"I trust you are comfortable, Miss Gibson?"
The Guerilla Leader loved the suavity which so ill matched the rest of him. With hostile eye, the suspended heiress watched him take the chair behind the desk. "You know I?m not." Corey siad flatly. "If you want to talk I?d be grateful to be untied:"
"I?m sure you would."
"At least allow my foot down on the floor?"
"No."
"This is a sort of torture. I?ll be gasping all the time."
"Good!"
"But please…? I want to talk to you sensibly. Don?t make me hang here like a puppet on a string. You can torture me afterwards… if that?s what you?ve stolen me for."
He clapped gently. "Well said, my dear. I have your full attention. I have found these strained postures most helpful in interviewing young ladies of a certain social status. Without the help of the rope they have a tendency to quibble."
The suspended Corey longed to tell him to?Stow it? or?Dry up? or better stilclass="underline" ?Drop dead!?. Instead, she said bleakly: "I hurt too much to quibble. Please… where?s Audrey?"
"I?d like to know that myself. Miss Cotswold escaped my men. We are still searching."
Corey resigned herself to the misery of the rope. The Desert eyes were drinking in her strained nudity with avid pleasure. But Audrey was good news. Audrey would not abandon her. Unhappily, she asked: "What are you going to do with me now?"
"Subject you to imprisonment and mild tortures disigned to humble the proud white maiden."
"I?d have thought you and that damn coffle made me humble enough."
"Interspersed, of course, by sojourns in my army brothel."
So that was it! The thing she feared most. Corey wanted to moan in desolation. Instead, she offered: "You can still get a huge ransom for me?"
"Perhaps later, after I have relished your humilities. In a few months it may amuse me to accept a few million to return you to the U.S. with a belly full of my soldier?s sperm."
The penalty of being female! No matter where a girl turned, it would be there waiting. Thrusting away a hateful vision, Corey asked: "Weren?t we going to get married, or something?"
Abdoul Nour was engrossed in contemplation of the well exposed sex of the girl suspended for his pleasure. Corey?s raised leg cuffed to her wrist enabled an examination of her pubic lips at an unusual angle. She could not thwart the scorch of his regard. The regret in his voice was spurious. "I?m afraid I can no longer offer you the honour, my dear. I have lost Miss Cotswold as a hostage. I have sold Mr. Aslam back to his business. I understand he has dealt favourably with your father?s crisis. If I now let you loose in Cairo you will promptly go home."
She could have wept. Everything went wrong. She would be someone?s prisoner forever. Desperately, she pleaded: "Look, there?s such a thing as a word of honour, a parole if you like. I?ll give you mine. Send me to Cairo. I?ll do what you want me to there. I?ll fill the Press with the romance of Abdul Nour, and I?ll come back here with me as your legal wife. Please…?"
She had captured his attention indeed. "Why would you do that?" He asked suspiciously.
"To escape the brothel."
"So!" He was now amused. He was also impressed. "There are girls in that brothel who have been fucked a thousand times… That?s only three times a day for a year. They and their cunts are no different from the day I placed them there. Why be so concerned about that small slit between your legs?"
"You know why."
"The fastidious white mores! But seriously, Miss Gibson, supposing I grant your wish, how can you know I won?t put you in the brothel anyway?"
"I just don?t think you would. Oh, please let me down off this beastly rope."
He found his cane and cut the upturned sole of her cuffed foot with it five times. When Corey?s sounds of agony diminished, he said calmly: "You easily forget your manners. You would make a man a poor wife." He left her suspended, her raised foot a blaze of pain.
It was absurd to see Achmed as an old friend. But after hanging by one wrist in front of Abdul?s empty desk for enough hours to seem an eternity Corey would have welcomed anyone willing to lower her foot to the floor. Released, she sat on the rug and blissfully rubbed her wounds. "Thank?s, Achmed. Nice to see you again." Resentfully, she asked herself what the hell else she could have said to him.
Achmed patted her hair. "You nice girl. You pretty prisoner. Achmed make sure you never no more escape. Every evening we fuck."
"Thank you."
With the air of having seen it on the movies, Achmed cuffed her right hand to his left for their short journey to the familiar cell. The collar and chain was waiting. "I?ll stand still while you lock it on my neck." Corey volunteered brightly. "You?re nice to me, I?ll be nice for you."
The closing of the metal circlet round her neck brought memories of her former imprisonment. But, far more vividly, it returned her to the coffle and to Seth. She yearned for him with a terrible hunger. No doubt he supposed her safely sold and cared for. He would not have stayed overnight in Ben Sirah so would know nothing of Abdul Nour?s raid. She blinked back tears.
"Poor Miss Gibson sad she be chained again?"
"It?s not much fun wearing a collar and chain, Achmed."
"You think you like brothel better?" He enquired solicitously. "Wear collar and chain there too so no run. But nice long chain."
So Achmed knew that too! Corey Gibson pictured herself servicing soldiers with a chain trailing from its metal band upon her neck. Girls were nothings here, just pets and prisoners. "When am I going to be sent to the brothel, Achmed?"
"You no ask questions."
"Sorry, I?d forgotten. D?you want to fuck me now, Achmed?"
"In one minute. Have not finish chain."
She might have known! She was an escapee. A subject enticing rescue. Unhappily, she watched Achmed?s embarrassment. "Don?t feel bad about chaining me some more, Achmed. It?s orders, isn?t it?"
"Is orders. Both hands, both feet. All locks different." He dangled an impressive ring of keys.
The chain was impressive too. Links were everywhere. To hold one naked girl it was ridiculous. But Corey did not laugh. Fortunately, most of it dragged on the floor. She could bear the weight of the rest of it.
"Am most sorry… so much chain…"
"Oh, go ahead. Don?t mind me. Here?s my wrist."
"You much kind girl."
She watched the band circle her wrist, watched the padlock snap. The weight was surprising. She proffered her other hand. It was becoming a shockingly natural thing to do. When all her limbs had been banded and chained she caught her jailor?s apologetic eye. They both laughed. Achmed immediately saw the bright side. "Can still fuck. Chain not stop open legs."
Afterwards and alone, Corey wept.
Preparing for sleep, she was compelled to drag up and arrange what seemed like fifty pounds of chain.
"I will visit you often." Achmed?s woebegone apology was shattering. "Is permitted. But perhaps you no longer need?"
"Of course you must come, Achmed. You?re my friend." In the light of morning it was hard to be cordial after the news. Corey was possessed by one big question mark. "What did I do to offend him?"
"Achmed not sure. But is much troubles for him. Maybe he take out mad on you." Achmed knew himself the bearer of bad tidings. "Brothel not so bad. Much fuck. Some girl enjoy."
"Why doesn?t he whip me, or something like that… One of those beastly tying-up things he?s so fond of?"
"You like?"
"No, I suppose I don?t."
"Brothel best. Is just chain on neck. Plenty lay down." Achmed was searching for silver linings. "You get good whip. Talifa now top girl. She whip each one new.
"What on Earth for? If we haven?t done anything bad!" No prospects were having any silver linings for Corey Gibson.
"Is show she boss. Is make well behave."
It would be rationalised. Corey was sure of that. Whatever was done to her would be coloured by Amphala?s own logic. Glumly she looked at the mass of chain still securing her to the wall of her cell. "Won?t I have to wear all this hardware?" She asked listlessly.