toes. Undoubtedly, from a man's standpoint, it was the most practical posture for his purpose. To begin with, it scared the girl half to death by its blatant exposure of her body.
'Mustafa had a go at you already, I see.'
'Yes.' She could be as monosyllabic as he.
Seth Burdett chuckled. 'But not half hard enough. You're uppity as hell. You need a lesson.'
'I'm sure you'll give me one. Please watch out for my breasts.'
This time he laughed delightedly and patted her bottom.
'That sounded just like M'lady giving the butler his instructions for dinner.'
'I don't feel like M'lady. I feel like a frightened little girl. For goodness sake whip me and be done with it before I pee my pants.'
'You haven't got any pants.'
'That makes it worse.'
He reached down and cupped his hand between her thighs, kneading her soft moist mound. Corey held still on her tether, refusing to be coy. Her Master clutched a full hand of her a couple of times and examined the result.
'Hmmmmmm, you sure aren't in the mood.'
'Would you be, tied hogtie for a couple of hours?'
'Lady Vere-de-Vere again! You damn girls…!' Pensively, he frictioned her nipples betwen fingers and thumbs until she yelped.
'You're under no obligation to arouse me sexually before you whip me.' She said tartly. 'I expect to scream either way.'
'More humane if you're horny, love.'
Stretched from her raised and tethered arms, Corey Gibson stood in petulant silence under the ministrations of the man she must call Master. She tried to hate him and could not. She tried to suppress her responses to the play of his hands and fingers but she could not do that either. She closed her eyes and surrendered to defeat. Being feminine, she strove for the last word: 'I hope you're proud of what you're doing to me.'
It was a strange whipping, a contest of the minds rather thn te flesh. Corey refused to scream. She did not understand her ability to keep silent but it was there, springing from some deep emotional need within her psyche to touch this man when she possessed no other weapons. She jerked and writhed and kicked under the lashes by which he cut at her defenceless nudity, but she made no sound beyond the involuntary gasps of shock as each blow impacted to sear her skin.
Seth Burdett was an artist with captive girls. He had whipped many. No coffle was without its recalcitrant maidens who, as far as he had been able to determine, could respond to no other guidance than a thrashing. Their ability to relate to any other form of persuasion was just not there. Often they fetched the highest price when stripped upon the block. Probably it was because of their whipmarks which, in the end, they became inordinately proud to bear. He did not rank Corey Gibson as belonging to this group. In his own sardonic way, he saw her as something of an experiment. She responded to cruelty and kindness most entertainingly. She had a piquancy…!
When the blows stopped and the knowing hands and fingers resumed their delicious tactile torment, Corey knew herself once more delivered to a welter of sensations she could not control. She now had no wish to control them. She was too utterly defenseless to render any kind of resistance valid. She tried hard to stand still, to keep her eyes disdainfully closed, to keep silent. But only her eyes obeyed. Within their make-believe oblivion she continued on with much the same sounds and motions as when the whip was striping her flesh. She assured herself that if she could have controlled them she would have done so, but she could not. She sensed his pleasure in all she did, but her furious retorts were washed away in a flood of surging sexuality. When he resumed her whipping the strokes had become an acute quintessence of glory.
'Feel better now, love?'
Seth Burdett did not sound too concerned. It was a minute or two since he had ceased whipping the naked girl who adored him. He had not released her, she still stood stretched and vulnerable and with closed eyes. She had no real wish to open them, and from their darkness heard her own voice saying something she did not wish to say.
'Yes, Master. Thank you.'
'Acts as a tonic for a girl, wouldn't you say? Sets her straight.'
'Yes, Master.'
'We've got a little talking to do, and you'll stand there like that while we do it. Any complaints?'
'No, Master.'
'But first you deserve a damn good fuck. Remember last time?'
She had never forgotten the most unorthodox coupling she had ever imagined. She was suddenly aflame with desire. But, instead, said miserably: 'You mustn't. You know about me… don't you?'
'What's there to know, love?'
'About Amphala… when Abdul Nour took me bck there…? He's got a brothel for his men. He chained me in it with the other girls, the ones you've captured on the coffle with me.' Corey opened her eyes and gave her latest owner her frankest star. 'He made me a whore. Unpaid, but still a whore. Since you made love to me I've been raped a hundred times.'
'Oh that!' He laughed at her seriousness. 'You're just a silly kid in lots of ways. I think a coffle's the proper place for you. Come here.'
She could not come here or do anything else except the one thing he desired. When Seth's strength enveloped her she proceeded to do it with every outrageous sound and motion she possessed or her tether would allow.
'Well, that's two things looked after.' Burdett seated himself comfortably and regarded his panting slave's sweat bedewed nudity with affection. 'I suppose you're curious, eh?'
'Yes, Master.'
'That's better. Proper respect, no demands, no questions, I've got you back to about where we were when we left off last time. I'm still going to sell you, y'know.'
In simple sincerity, Corey said: 'I wish you wouldn't. I wish you'd keep me. I'm not talking about marrying me or anything like that. Keep me as a slave. I'd be good for you.'
Seth Burdett sighed. 'You're a treasure. But where would I keep you? I don't have a home.'
'Keep me on the coffle. I wouldn't mind. It's a healthy life.' Amusedly she plucked at a term she had once employed elsewhere. 'I could be your Judas Goat… show the others how to behave?'
'Alright.' Seth waved a tolerant hand. 'But here's the way it is. I've got no money. That bastard Abdul cleaned out Ben Sirah to the last penny, including our take from the auction. I just managed to get out of the damn place with my life. Mustafa had made a deal with the son-of-a-bitch. A fine old double-cros on me. Made me feel like a bloody innocent. Abdul knew the time and the place and the take. Wouldn't be surprised he screwed Mustafa out of his cut, they're a pair of twisters. Could be the reason for Mustafa snaffling Abdul's whorehouse.'
Corey pondered. Nothing was ever the way you thought it was. She wished she had the courage to ask him to let her arms down a few inches. Instead, she enquired hopefully: 'What happened to Audrey Cotswold?'
'Your side-kick on the coffle?' He shrugged disgustedly. 'What the hell happened to anyone that night? The place was a shambles.'
'Might she have escaped to… civilization?'
'Damn unlikely, love. Probably got herself picked up.' He chuckled. 'Be a joke if we found her in one of the slave cages when we get there.'
'You're going to sell me in the same place?'
'Yes.'
They surveyed each other in the gloom. One of the world's richest girls, naked, trussed up to the bough of a tree, her beauty livid with whip marks. And a man…! The strongest man she had ever known. Seth Burdett the Slave trader. Corey remembered another term. 'An odd couple.' 'You still won't allow me to be ransomed?'
'Hell, girl, I can't! By African standards you're still the property, the slave, of Assef Aslam. By U.S. standards you belong to your father. There's two accumulations of wealth that could make mincemeat of me. I'm a known Trader in girls. There's a price on my head. But I'll add to my promise: Once you're sold and I've got the cash I'll tell 'em where you are.' He grinned apologetically. 'By that time your purchaser will have screwed you enough he'll be
