Abroad Ch. 16

Dora arrived first the next morning. Her gray hair was done up in a bun and she bore her usual kindly expression; she wished Anne a good day before refilling her water bowl. A few minutes later, Tamara entered the door of the hut opposite the latrine where Anne was squatting; Dora said something to her and she laughed.

They led Anne out to a flat grassy space between two posts and attached her wrist and ankle bracelets to each, spreading her in the traditional wide X that exposed the entire surface of her body to the whip.

Dora brought three of them from her collection. The short-handled leather one was best to begin with; it was the easiest to control. The longer one with knotted cords produced broad swaths of fine red lines on a girl. And the riding crop left dark dramatic welts on her, quite lovely. Dora smiled at the memory of some past session.

Tamara began with the first; a quick learner, she could soon make Anne scream or moan at will.

Mid-morning she paused; the exercise had left her hungry. Anne was too, but it was not her place to request food.

Tamara took a banana from her bag and had it while Dora wiped down the whip, which had accumulated a quantity of sweat and touches of blood from the morning's work. She started to put the skin back when Dora stopped her; she wanted to show Tamara something.

She detached a strip of peel and held it up to Anne, who ate it at once. She pulled off another with the stem attached and handed it to Tamara.

Emulating Dora, she held it up to Anne who took it all, including the hard dry end. She repeated the game with each of the peels until Anne had eaten the entire skin and kissed her hands.

"It saves on garbage disposal," Dora observed and they discussed her diet.

Anything you would offer a pig was suitable, and the variety was good for her.

Anne recalled the pleasure she got from eggshells and coffee grounds that Francesca gave her sometimes. In her previous life she would never have noticed their unique textures. She tried to show her gratitude then by bowing and touching the floor with her head.

Hung up like this now, all she could do was blink and smile at her benefactor.

Tamara spent the afternoon practicing with the knotted cords and the crop; by the end of the day Anne was covered with deep pink and blue-black streaks from her neck to her knees.

The sight of her marks appealed to the officers that evening. Some used her twice, a younger one even a third time as his comrades cheered him on.

* * * * * * * * * *

The lessons lasted for nearly a week, and they ended abruptly on Friday.

After a morning of crop practice Tamara and Dora left Anne alone for an hour at lunchtime. As she hung helpless from the posts, two large dogs ran at her followed by the commander calling to them. They menaced her angrily.

Anne was terrified of dogs; she squeaked in terror as he approached to pull them away.

They did no physical harm to her, but Anne remained fearful. He stroked her breasts to calm her, and she was beginning to regain her self-control when Tamara arrived and saw them.

She flew into a rage and reached for his bayonet. He held it away from her; she told him to get rid of his whore if he wanted to share her bed that night. He promised to dispose of the girl before the end of the day.

About ten minutes later, a pickup truck came for Anne. Two men got out; they lowered her from the posts and she followed them meekly to it. She took a last look at the camp before they tied her hands and feet and slid her into a cage.

Not far from the camp was a mangrove swamp. The truck pulled off the road and stopped beside it. So, she was going to be weighted and thrown in. She wondered if she could prolong her life by offering herself to the men; it might buy her only five or ten minutes but each moment was precious to her now, so close to the end.

They came around to the back of the vehicle. Anne was desperately thinking how she could market herself to her assassins. But she was wrong; they merely wanted to check the lock.

They got back in the cab and drove off while Anne tried to stop shaking. Unable to see over the walls of the truck, she awaited her fate.

Eventually it stopped again. They slid her out and laid her on the ground. One of them played with her for a moment until the other called to him from the truck and they drove off.

She looked up at the sky with no idea where she was. She seemed to be lying on a patch of grass, and there were trees overhead; she had not been abandoned in the jungle at least.

She heard voices above her and saw a tall black man, the good-looking brothel owner she remembered from the marketplace where she was sold.

He recalled her too. His "establishment" generally employed younger girls, but Anne's reputation had spread beyond the village; the peddlers, most likely.

Someone untied her ankles. She knelt and tried to kiss his shoes but he stepped back. Her homage rejected, she kissed the grass in front of him until he told her to stand.

He noticed the link and her damp fleece. It was the link that interested him most; he attached her leash to it and pulled.

Anne yelped; this was much more sensitive than her collar. He laughed and led her, following very close, to the security desk at the front door.

Once inside the brothel, Mr. Jones led her down a flight of steps to a cell with four bunks. Three whores inspected the new arrival; she knelt at their feet.

"Anne," said one. She looked up at Rae.

It couldn't be; but it was. A little thinner, browned from the sun, her Rae. Using her last ounce of strength she kissed the girl's feet then lay on her back exhausted.

At a sign from Mr. Jones, Rae put her head between Anne's legs and licked the tender folds; a second girl kissed her on the mouth and the third stroked her breasts and squeezed the nipples.

She began to revive; her hips rose and fell in response to Rae's questing tongue and she moaned a little. When her owner was satisfied, he made another gesture and the three retreated.

Cut by the whip and bruised from being thrown around in the truck, Anne rose slowly. Mr. Jones pinched her rear and she stood at attention for him.

He hung her by her wrists from a hook in the ceiling. An attendant brought a tray of bottles and a stack of soft white cloths. He set them on a table and the men left.

Rae soaked a cloth in alcohol and cleaned Anne's face. She kissed Anne on the cheek, and then more firmly on the mouth. Anne tried to return the favor, but she was too weak.

Rae saw this; she said "You poor thing" and held a water bottle up to her friend's lips. Anne sucked on it for a minute.

"Have you eaten today?"

"No ma'am, nothing." Already Anne recognized her lover as a deputy of her new owner.

Rae gave her a feed cookie; Anne remembered her manners and thanked her.

Rae returned to her task. She took up the cloth and began to clean the stripes on Anne's body where soil and grit had gotten into them.

Anne stifled a cry as the alcohol stung her raw torn flesh. This happened many times over the next few minutes; Tamara had ripped her in a more than dozen places.

Tears ran down her face from the burning sensation, but she forced a smile as her lover applied the healing liquid to her body. Her breasts and belly needed, or at least got, the most careful attention.

In time it was done; she stung all over as the alcohol dried on her, but it passed. She saw Rae take a clean cloth and apply it to another bottle, and looked inquiringly at her mistress.

"Sweet oil," she said. She dabbed it gently on each of Anne's lacerations; it coated and protected them from infection.

And it felt good. Soon it became a sort of game between them. Rae put some between her legs - quite unnecessarily - and she panted in anticipation.

"Not now; maybe tonight" Rae whispered and kissed her again. Anne grew hot and felt a wetness of her own mingle with the oil.

But Rae was not the first to enjoy her. Mr. Jones asserted his rights and had her brought to his suite that evening. Anne was glad to repay her debt to his people in a small way as she lay on the floor beneath him.

When he was done he sent her back to her cell and it was Rae's turn. This was where she belonged, a whore in a whorehouse, a happy animal.