carried her forward and then lifted her suddenly.
Three of the heavy Galla lances had been set into the soft earth of the
yard in the form of a tripod, with the steel lance tips bound firmly at
the apex of the pyramid. With a force that she could not resist, her
arms and legs were spread, and again she felt the lashing of rawhide at
her wrists and ankles.
Her captors fell back in a circle, and she found herself suspended from
the tripod of lances like a starfish, and the weight of her body cut
the leather straps viciously into her flesh.
She looked up. Directly above her on the concrete ramp sat Ras
Kullah. He said something to her in a high piping voice, but she did
not understand the words and she could only stare in fascinated terror
at his thick, soft lips. The tip of his tongue came out and ran slowly
across his lips, like a fat golden cat.
He giggled suddenly and motioned to the two women who flanked him on
the cushions. They came down into the yard, with their silver
jewellery tinkling and the multicoloured silk of their robes glowing in
the lamplight like the plumage of two beautiful birds of paradise.
As though they had rehearsed their movements, one went to each side of
Vicky as she hung on the tripod of lances. Their faces were serene,
remote and lovely as two exotic blooms on the long graceful stems of
their necks.
It was only when they reached up to touch her that Vicky saw the little
silver knives in their hands, and she wriggled helplessly,
her head twisting to watch the blades.
With expert economical movements the two women slit the fabric of
Vicky's clothing, from the yoke of her blouse at the throat, down in a
single stroke to the hem of her skirt, and the dress fell away like an
autumn leaf, and dropped into the mud below her.
Ras Kullah clapped his hands with glee, and the dense pack of dark
bodies swayed and growled, pressing a little closer.
With the same unhurried knife strokes, the sheer silk of Vicky's
underwear was cut away and discarded, and she hung there naked and
vulnerable, unable to cover her pale smooth body, with the long finely
sculptured limbs spread and pinioned.
She dropped her head forward so that the golden hair fell forward and
covered her face.
One of the Galla women moved around until she faced Vicky directly. She
reached out with the little silver knife and touched the point to the
white skin just below the base of her throat where a pulse beat visibly
like a tiny trapped animal, and slowly, achingly slowly,
she drew the blade downwards.
Vicky's whole body convulsed, every limb stiffened and her back arched
rigidly so that the shape of the muscle stood out clearly beneath the
smooth unblemished skin.
Her head flew back, her eyes wide and staring, her mouth gaping open
and she screamed.
The woman drew the knife on downwards, between the tense straining
breasts. The white skin opened to the shallow carefully controlled
razor point, and a vivid scarlet line marked the slow track of the
