'If not too bad.' Achmed grinned. 'You nosey. You want I whip you? Achmed like whip girls.'
'No, thank you. It?s just… well, I?ve never been a prisoner like this before. I don?t know… about anything.'
'Is nice for you.' Achmed beamed approvingly. 'I teach.'
'Do I really have to be tied up every day, Achmed? Or do you do that to me for fun?'
'You look very pretty when you tied up. Achmed enjoy.'
'Yes, I know I look pretty. But does someone order you to do that to me?'
'You want I fetch whip?'
Corey abandoned her probing. Achmed could be prodded only so far. She was by no means sure he would use the whip on her. But the post in the courtyard was a warning. As things stood he was, in his own fashion, kind and amiable. But why not? He used her as he pleased. She was totally obedient, a model prisoner. Common sense told her it was best to be pliant and await.
Chapter 2
Her fall from the immaculate had been so great that she rejected middle class scruples about her body. If her breasts and vagina were weapons she would use them. After Achmed had loosed her from the bars, tended her needs and left her chained alone for the night, Miss Corey Gibson sat nakedly on her wooden bunk and ruefully reviewed her second rape. Rape was not the right word. Butt all the other terms she could think of seemed equally inadequate.
'You like me fuck you before I go?' A beaming smile.
'Whatever you want, Achmed. I?m naked and there?s a chain on my neck. I sort of belong to you, don?t I?'
'Not what Achmed ask. Ask if you want good fuck.'
The pound of flesh again! Aslam?s trick. In this strange prison a girl was expected to ask politely for her rapes and say thank you after. But the metal collar fastened round her neck was a constant counsel to prudence. There was also another factor which her own honesty forbid her to ignore. She was lonely. All day she had stood tied to the bars. When her jailor had come to free her at the end of day she had been glad. It was good to speak again. Achmed?s conversation might be limited but it was amusing and good natured. Worse still was a final admission of defeat. Achmed was a skillful lover. After the initial shock of social denigration she had enjoyed his piercing of her sheath. In the end her moans had been the most ardent of the two. Without Achmed the cell, the bars, the chain and the collar on her neck would have been doubly defeating. Miss Corey Gibson, daughter of the Planet Corporation, made a frank admission.
'You fuck beautifully, Achmed. Please fuck me again?'
'Much more better.'
'But are you certain Mr. Aslam won?t mind? I thought I?d been kidnapped for his special enjoyment?'
'You forgot Mr. Aslam. Achmed tie you every day and fuck you every day. You most lucky girl.'
'I suppose I am. Are you going to tie me again tomorrow, Achmed?'
'Of course!' Achmed smiled away so stupid a question. 'Girls much best with no clothes and pretty tie.'
'What position would you like me in, Achmed? A girl can be fucked so many ways.'
'Achmed know all ways. You bend over touch floor. You spread very wide the feet. Achmed fuck pretty ass.'
Miss Corey Gibson supposed there was no end to what a kidnapped girl might learn. With a sense of high discovery, she bent forward and placed her fingers on the stone.
'Much wider legs.'
She had forgotten her legs. She could understand their importance in the buggery of a girl. She spread them far apart. The chain from her collar looped down mockingly.
One of the ten most beautiful women in the world awaited sodomy by a socially unacceptable male.
Corey Gibson came to understand captive compensations. The small comparisons by which her days and nights were made to yield perspective. She consoled herself with the comfort it was better to be tied than whipped. When she was untied, and until she was tied again, there were blissful hours in which she could use her limbs as she wished. HEr collar and chain were no more than the warning finger of authority. They irked but prevented nothing. After solitary confinement in bondage her nights and the small communion with Achmed were something to look forward to. It was absurd. But she was intelligent enough to see things as they were and to husband her strength and her courage.
In the morning she could not forbear to ask: 'How long will I be imprisoned in this cell, Achmed?'
All she got was a chuckle: 'You be glad you here. Much worse outside.'
'But why? What?s worse out there?'
'Much hurt. People give you pain. You see post…?'
Corey Gibson saw the post. It stood like a nemesis, as though waiting for her alone. With simulated goodwill, she said cheerfully:! Oh alright. Don?t tell me. Now. how would you like me to stand?'
'Very kind tie. You sit.'
But first, the heiress of Planet stood to have her wrists crossed and tied behind her back. It was done with the air of a minor prelude to a major symphony. She was then guided to the bars.
'You sit on floor. Push feet outside.'
With tied hands it was awkward, but she was developing a technique.
'No. Not both through same. Two bars between.'
Corey shrugged. Obviously her pubic hair must be blatant. She extracted a foot and inserted it to display her loins more shamefully.
'Is better. I push, you wriggle.'
She was almost as close to the bars as yesterday, but not quite. The two between her thighs prevented actual contact.
'Very simple. You look pretty.'
Achmed freed the long chain from her collar and replaced it with a short length which, with its padlock, rested beneath Corey?s chin. The other end of it was now padlocked to a crosspiece in the bars. She could bend her head forward to touch the iron but she could not bend back.
'Very nice. Not tire.'
'But, Achmed, I will tire, terribly. My legs all spread… and I can?t move anything that matters.'
'Achmed enjoy. You damn well like.'
She supposed that summed it up. She belonged to men now. They would do as they pleased with her. Woefully, she remembered Audrey Cotswold?s explanation of ownership. Undoubtedly she was owned. As a reminder of beneficence, Achmed chided: 'You no smile, Achmed tie elbows real tight.' Miss Corey Gibson smiled.
It was not a good day. It belied Achmed?s optimism of 'very nice'. It was demeaning and frustrating to have her feet and legs protruding out beyond control. She could move them, but not withdraw. Any motion to back up was at the expense of her neck. After one vigorous attempt to improve her plight she desisted. Another struggle with her bound wrists was equally fruitless. She would have to sit out the cramped and shaming hours until Achmed chose to come.
She saw the two small boys as implicit to her exposure. No doubt Achmed had sent them. They regarded her with big brown eyes and discussed her merits in their own tongue. Then they tickled her feet. Corey hated them with a passion. Try as she would she could not control the spasmodic jerks and winces their fingertip evoked. She wished her ankles were tied fast, to relieve her of involuntary motion and rob them of the delight they found in her futile efforts at evasion. They did as they pleased with her extruded limbs. She could deny them nothing. When her struggles hampered their efforts one held her ankles while the other inflicted their mild torture. It took a demeaning hour before the reflexes of the bound girl dulled enough to spoil their fun. They then turned their attention to her breasts and hairy thatch. Grubby fingers made what the captive suspected as virgin explorations of a woman?s nipples, breasts and vulva. She was sitting on enough of the latter to deny them total freedom with her sex. Frustrated but happy, they went away to leave her nursing the pain of their pinching and probings. So far, her day
