by Ian Smith
Some time in the afternoon, they came to a small, primitive village. There were a few signs of civilisation, but not many: some of the villagers wore jeans or other clothes that had been machine produced and there were steel utensils and farming tools around, but little else. There were no instruments which used power, no communications and no white people. Penny and Carrie both noticed that Norris stayed back, letting one of his black men conduct trading negotiations.
While the bartering was going on, a few of the younger male natives gathered curiously around the three girls chained to the back of the cart. At first Penny and Carrie were naively hopeful that there would be an outcry as to why they were bound like this, but they soon realised that chained captives were unremarkable here. The interest they had sparked stemmed instead partly from their beauty, and also partly because they were white. The natives inched nearer and near to them, until Penny felt a hand on her sweat-soaked thigh. Shocked, she shook herself and the hand left her as if it had been a fly. However, the boys did not retreat far, and soon edged forwards again. Handcuffed to the wagon as they were, the three girls could do little about the attention they were attracting: they couldn’t turn to face the boys, nor kick out like mules, since their legs were now shackled once more. A hand reached out and lifted the maid’s short dress, revealing the metal chastity belt beneath and sparking a number of ribald-sounding comments in the local language. The maid shuddered and blushed, but said nothing. Penny listened to the jabbering conversation, unable to comprehend a word of it, and felt her own face redden as gestures were made in her direction. She was extremely thankful to still be wearing her shorts, but her boobs were on show, which was bad enough. She wondered if she was being compared to Carrie. Her blonde friend stared ahead, trying to pretend the boys were not there, but the flush of her cheeks belied her pose. However, only when another boy touched Carrie’s bare, beaten bottom did she turn her head round towards him and snarl “piss off!” with considerable feeling. Once more they backed off, but were edging forwards once more when one of the traders came around to the back of the wagon and shooed them away. They took far more notice of him than they had the girls.
It had occurred to Penny that, since they were all to be sold, it was remotely possible that one of them could be sold here, to be left in this Godforsaken hole. It seemed unlikely that these primitive peasants wouldn’t have the wealth to afford one of them, but even so she was quite relieved when the traders only off-loaded some gaudy but cheap bits of furniture and things, gathering up some boxes containing some bits of (presumably) semi-precious metal in return. The fortunate thing was that as a consequence there was now space on the wagon: the three girls were allowed to climb onto it and rest for the remainder of the day’s travels, which also meant that the caravan was able to move rather faster.
There wasn’t much space on the back of the wagon, but that wasn’t the only reason Penny and Carrie huddled together as the cart bumped along the rough track. After their appalling, harsh and degrading treatment, the two girls sought the comfort of each others arms, forgetting their earlier mutual embarrassment and shame. Although neither of them had any lesbian tendencies and they knew each other well enough not to misread their actions, the cuddle was long and tender, although they were hampered by the handcuffs. The maid, clearly uninvited, found a different spot away from them.
Penny nestled her head on Carrie’s bare breasts, arms wrapped around her friend, her hands feeling the other girl’s sweat dampened skin. Although both girls had only been able to manage a makeshift wash that morning, since then they had been through plenty of exertions in the sweltering heat and despite their swim and more exertions yesterday, a faint aroma of Carrie’s expensive perfume yet lingered, making quite an agreeable mix with the young woman’s natural body scent. Even the smell of her sweat was at least fresh and healthy, unconfined thanks to her nakedness. Penny nuzzled closer.
Carrie stroked her friend’s long brunette hair tenderly. “Are you all right?” she asked gently.
“Yes,” sighed Penny, although it wasn’t really true: it would be more accurate to say that she was surviving. “You?”
“I hurt a bit in a few places, but nothing fatal.”
Penny traced her slim, elegant fingers thoughtfully down Carrie’s bottom, feeling the multiple raised weals and reflecting that her friend was clearly understating the situation. There was one other weal, even more visible and terrible, across the blonde beauty’s breasts. Penny stared at the angry red line, the slightly raised flesh; it went across both mounds, an inch or so above the nipples, fading in the middle of the girl’s chest where the valley of her cleavage had taken her body out of harm’s way. The stroke on her boobs had been delivered with considerably less venom than those to her bottom, but had probably hurt more even so on that sensitive target. The sight of her whipped breasts and bottom should have conveyed to any observer how badly and criminally the girls were being mistreated and abused and yet somehow it almost suggested instead that Carrie had simply been naughty, had misbehaved and had required correction. Penny shivered: she could just about comprehend, she thought, how others in this God-forsaken land would view them as mere chattels. Her own weals, mostly hidden under her shorts, still hurt. She debated suggesting to Carrie that the blonde shouldn’t resist so much, that nothing would be gained by it, they must wait their chance to escape, but Carrie might well respond by criticising Penny’s quick surrender to their captors and might even bring up the subject of their rapes, so she said nothing. They simply held each other. From time to time Carrie also shivered, despite the heat and Penny knew that her friend’s mind was dwelling on one of the horrible moments of the last few hours, or the thought of some nameless thing worse still that they were yet to endure.
After a while, Carrie spoke again. “We’re in big trouble, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” Penny said. “The chances of us being found are just about nil; and as for us escaping ...” she raised her hands, showing the wrists encased by the steel cuffs. They were still chained to the wagon, although that was now done via the leg fetters. “And we’re actually probably safer here than in the bush. For now, at least, we’re stuck with it.”
It was not a pleasant thought.
Quite late in the evening they came to another staging post on the track, not dissimilar to the one where they had spent their previous night. Incredible to reflect how much had happened during the last twelve hours! Penny suspected that these shelters were built at a day’s journey from each other along the way, perhaps by traders who regularly used this route.
Tired, hot and hungry, they were unchained from the wagon. Carrie was trying to make the point of being unaffected by her nudity, in defiance of her captors. Penny found herself still embarrassed and ashamed about being breast naked before them. Their fetters were removed, they were ushered into a windowless stone hut similar to last night’s, and locked in once more. Again Penny wondered if one hut at each camp was deliberately set up for captives: she had heard tales that the African slave trade still survived into modern times, although she hadn’t believed it until this nightmare had started. Could it truly be, dear God, that they were now a part of that trade?
There was a wash-basin, a bowl, rudimentary soap and some rags that could be used as towels. The tap was operated by a hand pump, the water presumably coming straight from a well in the ground. Carrie went over to the basin and after a grimace of a look at the facilities, turned to the maid and said haughtily, “I want a wash. Pump the water up.”
The maid looked astonished. “Pump it up yourself,” she snapped.
Carrie looked totally surprised. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me,” she spluttered. “We might be captives, but you’re still an employee and when we get out of here my father will ...”
“Fuck your father,” the maid interrupted and withdrew into a corner as far away from the other two girls as she could.
/> Carrie looked set to continue the argument, but Penny intervened and told her to leave it alone. Glowering at the young girl slumped in the corner, Carrie irritably operated the pump herself. When washing herself, Penny paid particular attention to her crotch and noted without comment that Carrie did the same. The young brunette scrubbed the outside of her thatch until it was sore and, turning her back on the others to afford herself what little privacy she could manage, repeatedly washed out the inside of her channel. She was acutely aware that she had had unprotected sex with a stranger when she wasn’t on contraceptives and the possibility of pregnancy was very real. Whether the wash would totally remove that threat so many hours after the event was something she was unsure about, but there was nothing else she could do. In any case, she felt a lot better after it.
When they had performed their ablutions as best they could, the two friends sat together, discussing their situation. Carrie totally ignored the maid, who remained in her corner. “This outrage has gone on long enough, Penny,” she said, tossing her blonde hair back imperiously. “In the morning, we’re going to have to demand they release us.”
Penny regarded the naked body of her friend, on which the whip marks were still very evident. She noted that the girl had scrubbed her groin almost raw. “You want another beating?” she asked mildly.
“No, but we can’t allow this to carry on!”
“And you think that if you complain they’ll apologise and just let us go?”
Carrie opened her mouth, then shut it again. After a pause, she countered, “so what do you think we should do?”
“Just don’t antagonise them.”
“And let them sell us to some dago bastard?”
“We’ll keep looking for a chance to escape. Maybe when we reach wherever they’re taking us ...”
“And until then we let them do whatever they want with us?” Carrie asked archly. “Enjoy the fucking they gave you this afternoon, did you?”
Penny blushed furiously. “No,” she mumbled in confusion. She wanted to counter this with some sharp argument, but could only manage, “did you?”
“It was vile,” Carrie said with feeling.
Now that her friend had mentioned her own rape, Penny felt a little more able to speak on the subject. “You protested about that and what good did it do you?”
“All right, you’ve made your point,” Carrie said angrily. “Next time they want us, we open our legs and smile sweetly.”
“Don’t, Carrie, please,” Penny said with a shudder, hating the memory of what had been done to her and not wanting to think about it happening again.
Carrie looked around. “Well, I don’t see why we should have to go around in the buff while that maid’s still dressed. She should give us her clothes to wear.”
Despite everything, Penny found this amusing. “You want to go around wearing a maid’s uniform?” she asked.
She didn’t really expect Carrie to prefer being publicly nude than wearing a servant’s outfit, but she had underestimated her friend’s snobbishness. Carrie even said “I suppose even her underwear will be dreadfully common.”
Although Penny still had her shorts and knickers, she would personally have been quite happy to wear a maid’s dress rather than leave her boobs on show; but she didn’t think for a second that the maid would give her clothes up voluntarily and had no intention of trying to take them by force, so that was that. Instead, she peeled off her shorts and knickers and handed her tiny undies wordlessly to Carrie before replacing her shorts. Her friend smiled at her, hugged her in thanks and put on the brief and flimsy panties. They covered next to nothing really, just the light blonde pubic bush and about a tenth of her bottom, but it was a lot better than nothing.
Exhausted by the forced march and with little else constructive to say, the two friends soon fell asleep in each other’s arms.
They were woken in the morning by the sounds of the traders preparing to break camp. The door to their hut was still locked, so there was nothing they could do but wait. It was hot, stuffy and unpleasant in the hut and Carrie and the maid continued to ignore each other.
At length, the door was opened and two of the black men came in. One guarded the door whilst the other one said to Penny in broken English; “you! Come here!” Reluctantly, Penny inched closer to him until she was close enough for him to grab her. The moment he did so, her self-control disappeared and she started to struggle as he began to put handcuffs on her.
Carrie stepped forwards. “Leave her alone, you ... owww!” The other man had produced a crop from somewhere and swung it sharply across her thighs. The mere sound of the leather making terrible contact with her friend’s flesh knocked all the fight out of Penny and moments later she felt the unyielding metal of the cuffs snap tight around her wrists. Both men tackled Carrie as Penny slumped to the floor in sobbing defeat and moments later the near naked blonde was also handcuffed. The maid offered no resistance as her hands were also locked up.
The three girls were led stumbling into the bright morning sunlight and helped up onto the cart. Each of them could have well done without the male hands that pushed them up. Once on the cart, their cuffs were each fixed to a metal eye socket.
Norris wandered over and cast an appreciative eye over them. Penny’s hands instinctively covered her bare chest, or as much of it as she could. Norris’s eyes, however, fell on Carrie.
“Well, well,” he mused aloud. “It seems that our little blonde firebrand has acquired some new clothes since last night.”
Penny went hot and cold. It wouldn’t take much working out for Norris to realise that it was her knickers that Carrie was wearing. They could both be punished for this.
“You want ‘em off her, boss?” said the Negro most fluent in English, hopefully. Norris shrugged, then nodded. The Negro climbed up onto the wagon. Carrie shrank back as far as her firmly secured wrists would allow, which wasn’t far. “Don’t touch me, you pig!” she shouted, but he ignored her and grasped the flimsy panties. Despite Carrie’s feeble efforts, he pulled them down her legs, over her feet and off her, then flung them over the side of the wagon into the bush. When Carrie attempted to kick him, he grinned and dropped down on top of her. His weight pinning her to the floor of the wagon and each of her slim wrists grasped in one of his huge paws, he crushed her lips with his and kissed her long and hard. Her struggles intensified but still got her nowhere. When he had finished and his lips parted from hers, she tried to spit at him, but he saw it coming and ducked with ease. Turning to Norris, he asked, “can I have her, boss?”
“Not now, we need to get going,” the white man replied. “When we stop for lunch.”
The Negro’s grin grew wider, showing strong white teeth. “Thanks, boss,” he said and then to Carrie: “see you later, white bitch,” as he climbed off the wagon.
“What does he mean, ‘have me’?” Carrie asked, fear and anger vying for control of her lovely features. Penny said nothing: the meaning was all too clear and her silence confirmed to Carrie what the firebrand had been refusing to think. “Oh, no, no, no!” wailed Carrie as it sunk home. “He can’t ... I mean it’s just not on! For God’s sake, he’s BLACK!”
Their former maid snorted in derision, although her own constant fear made it a cross between a snort and a gulp. Carrie ignored her and appealed to Penny. “Penny ... surely they can’t allow that? I mean, they must realise, mustn’t they?” The brunette said nothing, unable to offer any solace. In desperation, Carrie turned to the maid. “Look, couldn’t you offer to take my place? I mean it wouldn’t be so bad for you, would it? Someone of your class probably wouldn’t even mind, would they? I’ll pay you, when we get free ...”
The young girl went white, though whether from fear or fury Penny wasn’t sure. She felt she had to say something. “Carrie,” she intervened softly, “she’s a virgin. You’re scaring her.
Stop it.”
“But ... but ... oh, God!” Carrie collapsed into floods of tears, just as the cart moved off.
They endured the bumpy, uncomfortable ride in silence. The incident just before departure had brought yesterday’s events on the beach flooding back to Penny. Unable to push them away, she tried to deal with them. I was raped, she said to herself; I am a rape victim.
She would without doubt be the victim of a lot more before this was all over. If, indeed, it would ever be over.
“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh no, please stop!”
Carrie moaned and writhed under the big black man as he lustfully thrust into her. Three fresh cane marks, the tips of which could just be seen in her current position prone on her back, had knocked very little of the fight out of her, but in any case her struggles and pleas were entirely useless. All they did was amuse him.
Penny and the former maid, as far back from the scene as their chains would allow (which was not very far), watched with ashen faces, each shuddering with the nightmare thoughts the sight of the rape was inducing. Penny was unwillingly reliving once again her own rape on the beach. She could almost feel the pirate’s manhood forcing its way into her body, and squirmed with shame at the memory. Trying to take her mind off it a little, she looked at the maid, again trying unsuccessfully to remember her name. The little blonde was staring with wide eyes, mouth open in shock, at Carrie’s enforced porking. Penny wondered whether the girl was a virgin by choice or lack of opportunity. Choice, probably, she decided, since the girl was very pretty in a rather common sort of way: it was unlikely that she had reached this age without at least a few boys trying to entice her into the bushes or behind the cycle sheds or wherever the working classes gave up their cherries. So she had probably been saving herself and this scene was driving home the fact that she would not be able to do so for much longer. All her abstinence would have achieved was to drive up her value in the slave market.