More! More!
Suddenly, as she was tossed back, she felt the end of his cock pressing against it. She felt its heat and its throbbing glans and she lifted herself higher, grasping the horse’s mane and pulling herself up on the thrusting pommel.
More! More!
She dropped back and took his cock in. The throbbing glans pushed past the dilating muscle and drove deeply inside. She felt its pulsating shaft and the engorged veins that stood up along its length and she twisted herself down onto it wildly until she had it in up to its base. Tightening her anus around it, she pushed her cunt back onto the pommel and forced herself down, taking them both as deeply as she could.
She clung to the long mane of the horse and pulled her face against his sweating neck. She breathed in its hot scent as its heavy pounding kept driving the pommel ever deeper into her cunt and the cock further into her anus. She wanted to scream out and finish but the heat of her orgasm was still trapped inside. The fucking was not enough. Still she needed pain.
More! Beat me! Beat me like a disobedient mare! Thrash me like an animal. More! More!
She bore down onto his cock as hard as she could and waited for her punishment. She tensed her buttocks, desperate for the lashes of his whip and the pain it would bestow. She tightened her muscles against his throbbing cock, craving the searing pain of the whip and the release it would provide. She clenched her teeth and held her breath as spit flew from her mouth. She hung onto the coarse hair of the horse’s mane, desperate to feel the vicious lashing of Jabari’s whip, hoping he would release her from her torment, then, at last it came.
Whack!
A heavy blow cut across her buttocks. The pain went deep, she released her breath in a gurgling explosion and she drove herself back for more.
Whack!
The searing pain burned deeply inside her and, as waves of heat scorched through her, again she saw herself crawling in the dusty alley being taunted by the men.
Whack!
The muscles of her buttocks tensed in agonizing delight as another blow fell. More pictures were stirred up in her mind. Again, she saw the faces of the jeering men, she heard their taunting and felt their hot spit running down her face. She felt the weight of the saddle they had thrown on her back and their legs clenched tightly around her waist and she felt the heat of their thrusting cocks as they drove them, one after another, deeply into her burning anus.
Whack!
She felt the filthy dust on her face and the humiliation of her nakedness. She sensed how she had abandoned herself like an animal and she slobbered spit from her mouth in gasping, frothing bursts. She felt her hopelessness and degradation and the surges of heat inside her grew stronger, but still she wanted more.
Whack!
Her cunt was filled completely with the pommel and her anus was sore and burning as the cock thrust roughly up and down it. She clung to the horse’s mane and saw herself being flailed and racked and branded and pulled on a leash until she passed out. She imagined herself being fucked by hundreds of men, day after day as she lay bound in a dusty arena. She pictured herself tied out by the wrists and ankles between horses who were trained to stretch her wide whenever she had to serve. She saw herself falling unconscious as the ordeal went on and she saw herself being doused with water to bring her around. She saw herself being passed around the watching crowd, being felt and violated and wanked on and bitten and fucked until finally she was taken back to the arena and tied between the horses again.
More! More!
Whack! Whack! Whack!
As the blows fell and the images in her mind exploded uncontrollably, she felt the massive surge of her orgasm bursting to escape from the prison inside her. Every pounding of the horse’s hooves opened another chink, as its scorching beams radiated from deep inside and sweated out like lava from her burning pores. Her head spun giddily as her muscles tightened and she felt every vein on his thrusting cock and every engrained line on the wide leather pommel as she tightened on them both, held her breath and submitted to a massive, convulsive orgasm.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
He kept beating her but she welcomed the continuing pain. The punishing blows drove her orgasm through every part of her as she stared down at the dusty ground and the frightening pounding of the horse’s galloping hooves.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
She did not breathe as her climax ran through her, shocking her body and making her rear and dive involuntarily in overpowering seizures of pleasure and satisfaction. The images continued flashing in her mind and the punishing whip burned deeply as she rode the leather pommel and drove herself back as hard as possible against the stiff cock until, finally, it swelled and spurted spunk deeply inside her throbbing rectum.
Chapter 7
Deborah lay shivering amongst some rough, wool blankets in a dark tent. Her shackled wrists were still tied to a stake in the his whip. To start with, he had made her bend over so that he could thrash her buttocks but when she fell sideways, screaming with pain, he had lifted one of her legs and brought the whip down savagely across her distended cunt. Only when she pleaded for mercy had he left and she had curled up and tried to sleep. Now, she was cold and hungry and sore from the beating and ill-treatment she had received. But, as she rubbed her hands against her thighs to try and stop them shaking, she remembered the face of the young man who had taken her bracelet and the memory rekindled fresh hope.
A young Arab boy came in and pointed to a curtain hanging across the back of the tent.
Allez! Allez!
Deborah struggled to get up but could not stand because of her tied wrists.
Please untie me. Please -
Allez! Allez!
He kicked out at her impatiently and she shrank back, extending her fingers in despair and desperate to show him that she could not do as he ordered.
He laughed then untied her and kicked her again viciously.
Allez! Allez!
She crawled over to the back of the tent and peered behind the heavy curtain. A slim, young woman was bending over a bowl of water bathing her face. A fat Arab in a multicolored robe pushed through the other side of the tent, grabbed the young girl by the shoulder and pulled her around. Water ran down her face and when the fat Arab shook her angrily it flew from her nose and forehead in shiny droplets.
Deborah could not stop herself staring at the young woman as water dripped from her chin, ran down her neck and across her chest. Her flimsy dress was soaked at the front and Deborah could see her dark and hardened nipples pressed against the almost transparent material of her flimsy dress. She could see the dark shadow of the young woman’s navel and beneath that, only thinly covered by the sticking wet material of her dress, the dark triangle of her pubic hair. She was very attractive, but her pale skin was blotched with purple bruising and her eyes and lips were swollen and red. She looked frightened and helpless and, as she raised her thumbnail to her teeth and started biting at it nervously, Deborah saw tears filling her eyes.
Come bitch! You’re not worth much but it will be better than nothing.
The fat Arab grabbed the girl’s bruised arm and she winced in pain as he dragged her outside. Deborah just caught sight of a crowd of men beyond the open flap of the tent and she heard a lot of shouting and cheering then, as the flap dropped shut, it went quiet.
Still crouching on all-fours, Deborah turned back and the young boy had gone. She sat back against the wall of the tent and looked down at her tattered, white stockings. A surge of hopelessness ran through her as she saw how dirty and ripped they were. One of the suspender clips had come undone and she pathetically clipped it back into the soiled top of the stocking. She watched her fingers fumbling with the clasp and, overcome by a deep sense of despair, she sank forward with her head in her hands.
Sud
denly, she was startled by a moaning sound coming from the blankets in the corner. She crawled over nervously and pulled them back and her head spun with disbelief. Chrissie lay amongst them, black-eyed and filthy.
Chrissie! How did you get here? Are you alright?
Chrissie opened her mouth but flinched and seemed unable to speak.
Deborah bent her face down closer.
Oh Chrissie, what have they done to you? Chrissie tried to smile as Deborah reached forward and brushed the long tangles of black hair away from Chrissie’s wet cheeks. Chrissie, poor Chrissie, what’s happening? What are they going to do with us?
Chrissie opened her mouth again and squeezed up her eyes in pain as she struggled to speak.
I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening, and I don’t know where I am or how I got here, but I can’t stand any more. Deborah, we must escape. I just can’t stand it.
I know we must. Chrissie, I gave a man my identity bracelet. I’m sure he will help us. He looked so concerned, not like the others. Yes, I’m sure he will help. If we can just hang on until we get a chance to escape. I’m sure that if we can get back to the docks we can find help.
Chrissie held out her hand to Deborah but then she saw Chrissie’s eyes widen in fear and, as Deborah turned back to see what she was looking at, she saw the fat Arab standing behind her with a thick, leather strap trailing from his hand.
Come on bitch! You’re next.
Deborah shrank back as he approached her but he grabbed hold of the chain between her shackles and yanked her through the curtain into the other room.
Jabari has left his instructions. I must get as much for you as I can. I hope for your sake you fetch a good price. Jabari is not someone to mess with, as I’m sure you’ve found out, and I don’t want him disappointed. Now, bend down bitch!
He pushed her forward onto her knees. She struggled to get up but he brought the heavy leather strap down across her back.
Whack!
She screeched out in pain and started to crawl to the side of the tent but she was too slow and he reached out and brought the strap down again.
Whack!
Deborah collapsed face-forward into the sandy ground. She choked as she gulped for air and tried to squirm away but he kept thrashing her.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
She clawed at the ground but her arms were weak and the shackles at her wrists were so heavy that, in the end, she gave up and lay still.
He tossed the strap down and picked up the bowl of water from the small table.
Here bitch, clean yourself.
She turned around, dazed and shocked as he emptied the bowl over her. It ran into her eyes and mouth and she choked as it trickled down her throat.
He shouted for the boy to bring more water and when he did the fat Arab told him to douse Deborah down. The boy laughed as he soaked her and when the fat Arab kicked out at her she rolled sideways in the wet, sandy mud.
Clean yourself I said!
Deborah tried to rub the water over herself but he kept kicking her and, as the boy threw more water over her, the sand became muddier and she got dirtier. She felt filthy and humiliated as she lay in the wet, muddy sand and looked up at him appealingly but he kept ordering the boy to throw more water over her until she fell back, hopelessly wallowing and distraught.
She was dazzled by the bright sun as the fat Arab dragged her, covered in mud and dripping wet, out of the tent and across to a small wooden stage set up in front of a milling crowd of men. Several vertical wooden posts stood up from the stage and a heavy wooden beam spanned their tops.
The young girl with the black eyes was already tied to one of the posts. Her hands were pulled tightly behind her and bound with leather thongs. A rope was lashed around her legs, holding her ankles and knees securely together. Another rope was wound around her waist and chest, criss-crossing her breasts and pulling her wet dress against her wet, shaking body. A rope was tied across her forehead and secured to the post so tightly that she could not move her head. A piece of white material was pulled across her mouth and spit dribbled from its edges and ran down over her chin. Her bruised eyes were barely open and she stared out into the crowd of men emptily.
The fat Arab hauled Deborah onto the stage and pushed her backwards against one of the wooden posts. She looked around anxiously as the men stared up at her, grinning and pointing and leaning forward as they pawed at her and tried to grab her. The young boy pulled her wrists behind her, tightening the chain between her shackles painfully across the front of her hips. He lashed her wrists together with a thin, leather thong and secured it to the post. He took a long rope and bound it around her ankles, then wound it around her pulling her back tightly against the post. He dangled a thick leather strap in front of her face and, as she tried to pull away, he held it across her mouth. She tried to keep her mouth closed but he forced her teeth apart with his fingers, pulled the strap between them then pushed it back as tightly as he could and tied it behind her head. She twisted and turned but was held fast and she hung her head, gasping for breath and flushing with shame as the crowd of men shouted loudly and tormented her.
The crowd surged forward as the fat Arab dragged Chrissie onto the stage. Like Deborah, she was soaked and covered in wet, sandy mud. Water dripped from the hem of her flimsy dress and she was so weak that she fell onto her knees when the boy tried to tie her to the post. He could not get her to stand so, instead, he yanked a rope around her wrists and the fat Arab lifted him up so that he could secure it to the beam that ran between the posts. Chrissie’s head fell sideways as the boy secured it and she hung limply against its tension.
The fat Arab waved a short cane with a broken end above his head and shouted out to the crowd in French. They went quiet and he started speaking in heavily accented English.
Three beautiful bitches for you today. And I expect the best prices. Do you hear? The very best prices.
They shouted and jeered.
Every one has something special to offer.
They cheered loudly as he strutted over to the young girl and lifted her spit-smeared chin with the end of the cane.
Take this one, the bitch called Asia, you can see what a fine beating she takes.
He poked the end of his cane against her erect nipples and the men in the crowd started nudging each other and repeating her name excitedly.
And this bitch, the one they call Chrissie, you can whip her until you are exhausted and she will still want more.
He brought the cane down across her breasts and she threw her head back in agonized shock then, as her legs gave way, she dropped heavily on the rope. The crowd shouted wildly as the boy punched her in the side until she looked up again.
And this one, this beauty, the bitch that is called Deborah, she will do anything as long as you make her suffer.
He poked the end of his cane into the front of her shaved crack. She pressed her legs together but it did not stop him and she felt the cane’s tattered end opening the flesh of her slit and probing against her exposed clitoris. She could not pull away and, as she tightened the muscles of her thighs, she only squeezed the end of the cane harder against her clitoris and she felt a deep, burning tingle penetrating her hips. She flinched as he snatched it back and strutted over to Asia.
So, start me off!
A man in the crowd raised his hand and shouted something. Another jumped up and screamed out his bid and others joined in until the market place erupted in a clamour of noise. The fat Arab encouraged the bidders, poking Asia with his cane or lifting the hem of her thin dress and showing them her dark pubic hair. Slowly, the noise died down until there were only two men bidding. One of them jumped up onto the stage and started pawing at Asia. To start with the fat Arab pushed him back but the man kept shouting.
Test! Test! Test out girl!
The fat Arab smiled and turned to the crowd.
Of course. I like my customers to know what they’re buying. Of course you may test her. Boy! Untie her!
The young boy unwound the ropes and released Asia. She fell to the floor, still with the gag across her mouth and the leather thong securing her wrists at her back. The boy undid the leather thong then kicked her, making her crawl forward until she reached the fat Arab’s feet.
The man from the crowd bent down and lifted the hem of her thin, wet dress. Her buttocks were smooth and round and he rubbed his hands across them and looked back at the crowd. He looked up at the fat Arab questioningly.
Yes, yes, go on, test her as you wish.
The man grinned and pressed his fingers between the crack of Asia’s buttocks. She tried to pull away but he wrapped his other arm under her hips and lifted her higher.
Deborah saw the sunlight flash on something around the man’s wrist. It was a silver bracelet. She looked at the man and her stomach filled with nervous anxiety. It was her bracelet! It was the man who she had handed it to in the alley! She slumped back against her bonds in despair.
She felt ridiculous and stupid. How could she have been so naive, so pathetically hopeful? How could she have imagined that there was anyone who would help them? How could she have been taken in by her own self-deception? She felt herself trembling as she felt a surge of guilt at having promised Chrissie that there was hope. As the bracelet flashed again in the bright sunlight her face reddened as she flushed with the unquenchable heat of her pitiful embarrassment. How could she explain it to Chrissie? Chrissie depended on her and she had let her down. She felt consumed by her own wretchedness but no matter what was churning through her mind, she could not take her eyes from Asia.
She watched as Asia’s buttocks parted and the dark pink of her cunt was exposed. As the man raised her even higher, Deborah saw its delicate, fleshy edges and the tangled mat of pubic hair at its front. The man lifted her off the ground and carried her to the front of the stage. He held her bottom towards the crowd and forced her thighs apart so that they could all see her exposed flesh. She tried to fight against him but she did not have the strength and she struggled weakly as the crowd leered at her.
Caged! Page 10