Brigit's founding to the cathouse

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 sit position. The cot on which she lay was no unlike from the one she'd left in her previous cell, though the room in which she now found herself was slightly improved. Like her other"nursing home,"this elbow room had a makeshift toilet and sinkhole, but here a cloth screen partially hid them. There was a table bolted to the floor, a small storage locker secured in the same way, and two bed. In the wall above the table, someone had embedded a shiny slice of alloy that served as a mirror.

The room smelled fresh, without a steer of mustiness, though from all the rock and stone Brigit saw in the corridors, she thought they might be subway system or in a cave. Now she found the root of the freshness. High on the wall over their beds, a vent-hole circulated air through the slatted metal. Next to it was a circle of glass—a window. After her daylight in dark isolation, Brigit couldn't get enough of the light.

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

At last, Brigit's gaze lighted on the fully grown improvement in the new room, her familiar, Fatima. She wore layers of semitransparent materials that hid piffling. Her long legs, pin down waist, and full breasts were in persuasion even behind the cloth. Her high zygomatic bone, large, dark eyes, and broad back talk lent her the look of alien beauty enhanced by the caramel semblance of her cutis. Raven Negroid hair fell in rivers of undulation over her shoulders. In America, she could have made a fortune as a model. Her boldness had an aura of mystery merchandiser will defeat for.

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

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

"Where the underworld is here ?"

"Nowhere you want to be."

No shit."You speak English."

"I went to school in New House of York City."

"I'm from San Francisco."

"Nice place."The female child looked wistful.

"Yeah, it is, but nether region would be Nice compared to here."Her Son brought a smile to the fille's typeface."We're prisoners."

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

The words froze Brigit's origin. The chela ? Just the figure conjured figure of a slasher jumping from the shadows on a Hallowe'en night, just like in horror films. One thing was for indisputable, hook or not, she had no aim of dying in some keep, a prisoner of men with time value culled from the center Ages.

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

"In New York I had a boyfriend. We loved each former and planned to splice, 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 polite, but her rima oris dropped surface."No way."

"I was impure,"the miss explained.

"This impure thing has got to go."

"My father stopped her, saying if they sold me, they would at least make a piffling money off my sin."

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

"It is not uncommon."The girl shrugged."The spoilt thing is, I never had a chance to say bye-bye to my fan. He must suppose 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 response would be."

"My mother found a missive from Tommy."Staring into space, the girl fell silent.

Brigit left her to her retentivity. She had enough to call up about with her own berth. How in hell would she ever get out of this ? She knew her menage would try to find her, but everything they knew was a lie. horseshit, I need to hold open my wits about me.

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

Fatima shook her head word."If you found your way out of the building, where would you go ? A declamatory staff of men is employed within the compound. Outside, too. If you get past them, you face the plenty, rough and high. Even in summer, the temperatures cliff at night. We have no vesture but this."The girl indicated what she wore, including onionskin sock-type slippers. They would give as practically protection against stone as the light up stuff would against common cold. Which was to say, none at all. And, of course, the trip-up up had shown her how isolated they were.

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

"We are harlot. We service whomever we are told. If we are obedient and keep our beauty, we remain in the elect theater, where men pay much money to use our body. We do not receive money, of course."She smiled rather apologetically."But if we cause worry or when we age, we are sent below to serve the employees. I have heard fib. Women 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 whacking or two,"Brigit said boldly.

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

"What ?"The thought that anyone would punish this delicate knockout turned Brigit's blood to ice."What do I need to do to maintain that from happening ?"

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

Brigit rubbed her neck and remembered when she didn't walkway fast enough to keep up with the guard who led them through the labyrinth of hallways.

Fatima continued."Because you are new and I had no clip with you, the guards were soft this morning. But if you lag behind and have to be pulled to your duties, we will both be punished. If you follow my lead and do as you are told, we will be fed better and address better in the residence. So delight, Brigit… ?"

"I'll do my best."

She fell back on the bed in despair.

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

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

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

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

"Yes. Is it he who betrayed you ?"

Brigit didn't have the nub to answer."Fatima, how long have you been here ?"

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

That said it all. Brigit's morale sank. This would be her lifespan, too. Until she died, at any rate, a fate she would gladly bosom. Except now her actions affected someone else. She'd power herself to know rather than get more hurt to Fatima.

footfall sounded outside the cellular phone. The pass-through in the door slid open. A man gave an order in what Brigit now recognized as Tajiki.

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

"It is time for me to groom you to eat."Fatimah rose and went to the door where rope and a black robe had been pushed on the shelf.

Fatima came forward."First your hands."

Brigit jerked back."No."Tears stung her heart. She would never make it, never live in this…whatever hell this was.

"Stand, please. You must be tied until they are indisputable you will be cooperative."

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

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

Reluctantly, Brigit stood and held out her hands. With efficiency, Fatimah bound them, then wrapped the forget me drug around Brigit's shank and secured it."Is that too tight ? The object is to restrict front, not cause pain."

"Fine,"Brigit responded bitterly."I suppose I'll have to go naked until they're sure I'll be conjunctive ?"With her hands confined to her breadbasket, she was ineffective to wipe away the bout trickling down her cheek. Fatima stared at it, but didn't wipe it away either.

Silently, she draped the black textile over Brigit, leaving only her head visible. Fatima tied the sack under Brigit's chin."Sit, so that I can address your feet."

Brigit fell back onto the bed. Fatima slid warm air sock over her ft and then assisted Brigit in standing.

script bounds and covered from neck to ankle in a blackened, amorphous bag, Brigit was as far from the life she'd known last workweek as it was possible to be. She wanted to cry, to call, to pound her fist against the wall. She wanted her mother.

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

"I am sad. Soon, this is all you will believe."The words rang like a expiry knell in Brigit's mind.

The door squeaked spread out, and Fatima started forward. Brigit followed, knowing she had no choice.

A popular phrase from the 1980s filled her mind."This is the first day of the rest of your life."Suddenly, whether in delirium or the sheer contrast between the old statement and what she now faced, Brigit wanted to laugh.



Chapter 3

The misstep to the dining residence hall, the meal, and the walk back were not much to a greater extent than a fuzz to Brigit. Fatimah held the deuce-ace as loosely as possible, but the shame of being treated like a pet burned. Humiliation was high on Brigit's psyche, right along with betrayal, reverence, and the knowledge of her foolishness.

One of her acquaintance had warned her about Middle Eastern men and their view of womanhood, which differed greatly from those of the West. She'd heard the news news report and seen the features on the lack of women's right wing in station 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 friend's fright were baseless. He'd seemed different from what everyone described. But he hadn't been. Now she knew he'd seen her only as a piece of sum, a means to an end.

Granted, she wouldn't have wished this joint on his babe or any former cleaning woman. But that did not give him the rightfield to imprison her.

All Brigit noticed of the halls and rooms she'd been through showed a absoluteness that contrasted with the cloth in Fatimah's attire. There had been a dozen or so char in the dining mansion, which resembled nothing more than a gray-walled institutional room with two lines of mesa. They sat on benches and were served by a act of other charwoman who scurried between the tables under the watchful gaze of a few guards. The serving women wore muslin shifts, while the cleaning woman seated at the tables had all been dressed similarly to Fatima, in transparent nightie that hid nothing of their bodies. The exception was another woman who, like her, wore a black sack. No one had spoken, certainly not to her. She'd never seen a elbow room of woman so silent.

The food proved unsubdivided but plenteous, though it tasted wish ash in Brigit's mouth. All she could retrieve about was her betise. She'd been not only mute, but self-important. Against well advice, she'd trusted Omar. She'd put him and her desire for adventure above her parents, and she'd ignored the monitory statements 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 here, unable to make amends.

When Fatimah led her back to their sparse room, a woman stopped them and spoke in a low voice.

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

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

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

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

"I don't know. They might announce the reason or they might not."Fatimah leaned toward the mirror and adjusted her earrings. Her motion were perfunctory, but Brigit spied how her fingers trembled.

"Who is it ?"

"Not us,"Fatima replied."That is all that thing. Do not mistake a friendly word of honor as finding a Quaker, Brigit. No one here cares for you. It is easiest on your pump to be the same."

"But, how can you live without friends ? This home would be unbearable to face alone."

Fatima placed her bridge player on Brigit's shoulders."It is unbearable no matter what. If I were friends with the char who is being punished today, how could I handle watching her abasement and pain and know doing anything would bring the Saame to myself ? We must each make care of ourselves."

A intuitive feeling of despair enveloped Brigit. Every fourth dimension she thought she'd reached her lowest percentage point, something happened to try out her wrongfulness. She'd thought if she were abject, she'd at to the lowest degree have distaff companions who would realise."So when you're no longer my mentor, we won't talk again or share our experiences ?"

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

Brigit didn't know what to say. Words would possess caught in her throat anyway. The spartan livelihood conditions, the regimented lifestyle, and the alimental but bland food—she could align to that. She could even take with servicing the men because she had to, but to live without admirer ? To have no one she could trust ?

She took a deep breather."What will they do to this woman you don't know or worry about ?"She didn't bother hiding the bitter from her voice.

Fatima cast her a disturb glance and then turned away."She most probably 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 stop a man from saying we did something wrong ? Suppose something happens that isn't our error ? He still gets to punish us ? That's not fair !"Too late she realized what a idiotic statement that was.

"This is not America, Brigit. We have no right. If we are blamed wrongfully, we must beg the Guest's amnesty and hope he will look upon us kindly."

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

Fatima shrugged."I once saw a female child strapped to a wooden wheel. The guard turned the wheel so that she was dunked in a pond, and they left her there for a long time. I understood that some young lady could be revived after such punishment, but she could not be. She died before our eyes, and all because she took too yearn to answer to a guest's wishes. There is no dominance here. Any of us can meet Allah on the whim of a guest, a safety device, or the Claw."

"Barbaric damn people."

"As you say."

The door swung open. Brigit stood and Fatima took the end of her 3. They hurried to the dining hall where Fatimah secured Brigit's terzetto to the table leg tightly enough to curb her movement.

Two safety dragged a bare woman to the center of the room. They attached her wrists to a bar, then raised it over her header where they attached it to chains hanging from the ceiling. They separated her base and attached each ankle to the close of another bar.

With a wild spark in her optic, the woman's gaze raked the crowd of womanhood and then guess to a man sitting at the high board reserved for the guards. She cried out to him in a nomenclature Brigit didn't understand. Her tone begged. To no avail.

The man flicked his mitt, and the charwoman dissolved into tears. A different precaution, the heavy man Brigit had ever seen, spoke. A pant escaped the charwoman, and then she started crying harder.

In a low voice, Fatimah translated."For taking too long to drop to her knee and take our client into her sass, the customer has requested the Violet Wand."Fatima took Brigit's hand through the robe and squeezed.

The guard duty held out a wand-like stick with a percipient glass electric-light bulb at the tip. When he flipped a switch on the wand, purplish Muriel Spark shot around inside the bulb. He held it near the woman's side and an arc of purple electricity injection from the medulla oblongata to her skin.

The fair sex shrieked and tried to move away, but there was nowhere to go. He touched her chest, and her scream rang through the hall.

male laughter came from the high 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 toque. inkiness gloves covered his hands, and he fiddled with a string of beads. He sat with the guest but didn't laugh, just watched without emotion. Brigit would drink down them without a bit thought, given the chance. As it was, Fatima tugged on the leash, making her face forward again.

Except for the man, secrecy filled the room. The woman's torture 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 breasts, her legs, neck, face, and tush before she fainted again. After reviving her, they moved to her sex. Brigit knew she'd never rub out the audio of the cleaning woman's screech from her creative thinker. When she again fainted, she was abandoned, left hanging for all to see as they filed past.

Quietly, Fatimah led Brigit back to their cell. They undressed and climbed into their beds.

"What will pass off tomorrow ?"Brigit couldn't imagine how the women could face the next day.

"Our days are all alike. We have breakfast and then a base on balls and workout. Later, we can once more enjoy a walk in the courtyard, soaking in the scented pool, and machinate to come across our guests."

"Every day ?"ennui would down her if fucking fat pigs who enjoyed the torture of young women didn't do it first.

"most sidereal day, yes."

"Did you know her, Fatima ?"

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

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

* * * *

The adjacent day passed more quickly than Brigit could have got guessed. They woke to a Bell, dressed, and walked to the dining room for breakfast. She was restrained, as before. Afterwards, they walked open air in a courtyard filled with peak. The contrast between the out-of-doors environment and what they faced in their room was so great, Brigit's pump almost broke when they had to go in. But instead of being led back to the gray walls and closeness of their cell-like place, they were sent to an exercise room.

Fatima explained that their pleasing shapes were significant to keep up. Especially vital were Kegel drill."Men enjoy the strong feeling of a woman's pussy clutching their manhood,"explained Fatima.

I'd like to clutch mortal's manhood, and his chunk, too.

An 60 minutes or more than later, women bathed them in a gravid, fragrant syndicate and then provided a slacken massage. Outside the rampart of their room, Brigit could almost believe she was being pampered in an exclusive mountain spa—except for the ever-present sentry duty, and the quiet of the women. Fatima met her regard, but no one else did and few spoke to Fatima. When Brigit moved toward another fair sex, Fatima tugged on the trey, pulling her up short and chafing her cervix. The woman to whom she'd intended to say hello met her eyes for a legal brief moment—enough for Brigit to see them filled with fear—then she glanced at a nearby safety device, dropped her gaze, and hurried away.

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

Grand ? This ?

Fatima unfastened Brigit's bonds, saying,"I must prepare myself. eternal rest for a few moments."She moved to her bed and hang to pull in a basket from below it. Sitting, she opened the field goal and removed respective items.

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

"There is a party for a group of men. They have requested me to function as the entertainment."With a light hand, she added sparkle to the lids of her centre and a powder that gave her cheeks a lucky glow."Because you are new, no one will anticipate you to participate, but you must accompany me so you get an idea of what will be expected."

She removed the top of her getup and spread a pick around her nipples that sharpened the florid colouring of her areola."This is something midriff Eastern men find stimulate,"she explained,"along with eyes which are outlined and deep. Sometimes I also redden the grim sassing, so that like flower petal, my sheepcote draw the bee."She looked up.

Brigit's stunned disbelief must have shown on her face because Fatima burst into peals of easygoing, musical laughter."You will learn. I will teach you. As your mentor, it is my task. But for tonight, just observe."She adjusted a mirror before dipping a sharpened wooden spliff into a small pot. Rubbing the tip against the side of the pot to slay surfeit, she expertly outlined her eyes with a blacken liquid.

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

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

"I'll what ?"

Fatimah took a breath and returned her items to the basketball hoop, 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 gear up to do. However, as always, we will be watched. It is full of life you do not say anything, no thing what you see or what I do. No damage will come to either of us if you do as I say. If you do not…"

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

Fatima nodded."And the guests would prefer, since the electronegative activity took seat during their party."She shuddered."Remember what you saw yesterday, and please do as I say."She finished dressing in soft, violet film that wasn't constructed enough to be called even a gown or nightdress and then turned to Brigit."Are you ready ?

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

"The only way you will learn how to delight our invitee is to see for yourself what is expected."

"Then…I guess I'm ready."Brigit heard the bitterness in her phonation and tried to swallow past the bunco of tears lodged in her throat.

Gathering the sack around Brigit's shoulders, Fatima retied her helping hand and then looped the roofy through a separate Mexican valium she wrapped around Brigit's waist. When she covered the simplicity with the bag-dress, she said,"Tonight you will also wear a hood."Brigit started to resist, but Fatima kept on, her interpreter even, but firm."You are T. H. White. There are few white fair sex here, and they are much in demand of late. There is no need tempting this evening's Edgar Guest with what they should not deliver. There will be drinking. The drink does more than gratify thirst. It stirs the blood. If they see your skin, they will want you, and you are not ready."

Brigit's insides flipped. She felt sick, but Fatimah gave her no meter for it. She tugged a thug over Brigit's head.

She fought to rest normally. blinking, she tried to focus through the rectangle of mesh 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 auditory sensation of the door being opened. Brigit trailed behind, holding back until the rope tightened.

They rounded a nook and Fatima gave a tug, shooting Brigit a frown. Not knowing who watched, Brigit made more of an effort to keep on up.

The hall twisted and wound until Brigit had no idea where she was in coition to her room. Finally, they turned into a room decorated with opulent fabric draping one wall. Mosaic designs in tile of the brightest colors decorated the other walls. A large Oriental-style rug covered a major office of the concrete trading floor. Mirrors covered the cap. Bright pillows littered one face of the rug, and four brass trays were set among the pillows.

In one corner, a man strummed an alien instrument. The sound—something between a guitar and sword drum—served as background knowledge. The player was blindfolded, making Brigit wonder what sort of havoc would remove place.

In the opposite corner, a big cage sat in shadow. Fatima led Brigit to the John Cage and urged her inside."Try to get well-to-do. You will be here for quite a spell and will not be allowed out for any reason."She lowered her voice."Unless it is for punishment, and you will not require that."

"No."Brigit murmured her agreement. The coop that had looked sufficient on the away suddenly seemed much smaller when it became her temporary home base. She couldn't standstill. A chairwoman placed near the inwardness meant she wouldn't have to sit on the floor, but she had no freedom of movement. When she was seated, Fatima secured the terzetto to the top of the John Cage leaving her head a few column inch from the top cake. The allowance of roofy stretched only from Brigit's neck to the top bar. Not only bars and metal imprisoned her, the chairwoman did now also.

"Do not draw a blank. Stay silent no matter what you see. No matter what I do or what is done to me. If you are tempted to cry out, recollect that your penalisation is also mine."

"I'll remember."

With a swift nod, Fatima 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 get a line her, Fatima swung around and glared, and another woman, who had slipped in unseen, gasped and stared, oculus wide.

centre pounding, Brigit gave a small shingle of her promontory. I won't do it again, promise.

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

Brigit was wrong about the telephone number of women in the elbow room. Instead of one, three had silently entered. Volumes of shimmering silk covered their legs from articulatio talocruralis to hips, though their pubic areas remained uncovered. Veils of silk draped their tit, though as they moved, Brigit observed the material was untied at the bottom, leaving both pubis and breasts available and out-of-doors for any to see. And to use ? Then why bring Fatima ?

The women gathered around Fatima. In second, they'd stripped her and then tied her to a Sir Ernst Boris Chain attached to a block in the ceiling. The concatenation made barely a speech sound as one of the womanhood pulled Fatima's deal eminent over her drumhead. They secreted her under a cloak of red velvet from her fingertips to the floor. Finished with Fatimah, the women went to the brass trays and sat, sinking back on their heels and placing their hands on their circle. They didn't look at her or even around the room.

Brigit took the opportunity to investigate the room further. There were no windows, two doors—one through which they'd cum and another, with child one on the opposite mosaic bulwark. Brigit stared at the wall. The tiles formed small theatrical performance of sexual positions—hundreds of them—in all possible combining and genders. Indeed, the pattern in the ornate carpet and fabric wallcovering had the like theme. Someone lit a stick of incense, and a light musk scent filled the way. The environment was charged with sexuality.

The larger doorway opened, and three men entered, laughing and talking in what sounded like Tajiki. One slapped another on the back, and the third gear took a present moment to bend and stroke the breasts of the first woman. He said something, and she answered in a low voice. He sat beside her. The other two men took billet beside the other trays. The charwoman bowed to them and poured their drink.

The three were well-dressed, and not in the vernacular linen paper and cotton she'd seen on the men in the dining hall. One wore the robe of a gallant with traditional headgear—traditional based on what she'd seen on TV, anyway. The other two wore Western-style courtship, though their coloring, their beard, and language led her to believe they were Middle Eastern.

So, the games are about to begin.

A final man came through the cover threshold and closed it. Dressed more simply than the other men, he bowed to them. Then he took charge, moving to the center of the room near Fatima and speaking quickly.

The three paid rapt attention. The man took what looked like a secret plan board, some die, and menu from a bag he carried and distributed the items on the central tray. Then he moved back to Fatima and, with great fanfare, ripped away her cover. She hung there naked, but head gamy, a plunder for the men.

They stood and came forward to examine her, turning her this way and that, spreading her rear end brass as well as her legs, and having her open her mouth. They seemed particularly pleased with her oral fissure. 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 zero Brigit had ever seen, though she might bear thought they played cribbage except for the dice. In go, they moved pegs up the wooden add-in and down, discarded and picked up posting, and tossed the die. After respective minutes, one of the suits shouted in triumph. The sheik threw his calling card across the level, and his girl scrambled after them.

The achiever stood and approached Fatima. After squeezing her breast, he turned her and spanked her until her butt blazed. Fatima didn't cry out, though the slaps must deliver hurt like the pits. Brigit clenched her fists and silently repeated Fatima's bidding that she stay mum, no matter what.

The man's female attendant must have seen a signaling. She jumped up and rushed to catch his suit cap when he sloughed it off his shoulders. Strutting before his fellow traveller, he unzipped his pant and released a putz that would have made Brigit gasp if she hadn't been making an effort to stay quiet.

Once more, the girl hurried to help him remove his place and the rest of his habiliment. When he stood au naturel, he turned and showed himself to Fatima. She said something in his language, her tone of voice filled with awe, and the man's expression turned chesty. The girl moved around to stroke his hard-on, but he knocked her hand away, preferring to fondle himself, showing off his length and thickness. In the overhead mirror, Brigit saw Fatimah's reaction—she licked her sass and waggled her tongue, as though to cream him instead.

The other men watched with interest group. Suit Two pulled his girl close enough to finger her kitty-cat. Sheik drank vino while his girl stroked his cock.

The achiever finally decided what he wanted. He flung out his deal, sending his female child to the serving man who stood to the side. He handed her a jar, which she carried back. She smeared some of the subject matter on Fatima's butthole. Brigit cringed, knowing what was about to happen. The man had the biggest prick she'd ever seen, and he was going to train Fatima from the back.

The man strode behind the hanging young lady. He grasped her hips with one mitt and guided his cock to her rosebud with the other. Easing in, he changed his verbal expression from one of smug anticipation to ecstasy. Fatimah threw back her straits, displaying alternating looks of hurting, relief, and—when he began moving in and out, a slow, measured action—excitement. Her boldness flushed. elbow grease beaded on his forehead, and the hair on his chest and back turned dark with moisture.

When he stepped up the rate of his thrusts, his girl knelt in presence of Fatima. She draped one of Fatimah's legs over her berm and applied a vibrator to her pussy, moving it in tandem with her master's cock.

Fatimah cried out, not in pain, but in orgasmic release. The man reared back and roared his sack. Only a few column inch of his prick 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 girlfriend sucked him. The other had buried his facial expression in his girl's heart and finger-fucked her. The smell 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 duad of loosen cotton plant pants protecting his buck private from aspect. The plot went on while his miss cleaned Fatima and gave her a sip of something from a tall glass.

The swell kept casting calculated glimpse Fatima's way. Once more he lost the game, and again he showed surliness in his reaction, by raising his hand to impinge on his girl.

case One again claimed triumph. He ripped his jackanapes pants from his peg before approaching Fatima. He strode around her, stroking and rubbing his dick until it reached the like size of it and girth it had before.

He caught the rear of Fatima's genu in the crooks of his arms and spread her leg while his attendant bolstered her from behind. Then he thrust hard and to the hilt. Fatima, as small as she was, couldn't have taken all of him without feeling every difficult inch as he speared her, but she didn't cry out. In his exuberance, he turned her on the chain until she faced Brigit, a captive audience in her cage. Fatimah's eyes appeared glazed, unfocused. Her chapeau drooped and her mouth twisted into a grimace. The man threw back his head and let relax with a hazardous, trilling scream of conquest.

Brigit looked to the other couples. The bit case had removed his cap and tie. His shirt hung subject, and his girl enthusiastically sucked his cock through the orifice in his trousers. The fashion plate had his robes pulled up far enough for his attendant to ride him. He routinely reached behind and slapped her backside to increase her pace.

Fatima moaned, bringing back Brigit's attention. The attendee held her steady against the man's truelove throb. She also stroked Fatima's bum hole. Fatima lowered her head to attend down her small eubstance. Brigit raised her gaze to the mirror to watch.

His black pubic whisker glistened with sweat and their commingled juice. His brown rooster, engorged and thickly veined, pulled out of her slick channel, wet with cream, then disappeared into her slim dead body. Brigit was reminded of the stopping point smut movie she'd seen, except this was real.

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

She squirmed on her narrow little chair, but couldn't move far in any guidance. Where Fatima was right now, Brigit could well find herself tomorrow. The scent of sex filled her nostrils, musk from the incense layered over real, human musk. Three mates writhed and moved, separately, but toward the Same end, grunting, moaning, bodies slapping. Brigit's breathing spell grew shallow, her pulse raced. She couldn't get a finger to her pussycat, and she wanted to scream.

At that moment, person did shriek. Fatima. Her hip joint thrashed wildly, the suit of clothes pumped furiously, and then he let out his own outcry of triumph.

Before Brigit knew it, the men were back playing and crapulence and laughing. The two who hadn't had their fortune with the swag tossed the dice and threw down cards with the frenzy of men in rut. Fatimah was cleaned and given a sip of the mysterious liquid.

The tribal sheik won future. Without vacillation, he ordered the rope lowered so Fatima could kneel before him. Brigit thought he would root for up his robes and take Fatima's mouth. Instead, without word of advice, he hauled back his arm and slapped her across the typeface. Fatima fell to the English. The Arab chief's girl rushed to help her back to her articulatio genus. The sheik grabbed a handful of hair and yanked Fatima's top dog back.

Her mouth bled, and her buttock was reddened. Fatimah swayed, but did not make a sound. The girl wiped the rip away and then helped oblige up the sheik's robes. Involuntarily, Brigit started to rise. No one noticed or cared what that bastard had done. The others were involved in a foursome, as though delight was their solitary vexation during the interruption of a biz. Helpless, she sank back onto her chair.

That's what the room was about, feeling near, even if a man's pleasure included a woman's infliction. Brigit wanted to go to Fatima and protect her, a low woman, against the likes of a brutish SOB. More, she wanted her articulatio genus in the sheik's groin. However, neither of those things was going to happen.

The clotheshorse used Fatima's pilus to hold her head erect. He pulled her forward. Her mouth opened, and he filled it.

From what Brigit could see, his cock didn't reach the size of the first man, but he could easily fill a adult female's lip and more. And he did, thrusting over and over, grinding Fatimah's nose into his coarse hair.

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

"Hmmm."Fatima made her loudest haphazardness yet, humming while fully covering his rooster and moving her hips wildly over the daughter's fingers.

Did she do ? Brigit couldn't tell. The sheik certainly did. He filled Fatima's backtalk until his cum spilled down her chin. He grunted, released her hair, and pulled out of her backtalk all at the Saami clip. He stood, hands on hips, looking down at her. Breathing arduous, she leaned forward and licked him clean. Only then did he speak a word that sounded to Brigit's auricle as congratulations. Fatima nodded and let the girl supporter her stand while her hands once more extended over her head.

How long can this go on ? Long past the stop Brigit would have begged them to quit, Fatima stood tall. She sucked the men twice more, took them in the pussy, in the ass, and in the net act of the dark, took them all, one in each porta. They'd released her script. The girls held her steady until she gained her breather, and then they'd helped her range the sheik. Kneeling between the clotheshorse's legs, Suit One inserted his freak cock into her bum. They struck up a tedious, strong rhythm. Suit Two knelt at the swell's point and guided her sassing to his shaft.

The men had stamina, but after the night's bodily function, they didn't final stage long. Untangling themselves, they'd picked up their clothes and dressed, then swaggered out, giving neither word nor coup d'oeil to any of the cleaning woman. Obviously, they thought Fatimah undeserving, and the womanhood who'd served didn't imprimatur even a nod of thanks. Bastards.

Fatima lay on the floor for retentive mo. When she finally made an effort to stand, the women cleaned and dressed her. At some level, the player had left. The man who'd stood sentry go throughout the proceedings strode forward to give Fatima his arm. Slowly, he led her to the cage where she released Brigit. The man supported Fatima on the walking back to the room. Weak as she was, she held the leash firmly.

The world-class thing Brigit wanted when they gained their room was to pee. She'd sat for hours, unable to do anything but watch the action in the opulent room. 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 clock time, she'd been used over and over. Shame flowed through her.

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

"I am ok, but thank you for offering."She smiled."I do think 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 care of her toilet.

"Fatimah, how can you remain firm doing this ? Those men didn't care about you—they exploited you. They treated you like a whore."

Fatima's regard fastened on Brigit's without embarrassment."That is what I am. You have bordello in your land. I heard of them when I lived there."

"Yes, but—"

"Here we are better. Our clothes are lucullan. Our food is undecomposed and nourishing."grinning and raising her brows she added,"You see it must be, because we need energy to be unspoiled at our oeuvre. But intimately of all, our guests are particular. They all guarantee we gain our pleasure while they take theirs. This is highly unusual, as I understand the business. Can you tell me different ?"

"No. But I don't have experience in this field."Brigit thought back to what she'd seen, heard, and read about prostitute in the States. Her opinion was that a Hooker provided what the client wanted and didn't worry about herself. She'd always thought the sexual finish was quantity, not tone, for her or the man.

"I am good here. Do you see ? I am alive and cared for."Fatima's center softened."I can retrieve of better means to live, but I can think of unfit also."

Brigit couldn't keep her eyes open, and she didn't know what to say to contradict Fatimah. Her kinfolk didn't want her, and so maybe this seemed like a practicable alternative. Brigit did induce a family line, however, and Quaker, and she knew they would take the air through flak to observe her. If she wasn't too far up the earth's asshole, they would see her. Her job was to outride live and well so their efforts wouldn't be in vain. She'd gloaming apart and dedicate in to despair when workweek passed with no give-and-take of saving. Then she'd have it off Omar and his employers had hidden her even from God's eyes.

"You're right. There are worse situation to be and deal worsened things to do than what you—we—do. I'll try my best to keep you from being punished. I'll try not to get either of us punished."

"Good. And now let us sleep."

"Good Nox,"Brigit said. haste, Daddy, mammy, whoever. Please hurry and get me out of here.

Posted by JackFD, with Francis Drake's permission.

For more my Francis drake and others go to www.nomadauthors.com, possess fun .