charge. “Evelyn, M’jobo will tell you more about the festival and you will be given time on my computer to write your report and edit the pictures. You can ask Combie to take a particular picture for you but remember, although he is a lad he is far above you in rank so you’ll need to be polite to him and I don’t need to tell you what M’jobo will do if you are not. When your report is done we will check it and authorise the sending of it to your boss. I’m sticking my neck out in getting you away from the palace and had to get special permission for you to do so. Don’t betray my trust. If you do, it will not be in my power to save you from the arena.” In the few days since my return, I’d become used to my new status and could give orders provided I had the backing of the king or one of his family.

“I don’t suppose I will get any clothes?”

“Of course not, but you will get to visit a place that I have never seen and with my baby imminent, I daren’t travel the rough road there. Your fee will be paid into your account but you won’t have access to it until you return. Karen is seeing that your flat is being paid for.”

She acted sullenly as if she didn’t care that I was trying to help her and I wondered if I was doing the right thing.

Her mood was more upbeat when I waddled naked and clasping my swollen stomach into our study the following morning. She even knelt without being told. M’jobo held her leash and Combie stood alongside. I was surprised to see him but M’jobo answered my unasked question. “I told his parents I wouldn’t drive along the track to his farm in the dark and he would have to spend the night in the palace if we got back late. They were more concerned about him missing another day’s work. This morning he pleaded to see what happened to the pictures when they were downloaded. He said you wouldn’t mind Miss Claire.”

“That’s fine, but I only load them into the computer and do little more than crop them. What do you do Evelyn? You can stand now.”

“I just pick the best ones and send them to the print studio and let them sort out what to do Miss.” Again the use of the term ‘Miss’ surprised me but I guessed M’jobo had a few words with her before they came into the room. As she stood in front of me I looked at her stomach for signs of her pregnancy but found none. Maybe her body had rejected all the sperm injected into her.

“Send Illy to get one of one technicians,” Maurem walked naked into the room too. “You might have to wake him up,” he added when she appeared.

“Admin room 703,” M’jobo gave her the location, “Ask for Greno.”

I fired up my computer and noticed she walked painfully to the chair. “Blisters?” She nodded and received a jab in the back from M’jobo.

“Yes, Miss.”

“They’ll be a problem for a week or two until your feet get used to walking on the rough ground. Have they put anything on them?”

“No Miss but I was able to wash them this morning.”

“I’ll get Illy to get some cream when she gets back. I could barely reach the shelf earlier, now I can’t get near it.” When I smiled, she did too and I thought how much more attractive it made her look, that is if you ignored the welts across her chest and back.

“Thank you Miss.”

Her notes were all in shorthand which I couldn’t read, and, knowing how devious she was, I numbered the pages and scanned them as picture files and forwarded them to mother for her secretary to read in the morning. Evelyn looked worried but not unduly so. Soon she was typing away at a fast speed. I left to have a shower.

An hour later, she was still typing, Combie was sitting at a laptop with a man I didn’t recognise but who I assume was Greno and who was definitely instructing the lad on the use of Photoshop and M’jobo sat watching the three of them.

“I think I’ll get her to type my reports Miss Claire,” he commented when I arrived.

“Not a bad idea. They might get done a little quicker that way.” He grinned and I did too, thinking it might be another way of getting Evelyn out of some of the drudgery. “How’s it going Evelyn?”

“I’ve almost done a rough draft but it will take a lot of editing as usual, Miss Claire.”

“Leave it for now,” Maurem came in and threw a local paper on the desk. “Write a report for them. Write it as though you were one of their reporters and not a naked foreigner. You can use that angle for GoGo if you wish. Use Combie’s pictures as the main items and build the text round it like the paper does. Many of their readers have difficulty in reading so it’s a case of lots of pictures and little text.”

“We’ve still a few to do Sir,” the technician commented. “Probably half an hour.”

“Come into the bedroom and we’ll treat your feet and we can have an off the record chat about the day,” I whispered to Evelyn.

“You’ll have to lift your feet up, I can’t bend down! Lay back on the bed.” I laughed and then went on more seriously, “I’ll tell M’jobo to get you some slippers, there’s open wounds that will need to be kept clean. You will be allowed to wear them for medical reasons.” I applied some cream and then asked her about the festival. She obviously enjoyed herself most of the time although on three occasions she felt M’jobo’s hand on her arse because she breached some etiquette or other. “How did you get on with Combie?”

“Okay. He was dashing around taking picture after picture. It was a good job he had a spare flash card and extra batteries. I told him I wanted some pictures of me at the festival and that’s when I had my arse smacked; I should have asked him nicely. I know he took some but they’re still playing with them in the other room. He was nearly asleep on the way back but he woke up when M’jobo said he could sleep with me and use me too if he wanted. He did of course and I think it was his first time too. Luckily for me, tiredness overcame him again but he woke early and fucked me again and then we had to shower together.”

“I’ll try and arrange for other outings and reports for you and I’ll ask Illy about some stuff she got to toughen my feet when they were still tender. A lot will depend on whether the local paper accepts your account of the festival in preference to any other that is sent in. You really will have to hope Combie did a good job.” With the technician on hand to tweak the photos and Evelyn’s skills at producing interesting text and a rough layout the paper could use almost without alteration, it was almost a foregone conclusion it was accepted.

She confirmed my suspicions that she wasn’t yet pregnant and had a period less than a week earlier. “My husband never took precautions either but I always had my period on time. That was part of the reason he left.”

Combie looked worried when soon after tea it was time for him to go home and I asked why. “Dad will be angry because I should have worked the farm this weekend and got some fruit ready for market so we had money enough for the rest of the week.”

“How much does GoGo pay for exclusive photos?” I asked Evelyn.

“Well for something like this, unless we can hype it up a bit, about £50 - £70 each. I shall send ten but they may only print four.”

Returning to my room I took $100 Comaran from my purse. Now I was no longer a criminal I was able to obtain money from the cash machines so I didn’t have to rely on Maurem all the time. “Combie, take this as an advance on your payment from GoGo. You should also get paid for the photos in the paper if they print them but they don’t pay such high rates. This should keep your parents happy for the week and should allow you to keep some for yourself.” The boy’s eyes opened wide and I thought he was going to cry but then the usual big smile and a hug and a ‘thank you’. He’d never seen so much money in his short life.

A week later I entered the hospital where everyone referred to me as ‘Miss Blue Brolly’ having seen me around and on TV with my bright blue parasol.  Only when Maurem visited, did they defer to me and for the rest of the time treated my like just another first time mother. I expected a painful birth because the baby seemed huge and indeed it was, but when my contractions began, the nurse gave me a small glass of brown liquid. “Its from a plant we grow in garden,” she informed me, “It make you feel good and baby come out easy.” Her words proved correct and two hours later, out popped a baby boy. My mind pondered for a short while as to whether it might be used as a recreational drug but while it made me feel good it didn’t heighten any sexual feelings.

I was disappointed Maurem wasn’t there but fathers didn’t attend during birth in Comara. I insisted Combie attended because I wanted photos of the birth to send home. The fact that I was totally naked for the whole time I was in hospital didn’t of course faze him; he’d seen me that way for months but the sight of the blood and mess turned him a little pale. However, it set a precedent and other mothers wanted photos too.

Maurem arrived two hours later and was shocked when I handed him the baby to hold and when the other mothers looked on a little dumbfounded, I knew I had broken another tradition but I insisted that he being the father should bond with his son right from the beginning. We had a little squabble over what to name him. I wanted Thomas for no particular reason other than I liked the name and in the end we compromised on Tomega but to me he would always be ‘Tom’.

Back at the palace, Illy is enamoured with him and wants one of her own and may not get another contraceptive injection when the one she had wears off in a few months time. She and Ka’an are definitely an ‘item’ now and I wonder how long she will stay as my maid. We think King Munigo is gradually giving in to the inevitable and will agree to my marriage to Maurem next year.

Evelyn’s had a couple of outings and her life has improved a little. She gets on better with M’jobo but still has to submit to many others in the admin block and has to do the chores there. She really doesn’t have any love for this country and will return as soon as she is free.

Combie is now relatively wealthy and has his own camera and computer. We sent the photo of me breast feeding Tomega to GoGo and they syndicated it on to the national newspapers and the fees for it were astronomical by Comaran standards. We set up an account in his name so the money went to him and not to his parents although he supported them financially.

Me? As well as the community centre, I’m begging for funds again for the school. I want to expand it and have a computer room, something the King’s School doesn’t have although they do have two computers for the children to use.

That about brings this story up to date. I’ve no real idea what the future holds and often wonder where I would be now if I hadn’t tried to bring weed into the country. My life would not be as fulfilled but I wouldn’t have gone through the hellish ordeal in the arena and afterwards.

Finis