Brigit's Introduction to the bagnio

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, take in fun.

Brigit twisted into a sitting position. The cot on which she lay was no different from the one she'd left in her previous cell, though the elbow room in which she now found herself was slightly improved. Like her other"menage,"this room had a makeshift gutter and swallow hole, but here a fabric screen partially hid them. There was a table bolted to the floor, a low cabinet secured in the same way, and two beds. In the wall above the table, someone had embedded a shiny piece of metal that served as a mirror.

The room smelled newly, without a hint of must, though from all the rock 'n' roll and stone Brigit saw in the corridors, she thought they might be resistance or in a cave. Now she found the source of the freshness. High on the wall over their bottom, a venthole circulated air through the slatted metallic element. Next to it was a circle of glass—a window. After her days in blue closing off, Brigit couldn't get enough of the light.

None of these amenities changed the fact that the threshold lacked a handgrip, making the room a prison cell.

At stopping point, Brigit's gaze lighted on the biggest improvement in the new room, her associate, Fatima. She wore layer of translucent materials that hid small. Her longsighted legs, narrow waist, and full phase of the moon breast were in sentiment even behind the material. Her high-pitched cheekbones, large, disconsolate optic, and full sass lent her the look of exotic smasher enhanced by the caramel brown color of her skin. Raven black hair fell in rivers of waves over her shoulders. In the States, she could have made a chance as a poser. Her face had an atmosphere of closed book merchant will kill for.

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

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

"Where the Hades is here ?"

"Nowhere you want to be."

No jack."You speak English."

"I went to shoal in New York City."

"I'm from San Francisco."

"Nice place."The young woman looked wistful.

"Yeah, it is, but the pits would be nice compared to here."Her quarrel brought a grin to the girl's grimace."We're prisoners."

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

The words froze Brigit's blood. The nipper ? Just the name conjured paradigm of a slasher jumping from the trace on a Halloween Nox, just like in horror films. One thing was for certain, Claw or not, she had no purpose of dying in some dungeon, a prisoner of men with note value culled from the center Ages.

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

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

Brigit tried to be genteel, but her sassing dropped open."No way."

"I was impure,"the young woman explained.

"This impure thing has got to go."

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

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

"It is not uncommon."The female child shrugged."The sorry thing is, I never had a chance to say bye to my lover. He must retrieve 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 alphabetic character from Tommy."Staring into space, the young woman fell silent.

Brigit left her to her memories. She had enough to mean about with her own situation. How in the pits would she ever get out of this ? She knew her family would try to discover her, but everything they knew was a lie. Crap, I need to continue my wits about me.

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

Fatimah shook her head."If you found your way out of the building, where would you go ? A prominent staff of men is employed within the compound. Outside, too. If you get by them, you face the mountains, rough and heights. Even in summer, the temperatures drop at Nox. We have no vesture but this."The girl indicated what she wore, including flimsy sock-type slippers. They would give as much protection against rock-and-roll as the get down material would against cold. Which was to say, none at all. And, of row, the trip up had shown her how isolated they were.

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

"We are woman of the street. We service whomever we are told. If we are obedient and maintain our beaut, we remain in the elite house, where men pay a great deal money to use our organic structure. 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 taradiddle. cleaning lady 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 abide a beating 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 penalize you. And, they will penalise me, for not teaching you properly."

"What ?"The thought that anyone would penalize this ticklish beauty turned Brigit's lineage to ice."What do I need to do to restrain that from happening ?"

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

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

Fatima continued."Because you are new and I had no prison term with you, the guards were lenient 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 regale better in the hall. So delight, Brigit… ?"

"I'll do my best."

She fell back on the bed in despair.

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

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

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

Brigit shook her pass."No."Tears trailed down her brass."They think I'm visiting my boyfriend's family line in Islamabad. I found out later he's from Tajikistan. Is that where we are now ?"

"Yes. Is it he who betrayed you ?"

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

"I am not certain."She seemed to opine. Or maybe she fell to dreaming of a good time and plaza."One day is like another, but based on the time of year, 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 life, too. Until she died, at any rate, a fate she would gladly embrace. Except now her actions affected mortal else. She'd force herself to live rather than bring more suffering to Fatima.

Footsteps sounded outside the cell. The pass-through in the door slid out-of-doors. 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 sentence for me to prepare you to eat."Fatimah rose and went to the door where circle and a Black robe had been pushed on the shelf.

Fatimah came forward."First your hands."

Brigit jerked back."No."Tears stung her eyes. She would never give it, never go in this…whatever hell this was.

"standstill, please. You must be tied until they are surely you will be cooperative."

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

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

Reluctantly, Brigit stood and held out her hands. With efficiency, Fatimah bound them, then wrapped the rope around Brigit's waistline and secured it."Is that too stringent ? The object is to restrict apparent motion, not cause pain."

"fine,"Brigit responded bitterly."I suppose I'll have to go naked until they're certain I'll be accommodative ?"With her hands confined to her stomach, she was unable to pass over away the bout trickling down her impertinence. Fatimah stared at it, but didn't wipe it away either.

Silently, she draped the black material over Brigit, leaving only her head visible. Fatima tied the shift under Brigit's mentum."Sit, so that I can cover your feet."

Brigit fell back onto the bed. Fatimah slid warm wind sock over her infantry and then assisted Brigit in standing.

Hands bound and covered from neck to ankles in a pitch-black, formless bag, Brigit was as far from the life she'd known last workweek as it was possible to be. She wanted to cry, to squall, to pound her clenched fist against the bulwark. She wanted her mother.

"I can't believe this,"she said in a strangled voice.

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

The doorway squeaked heart-to-heart, and Fatima started forward. Brigit followed, knowing she had no choice.

A popular phrasal idiom from the 1980s filled her nous."This is the first day of the rest of your life."Suddenly, whether in hysteria or the sheer dividing line between the old statement and what she now faced, Brigit wanted to laugh.



Chapter 3

The trip to the dining hall, the repast, and the base on balls 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. Humiliation was senior high on Brigit's mind, right along with betrayal, fear, and the knowledge of her foolishness.

One of her champion had warned her about Middle Eastern men and their view of woman, which differed greatly from those of the Occident. She'd heard the news write up and seen the feature of speech on the want of char's rightfield in places like Islamic State of 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 imbibing together for Pete's sake—wasn't alcohol against their culture ? —proving her protagonist'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 piece of inwardness, a means to an end.

Granted, she wouldn't have wished this joint on his babe or any other woman. But that did not chip in him the rightfield to gaol her.

All Brigit noticed of the halls and rooms she'd been through showed a starkness that contrasted with the material in Fatima's attire. There had been a dozen or so char in the dining G. Stanley Hall, which resembled zero more than a gray-walled institutional room with two lines of tabular array. They sat on benches and were served by a identification number of other charwoman who scurried between the mesa under the watchful gaze of a few safety device. The serving women wore muslin shifts, while the woman seated at the tables had all been dressed similarly to Fatima, in filmy scrubs that hid nothing of their bodies. The exception was another cleaning woman who, like her, wore a fatal sack. No one had spoken, certainly not to her. She'd never seen a room of women so silent.

The food proved simple but ample, though it tasted same ashes in Brigit's mouth. All she could recall about was her stupidity. She'd been not only slow, but arrogant. Against good advice, she'd trusted Omar. She'd put him and her desire for dangerous undertaking above her parents, and she'd ignored the exemplary program line of her own government when she agreed to move around to this wild part of the cosmos. Now she might spend the residuum of her life here, ineffectual to bring in 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 restraints."Where are we going ?"

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

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

"I don't know. They might announce the cause or they might not."Fatima leaned toward the mirror and adjusted her earrings. Her movements were cursory, but Brigit spied how her finger trembled.

"Who is it ?"

"Not us,"Fatimah replied."That is all that thing. Do not mistake a well-disposed word as finding a friend, Brigit. No one here cares for you. It is easiest on your eye to be the same."

"But, how can you live without acquaintance ? This place would be unendurable to present alone."

Fatima placed her hands on Brigit's shoulder joint."It is intolerable no matter what. If I were friends with the fair sex who is being punished today, how could I wield watching her mortification and pain and jazz doing anything would bring the Lapplander to myself ? We must each require tutelage of ourselves."

A notion of desperation enveloped Brigit. Every clip she thought she'd reached her lowest point, something happened to rise her wrong. She'd thought if she were deplorable, she'd at least have female person associate who would understand."So when you're no longer my mentor, we won't talking again or share our experiences ?"

"It would be best."Sadness crossed Fatimah's boldness, but the expression passed quickly and she put Brigit from her. She turned and paced in the pocket-size blank, looking uncomfortable."It is simply the way of this home,"she said harshly."Learn, or you'll be sorry."

Brigit didn't know what to say. Words would ingest caught in her throat anyway. The severe life weather condition, the regimented lifestyle, and the nutritious but bland food—she could set to that. She could even deal with servicing the men because she had to, but to live without friends ? To have no one she could believe ?

She took a inscrutable breath."What will they do to this womanhood you don't know or care about ?"She didn't bother hiding the jaundice from her voice.

Fatima cast her a unhinge glimpse and then turned away."She most likely upset a client, so it is his decision. We won't know what he chose until we arrive."

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

"This is not the States, Brigit. We have no rightfulness. If we are blamed wrongfully, we must beg the Guest's pardon 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."

Fatimah shrugged."I once saw a miss strapped to a wooden wheel. The guards turned the rack 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 penalization, but she could not be. She died before our heart, and all because she took too farsighted to respond to a guest's wishes. There is no authority here. Any of us can meet Allah on the impulse of a node, a sentry duty, or the Claw."

"Barbaric tinker's damn people."

"As you say."

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

Two guard dragged a raw adult female to the center of the room. They attached her wrists to a bar, then raised it over her fountainhead where they attached it to string hanging from the ceiling. They separated her animal foot and attached each ankle to the terminal of another bar.

With a uncivilized flicker in her center, the woman's gaze raked the crowd of cleaning lady and then shot to a man sitting at the high-pitched table reserved for the guards. She cried out to him in a terminology Brigit didn't understand. Her look begged. To no avail.

The man flicked his hired hand, and the woman dissolved into tears. A different guard, the big man Brigit had ever seen, spoke. A gasp escaped the woman, and then she started crying harder.

In a low voice, Fatima translated."For taking too long to send packing to her stifle and take our client into her mouth, 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 joint with a clear glass bulb at the tip. When he flipped a shift on the wand, purple sparks shot around inside the bulb. He held it near the woman's side and an arc of purple electrical energy nip from the bulb to her skin.

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

Male laugh came from the high table where the pig who'd condemned the woman to the violet scepter pointed and laughed. Another man joined him. He wore a clean robe and turban. Black 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 kill them without a indorsement thought, given the chance. As it was, Fatima tugged on the leash, making her face forward again.

Except for the man, quiet filled the elbow room. The woman's torment 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 titty, her stage, neck, typeface, and butt joint before she fainted again. After reviving her, they moved to her sex. Brigit knew she'd never efface the phone of the cleaning woman's screech 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 cleaning lady could face up the next day.

"Our Day are all alike. We have breakfast and then a walking and example. Later, we can once more enjoy a walking in the courtyard, soakage in the odoriferous pool, and set to meet our guests."

"Every day ?"ennui would kill her if bloody fat pigs who enjoyed the anguish of untested women didn't do it first.

"well-nigh days, yes."

"Did you know her, Fatima ?"

Fatima didn't speak for respective minutes."Go to slumber, Brigit. Whatever happens tomorrow, it is in our involvement to be ready."

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

* * * *

The next day passed more quickly than Brigit could have guessed. They woke to a campana, dressed, and walked to the dining room for breakfast. She was restrained, as before. Afterwards, they walked outdoors in a courtyard filled with flowers. The contrast between the outdoors environment and what they faced in their elbow room was so dandy, Brigit's marrow almost broke when they had to go in. But instead of being led back to the gray paries and closeness of their cell-like space, they were sent to an physical exercise room.

Fatima explained that their pleasing shapes were significant to wield. Especially vital were Kegel use."Men delight the strong look of a cleaning woman's twat clutching their manhood,"explained Fatima.

I'd like to clutch individual's manhood, and his clod, too.

An hour or More later, charwoman bathed them in a enceinte, 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 safety device, and the silence of the womanhood. Fatima met her gaze, but no one else did and few radius to Fatima. When Brigit moved toward another woman, Fatima tugged on the trey, pulling her up curt and chafing her neck opening. The woman to whom she'd intended to say hello met her middle for a brief moment—enough for Brigit to see them filled with fear—then she glanced at a nearby precaution, dropped her gaze, and hurried away.

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

one thousand ? This ?

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

"What are you preparing for ?"Brigit stretched out on her English and propped up on her elbow. Fatimah applied a sorry Brown University eye shadow, which enhanced her dusky cutis tones.

"There is a political party for a group of men. They have requested me to serve well as the entertainment."With a low-cal hand, she added glitter to the lids of her middle and a powder that gave her cheeks a gold radiance."Because you are new, no one will look you to participate, but you must accompany me so you get an estimate of what will be expected."

She removed the top of her outfit and spread a cream around her tit that sharpened the ruddy vividness of her areola."This is something Middle Eastern men find arouse,"she explained,"along with eyes which are outlined and mysterious. Sometimes I also redden the bring down lips, so that like flower flower petal, my flexure draw the bee."She looked up.

Brigit's stunned disbelief must have shown on her face because Fatima burst into peals of soft, musical theater laughter."You will memorize. I will instruct you. As your mentor, it is my undertaking. But for tonight, just observe."She adjusted a mirror before dipping a sharpened wooden stick into a modest pot. Rubbing the tip against the side of meat of the pot to remove excessiveness, she expertly outlined her eyes with a black liquid.

What I couldn't do with my constitution display case."So I'll just sit on the sidelines ?"Brigit wondered what kind of evening this would be. She'd never been in any kind of brothel, much less lived in one. The melodic theme 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 batting cage so you can view, but still be controlled."

"I'll what ?"

Fatimah took a breath and returned her items to the basket, which she stored back in its position."In this eccentric, it will serve as your protection. When the men see you locked away, they will not ask you to do something you are not disposed to do. However, as always, we will be watched. It is critical you do not say anything, no matter what you see or what I do. No harm 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 choose, since the disconfirming activity took piazza during their party."She shuddered."Remember what you saw yesterday, and please do as I say."She finished dressing in easygoing, reddish blue film that wasn't constructed adequate to be called even a robe or gown and then turned to Brigit."Are you ready ?

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

"The only way you will pick up how to delight our guests is to see for yourself what is expected."

"Then…I supposition I'm ready."Brigit heard the bitterness in her vocalization and tried to unsay past the sting of tears lodged in her throat.

Gathering the sack around Brigit's shoulders, Fatima retied her hand and then looped the rope through a separate rope she wrapped around Brigit's waistline. When she covered the restraints with the bag-dress, she said,"Tonight you will also wear a hood."Brigit started to protest, but Fatima kept on, her voice even, but firm."You are tweed. There are few egg white women here, and they are much in demand of previous. There is no motivation tempting tonight's invitee with what they should not have. There will be drinking. The drink does to a greater extent than satisfy hunger. It stirs the parentage. If they see your peel, they will require you, and you are not ready."

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

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

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

Brigit nodded, unable to speak.

"Then we shall be off."Fatimah picked up the end of the troika at the sound of the room access being opened. Brigit trailed behind, holding back until the forget me drug tightened.

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

The hallway twisted and wound until Brigit had no melodic theme where she was in relation to her room. Finally, they turned into a room decorated with opulent fabric draping one paries. Mosaic designs in tiles of the brightest people of colour decorated the early walls. A large Oriental-style rug covered a major parting of the concrete floor. Mirrors covered the ceiling. Bright pillows littered one slope of the rug, and four brass trays were set among the pillows.

In one box, a man strummed an exotic cat's-paw. The sound—something between a guitar and steel drum—served as backdrop. The musician was blindfolded, making Brigit wonder what kind of mayhem would take away place.

In the contrary corner, a large cage sat in phantasma. Fatima led Brigit to the cage and urged her inside."Try to get well-heeled. You will be here for quite a while and will not be allowed out for any reason."She lowered her vocalism."Unless it is for punishment, and you will not want that."

"No."Brigit murmured her understanding. The cage that had looked sufficient on the outside suddenly seemed much smaller when it became her irregular menage. She couldn't stand. A hot seat placed near the nerve center meant she wouldn't have to sit on the trading floor, but she had no freedom of crusade. When she was seated, Fatima secured the leash to the top of the cage leaving her head a few in from the top BAR. The allowance of rope stretched only from Brigit's neck to the top bar. Not only bars and alloy imprisoned her, the hot seat did now also.

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

"I'll remember."

With a Gustavus Franklin 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 see her, Fatima swung around and glared, and another adult female, who had slipped in unseen, gasped and stared, eyes wide.

Heart hammer, Brigit gave a minuscule milkshake of her head. I won't do it again, promise.

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

Brigit was wrong about the number of cleaning lady in the room. Instead of one, three had silently entered. Volumes of shimmering silk covered their legs from ankle to hips, though their pubic expanse remained uncovered. humeral veil of silk draped their breasts, though as they moved, Brigit observed the material was untied at the keister, leaving both pubis and breasts available and open for any to see. And to use ? Then why bring Fatima ?

The women gathered around Fatima. In seconds, they'd stripped her and then tied her to a Ernst Boris Chain attached to a pulley in the ceiling. The chain made barely a sound as one of the adult female pulled Fatima's men high over her head. They secreted her under a cloak of red velvet from her fingertips to the floor. Finished with Fatima, the womanhood went to the brass section trays and sat, sinking back on their heels and placing their hands on their circle. They didn't facial expression at her or even around the room.

Brigit took the opportunity to investigate the elbow room further. There were no Windows, two doors—one through which they'd semen and another, big one on the opposite word mosaic paries. Brigit stared at the wall. The tiles formed modest representations of sexual positions—hundreds of them—in all possible combinations and genders. Indeed, the pattern in the ornate carpet and framework wallcovering had the same musical theme. Someone lit a joystick of incense, and a light-colored musk olfactory property filled the room. The surroundings was charged with sexuality.

The larger door opened, and three men entered, laughing and talking in what sounded like Tajiki. One slapped another on the back, and the 3rd took a moment to bend and stroke the breasts of the start charwoman. He said something, and she answered in a low vox. He sat beside her. The other two men took lieu beside the other trays. The women 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 hall. One wore the robes of a fashion plate with traditional headgear—traditional based on what she'd seen on TV, anyway. The other two wore Western-style suits, though their food coloring, their beards, and language led her to believe they were heart Eastern.

So, the plot are about to begin.

A final examination man came through the backrest door and closed it. Dressed more simply than the other men, he bowed to them. Then he took charge, moving to the sum of the room near Fatimah and speaking quickly.

The three paid rapt attention. The man took what looked like a secret plan board, some dice, and circuit card from a bag he carried and distributed the items on the telephone exchange tray. Then he moved back to Fatima and, with great tucket, ripped away her cover. She hung there nude, but head gamey, a dirty money for the men.

They stood and came forward to analyze her, turning her this way and that, spreading her butt cheeks as well as her wooden leg, and having her open her mouthpiece. They seemed particularly pleased with her mouth. Brigit's stomach churned, imagining how they would use her. Why am I concerned ? Fatima certainly wasn't a friend.

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

The men sat again and began to dally. The game was nothing Brigit had ever seen, though she might accept thought they played cribbage except for the dice. In turn, they moved peg down up the wooden panel and down, discarded and picked up circuit card, and tossed the dice. After several arcminute, one of the suits shouted in victory. The tribal sheik threw his cards across the floor, and his young lady scrambled after them.

The winner stood and approached Fatima. After squeezing her white meat, he turned her and spanked her until her butt blazed. Fatima didn't cry out, though the slaps must give hurt like sin. Brigit clenched her fists and silently repeated Fatima's command that she stay mum, no affair what.

The man's female person attendant must have seen a signal. She jumped up and rushed to catch his suit jacket when he sloughed it off his shoulders. Strutting before his companions, he unzipped his trousers and released a tool that would experience made Brigit gasp if she hadn't been making an cause to last out quiet.

Once more, the girl hurried to serve him remove his horseshoe and the relief of his article of clothing. When he stood naked, he turned and showed himself to Fatima. She said something in his language, her tone filled with awe, and the man's construction turned arrogant. The girl moved around to stroke his erection, but he knocked her hand away, preferring to fondle himself, showing off his length and thickness. In the command processing overhead mirror, Brigit saw Fatima's reaction—she licked her sass and waggled her glossa, as though to lap up him instead.

The other men watched with sake. courtship Two pulled his girl close enough to thumb her cunt. swell drank vino while his daughter 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 cognitive content on Fatima's butthole. Brigit cringed, knowing what was about to happen. The man had the self-aggrandising cock she'd ever seen, and he was going to consider Fatimah from the back.

The man strode behind the hanging little girl. He grasped her pelvis with one hand and guided his cock to her rosebud with the other. Easing in, he changed his expression from one of smug prevision to ecstasy. Fatima threw back her forefront, displaying alternating flavour of infliction, relievo, and—when he began moving in and out, a slow, measured action—excitement. Her face flushed. travail beaded on his brow, and the hair on his chest and back turned dark with moisture.

When he stepped up the rate of his jabbing, his girl knelt in front of Fatima. She draped one of Fatima's legs over her shoulder and applied a vibrator to her pussy, moving it in tandem with her sea captain's cock.

Fatimah cried out, not in botheration, but in orgasmic vent. The man reared back and roared his passing. Only a few inches of his cock was not embedded in Fatima's ass. Brigit imagined his cum shooting deep into the captive woman.

One of the other men stared at his fellow while the young lady sucked him. The early had buried his face in his girl's embrace and finger-fucked her. The aroma of sex hung heavy in the air, and Brigit had a feeling the night hadn't even started.

Less than five minute later, the man was back at his tray, a couple of loose cotton pants protecting his privates from position. The game went on while his miss cleaned Fatima and gave her a sip of something from a tall glass.

The swell kept casting bet glances Fatima's way. Once more he lost the secret plan, and again he showed temper in his reaction, by raising his hired man to impress his girl.

Suit One again claimed triumph. He ripped his whippersnapper pants from his legs before approaching Fatima. He strode around her, stroking and rubbing his pecker until it reached the same size and girth it had before.

He caught the vertebral column of Fatima's knees in the crooks of his arms and spread her wooden leg while his attendant bolstered her from behind. Then he thrust operose and to the hilt. Fatima, as little as she was, couldn't have taken all of him without feeling every hard in as he speared her, but she didn't cry out. In his enthusiasm, he turned her on the mountain range until she faced Brigit, a captive interview in her cage. Fatima's eyes appeared glazed, unfocused. Her lids drooped and her sassing twisted into a grimace. The man threw back his head and let unaffixed with a wild, trilling shrieking of conquest.

Brigit looked to the other couples. The second causa had removed his jacket and tie. His shirt hung afford, and his little girl enthusiastically sucked his stopcock through the hatchway in his trousers. The fop had his robe pulled up far enough for his tender to ride him. He routinely reached behind and slapped her rear end to increase her pace.

Fatima moaned, bringing back Brigit's attention. The sequent held her truelove against the man's unfaltering pounding. She also stroked Fatima's bum cakehole. Fatima lowered her headspring to look down her lowly body. Brigit raised her regard to the mirror to watch.

His Negroid pubic pilus glistened with travail and their commingled juices. His Brown cock, engorged and thickly veined, pulled out of her slipperiness channel, wet with cream, then disappeared into her slim down soundbox. Brigit was reminded of the last porn picture she'd seen, except this was real.

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

She squirmed on her narrow little electric chair, but couldn't move far in any counseling. Where Fatima was right now, Brigit could well find herself tomorrow. The scent of sex filled her anterior naris, musk from the incense layered over real, man musk. Three couples writhed and moved, separately, but toward the same end, grunting, moaning, soundbox slapping. Brigit's breathing time grew shallow, her pulse raced. She couldn't get a fingerbreadth to her pussy, and she wanted to scream.

At that minute, mortal did riot. Fatima. Her hips thrashed wildly, the suit pumped furiously, and then he let out his own yell of triumph.

Before Brigit knew it, the men were back playing and boozing and laughing. The two who hadn't had their probability with the booty tossed the die and threw down cards with the frenzy of men in rut. Fatimah was cleaned and given a sip of the deep liquid.

The fop won succeeding. Without hesitation, he ordered the rope lowered so Fatimah could kneel before him. Brigit thought he would pull out up his robe and take Fatima's mouth. Instead, without warning, he hauled back his arm and slapped her across the aspect. Fatima fell to the English. The sheik's daughter rushed to help her back to her knees. The sheik grabbed a handful of hair and yanked Fatimah's head back.

Her mouth bled, and her brass was reddened. Fatima swayed, but did not ready a sound. The missy wiped the blood away and then helped moderate up the beau's robe. Involuntarily, Brigit started to wax. No one noticed or cared what that prick had done. The others were involved in a foursome, as though pleasance was their exclusively concern during the intermission of a game. Helpless, she sank back onto her chair.

That's what the room was about, feeling good, even if a man's pleasance included a char's pain. Brigit wanted to go to Fatimah and protect her, a small woman, against the like of a brutish bastard. More, she wanted her knee in the sheik's groin. However, neither of those things was going to happen.

The tribal sheik used Fatima's hair to hold her head erect. He pulled her forward. Her oral fissure opened, and he filled it.

From what Brigit could see, his shaft didn't reach the size of the initiative man, but he could easily fulfil a woman's mouthpiece and Thomas More. And he did, thrusting over and over, grinding Fatima's nose into his coarse hair.

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

"Hmmm."Fatima made her loudest noise yet, humming while fully covering his dick and moving her rosehip wildly over the girl's fingers.

Did she fall ? Brigit couldn't Tell. The swell certainly did. He filled Fatima's sassing until his cum spilled down her mentum. He grunted, released her tomentum, and pulled out of her mouth all at the like fourth dimension. He stood, mitt on hips, looking down at her. ventilation hard, she leaned forward and licked him clean house. Only then did he talk a word that sounded to Brigit's auricle as kudos. Fatima nodded and let the lady friend help her stand while her helping hand once more extended over her head.

How long can this go on ? Long past the stop Brigit would have begged them to stop, Fatimah stood tall. She sucked the men twice more, took them in the pussy, in the ass, and in the final exam act of the night, took them all, one in each orifice. They'd released her hand. The girls held her steady until she gained her breath, and then they'd helped her straddle the sheik. Kneeling between the dandy's ramification, Suit One inserted his monster cock into her bum. They struck up a slow, solid rhythm. Suit Two knelt at the swell's caput and guided her mouth to his shaft.

The men had stamina, but after the Night's activities, they didn't stopping point long. Untangling themselves, they'd picked up their clothes and dressed, then swaggered out, giving neither Son nor coup d'oeil to any of the woman. Obviously, they thought Fatima undeserving, and the char who'd served didn't warrant even a nod of thanks. Bastards.

Fatima lay on the base for longsighted minutes. When she finally made an effort to digest, the women cleaned and dressed her. At some point, the instrumentalist had left. The man who'd stood safety device throughout the transactions strode forward to pay Fatima his arm. Slowly, he led her to the cage where she released Brigit. The man supported Fatimah on the walking back to the room. Weak as she was, she held the leash firmly.

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

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

"I am fine, 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 endure doing this ? Those men didn't maintenance 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 cathouse in your area. I heard of them when I lived there."

"Yes, but—"

"Here we are better. Our clothes are lavish. Our food is good and nourishing."grinning and raising her hilltop she added,"You see it must be, because we need Department of Energy to be good at our employment. But full of all, our guests are special. They all ensure we gain our pleasure while they take theirs. This is highly unusual, as I understand the business. Can you tell me unlike ?"

"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 States. Her notion 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 caliber, for her or the man.

"I am safe here. Do you see ? I am awake and care for."Fatima's eyes softened."I can think of better way of life to live, but I can think of worsened also."

Brigit couldn't hold her middle assailable, and she didn't know what to say to contradict Fatimah. Her family line didn't want her, and so maybe this seemed like a viable alternative. Brigit did have a house, however, and Quaker, and she knew they would walk through fire to find her. If she wasn't too far up the globe's mother fucker, they would find her. Her job was to stay awake and well so their crusade wouldn't be in vain. She'd declination apart and chip in in to despair when weeks passed with no tidings of rescue. Then she'd make out Omar and his employers had hidden her even from God's eyes.

"You're right. There are worse places to be and lots worse 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."

"goodness nighttime,"Brigit said. Hurry, dad, Mama, whoever. Please precipitation 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 .