sympathy. The coffle carried its chains well. After the scented sloth of the bordello they found a zest in motion and the fresh air.
Chapter 5
Corey found it pleasanter to march in daylight instead of stumble in the dark. She looked often at her shackled wrist, or fingered the metal on her throat in incredulity that, by them, her whole existence was dictated and changed. Against the iron links education and intelligence served naught. The padlock mocked them all. When, twice a day, it was unlocked at chore time she dared not disobey but returned to it as to a stern and waiting authority. Each night two girls were chosen to service The Male. They were taken from the coffle and returned to it in much the same manner as a book from a public library. When it came Corey's turn she was taken into the trees by Selim, Mustafa's new man. Before she could ask why she found no favour with his Master, the Master himself arrived to ensure her proper subjection to the male. They tied her hands behind her back and made her kneel. She writhed inwardly in the prospect of beastliness. But Abdul Nour's brothel had taught her lessons in survival. Miss Corey Gibson was prepared to be as humble as they wished. It began verbally.
'What are you?'
'I am a whore, Master.'
'What kind?'
'I am a white whore, Master. I am also your slave.'
'Do you expect to be punished?'
'Yes, Master. All whores should be punished.'
'What service have you given the men of Abdul Nour?'
'I have spread my legs for them to fuck me. I have sucked their cocks. I was kept chained by my neck for their pleasure. I was an obedient girl and did what I was told.'
'That excuses you?'
'No, Master. I know I will be punished. Thank you for enslaving me. I did not wish to be a whore.'
'There is the matter of your price at the auction.' The slaver's voice had become thoughtful. 'I wish it to be high.'
'Of course, Master. I will make myself beautiful and display my nakedness seductively. Did I not behave well for your profit before?'
'Hmmmmmm, yes you did well.' Mustafa was still savouring an intent. 'But whores are soiled. They do not fetch top price.'
'I will tell no one, Master. Need the buyers know that all of us have been well fucked, Master? We are all young. It does not show.'
'Ah, yes, that is true.'The Slaver was pleased but still probing for profit. 'Suppose we give them a small entertainment?' He glinted sardonically. 'The pure white maiden shrinking from defilement by the wog, cringing from the exposure of her cunt…?'
'Yes, Master. It would excite them profitably.'
'You could the be whipped into a sweet and willing submission on the block…?'
'You are clever, Master. Is such an honour indeed mine?'
Musafa eyed her suspiciously. 'You seem overly willing, girl?'
'I have been much fucked and much punished, Master. It has made me a sensible girl. Why should I not aid you in profit?'
He smiled grimly. 'You hope I will not whip you now?'
Corey was thinking hard with desperate precision. She felt she was doing well, she was pleasing a hard Master. These verbal abnegations did not really matter. If she could survive a hundred impalements what were a few demeaning words! 'No girl wants the whip, Master. But if it pleases you to whip me I will not complain. I am a slave.'
'You are a craftly slave.'
'Yes, Master. You know from whence I came. i never knew the whip or nakedness until short weeks ago. I had been fucked only by chosen men I had desired.' Corey twisted to flutter her bound hands. 'But I am now a slave. I know I can never escape your chain. I have learned many lessons. I will do what i must to earn myself few stripes. If you stoop to fuck me I will be honoured.'
She had done it well. Mustafa was impressed. 'A girl such as you can be made into merchandise beyond the price of gold.' He spoke slowly, seeking her eyes. 'If it be told you are most highly skilled in the arts of the Hetaera you might entice Solomon himself. Are you thus skilled?'
'I do not think so, Master.'
'Perhaps a touch of the whip?'
'It would teach me only obedience, Master. It cannot grant me the skills of an ancient craft.'
'Did Abdul Nour demand so little of his whores?'
'He never used me. I cannot tell you why. He preferred to give me to his jailor or his soldiers. They were my tutors.'
'Well, surely they must have…?'
'No, Master. To them I was a cunt, two lips and a tongue.'
'Humph… you are more than that.' Mustafa pondered his way into decision. 'We will give you a drill.'
'A test, Master?'
'Suck Selim's cock.'
Corey knew it for more than a brutal and demeaning command. This trader in the flesh of girls had an idea which, if she could promote it, might take her into liberty from the coffle, perhaps to liberty itself. A bidder at the auction who perceived her as a Houri and would pay for her a Houri's price would be a man of immense wealth. He would have sensibilities above the animal lust for which most slavegirls were bought and sold. She shuffled on her knees to rest between Selim's spread legs. Her bound hands could help her not at all. Instead, she rubbed her cheek against the hard erection within the slaver's pants and murmured sweetly every endearment she could remember or device. Then, searching with her teeth, she found the zipper, bit it and tugged it down. The male organ that leaped out against her face was no more horrific than any other. Wryly, she conceded thanks to Abdul Nour's bordello, and absorbed Selim's offering between her lips.
After she had reduced her subject to gasps and moans, Mustafa paid her the greatest tribute possible. He untied her hands. Gratefully, she used them to promote her cause. Chained back on the coffle in the dark, Corey Gibson went to sleep with a glimmer of hope for company. She refused to think disgustedly of what she had done. She refused to think of it at all. She had become a warrior and had fought her first fight. Somehow the chain irked less.
Marching in the sunlight, her right arm swinging with the chain to which her wrist was shackled, Corey Gibson sensed the cadence of unison and the rhythm of a mood. The neck chain rarely jerked her collar. They were going to be sold, and for the majority this was a destiny much to be desired. She felt no strangeness in being the only white girl in the coffle. All the youthful breasts and triangles were simply female, chained together they mattered little. Abdul Nour had thrust them into the sisterhood of whores, and whoredom is a tight Guild in which skin colour was a matter of chance. Corey stepped blithely with the rest but her mind was busy with a surmise. That evening Mustafa alone took her into the trees. He was a man disinclined to share good fortune.
'The whip is a part of man's desire, Corey Gibson. Plead with me to whip you.'
The naked American slavegirl no longer deluded herself that it was better to be whipped than to have a man's phallus thrust within the recesses of her sheath. She would have preferred the latter. Unless it was wielded by a man you loved the whip just plain hurt. Whips hurt a nude girl abominably. She sighed and entered the fray.
'Beloved Master, your slavegirl is possessed by pride. I beg you to whip it from me.' She looked up at the stern Arab features in girlish adoration. 'I beg the boon of being hung by my wrists in nakedness to receive your stripes.'
Mustafa was pleased. 'You wish a gag, girl?'
'Only if you wish me mute, Master. Otherwise I will scream so you may know my gratitude.'
