“Oh shit!” Daphne muttered. “Another march through their lousy town!”
“Killing two birds with one stone,” Maisie suggested. “Advertising for old Saud’s business, and a boost for the Nykobe Cause. We’re a prize package any way you look at us.”
“Lilith was right,” Daphne moaned. “We’ll never escape, never! Look at us now! All the world to run to, not locked up or anything, and we can’t do sweet F.A. because of these rotten chains. If the girl in front moves, we move . . .”
It was a dreary procession kept moving by the whip. The townsfolk enjoyed it. The troop tried to look proud and haughty but failed. It is hard for a girl to keep her head high when her neck is constantly snubbed by a chain on her collar. Inevitably their steps led to the Town Square. The platform had not been dismantled. It had, in fact, been enhanced by the addition of two slender poles. Six feet high, solidly vertical. Between them stood a naked girl with arms outstretched so that one of her wrists could be tied to each above the level of her shoulders. She surveyed them with evident relief.
It was Trudy Ramsay.
“She looks awful pleased with herself,” Maisie muttered.
“Wouldn’t you if you’d been screwed all night,” Daphne accused. “And I got a look at her bottom. It’s been caned again but not much.”
“You know what’s coming, don’t you!”
“You mean all those speeches, and Nykobe, and then—! Oh, Maisie, do you think she will?”
Maisie was right. The troop, after its first surprise, was bored. People all over the world were bored with the same platitudes as poured forth now. It was only when the naked Trudy was left alone upon the stage that they came to life. They knew what she would have to say, but they listened.
Trudy Ramsay brightly and cheerfully confessed to all the sins of the entire white world. She told them all in much detail. There was intermittent applause as she twisted shamefully in her bonds and dwelt upon the superiority of all things dark: particularly the Cause of Nicholas Nykobe. At the finish she happily explained how fitting it was that she, epitomising pale decadence, should be sold into slavery, her prize augmenting the coffers of the Cause.
The crowd cheered wildly.
Trudy wore her most impudent smile as she was untied from the posts and handcuffed and chained at the tail end of the coffle.
They moved forward in single file.
10
Females Fettered
“I’m sorry I’m so disappointing.” Caroline used her teeth to tug at the knot of her bound hands. She cocked an amused eye at her companion. “I’m not behaving a bit like a girl should do when saved from a fate worse than death.”
James Dexter grinned wryly down at the naked woman on the rug. He had not bothered to cover her, guessing her mood. “I’m not too surprised,” he conceded.
“A gentleman would untie a lady’s hands.”
“So I’m not a gentleman! Are you sure you’re a lady?”
Caroline stopped nibbling, and let her tied hands fall to her waist. Upon her nudity were still the make-believe red streaks from the make-believe whip. She eyed the man in the chair with sorrow. “Where the devil are we—and how—?”
Dexter waved her query aside. “It doesn’t matter. We’re safe.” He eyed her with exasperation. “I had to do this, Caroline. I’ve been bothered from the start. I couldn’t allow you—”
“To be publicly whipped!” She laughed at his dolor. “Oh, James, if you only knew . . . !” She suddenly tensed at him. “How did you persuade the rebels to make that raid. ? Are you one—?”
“No, I’m not! I just took advantage of a situation I knew about in advance. A few bribes in this country—!”
“What did you do to poor Assad?”
“Poor! Good gosh, Caroline, are you that pally with your torturer! We drugged his drink. I expect he’s still wondering what happened.” He looked down at his lovely captive askance. “Dammit, that guy was going to flog your naked back!”
“He’s awfully good at it, and quite nice.”
“Can’t you be a bit serious! I’ve staked a lot on this—” he glowered. “Really, Caroline, you’re impossible.” He reached down and tore at the rope which joined her hands. But when he cast it aside he took handcuffs from his pocket and prisoned her wrists once more. She did not resist, holding still while he tightened them to the last humane notch. “I brought these just in case,” he said lamely.
Caroline, pertly, held them up to admire. “I don’t think I’ve worn this make before. Why am. I wearing them now, James?”
“I didn’t notice you struggling.”
“Don’t be cross. And that didn’t answer my question.”
“I brought them because of what I know about you. Remember our first time together! And your behavior at the Consulate—and in that damn awful cage.”
“It was a lovely cage. I’ve never been so admired.”
“You adore those things on your wrists. C’mon, be honest?”
“Sure I do,” Caroline admitted without guile.
“I’ve given up apologising . . .” She twisted her wrists this way and that. “These are beautifully made, much nicer than some.”
“I bought the most expensive I could find.” His voice was suddenly tender. “In fact, I bought several pairs.”
“Oh, darling, how sweet! Want to use one on my ankles?”
“No. I’m indulging you enough. What the devil am I going to do with such a bundle of unreasonable eroticism!”
“I’ve never been called exactly that before. How sweet! All you have to do, James, is let me loose somewhere where I’ll be found and taken to Khalief . . . I’ll think of a story. Trust me.” She flaunted the handcuffs. “If I’m found wearing these it will be even more authentic.”
“I intend to take you back to the U.S.A. If your marriage to Dowling is finished, then I’ll marry you.”
They surveyed each other in silence, a stillness pregnant with divergent thought. Caroline made a small moue of helplessness. “Gosh, James, we’re only about ten thousand miles apart.” She looked up at him in rueful disclaimer. “And don’t I have anything to say—?”
He was the man of decision. “In this country and under these ridiculous circumstances, no! You’re under the influence of your own cute little aberration, and the overwhelming personality of the strongest man I’ve ever met.” He sneered bitterly. “To say nothing of his sexual prowess. You’re not responsible. You need looking after.”
Caroline clinked her handcuffs ruefully. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let you put these on.”
“I could have done it by force.”
“And violated me afterwards! Oh, James—groovy!”
“Caroline, stop being adolescent!”
“Well, it was a nice idea.” She looked up woefully. “James, you know damn well I don’t want to go back. I’ve found something here—”
“I know what you’ve found.” he agreed savagely. “And I’ve bought you a boxful. Chains, whips, straps, gags . . . You name it! And I’ve also brought me.”
She was suddenly contrite. Hugging his knee she rubbed an affectionate cheek against the cloth. “I’m a bitch and I deserve everything I get over here.” she said quietly. “I was a bitch back home, and I would be again—”
“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever known—!”
“There’s that side to me as well—” Caroline pondered. “You’ll hate this bit, but that sweet offer of yours—about the box and these handcuffs . . . ! There’s no use a white man using those things on me. It doesn’t work. I don’t spark.”