waist. It would hurt cruelly as I breathed or moved. I made my middle as concave as I could, and was surprised at how little wire it took to circle me. By the time it was tightened and snipped at my back it was indented too far into my flesh for me to see. 'If I knew, I'd tell,' I sobbed. It had become a litany.
'I believe you, love,' Jennie assured me unemotionally.
'Maybe tomorrow you can convince Ashad. Then all you have to worry about is who buys you. You can sit down now.' Sitting saved my ankles but made the wire 'round my tummy hurt more. I moaned and relapsed full length on my side. But even with the pain I was femininely curious. 'Where will I be sold?'
'Could be anywhere, love. Surprised me when I first got in on this. I'd thought slavery was long gone. But it's everywhere. All you need is a great deal of money and a big enough house so you can keep the girl out of sight. I 'spose they chain 'em up or something. It's not all Arabian oil millionaires either, could be in Belgrave Square.' That looked after that. My concern returned to the wires by which I was bound. 'You're not going to leave me like this all night, are you?'
'Of course.'
'But the circulation?'
'Don't worry. We know what we're doing.'
'It will cut my skin — I'm sure it will on my elbows.'
'It may do. Depends how you struggle. But the customers won't mind. The weals are quite good. They get a hard on over them same as with the whip marks. I tell you, kid, a girl can't win.'
'You could let me loose, help me escape. I'd get you ever so much money?'
'Couldn't spend it with my throat cut.'
'They wouldn't really kill you?' Jennie shrugged. 'They kill the ones they sort of like. If they are really mad at a gal' they slice her breasts off or the fingers of her right hand and, of course, her ears. Sorry, no escape.'
'Please don't leave me like this all night.' I was whimpering.
'Sorry, love, no choice.' She took her pliers and the rest of the wire and went out, locking the cell door and blowing me a girl to girl kiss through the bars. I was alone with what had been done to me. Urgently I sought what ease I could. It wasn't much. The explorations themselves were pure torture, but I had the night to think of. I ended up face down, my breasts flattened on the hard little mattress. Even that way I had to use caution because of that damned clip biting between my legs. If I got it the wrong way on the cot the result drove me wild. My fire had gone out completely. I thought longingly of Yolanda but she was in another world. There was nothing nice between my legs at all. Only that blasted clip biting steadily. Being a prisoner affects a girl strangely. She does silly inconsequential things. The biggest compulsion is to use whatever freedom she may have been left with. The other is to find what solace she can with a finger, or whatever's available, in her puss — that one was out for sure! So I essayed the other, even though it all hurt so bad I wanted to scream. I stood up and hobbled to the bars and looked out into the passage, rubbing my breasts and nipples against the cold steel. I got only the faintest response from them, not enough to compensate for the pain. Next I got up against the door, it was firm as rock. I was captive in more ways than one. Then I knelt down and had a drink from the pan Jennie had left me. By then I'd had enough. After a lot more pain I got myself flat on the cot again and called it a day. I cried myself to sleep. My cheeks were wet all night. ' In the morning Jennie was kind in the things she did for me, except for the wires now deep in my flesh. With those she was unrelenting. I had to wear them to my next interview with Ashad. I was a sad and dispirited young female as I hobbled my agonizing way behind my wardress, striving with every nerve and sinew to prevent the jerking of the leash that held my pussy as much captive as the rest of me. But when we entered the big room there came a moment when I forgot my travail. Sitting across from Ashad was a man I knew. It was James Pollard.
'Good morning, Phemie.' At the sound of the familiar endearment I almost wept. But the pain re-asserted itself so that I burst out with the first spontaneous exclamation that came to mind. 'Are you at the bottom of all this?'
'Mr. Pollard is without guilt.' Ashad's voice was cold. 'Thanks, old chap.' James eyes devoured my nudity and as many of the wires as he could see. Even hurting as I was I longed to do something with my legs that would hide the shameful clip between them from view. 'Dammit, man! Do you have to have the girl tortured like this?'
'She is an uncooperative little bitch, Mr. Pollard.'
'Well, if there's going to be any discussion you can damn well get those wires and that… that… thing off her.' The words were magic. Ashad motioned with his hand in a manner eloquent enough for Jennie. The pliers snipped and snipped and firm fingers relieved my pussy of its enemy. I gasped in an ecstatic mixture of relief and agony as each infliction was peeled from my skin.
'You're a brutal lot. The poor girl's bleeding.' Again the magic gesture. Jennie hurried away for a damp cloth. Without permission I sank down on the carpet. While she laved my wounds I stayed there in a sort of blissful coma. When she handcuffed my wrists behind my back it seemed a very trivial indignity.
'Do you have to handcuff her?' James was in great form.
'Come, Mr. Pollard, she is a girl and a captive. Let us be reasonable.'
'Well, I suppose…' James was eyeing me anxiously. His concern did me a world of good. Suddenly aware that I was naked and helpless before two men my fire rekindled. It was tiny, but true. After a bit of an awkward silence James said to me with a bit of a break in his voice: 'Phemie, things have gone wrong. This is not the way it was supposed to be.'
'Take me home then and we'll start afresh.' I was feeling better.
'You will not go home,' said Ashad. I had a sudden inspiration. I looked at my Arab owner. 'Miss Harding can give you the hundred thousand she got from Bolling and buy me back?' He actually smiled. 'There are impediments, Miss Carstairs.'
'She sent the cheque back and is talking about the police,' James contributed uncomfortably.
'And why not the police?' I demanded.
'Oh, she'd get 'em alright! But she faces the awkwardness of her original purchase of you. She's a bit vulnerable.'
'So who do I belong to now?'
'You are a prize of war. Never doubt your status,' Ashad said grimly.
'Don't be so damn theatrical,' James Pollard pleaded testily. 'Roland Bolling took her in the first place, Bolling will deal with Miss Harding one way or another; Bolling wants her. He will not calmly hand her over to you.' His voice hardened. 'He can cause you trouble, y'know. You could use him as a friend.' The familiar feeling of nakedness and impotence fell on me again. I tugged at the handcuffs. How symbolic of my condition they had become! I was a slave girl, bartered for. My tiny fire burned greedily. Ashad's voice plainly told of playing a trump card: 'We have the girl, you do not. Leave her with us a couple of day, then give us the hundred thousand and she is yours.'
'You'll torture her.'
'She has information we must have.'
'Gyorkos didn't have her long enough. Why on Earth would he or Royden blabber to a slave?' Ashad shrugged. 'Men do. Even a chance remark she does not understand might tell us much.'
'Absolutely no torture!'
'She is but a girl. Your concern for her flesh is… stupid.' To me, handcuffed and naked on the rug, it seemed simple. I looked at James and asked crisply: 'Why don't you go to the police?' Their faces told me I had said something silly and faintly humourous. James viewed me sadly. 'There are wheels within wheels, Phemie, Sort of interlocking interests. Big business doesn't know much charity.'
'Why can't you walk out of here with me now?'
'Because we won't let him,' said Ashad.
'These blokes are having themselves a little Holy War all their own, Phemie. There's no reasoning with them outside money and influence.' James shook his head at me regretfully. 'If Bolling could give 'em a battleship or a fleet of tanks, they'd hand you over like a shot.'
'I bet there's oil in there somewhere?' I asked bitterly.
'Of course.' Ashad made a dismissive gesture. 'Go back to your superior, Mr. Pollard. I am sure the two of you can come up with something we can examine. In the meantime we will keep the wench. I will accept your
