“Go to Hell! ”The defiant answer finished on another deep groan as yet more slivers were inserted under the skin.
“Very well. We will see. ”Stepping back, Mulay signalled to the grinning Janissary. “Light them! ”
Casually, the Janissary lifted a blazing torch and, brushing it slowly over the front of the corsair’s body, made sure that all the little pitch-soaked slivers were well alight.
“Come now, Barbarian! ” said Mulay Aruj softly, as the tiny wooden spears flared briefly, then continued to burn slowly and agonisingly under the skin of the helpless victim. “Why continue to suffer? ”He smiled lazily as Khalif’s mouth contorted and he jerked wildly against the chains holding him aloft. Receiving no reply, he went on: “Or would you rather watch your white skin slut nailed to a cross? I promise you, this can and will happen if you continue to refuse me. ”
This time he got a vocal reaction as Khalif pulled even more violently against his bonds, blood running in thin trickles from his wrists as the iron manacles cut deep into the flesh. “Burn in Hell, you scum! ” he gasped painfully. “Do what you will with me, but it will gain you nothing to hurt the girl. You know I cannot . . . nor will I ever . . . help you in this. ”
“Well, no matter,” said Mulay Aruj. “Sooner or later I shall have Redbeard; as I have you. Then there will be a full settlement. ”With a scowl, he put a hand up to his face, running his fingers down the length of the scar that disfigured him. “It was your mother who did this to me, remember! ” he hissed. “She paid the full price of my discomfort! Now I have decided you will do the same; if only in memory of my friend. ”
For long moments the only sounds in the little cell were Khalif’s harsh breathing and half-suppressed groans as he continued to writhe in agony, the smell of roasting flesh from his spread-eagled, jerking body drifting up to fill the noses of the watching men. “Filth,” he managed to gasp, “it is time someone rid the world of you! ”
With an evil smile, Mulay Aruj reached out to run his fingers over the sweat-sheened skin, feeling where the slivers were still burning away. “Maybe,” he chuckled. “But I think it will not be you. ”He put a hand down to grasp his victim’s penis. “Hmm! ” he mused. “I remember this well. You might have made a good catamite, despite your wishes to the contrary. ”He frowned. “Yet perhaps I should have finished you then, as I did the rest of your clan. Certainly the friend to whom I sold you would now still be alive! ”He felt lower, his fingers closing around the dangling ball sac. “Come now! He was not such a bad fellow, was he? All he wanted was the use of your body. Did you have to kill him? ”Gently at first, then harder, he began to squeeze.
Khalif’s face twisted with renewed agony. “Your friend was a pig and died like one,” he finally managed to croak, “ . . . as you will yourself one day, Mulay Aruj. ”
Mulay chuckled. “I think not, Barbarian. It is you who hang in chains, not I. ”He continued to squeeze, bringing the first, full-blooded scream from the spread-eagled man. “Once we have finished with you and your slut, I may send these to Dragut, as he returned my messenger’s head to me. Would he appreciate such a gift, I wonder? ”
“Dragut will separate your head from your body, pig! ” gasped the tortured Khalif, black unconsciousness approaching once more.
Mulay Aruj grunted impatiently and stepped back, signalling the grinning guard commander with a wave of his hand. “This is a waste of time. Twenty lashes to teach him manners! ” he barked.
Mercifully, Khalif slipped into oblivion after the first few lashes. Even so, the punishment continued until the entire twenty had been properly laid on. . . .
The blue-cloaked commander of Mulay Aruj’s palace guard led Charlotte up from the dungeons where she had been imprisoned with the other girls. Strangely, the Janissaries, presumably at Mulay Aruj’s orders, had dressed her in a heavy European dress similar to that which she had worn so many weeks before at the slave auction. This time, however, there were no petticoats, under drawers or shoes. Under the heavy cloth she was naked. She was walking stiffly, almost automaton-like, her body aching from the many brutal assaults by the Bey’s guards over the past days.
The Janissary commander had not himself used the English girl’s body, deriving his pleasure by watching as both she and the other girls, tied down naked and spread-eagled in the guards’ quarters, were used by any who chose.
The Janissaries had not been gentle and, under the brocaded dress, Charlotte’s body bore the unmistakable marks of both whip and cane. Moments before, she had been made to drink a foul-tasting potion, the main effect of which, it seemed, was to partially dull her senses. The potion had worked swiftly. Already much of her pain and discomfort was receding and a kind of numb fatalism taking over. Unhampered by bonds, except for a leash round her throat, she was led into the fortress’s great hall where the hubbub of conversation abruptly ceased at her appearance.
Mulay Aruj was seated like a King on a raised podium at the rear of the hall. Despite the effects of the potion, her heart turned to ice when she saw the bloodied figure of Khalif kneeling at the Bey’s side, wrists lashed tightly to a heavy wooden beam set across his shoulders. Seated next to the Bey on the raised podium was the dandified figure of the English pirate ‘Mad Jack’ Fletcher, while all around the podium were seated members of the Englishman’s crew.
Mulay Aruj turned his attention from Fletcher as Charlotte was led into the hall. “Ah yes, here is the Inglése slave, part of the coffle taken by the Barbarian after he treacherously slew my friend Gebhr. ”He stood up and levelled a finger at the trembling Charlotte. “Strip her! ” he ordered. “Slaves awaiting judgement in the Court of the Sultan are not permitted clothes. ”
The whole charade of the dress, of course, had been just another way of humiliating the English girl. Swiftly and efficiently, the Janissary commander tore the dress from the Charlotte’s shuddering body, leaving her once more naked and exposed to the lustful gaze of the entire assemblage in the great hall. Many and varied were the comments on her loveliness, a loveliness undiminished by the clear marks of abuse on her pale skin.
Pointing an accusing finger at the tied figure of the corsair, Mulay Aruj spoke regally. “Khalif Barbar,” he pronounced grandly, “you and your Inglése whore are accused of treason against the Sultan and the Empire! ”He spread his hands and indicated two rough-hewn wooden posts stood menacingly in a cleared space in the centre of the hall, the nearest with its own heavy cross beam laying at its foot. From the cross beam, ropes trailed upwards to pulleys set in the vaulted roof of the hall so that the heavy piece of wood might be hauled upwards, there to be positioned in pre-prepared grooves at the top of its upright. “The verdict is guilty,” continued Mulay Aruj, “. . . the sentence, death! The nasrani slut first; then the traitor himself! ”
Charlotte heart began to thump as the import of Mulay Aruj’s words registered in her brain and she almost lost control of her bowels.
“Come, slut! ” growled the Janissary Commander, jerking her forward roughly.
Totally paralysed by terror, Charlotte felt herself lifted by four soldiers and carried to the centre circle where she was laid roughly on her back, her arms seized and jerked outwards along the waiting beam. Her elbows and the backs of her hands scraped painfully against the rough wood as she strained against the firm grip of the soldiers.
Dimly, Charlotte heard Khalif cursing as the Janissary Commander knelt beside her with a hammer. Terrified snorting gasps erupted from mouth and she closed her eyes as he laid the point of a heavy iron spike against her left wrist. His arm swung and she felt a searing bolt of pain as the spike drove clean through the flesh and deep into the wood. Her brain cleared suddenly and she screamed frantically into the heavy, smoke-laden air, breasts heaving and her naked body contorted with her agony. The Janissary holding her ankles sniffed disgustedly as a golden scream of urine spilled down into the sand.
Charlotte’s lovely belly frantically expanded and contracted as she gasped for air, then another agonised scream left her mouth as the blue-cloaked torturer clinically nailed her other wrist to the beam. Swiftly then, at Mulay’s signal, the soldiers pulled enthusiastically on the ropes, dragging the timber upwards and Charlotte with it. Arms nailed wide apart, quivering white body glistening with sweat, she was lifted skywards, already feeling the warm path her blood made as it flowed from her wrists and down her arms. Her breathless, gasping groan accompanied the final thump as the cross beam was lowered into its groove on top of the post, to be firmly roped in place by another waiting soldier.
The pain was excruciating and Charlotte fainted briefly before the brutal nailing of her feet to the upright reawakened her. Hanging now from both wrists and feet, she twisted and groaned, fighting desperately to find some accommodating position that would at least partially ease the pain.
The effects of the potion were wearing off rapidly and excruciating pain was beginning to hit Charlotte in successive waves, little sparks of coloured light flashing intermittently before her eyes. Hardly able to breathe, her muscles contorted in violent spasms as her agony became an awful reality. She shook her head in a desperate attempt to clear her vision, blood from a bitten lip running in a thin stream down her chin. Her vision blurred and she knew she was dying.
The Janissary Commander gazed up almost in fascination at the beautiful, stretched and naked body of his victim; the inverted curve of the hollow of her underarms combined with the heavy rings in her nipples creating the illusion of breasts even larger than their actual size.
Mulay Aruj looked down at the helpless Khalif with a sneer. “Well then, Barbarian,” he called, “now it is your turn! ”His lip curled contemptuously. “You should thank me, traitor. It is not everyone who has the chance to die with the one he loves. ”He chuckled. “You DO love her, do you not? ”
Cursing violently, Khalif wrenched uselessly at the ropes holding him fast to the beam.
With a cruel grin, Mulay Aruj stood up and, drawing a jewelled dagger from its sheath, left the podium to stride purposefully to the foot of Charlotte’s cross. He looked up past the crucified girl’s heaving belly to the glorious breasts now slick with sweat, then reached up casually to take a ringed nipple between forefinger and thumb. Reaching up with his other hand, he placed the sharp blade against the still-swollen nub of flesh and looked round at the helpless Khalif. “How if I cut these off? ” he laughed. “Perhaps Captain Fletcher would like them as a keepsake? ”
Khalif was white-faced. Leave her alone! ” he shouted. “She is innocent of any fault. ”
Still laughing, Mulay withdrew the blade, only to insert the tip into the fig-shaped cleft between the English girl’s thighs.
Dimly, Charlotte felt the blade against her nipple and heard Khalif’s desperate shout. At the same time she was conscious that Mulay Aruj was speaking from somewhere below her, though she could not make out the words. Then the blade was withdrawn and she felt it part the lips of her sex to slide inside. Instinctively she jerked as the cold blade entered her fleshy passage.
The scar-faced Bey chuckled. “Truly many men have given this slut much pleasure by their use of this,” he grinned. “Of course, she is nothing but a Inglése whore; good for little else. ”He flexed his arm preparatory to making the final cut.
“Mulay . . . don’t! ” shouted Khalif, even as the leather-masked Bey thrust upwards sharply and Charlotte contorted with the sudden extra pain. She could feel a warm liquid running down her thighs. It was all too much and slowly she began to drift downwards towards that blessed unconscious state where pain is no more.
Suddenly, shockingly, there was a huge bang and a crash that brought her back to reality. Almost as if in slow motion, part of the wall behind Mulay’s podium seemed to explode in front of her eyes and a great hole appeared in the plaster wall, scattering large chunks of wood and masonry over those nearest to the podium. At the same time, the huge doors crashed open to admit a flood of armed men.
‘Mad Jack’ Fletcher leapt to his feet and, drawing a knife, strode quickly across to cut the ropes holding Khalif’s outstretched arms to the heavy beam. “Now! ” he shouted to his men, drawing his sword and tossing the knife to Khalif. “Engage the guards! ”
There was another loud explosion and more stone and plaster rained down. Panic-stricken Janissaries trying to form a defence around the podium were thrown back as a mass of heavily-armed corsairs led by the huge red-bearded axe wielding figure of Dragut Bey entered, cutting down all who challenged them.
Khalif had already killed one of the Janissaries guarding him and, armed with the man’s sword was engaged in protecting himself from assault by three more blue-cloaked adversaries. Moving forward to help him, Fletcher suddenly also found himself with a fight on his hands as more blue-cloaked soldiers attacked him from different sides. A dozen or more of the English pirate’s crew rushed the podium to aid the pair and the Janissaries reeled back leaving five of their number bleeding and silent on the ground.
Steel crashed against steel all around the hall and, distantly from the direction of the harbour, there came the distinct rolling thunder of cannon-fire. Meanwhile, Dragut’s crossbowmen were losing shafts as fast as they could aim and reload, and all across the hall, blue-cloaked figures were falling. On the dais, Mulay Aruj and a few of his personal guard were backed against the wall outnumbered and engaged in desperate hand to hand combat with the attacking sailors of Fletcher’s crew.
“Dragut! ” shouted Khalif to his approaching friend as he headed grimly for the scar-faced Bey, at the same time fending off a vicious attack from a blue-cloaked soldier. “The girl . . . quickly . . . see to her! ”
Throwing a troubled glance at the ominously still figure on the cross, the old corsair nodded. “I will do it! ” he shouted. “See to your enemy! I will help her! ”
Khalif paused only long enough to see Dragut and several corsairs surrounding the cross, then sprang forward like a lion, splitting the Janissary’s skull with one mighty blow. Grimly, he fought his way towards Mulay Aruj, opponents falling like leaves away from his flashing blade. “Stand and fight, Mulay Aruj! ” he shouted. “Your time has come! ”
Only two of the blue-cloaked guards defending the Bey remained on their feet and, snarling, Mulay Aruj waved these forward. The attacking English pirates, well aware of Khalif’s prowess with a sword, stood back to watch the spectacle. Already, bets were being taken on how long it would take the corsair to finish them.
The two Janissaries separated, going against their intended victim from both sides as they had been taught. Khalif, however, was no easy victim! Moving with a speed and power born of rage and hatred, his flashing sword easily evaded the first guard’s defence, cleaving him deeply and mortally from armpit to belly.
The watching corsairs cheered mightily and the remaining Janissary backed off. Khalif smiled grimly. This was the guard commander, the one who had nailed Charlotte to the cross. Khalif moved straight at the frightened man, bringing his sword down at his adversary’s head with absolutely no attempt at deception. The officer managed to block the crashing blow with his own blade, but still it staggered him. The contest was short and brutal, Khalif’s sword cleaving through the Janissary’s guard almost as if it did not exist and, with an anguished scream, the man fell to his knees, his frantically clutching hands groping at his stomach in an ineffectual attempt to stop his entrails from spilling out on to the ground.
Khalif stepped past the writhing man and moved threateningly towards the figure of Mulay Aruj.
The scar faced Bey, obviously shaken at the ease with which the naked corsair had despatched his two guards, tried to bolster his own courage with defiant words. Menacingly, he hefted his own double-edged sword. “Come then, Barbarian! ” he spat. “I will be only too glad to put you to your rest, even as I
did the rest of your clan! ”“
The words were almost his last. Khalif sprang like a striking panther, limbs a blur; sheer speed taking him on top of his prey almost before the other could even raise his sword in defence. Even the watching ‘Mad’ Jack Fletcher caught his breath at the speed of the attack. Belatedly, Mulay Aruj’s sword flashed up to catch the dreadful downward blow. There was a great clash of steel on steel and he staggered back, sword arm almost paralysed by the sheer force of the attack. Another blow came and another, and each time the fat, scar-faced Bey was forced to move back a step. His arms seemed to be having trouble holding up the sword, until finally they could not longer do so. The blade fell from his nerveless fingers and he slid to his knees, courage finally deserting him. Screaming and gibbering, shaking with a sickness born of terror, Mulay Aruj scrabbled away; then the blade crashed down, cleaving straight through his neck to separate his head from his body. A great gout of blood and gore fountained out and Mulay Aruj, late Bey of Tunis, fell lifeless to the floor at Khalif’s feet.
The cheers of the watching corsairs shook the rafters and the few remaining Janissaries threw down their weapons. Kahlif, without a further glance at the still-twitching corpse, turned back to where Dragut and several other corsairs had finally managed to uproot Charlotte’s cross and lay it flat on the ground. As gently as they could, they were removing the spikes from her twitching limbs.
“She lives,” observed Dragut as the wounds in her wrists and feet was bound up with clean rags, “but there is much blood here. ”He pointed to the fresh bright red stream still flowing from between the English girl’s thighs. Gently, he wadded a clean piece of cloth into the soft valley. “Still, she is young and strong; if we can stop the bleeding there is a good chance she will recover. ”With a grimace, he handed Khalif a blood-stained tunic to cover his nakedness. “What about Zamil and the others? Are they still in the dungeons? ”
Love Slave Page 23