In swift decision she sped to where her Master slept. Deliberately she slid down and snuggled close, a bare arm across his shoulders. Without surprise, she heard his chuckle. "Congratulations, love. You?ve made your point." Lazily, he turned and gathered her close, her head gratefully buried against his cheek. Corey Gibson had never been so happy.
The town of Ben Sirah lay between desert and scrub, an ancient ghost of a place progress had ignored. For Slavers it was ideal. If the powers above knew its function they closed a blind eye. No matter how enlightened an official might be, it was comforting to know where a slavegirl could still be purchased. It was one of Africa?s surviving institutions of which most men, black or white or in between, secretly approved. From its auction block the wealthy of the world had gathered to itself some of the most desirable female flesh extant.
As the current consignment of feminine pulch tritute from the stable of Mustafa and Burdett clinked its coffle through empty moonlit streets and shuffled its female feet in sand still warm from daylight sun, Corey Gibson could believe herself transported back a thousand years. No sign of modernity was to be seen. For she and those like her it offered no hope. For slavegirls it would be a place of sadness and last good-byes. As they filed through its central square the sight of stocks and whipping post, stark and empty in the pale light, was far from welcome. Conscious of the metal she bore upon her nudity, she wondered how many other white girls had marched as she marched now!
"Soon we all be fucked real good." Whispered Amrah ecstatically. "This fine place to be sold. Much best." Her stride was confident.
It may have been a warehouse. Or perhaps it had known no other function than the housing of slaves. A huge square place of stone and thatch, it?s roof supported by pillars. Within each quarter of its dimension there was a cage of metal bars and sandy floor, large enough to tell of a considerable trade in times past. Ventilation was adequate from unglazed apertures high in the stone. The whole place spelt Slavery with a capital?S?. Corey shivered. They were well received by the Management. The partners were treated with much respect. The nine naked girls were examined with voluble approval. Help was provided in their placement within a chosen cage. Amrah was first in line. Freed from the coffle, her wrists were crossed behind her back and tied with a strip of supple hide. An authorative hand thrust her within the confines of the bars. Corey was next. The tying of her hands at the small of her back was competent. She wpuld not get loose. In dismal distaste for what was happening she joined Amrah in the cage. Soon all nine girls stood nakedly with hands bound behind their backs and surveyed their new home. The door clanged shut with a ceremony of locks. The omnipotent Males departed. Unhappily, Corey gazed through the bars at her Master?s disappearing back.
Life within the Slave Cage was simple. The girls agreed they preferred the coffle but made the best of what they could not change. Their new confinement allowed them all to talk in an intimacy the coffle had never permitted. Two troughs against the bars provided food and water. They had to kneel to eat or to drink from the communal containers set a couple of feet above the sand for their convenience. Their bound hands were lost to them. Amrah blandly explained away the imposition.
"Hands tie so we know we slaves. No hands, no trouble. Is no use try untie."
She was probably right. Certainly no amount of twisting and striving untied a knot. Back to back, questing fingers were still defeated. The hide had been wet and its knots doubly sutured. No doubt it was much cheaper than handcuffs and imposed a more personal discipline. After the first day the girls no longer bothered. Amrah was appointed to tend their needs. Her hands were untied but her feet were shackled. She clinked about her new duties with considerable elan. She saw it as a promotion. The chain joining her ankles bothered her not at all, for her it was a visible symbol of authority. "You be polite or Amrah pinch your tits." She warned amiably. "You girls can?t do nothing the way you?s tied. But Amrah do what she like." She kicked her leg irons to make them swirl. "These here don?t bother me none."
They were not alone. The far cage held four female captives, another imprisoned two. One single girl was chained to the stone wall by her collar. She sat in apathetic boredom, awaiting a fate on which Amrah was soon informed.
"She been sold. But owner busy. He pick up later." She tittered. "He be pay her room and board."
Corey missed Burdett. His masculinity was a needed foil for the redundancy of breasts, pubic triangles and unruly hair. The cage reeked of female. Some of the captives paired and unashamedly made love. Their bound hands were a handicap they managed to overcome, they had plenty of time. Boredom engulfed them as did the cage. The three white girls discussed the feminine relief their tongues could bestow. But the case defeated them. It was worse than being in public. They were specimens in a zoo to be peered at between bars. Corey shrank from a vision of Seth Burdett walking in to find her with her face buried between Audrey?s thighs.
Ennui ended on the fourth day. They were shepherded through a narrow doorway into a second chamber much like the first. It held no cages, but the auction block stood, starkly obvious, facing a few rows of chains which were no doubt a modern concession to the wealth of those who would bid. In contrast to the place they had left they now were surrounded by luxury. The walls were draped with rugs, the block itself was shrouded in black velvet. Against the far wall stood a bar. Seth Burdett did the honours.
"This is where you?ll be sold." His eye roved the line of breasts. The girls stood expectantly, their hands and arms still secured behind their backs. "Now, just so?s there?s no fuck-ups on the Great Day. I?ll give you the drill."
Amrah stood proudly forward. She had been briefed.
Chapter 4
"You?ll wear a strip of white, and we want it pretty on you." He gave them his sardonic grin. "Believe it or not, some men pay more for a cunt they can?t see than for one they can."
It was like the stewardess on a airline demonstrating the oxygen mask. Amrah mounted the platform, her chains almost silent on the plush, and proceeded to work a feminine miracle upon her loveliness with a swathe of virgin white, potent against the black on which she stood. She was loving every moment.
"You won?t be tied. No way! Seth continued amiably. "So you?ll have no trouble with that bit of cloth. Now watch! When the time comes…!"
Each girl watched breathlessly. Mentally, they stood as Amrah stood, but above a sea of male faces. They sighed in unison as the girl on the block deftly loosed a knot and stripped herself nude. Arms outstretched, she held the white drape for several moments, cascading from her fingers. Then let it fall. Corey envied her sang froid. Amrah was a showgirl, and in spite of her pragmatic speech and actions, displayed one of the most exquisite figures for which a man might yearn.
"You girls sell yourselves." Burdett?s tone hardened. "So get this straight. You fight. You sulk. You make yourself ugly, and we?ll pull you from that block so quick it will curl your hair. You?ll go back to the other room and by the time we?re finished with you you?ll wish you?d behaved." He smiled cheerfully. "Or maybe we?ll use you as the preliminary at the next auction. A bit of discipline, nicely presented, whets the boy?s appetites."