Dancing In Fear Of The Whip
I love a good “captured and forced into a harem” fantasy, even when, as here, the story has more buildup than action:
She was surrounded by a half dozen girls all dressed in slave silks. They immediately began to undress her. Fighting with what finger nails she had, Gwen managed to drive the girls away. One of the girls yelled something in Arabic.
Two giant men, with shaved heads and whips walked into the room. They look at her menacingly and walk out of the room. Once again, the girls began to undress her. This time Gwen did not resist; she had no choice.
They led her giggling to a bath which had been treated with perfumes and oils to soften her skin. The slave girls scrubbed her vigorously and then backed away, allowing her to soak in the warm water. “Maybe being a slave won’t be all bad.” she thought.
A bell rang in the distance and the girls help Gwen out of the pool and dried her. They wrapped her in silks like their own, curled her hair and applied her make up for her. The final touch was three silver bells, tied to her left ankle. Gwen walked gingerly across the room, enjoying the tinkling the bells made with each step.
Suddenly all the girls bowed as the two bald giants reappeared. They walk towards Gwen and fastened a collar around her neck. It was silver and matched the chain which attached the bells to her ankle. She humbly followed the two men as they left tent.
Like a dog, she was lead across a compound to an extremely large ornate tent. There sitting on a throne, wearing a mask to keep the desert sand out of his face, was her captor. With the lower half of his face covered, he looked sinister. She could tell, just by his presence, that he was cruelly handsome and that expect to have his way with any woman he desired.
Gwen was forced to kneel in his presence. The man on the throne snapped his fingers and a smallish man who looked like a Turkish librarian walked into the room and sat at the base of the throne. In a high shrill voice he spoke, “You are now a slave of the Sultan Naj. You will bow in his presence and obey his every command. You will only address him as ‘Master’.”
Rising to her feet, Gwen said, “I will not I am a citizen of…” As she spoke the Sultan raised two fingers and one of the giants brought his whip across her back side twice. Gwen winced in pain, biting her tongue to hold her scream.
As if nothing had happened, the librarian continued, “You will now dance and remove your veils to serve your master’s pleasure.”
Exotic music came from behind one wall of the tent as the librarian and two enforcers took their leave. Gwen started to dance. It was awkward at first but she did not want to feel the whip again.
That’s from Worth A Camel by Brush Strokes, via the Kirsten Archives.
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