Corey had always wondered about prisoners walking to their execution or meekly into a cell. Why didn?t they fight? Why be passive and compliant when you were seething with fear, injustice, anger? Why? Surely they should make a physical protest after words had failed! But she wryly censured herself. She could kick and scream and bite. The handcuffs would not stop that. But she was being abjectly obedient as she followed this cafe-au-lait female into pain and the defilement of her sex. But it was one of those things. She was in the grip of a tide she could not stem. Bitterly, she understood the logic of cuffs and collar. They robbed a girl of will.
Every ring in the place held a handcuff, its other half tight on the wrist of a curious girl. A new girl was always welcome. It spread the workload and the stripes. The smiles were welcoming.
'Talifa has help.' The head girl indicated another like herself. 'Take place of Amrah. Make you be good. Her name Raynee.'
More suspension. The two girls did not lift Corey?s feet from the floor, but the stretch of lifted arms made the handcuffs bite. 'Is not for long, just while we whip your nice back.' Talifa explained with thoughtful solicitude. 'Is good we whip you like this. You be using pretty cunt, so is best not to hurt.' It was as though she was being looked after by loving friends.
The pain was beastly. Corey Gibson hated every stroke. Her loins were not heated as they had been with Seth. With him, each lash had sent an erotic fire coursing through her veins. But this was cold. She was convinced it was useless, serving no purpose other than to make her humble. Talifa and Raynee cut the whip with zest, exclaiming over each red line, planning the next. After a few strokes she gave up trying to be quiet, after a few screams she pleaded to be gagged.
'We don?t mind you make noise and kick feet.' Talifa consoled.
'But I?m so ashamed of the noise… it just hurt so damn bad.' They gagged her with a mouthful of rag and a strip to bind it between her teeth. The fingers were loving as with a pet who gave pleasure. To the girl who could not now scream, the blows when they resumed seemed doubly severe.
'Lovely back looks very pretty.' The two whippers were in no hurry. They traced weals with exploring fingers, discussing possibilities and speaking of other girls and their behavior under the lash. Their reassurance sounded sincere. 'We not whip lovely breasts. Soldiers like breasts very much.' Corey had lost count of the times the thong had cut at her skin. She had forgotten to ask how many blows she must receive. But what did it matter? What did anything matter now? She looked up the columns of her bare arms to the shining chrome by which she was held helpless for this undeserved punishment. The metal bands were deep in her wrists, compelling her toes to lift her to their limit. She was grateful her toes were still on the floor. But the pain was sickening… Perhaps this was done to a new girl so that the impaling thrusts of a penis would seem of small consequence by comparison. Around the wall her chained sisterhood watched her agony in varying reaction, remembering their own.
'If girls not polite to good soldiers they get whip often.' Talifa explained helpfully. 'If too much complaint on service we whip her cunt. Is swell and very tender for prick.'
It was all well thought out. The moral was obedience. Corey bit hard on her gag as a lash flickered hatefully into her armpit. Why, oh why couldn?t they whip a girl?s bottom and leave it at that? Must these whipping girls always seek her most tender recesses? She hoped they would not tell her to spread her legs.
Satisfied with their work, they released her arms. Then watched, laughing as she awkwardly plucked at her gag with joined hands. In a great relief at the cessation of the strokes Corey grinned with them. Handcuffs stopped very little but made most things difficult. A handcuffed girl must be forever reaching and stretching and twisting.
Corey thought of it as:?the room where it would happen?. It was a large spacious stone chamber in which rugs, drapes and huge cushions struck a note of luxury and cheerfulness against ringbolt and chain. By the time she was led there the rest of Abdul Nour?s conscripted harlots had been returned to their collar and chain. Once more they bestowed on her striped nudity their interested attention.
In exchange for the loss of her handcuffs Corey got her personal chain and padlock. It attached her collar to the big ringbolt in the wall by a generous span of links. It was comfortable but implacable confinement that would in no way interfere with any man?s enjoyment of her person. Talifa proudly pointed out the amenities.
'Sleep and fuck on nice thick rugs, must never try and cover anything. No blanket. Most comfort! Now you walk.'
It was actually possible! But Corey?s collar snubbed her neck just short of the neighboring ringbolt to either side. From one snub to another was about five paces. She could walk the same distance toward the centre aisle. Approving the demonstration, Talifa then proffered a container of small red pills. 'One every night.' Her grin was lewd.
Corey blushed and put the feminine object in the small cabinet provided for each girl, along with brush and comb and a few other female trifles. At least, the sperm Abdul Nour had promised her would be rendered sterile. But all these small things designed for her wellbeing only intensified awareness of her new condition. Whores were valuable and should be cared for.
'If man not want other girls watch him fuck, is nice curtain.'
Corey blushed again. No privacy even for that! Wryly, she watched Talifa emulate a hospital nurse in the tugging of a drape around a rail to provide a shrouded gloom in which she could give and receive the vulgarities of sex alone with the client who did not have to pay. 'But isn?t there a… room… somewhere?'
Talifa giggled. 'Is no time. Often all girls being used at once. Curtain plenty good. Some don?t want.'
It was becoming frightening real. In minor panic, Corey blurted: 'Talifa, I?ve never done this! I don?t know…!'
'You been fucked.' Talifa accused reasonably.
'Well, yes… but this…!#
'Is no difference. Don?t be silly girl.'
'Isn?t there some sort of… greeting? Something that?s expected of me? I don?t want to be punished just because I dont know.'
Talifa laughed at such innocence. 'You pretent you love. Plenty touch, plenty kiss… unzip!'
'Do I have to do anything he wants?'
'Course you do, silly! Unless it injure. Then you shout.'
The youthful Matron grinned at such vaivete. 'Some like to whip you. Just al little bit… first. It make them very hard. You pretent you like.' Remembering a vital service, Talifa added: 'You always suck kock at start. It clean it off nice for you.'
Watching Talifa depart, Miss Corey Gibson realised she had received her terms of reference and was now in business. The other girls admired Corey?s weals and exhibited their own. In the boredom of living chained to a wall, their visits to the punishment room and its pain made a dramatic interlude. They donated unsolicited advice.
'Please man good. Then no punish.'
'Don?t argue. Raynee and Talifa get mad and whip.'
'Is O.K. we play with tongue. Raynee and Talifa make us do for them.'
'Is early now. Soldiers start come later.'
The girl on either side advanced the length of their chain and kissed her. It was a spontaneous demonstration of sisterhood in the oldest profession and made Corey want to cry.
On her first day Corey serviced eleven men, on her second it was twelve. She did not earn the whip. One of the men gave her a chocolate bar. At night Raynee gave her a douche. Servants carried a tub from ring to ring and washed each girl with vigour. It was reasonably hygenic and methodicial. Examining herself and her vagina every night, Corey was puzzled to know if she had really changed at all.
The girls in the bordello of Abdul Nour lived on their chain. More than any single thing it was their life, immutable and omnipresent. In this chamber of slated lusts it was different from the cell. Corey could never be entirely unaware of her iron collar and its weight of links. Like the rest, she was forever fingering it as she might have fingered a Rosary. The men fingered it too. She was surprised at the delight they found in this metallic evidence of a girl sequestered helplessly for their refreshment. Her padlock was tested and commented on until she began to find an absurd price in wearing it. The Guerilla?s need of what the girls provided was spasmodic. A day of incessant thrusting at their loins and lips might be followed by others in which they played hostess to only one or two heroes at a time. As the weary warriors fingered breasts and nipples and pubic hair they imparted bits of gossip. From it, Corey learned of the absence of Abdul Nour on a mission spoken of in whispers. She suspected her relegation to harlotry resulted from a lack of time in which to practice upon her body and limbs those mild tortures he had promised.
