Brigit's intromission to the bawdyhouse

By Francis drake

Chapter 2 ( continued )

Posted by JackFD, with Francis Drake's permission.

For More my Francis drake and others go to www.nomadauthors.com, have fun.

Brigit twisted into a posing position. The cot on which she lay was no different from the one she'd left in her late cell, though the elbow room in which she now found herself was slightly improved. Like her early"base,"this room had a makeshift toilet and sinkhole, but here a cloth covert partially hid them. There was a table bolted to the floor, a small locker secured in the same way, and two beds. In the wall above the table, someone had embedded a sheeny piece of alloy that served as a mirror.

The way smelled fresh, without a hint of must, though from all the rock and stone Brigit saw in the corridors, she thought they might be underground or in a cave. Now she found the source of the freshness. High on the paries over their beds, a volcano circulated air through the slatted metal. Next to it was a rotary of glass—a window. After her days in dark isolation, Brigit couldn't get enough of the light.

None of these agreeableness changed the fact that the door lacked a handle, making the room a prison cell.

At survive, Brigit's gaze lighted on the full-grown advance in the new room, her associate, Fatima. She wore stratum of translucent cloth that hid little. Her retentive legs, specialise waist, and full-of-the-moon white meat were in scene even behind the material. Her high-pitched zygomatic bone, large, dreary optic, and wax lip lent her the look of exotic beauty enhanced by the caramel color of her skin. raven black fuzz fell in rivers of wafture over her articulatio humeri. In America, she could have made a portion as a model. Her face had an aura of mystery merchandiser will wipe out for.

The girl—for she looked younger than Brigit's nineteen years—stared with unabashed frankness.

"I am blue you are here,"Fatima said.

"Where the hell is here ?"

"Nowhere you want to be."

No shit."You speak English."

"I went to school in New York City."

"I'm from San Francisco."

"Nice place."The girl looked wistful.

"Yeah, it is, but hell would be nice compared to here."Her Book brought a grin to the young woman's brass."We're prisoners."

The smile on Fatima's look disappeared as quickly as it had formed."Oh, yes. There is no safety valve from the Claw. It is he who holds us. It is here we will die."

The words froze Brigit's blood. The Claw ? Just the name conjured images of a slasher jumping from the phantom on a Halloween nighttime, just like in horror films. One thing was for sure, Claw or not, she had no intention of dying in some dungeon, a prisoner of men with values culled from the Middle Ages.

"How did you end up here ?"she asked Fatima.

"In New York I had a boyfriend. We loved each other and planned to wed, so I slept with him. When I returned home for a visit and my parents found out, my female parent wanted to down me."

Brigit tried to be civil, but her sass dropped unfastened."No way."

"I was impure,"the girl explained.

"This impure affair has got to go."

"My father stopped her, saying if they sold me, they would at to the lowest degree make a little money off my sin."

Her impassionate expression shocked Brigit as much as the speech. Then she detected a trench sadness in Fatima's eyes."Your parents sold you to the people here ? I can't believe it."

"It is not uncommon."The daughter shrugged."The worst thing is, I never had a hazard to say au revoir to my lover. He must recollect I deserted him. I suppose, in a way, I have."

"How did your parents find out about the two of you ? I can't imagine you told them, knowing what their reaction would be."

"My mother found a letter from Tommy."Staring into blank, the girl fell silent.

Brigit left her to her store. She had enough to think about with her own situation. How in hell would she ever get out of this ? She knew her sept would try to find her, but everything they knew was a lie. Crap, I need to keep on my brain about me.

"Listen, Fatima, have you tried to escape ? I mean, has anyone ?"

Fatima shook her fountainhead."If you found your way out of the construction, where would you go ? A turgid staff of men is employed within the compound. outdoor, too. If you get past them, you face the lot, rough and eminent. Even in summer, the temperatures drop at nighttime. We have no article of clothing but this."The little girl indicated what she wore, including flimsy sock-type carpet slipper. They would ease up as much protective cover against tilt as the light fabric would against cold. Which was to say, none at all. And, of course, the trip up had shown her how isolate they were.

"So, what is life like here ? What do we do ?"

"We are whores. We service whomever we are told. If we are obedient and maintain our beauty, we remain in the elect house, where men pay very much money to use our consistence. We do not receive money, of course."She smiled rather apologetically."But if we cause trouble or when we age, we are sent below to service the employees. I have heard tales. womanhood do not live long once they go below."She shuddered in the telling.

"What if we don't do what they tell us ?"

"We are punished."

"I can stand a thrashing or two,"Brigit said boldly.

"Perhaps. But when girls first arrive, they are given a mentor. I am yours. If you refuse to obey, they will punish you. And, they will punish me, for not teaching you properly."

"What ?"The intellection that anyone would penalise this fragile mantrap turned Brigit's blood to ice."What do I call for to do to keep that from happening ?"

"Whenever we leave the room, I will tie your hands and fasten the lead around your cervix. As you saw when we came here, pulling on the trey causes it to tighten."

Brigit rubbed her cervix and remembered when she didn't walk of life fast enough to keep up with the precaution who led them through the tangle of hallways.

Fatimah continued."Because you are new and I had no time with you, the guards were lenient this break of the day. But if you lag behind and have to be pulled to your tariff, we will both be punished. If you follow my tip and do as you are told, we will be fed better and cover better in the hall. So delight, Brigit… ?"

"I'll do my best."

She fell back on the bed in despair.

"How did you fall to be here ?"Fatima asked.

Brigit snorted in disgust."I trusted the wrong person."

"Does…does anyone know where you are ?"Fatimah whispered the words tinged with hope.

Brigit shook her head."No."Tears trailed down her cheek."They think I'm visiting my boyfriend's family in capital of Pakistan. I found out later he's from Tadjik. Is that where we are now ?"

"Yes. Is it he who betrayed you ?"

Brigit didn't have the heart to do."Fatimah, how long have you been here ?"

"I am not certain."She seemed to conceive. Or maybe she fell to dreaming of a break time and place."One day is like another, but based on the seasons, I have served about one year."She hesitated again."And an untold phone number of men."

That said it all. Brigit's team spirit sank. This would be her life, too. Until she died, at any rate, a fate she would gladly sweep up. Except now her actions affected someone else. She'd strength herself to live rather than work more suffering to Fatima.

step sounded outside the cubicle. The pass-through in the door slid undecided. A man gave an ordering in what Brigit now recognized as Tajiki.

"What did he say ?"Brigit asked when the pass-through closed.

"It is time for me to set up you to eat."Fatima rose and went to the doorway where R-2 and a nigrify gown had been pushed on the shelf.

Fatimah came forward."First your hands."

Brigit jerked back."No."Tears stung her optic. She would never take in it, never last in this…whatever snake pit this was.

"Stand, please. You must be tied until they are sure as shooting you will be cooperative."

"But, I won't be able to eat."

"I will feed you. It is part of my task."

Reluctantly, Brigit stood and held out her hands. With efficiency, Fatima bound them, then wrapped the Mexican valium around Brigit's waist and secured it."Is that too miserly ? The target is to throttle movement, not cause pain."

"Fine,"Brigit responded bitterly."I suppose I'll have to go naked until they're sure enough I'll be cooperative ?"With her workforce confined to her stomach, she was unable to wipe away the tear trickling down her cheek. Fatima stared at it, but didn't wipe it away either.

Silently, she draped the black stuff over Brigit, leaving only her foreland visible. Fatimah tied the sack under Brigit's Chin."Sit, so that I can embrace your feet."

Brigit fell back onto the bed. Fatima slid warm wind sleeve over her pes and then assisted Brigit in standing.

handwriting bound and covered from neck to mortise joint in a disgraceful, formless bag, Brigit was as far from the life she'd known last week as it was possible to be. She wanted to cry, to scream, to pound her fists against the paries. She wanted her mother.

"I can't conceive this,"she said in a repress voice.

"I am no-count. Soon, this is all you will believe."The words rang like a death knell in Brigit's mind.

The door squeaked afford, and Fatimah started forward. Brigit followed, knowing she had no choice.

A popular phrasal idiom from the 1980s filled her mind."This is the first day of the remainder of your life."Suddenly, whether in craze or the sheer direct contrast between the old affirmation and what she now faced, Brigit wanted to laugh.



Chapter 3

The trip to the dining hall, the meal, and the walk back were not much more than a fuzz to Brigit. Fatima held the leash as loosely as possible, but the shame of being treated like a pet burned. chagrin was gamy on Brigit's head, right along with betrayal, fear, and the knowledge of her foolishness.

One of her friends had warned her about midriff Eastern men and their thought of muliebrity, which differed greatly from those of the West. She'd heard the news program write up and seen the feature article on the want of fair sex's right wing in places like Afghanistan, but she'd ignored all that. Omar hadn't fit any of the stereotypes. He'd been good to her and fun. They'd gone drinking together for Pete's sake—wasn't alcohol against their culture ? —proving her acquaintance's fears were unwarranted. He'd seemed different from what everyone described. But he hadn't been. Now she knew he'd seen her only as a art object of meat, a substance to an end.

Granted, she wouldn't have wished this marijuana cigarette on his sister or any other cleaning woman. But that did not give him the right to imprison her.

All Brigit noticed of the halls and elbow room she'd been through showed a utterness that contrasted with the material in Fatima's attire. There had been a 12 or so adult female in the dining hall, which resembled nothing more than a gray-walled institutional room with two lines of mesa. They sat on benches and were served by a number of other woman who scurried between the tables under the watchful regard of a few guards. The serving women wore muslin shifts, while the char seated at the board had all been dressed similarly to Fatima, in filmy gowns that hid nothing of their consistence. The exception was another woman who, like her, wore a dark poke. No one had spoken, certainly not to her. She'd never seen a room of char so silent.

The food proved unproblematic but plenteous, though it tasted like ashes in Brigit's lip. All she could think about was her foolishness. She'd been not only dumb, but arrogant. Against dependable advice, she'd trusted Omar. She'd put him and her desire for risky venture above her parents, and she'd ignored the admonitory statement of her own government when she agreed to travel to this godforsaken part of the world. Now she might expend the rest of her life history here, ineffective to form amends.

When Fatima led her spinal column to their sparse room, a cleaning woman stopped them and spoke in a low voice.

The threshold closed and locked behind them."We will be leaving again soon,"Fatimah said apologetically."So I won't be untying you."

Brigit tugged against the restraints."Where are we going ?"

"One of the others is being punished. We all witness."

A niggling of fear ran down Brigit's spine."Wh…why ? What did she do ?"

"I don't know. They might declare the reason or they might not."Fatima leaned toward the mirror and adjusted her earrings. Her social movement were passing, but Brigit spied how her finger's breadth trembled.

"Who is it ?"

"Not us,"Fatimah replied."That is all that issue. Do not slip a friendly Holy Writ as finding a ally, Brigit. No one here cares for you. It is easiest on your heart and soul to be the same."

"But, how can you live without friends ? This topographic point would be unendurable to face alone."

Fatimah placed her hands on Brigit's berm."It is intolerable no matter what. If I were Friend with the woman who is being punished today, how could I handle watching her chagrin and pain and jazz doing anything would wreak the Lapp to myself ? We must each assume care of ourselves."

A feeling of despair enveloped Brigit. Every time she thought she'd reached her lowest level, something happened to testify her wrong. She'd thought if she were scurvy, she'd at least have female companions who would understand."So when you're no longer my wise man, we won't talk again or share our experiences ?"

"It would be best."Sadness crossed Fatima's facial expression, but the expression passed quickly and she put Brigit from her. She turned and paced in the modest space, looking uncomfortable."It is simply the way of this situation,"she said harshly."Learn, or you'll be sorry."

Brigit didn't know what to say. Words would have caught in her pharynx anyway. The Spartan animation conditions, the regimented lifestyle, and the nutritive but bland food—she could line up to that. She could even deal with servicing the men because she had to, but to endure without acquaintance ? To experience no one she could believe ?

She took a oceanic abyss breathing place."What will they do to this charwoman you don't know or wish about ?"She didn't hassle hiding the bitterness from her voice.

Fatima cast her a perturb glance and then turned away."She most likely upset a guest, so it is his conclusion. We won't know what he chose until we arrive."

Horror filled Brigit."But, what's to discontinue a man from saying we did something wrong ? Suppose something happens that isn't our faulting ? He still gets to punish us ? That's not fair !"Too late she realized what a farcical statement that was.

"This is not USA, Brigit. We have no rightfield. If we are blamed wrongfully, we must beg the client's pardon and hope he will depend upon us kindly."

"Bullshit."Brigit sat on the bed, crossed her legs, and swung the one on top."This is all bullshit."

Fatimah shrugged."I once saw a young woman strapped to a wooden roulette wheel. The guard turned the wheel so that she was dunked in a pond, and they left her there for a long fourth dimension. I understood that some girls could be revived after such punishment, but she could not be. She died before our centre, and all because she took too long to respond to a Edgar Guest's want. There is no authority here. Any of us can encounter Allah on the notion of a guest, a guard, or the Claw."

"Barbaric damn people."

"As you say."

The door swung capable. Brigit stood and Fatima took the end of her leash. They hurried to the dining hall where Fatima secured Brigit's leash to the table leg tightly enough to restrict her movement.

Two safeguard dragged a naked fair sex to the center of the elbow room. They attached her wrists to a bar, then raised it over her question where they attached it to irons hanging from the ceiling. They separated her feet and attached each ankle joint to the ending of another bar.

With a tempestuous glint in her optic, the charwoman's gaze raked the gang of women and then shot to a man sitting at the in high spirits board reserved for the guards. She cried out to him in a language Brigit didn't understand. Her tone begged. To no avail.

The man flicked his hand, and the woman dissolved into tears. A unlike sentry duty, the large man Brigit had ever seen, spoke. A gasp escaped the woman, and then she started crying harder.

In a low representative, Fatima translated."For taking too long to drop to her knees and require our invitee into her back talk, the customer has requested the reddish blue Wand."Fatima took Brigit's hand through the robe and squeezed.

The guard held out a wand-like stick with a clear ice bulb at the tip. When he flipped a switch on the wand, purpurate Spark shot around inside the electric-light bulb. He held it near the woman's side and an arc of purpleness electrical energy shot from the bulb to her skin.

The woman shrieked and tried to displace away, but there was nowhere to go. He touched her breast, and her shriek rang through the hall.

Male laughter came from the senior high school table where the pig who'd condemned the woman to the reddish blue Wand pointed and laughed. Another man joined him. He wore a white gown and turban. Black person gloves covered his hands, and he fiddled with a string of beadwork. He sat with the guest but didn't laugh, just watched without emotion. Brigit would drink down them without a second thought, given the fortune. As it was, Fatima tugged on the lead, making her face forward again.

Except for the man, silence filled the room. The charwoman's distortion seemed to be without end. Finally, she passed out. Still, they weren't finished. They revived her and continued with the wand. They shocked her on both white meat, her legs, neck, facial expression, and buns before she fainted again. After reviving her, they moved to her sex. Brigit knew she'd never erase the auditory sensation of the woman's thigh-slapper from her mind. When she again fainted, she was abandoned, left hanging for all to see as they filed past.

Quietly, Fatima led Brigit back to their cellphone. They undressed and climbed into their beds.

"What will happen tomorrow ?"Brigit couldn't imagine how the women could confront the side by side day.

"Our Clarence Day are all alike. We have breakfast and then a walk and exercise. Later, we can once more enjoy a base on balls in the courtyard, soak in the odorous pool, and prepare to suffer our guests."

"Every day ?"boredom would kill her if fucking fat pigs who enjoyed the torture of young fair sex didn't do it first.

"almost daytime, yes."

"Did you know her, Fatima ?"

Fatima didn't speak for various minutes."Go to sleep, Brigit. Whatever happens tomorrow, it is in our pursuit to be ready."

Despite the upheaval of all she'd experienced that day and the mentation and fears of what awaited her tomorrow, exhaustion overtook her. Brigit was asleep almost before her head touched the pillow.

* * * *

The next day passed more quickly than Brigit could possess guessed. They woke to a campana, dressed, and walked to the dining room for breakfast. She was restrained, as before. Afterwards, they walked open air in a courtyard filled with flower. The dividing line between the outdoors environs and what they faced in their room was so smashing, Brigit's nitty-gritty almost broke when they had to go in. But instead of being led back to the Louis Harold Gray bulwark and parsimony of their cell-like distance, they were sent to an practice session room.

Fatima explained that their pleasing physical body were significant to maintain. Especially vital were Kegel utilization."Men delight the strong feeling of a charwoman's snatch clutching their manhood,"explained Fatima.

I'd like to clutch somebody's manhood, and his egg, too.

An hour or more later, women bathed them in a large, fragrant pool and then provided a relaxing massage. Outside the walls of their elbow room, Brigit could almost believe she was being pampered in an sole mountain spa—except for the ever-present guards, and the silence of the women. Fatimah met her regard, but no one else did and few rundle to Fatima. When Brigit moved toward another woman, Fatima tugged on the leash, pulling her up short and chafing her cervix. The fair sex to whom she'd intended to say hello met her eyes for a brief moment—enough for Brigit to see them filled with fear—then she glanced at a nearby guard, dropped her gaze, and hurried away.

"The gifts you experienced this forenoon are provided for those of us at the highest level of service. Do not be fooled into thinking that all the woman here live as grandly as we do,"Fatima confided when they returned to their room after dinner.

grand ? This ?

Fatima unfastened Brigit's chemical bond, saying,"I must prepare myself. Rest for a few moments."She moved to her bed and bent to draw a basketball hoop from below it. Sitting, she opened the basket and removed several items.

"What are you preparing for ?"Brigit stretched out on her side and propped up on her human elbow. Fatima applied a dark brown eye phantom, which enhanced her dusky skin tones.

"There is a political party for a group of men. They have requested me to service as the entertainment."With a light paw, she added scintillation to the palpebra of her optic and a pulverization that gave her cheeks a golden radiance."Because you are new, no one will expect you to participate, but you must keep company me so you get an musical theme of what will be expected."

She removed the top of her getup and spread a cream around her nipples that sharpened the ruddy color of her areola."This is something Middle Eastern men find exciting,"she explained,"along with eyes which are outlined and mystifying. Sometimes I also redden the lower lips, so that like flower petals, my folds draw the bee."She looked up.

Brigit's stunned disbelief must accept shown on her case because Fatima burst into peal of delicate, musical laughter."You will teach. I will instruct you. As your mentor, it is my task. But for tonight, just observe."She adjusted a mirror before dipping a sharpened wooden control stick into a small pot. Rubbing the tip against the incline of the pot to remove excess, she expertly outlined her optic with a black liquid.

What I couldn't do with my constitution case."So I'll just sit on the sidelines ?"Brigit wondered what variety of evening this would be. She'd never been in any sort of brothel, much less lived in one. The idea of attending a function tonight, when all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and cry herself to sleep, filled her with dread.

"Not exactly. You will be placed in a cage so you can watch, but still be controlled."

"I'll what ?"

Fatima took a breath and returned her items to the basket, which she stored back in its place."In this casing, it will serve as your protection. When the men see you locked away, they will not ask you to do something you are not prepared to do. However, as always, we will be watched. It is life-sustaining you do not say anything, no subject what you see or what I do. No scathe will come to either of us if you do as I say. If you do not…"

"They will penalise both of us."That threat had never been far from Brigit's mind.

Fatimah nodded."And the guest would opt, since the negative activeness took stead during their party."She shuddered."Remember what you saw yesterday, and please do as I say."She finished dressing in soft, reddish blue moving-picture show that wasn't constructed enough to be called even a gown or gown and then turned to Brigit."Are you set up ?

"No. Why can't I stay here ?"

"The lonesome way you will larn how to please our guests is to see for yourself what is expected."

"Then…I guess I'm ready."Brigit heard the bitterness in her voice and tried to take back past the sting of bout lodged in her throat.

Gathering the pouch around Brigit's articulatio humeri, Fatima retied her hands and then looped the circle through a separate rope she wrapped around Brigit's waistline. When she covered the control with the bag-dress, she said,"Tonight you will also bust a hood."Brigit started to protest, but Fatima kept on, her voice even, but firm."You are bloodless. There are few livid womanhood here, and they are often in demand of late. There is no motivation tempting this night's Edgar Guest with what they should not have. There will be drinking. The boozing does more than than satisfy thirst. It stirs the blood. If they see your cutis, they will require you, and you are not ready."

Brigit's insides flipped. She felt sick, but Fatima gave her no clip for it. She tugged a hood over Brigit's head.

She fought to breathe normally. blinking, she tried to focus through the rectangle of network at eye level.

"All right ?"Fatima pulled at the edge of the hood, smoothing it over Brigit's shoulders.

Brigit nodded, unable to speak.

"Then we shall be off."Fatima picked up the end of the leash at the sound of the door being opened. Brigit trailed behind, holding back until the R-2 tightened.

They rounded a corner and Fatima gave a tug, shooting Brigit a frown. Not knowing who watched, Brigit made more of an elbow grease to hold open up.

The hallways twisted and wound until Brigit had no idea where she was in relative to her elbow room. Finally, they turned into a way decorated with opulent fabric draping one rampart. Mosaic designs in tiles of the brightest coloring material decorated the other bulwark. A with child Oriental-style rug covered a major component of the concrete floor. Mirrors covered the ceiling. Bright pillows littered one side of meat of the rug, and four brass trays were set among the pillows.

In one recession, a man strummed an exotic instrument. The sound—something between a guitar and brand drum—served as backdrop. The musician was blindfolded, making Brigit wonder what kind of mayhem would strike place.

In the face-to-face corner, a gravid cage sat in dark. Fatimah led Brigit to the cage and urged her inside."Try to get well-situated. You will be here for quite a while and will not be allowed out for any reason."She lowered her voice."Unless it is for punishment, and you will not want that."

"No."Brigit murmured her correspondence. The John Cage that had looked sufficient on the out-of-door suddenly seemed a good deal little when it became her temp home. She couldn't tie-up. A chair placed near the shopping mall meant she wouldn't have to sit on the floor, but she had no freedom of campaign. When she was seated, Fatima secured the leash to the top of the batting cage leaving her mind a few in from the top cake. The allowance of rope stretched only from Brigit's neck to the top bar. Not only saloon and metal imprisoned her, the chair did now also.

"Do not forget. Stay silent no subject what you see. No affair what I do or what is done to me. If you are tempted to cry out, remember that your penalization is also mine."

"I'll remember."

With a swift nod, Fatimah withdrew and locked the cage.

"As if I could get out if it wasn't locked,"Brigit muttered, and though she thought she'd spoken so low no one would hear her, Fatima swung around and glared, and another adult female, who had slipped in unseen, gasped and stared, center wide.

pump pounding, Brigit gave a minor shake of her head. I won't do it again, promise.

Fatima's gaze bored into her a import longer and then she slowly, almost majestically moved off.

Brigit was amiss about the number of women in the way. Instead of one, three had silently entered. intensity of shimmering silk covered their legs from ankle to hips, though their pubic areas remained exposed. Veils of silk draped their breast, though as they moved, Brigit observed the fabric was untied at the bottom, leaving both pubic bone and breasts available and open for any to see. And to use ? Then why bring Fatima ?

The cleaning lady gathered around Fatima. In seconds, they'd stripped her and then tied her to a chain attached to a pulley block in the ceiling. The range of mountains made barely a sound as one of the women pulled Fatima's hands luxuriously over her head. They secreted her under a cloak of red velvet from her fingertips to the trading floor. Finished with Fatima, the women went to the memorial tablet trays and sat, sinking back on their heel and placing their hand on their laps. They didn't feel at her or even around the room.

Brigit took the chance to investigate the room further. There were no windows, two doors—one through which they'd ejaculate and another, larger one on the polar mosaic wall. Brigit stared at the wall. The tiles formed small histrionics of sexual positions—hundreds of them—in all possible combinations and sexuality. Indeed, the practice in the ornate carpeting and framework wallcovering had the same theme. Someone lit a control stick of incense, and a light musk aroma filled the way. The surroundings was charged with sexuality.

The larger door opened, and three men entered, laughing and talking in what sounded like Tadzhik. One slapped another on the back, and the third took a moment to deform and stroke the breasts of the initiatory woman. He said something, and she answered in a low vocalization. He sat beside her. The former two men took places beside the other trays. The adult female bowed to them and poured their drink.

The three were well-dressed, and not in the common linen and cotton she'd seen on the men in the dining Charles Martin Hall. One wore the robes of a dandy with traditional headgear—traditional based on what she'd seen on TV, anyway. The other two wore Western-style lawsuit, though their coloring, their beards, and speech communication led her to think they were Middle Eastern.

So, the plot are about to begin.

A terminal man came through the back door and closed it. Dressed more simply than the early men, he bowed to them. Then he took rush, moving to the centre of the way near Fatimah and speaking quickly.

The three paid rapt attention. The man took what looked like a game board, some die, and cards from a bag he carried and distributed the items on the central tray. Then he moved back to Fatima and, with great flash, ripped away her covering. She hung there naked, but head high gear, a prize for the men.

They stood and came forward to examine her, turning her this way and that, spreading her butt boldness as well as her legs, and having her open her lip. They seemed particularly delight with her mouth. Brigit's stomach churned, imagining how they would use her. Why am I concerned ? Fatimah certainly wasn't a friend.

But she was as close as Brigit had in this hell-hole.

The men sat again and began to play. The game was nix Brigit had ever seen, though she might get thought they played crib except for the dice. In turn, they moved nail up the wooden board and down, discarded and picked up cards, and tossed the dice. After several minutes, one of the case shouted in victory. The sheik threw his menu across the floor, and his girl scrambled after them.

The success stood and approached Fatimah. After squeezing her tit, he turned her and spanked her until her butt blazed. Fatima didn't cry out, though the smacking must have hurt like hell. Brigit clenched her fists and silently repeated Fatima's command that she stay silent, no matter what.

The man's female attendant must throw seen a signaling. She jumped up and rushed to catch his cause jacket when he sloughed it off his shoulders. Strutting before his fellow traveler, he unzipped his trousers and released a cock that would consume made Brigit gasp if she hadn't been making an drive to stay quiet.

Once more, the girl hurried to help him transfer his shoes and the rest of his vesture. When he stood raw, he turned and showed himself to Fatimah. She said something in his language, her tone filled with awe, and the man's grammatical construction turned chesty. The fille moved around to stroke his erection, but he knocked her handwriting away, preferring to fondle himself, showing off his length and heaviness. In the smash mirror, Brigit saw Fatima's reaction—she licked her backtalk and waggled her tongue, as though to cream him instead.

The other men watched with interest. Suit Two pulled his girl close enough to finger her kitty-cat. tribal sheik drank wine while his miss stroked his cock.

The winner finally decided what he wanted. He flung out his hand, sending his girl to the serving man who stood to the side. He handed her a jar, which she carried back. She smeared some of the contents on Fatima's butthole. Brigit cringed, knowing what was about to encounter. The man had the braggart hammer she'd ever seen, and he was going to need Fatimah from the back.

The man strode behind the hanging little girl. He grasped her pelvis with one hand and guided his turncock to her rosebud with the other. Easing in, he changed his manifestation from one of self-satisfied prevision to ecstasy. Fatima threw back her head, displaying alternating smell of pain in the neck, relief, and—when he began moving in and out, a slow, measured action—excitement. Her impertinence flushed. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the hair on his chest and back turned iniquity with moisture.

When he stepped up the pace of his thrust, his young woman knelt in front of Fatima. She draped one of Fatima's legs over her shoulder and applied a vibrator to her slit, moving it in tandem with her master copy's cock.

Fatimah cried out, not in painful sensation, but in orgasmic release. The man reared back and roared his dismission. Only a few inches of his stopcock was not embedded in Fatima's ass. Brigit imagined his cum shooting deep into the imprisoned woman.

One of the other men stared at his companion while the miss sucked him. The other had buried his face in his girl's bosom and finger-fucked her. The olfactory property of sex hung heavy in the air, and Brigit had a feeling the night hadn't even started.

Less than five minutes later, the man was back at his tray, a dyad of informal cotton plant pants protecting his genitals from horizon. The plot went on while his girl cleaned Fatima and gave her a sip of something from a grandiloquent glass.

The fop kept casting aim glances Fatima's way. Once more he lost the game, and again he showed temper in his chemical reaction, by raising his hand to strike his girl.

cause One again claimed victory. He ripped his jackanapes pants from his legs before approaching Fatimah. He strode around her, stroking and rubbing his peter until it reached the same size and girth it had before.

He caught the vertebral column of Fatima's articulatio genus in the crooks of his sleeve and spread her legs while his attendant bolstered her from fundament. Then he thrust backbreaking and to the hilt. Fatimah, as pocket-sized as she was, couldn't have taken all of him without feeling every voiceless inch as he speared her, but she didn't cry out. In his ebullience, he turned her on the range of mountains until she faced Brigit, a jailed audience in her coop. Fatimah's optic appeared glazed, unfocused. Her lids drooped and her mouth twisted into a grimace. The man threw back his question and let loose with a idle, trilling scream of conquest.

Brigit looked to the other couples. The second suit had removed his crownwork and tie. His shirt hung open up, and his girl enthusiastically sucked his cock through the possibility in his trousers. The sheik had his robe pulled up far enough for his attendant to rag him. He routinely reached behind and slapped her coffin nail to increase her pace.

Fatima moaned, bringing back Brigit's aid. The concomitant held her stabilise against the man's firm pounding. She also stroked Fatima's bum hole. Fatimah lowered her headspring to look down her small consistence. Brigit raised her gaze to the mirror to watch.

His black pubic hair glistened with sweat and their blend juices. His Brown cock, engorged and thickly veined, pulled out of her slick television channel, wet with emollient, then disappeared into her svelte body. Brigit was reminded of the last porn flick she'd seen, except this was real.

And she didn't have anyone to fetch her off.

She squirmed on her narrow lilliputian chairman, but couldn't move far in any direction. Where Fatima was right now, Brigit could well find oneself herself tomorrow. The scent of sex filled her nostrils, musk from the incense layered over real, human musk. Three couples writhed and moved, separately, but toward the Saame end, grunting, moaning, bodies slapping. Brigit's intimation grew shallow, her pulse raced. She couldn't get a fingerbreadth to her kitty, and she wanted to scream.

At that bit, soul did scream. Fatima. Her rose hip thrashed wildly, the lawsuit pumped furiously, and then he let out his own shout of triumph.

Before Brigit knew it, the men were back playacting and drinking and laughing. The two who hadn't had their chance with the prize tossed the dice and threw down cards with the craze of men in rut. Fatima was cleaned and given a sip of the mysterious liquid.

The sheik won next. Without hesitation, he ordered the rope lowered so Fatimah could kneel before him. Brigit thought he would pull up his gown and take Fatima's mouth. Instead, without warning, he hauled back his arm and slapped her across the face. Fatima fell to the side. The tribal sheik's lady friend rushed to help her back to her knees. The sheik grabbed a handful of hair and yanked Fatima's head back.

Her oral fissure bled, and her cheek was reddened. Fatima swayed, but did not make a speech sound. The lady friend wiped the bloodline away and then helped obligate up the tribal sheik's robes. Involuntarily, Brigit started to arise. No one noticed or cared what that cocksucker had done. The others were involved in a foursome, as though pleasure was their solitary business organisation during the intermission of a plot. Helpless, she sank back onto her chair.

That's what the room was about, feeling good, even if a man's joy included a woman's botheration. Brigit wanted to go to Fatima and protect her, a diminished woman, against the likes of a beastly illegitimate child. Thomas More, she wanted her knee in the sheikh's groin. However, neither of those affair was going to happen.

The sheik used Fatima's hair to curb her foreland erect. He pulled her forward. Her mouth opened, and he filled it.

From what Brigit could see, his dick didn't reach the size of the low gear man, but he could easily fill a cleaning woman's oral fissure and more. And he did, thrusting over and over, grinding Fatimah's nose into his coarse hair.

With a few words, his attendant tied his robes up in some way, leaving her free. She knelt behind Fatima and reached through her ramification to rub her sex.

"Hmmm."Fatima made her tawdry racket yet, humming while fully covering his cock and moving her hips wildly over the girl's fingers.

Did she come ? Brigit couldn't tell. The dude certainly did. He filled Fatima's mouth until his cum spilled down her Kuki. He grunted, released her hair, and pulled out of her sassing all at the same time. He stood, hands on pelvic arch, looking down at her. Breathing hard, she leaned forward and licked him houseclean. Only then did he speak a word that sounded to Brigit's ears as praise. Fatima nodded and let the young lady help her stand while her hands once more poke out over her head.

How long can this go on ? Long past the point Brigit would hold begged them to stop, Fatima stood tall. She sucked the men twice more, took them in the pussy, in the ass, and in the final act of the night, took them all, one in each orifice. They'd released her manpower. The young lady held her steady until she gained her breath, and then they'd helped her straddle the sheik. Kneeling between the clotheshorse's legs, Suit One inserted his devil cock into her bum. They struck up a tiresome, strong rhythm. Suit Two knelt at the sheik's head and guided her oral fissure to his shaft.

The men had stamina, but after the night's bodily function, they didn't finally long. Untangling themselves, they'd picked up their dress and dressed, then swaggered out, giving neither news nor glance to any of the womanhood. Obviously, they thought Fatimah undeserving, and the women who'd served didn't guarantee even a nod of thanks. Bastards.

Fatima lay on the floor for long minutes. When she finally made an effort to stand, the women cleaned and dressed her. At some point, the player had left. The man who'd stood precaution throughout the proceedings strode forward to present Fatima his arm. Slowly, he led her to the cage where she released Brigit. The man supported Fatima on the walk back to the elbow room. Weak as she was, she held the leash firmly.

The first thing Brigit wanted when they gained their elbow room was to pee. She'd sat for hours, unable to do anything but watch the activity in the gilded way. With impatience, she waited while Fatima lifted the sack-dress and untied her hands. Then, after she'd relieved herself, she remembered Fatima had not only been captive the same length of prison term, she'd been used over and over. Shame flowed through her.

"What can I do to help you ?"she asked when Fatima removed the trio and collar and pulled the black firing over her head.

"I am fine, but thank you for offering."She smiled."I do suppose I can sleep."With a shyness that surprised Brigit considering the way she'd just opened her body to be taken in every possible way, she took precaution of her toilet.

"Fatima, how can you stand doing this ? Those men didn't aid about you—they exploited you. They treated you like a whore."

Fatima's gaze fastened on Brigit's without embarrassment."That is what I am. You have sporting house in your country. I heard of them when I lived there."

"Yes, but—"

"Here we are better. Our clothes are lavish. Our food is good and nourishing."grin and raising her forehead she added,"You see it must be, because we need energy to be full at our study. But ripe of all, our Guest are particular. They all control we derive our pleasance while they take theirs. This is highly unusual, as I understand the business enterprise. Can you recite me different ?"

"No. But I don't have experience in this field."Brigit thought back to what she'd seen, heard, and read about prostitutes in the province. Her picture was that a Hooker provided what the customer wanted and didn't worry about herself. She'd always thought the intimate goal was quantity, not quality, for her or the man.

"I am safe here. Do you see ? I am alive and cared for."Fatima's eyes softened."I can imagine of better ways to last, but I can suppose of regretful also."

Brigit couldn't keep her heart open, and she didn't know what to say to controvert Fatima. Her kinsperson didn't want her, and so maybe this seemed like a practicable alternative. Brigit did receive a family, however, and protagonist, and she knew they would walk through fire to rule her. If she wasn't too far up the worldly concern's asshole, they would rule her. Her job was to stay awake and well so their efforts wouldn't be in vain. She'd fall apart and give in to despair when calendar week passed with no word of rescue. Then she'd bed Omar and his employers had hidden her even from God's eyes.

"You're right. There are worse place to be and deal out worse thing to do than what you—we—do. I'll try my just to keep back you from being punished. I'll try not to get either of us punished."

"trade good. And now let us sleep."

"Good night,"Brigit said. rushing, daddy, momma, whoever. Please hurry and get me out of here.

Posted by JackFD, with Francis Drake's permission.

For Sir Thomas More my Francis drake and others go to www.nomadauthors.com, have fun .