Hans Meijer - The slave girl

"It?s so demeaning. We keep tugging at each other."

Burdett remained indulgent. "Hell, girl, that coffle is about the most humane way we can handle the nine of you. You want to tell me a better way?"

She could not! It was infuriating to think of their condition as desirable or convenient, but for the life of her she could think of nothing else. To be linked wrist to wrist would be far more inhibiting. To be bound with rope would be painful in the walk ahead.

Burdett laughed at her chagrin. "Mustafa here wants we should give you white girls a damn good whipping right at the start, just so?s you know where you?re at and don?t ask fool questions." He winked sardonically. "But with you two I can figure the adjustments you?re having to make… don?t suppose it?s all that easy and seems to me you?re doing O.K. So I?m good natured. But don?t crowd your luck."

"You don?t have to sell us into slavery."

Burdett sighed. Casually, he walked to a bush and cut a withe. Corey watched, shivering, while he trimmed it down to an instrument of punishment. "I?m sorry." She said nervously. "I?ll shut up and keep quiet."

He did not answer. When the supple wand was to his liking, he said pleasantly: "Hold your hand out, Miss Corey Gibson."

She put both hands behind her back in shocked mortification. "You can?t!" She exclaimed incredulously. "You wouldn?t…?"

"Why?" There was a wealth of caustic in the one word.

"Because… I?m an adult woman!"

"So…?"

They stared at each other in confrontation. Lamely, Corey sought defense. "I don?t want my hands whipped. I?ve already told you I?ll behave."

"Hold your hand out, way out."

"But that?s for children! It?s… it?s humiliating!"

"The way I hit ain?t for kids, Corey."

"But even so…!"

"It?ll hurt enough you don?t have to feel short changed."

"But it?s so… unnecessary!"

"That?s what you think." The steel of his eyes sought her?s. "It?s necessary alright. Using your hands makes it simple. If I have to unlock you from the coffle and tie you to a tree you?ll get a flogging."

Corey was annoyed with herself for finding logic in what he said. But to be punished like that in front of eight girls…! She had no faith in her ability to carry off such a punishment with panache. She would probably disgrace herself. She eyed the limber horror with distaste. "Please give me another chance?" She begged humbly.

Seth Burdett held up a key. "Want me to unlock you?"

Miss Corey Gibson held out her hand.

Even as a child, neither her hands or any other part of her had been corporally corrected. To the daughter of the Planet Corporation such personal punishments had been abstract, figments of fiction. But there was nothing abstract about what was now taking place. The act, the intent, the witnesses, were etching themselves upon her consciousness with indelible force. The line of chained girls were straining for a better view of her shame, Audrey Cotswold?s eyes were wide in commiseration. Amrah contemplated the pulsing tableau with a grin of approval. This was something she understood, a sure and certain guide to feminine behavior. But it was her own outstretched hand on which Corey most intently focused. That hand which was a part of her was about to be whipped, it had become a medium by which she was to receive agony. Delinquent eyes rose to lock with the grey amusement of her new co-owner. Seth Burdett was studying her hard, enjoying every moment, curious about a girl named Corey Gibson.

It was a flash of motion. Swift, positive, deadly. The peeled withe cut Corey?s taut palm with scorching venom. For a moment only she stood in shock. Then, as her hurt hand sent its messages of fire to every crevice of her being, she moaned in a desolation of pain and clapped her injured flesh beneath a comforting armpit. Her instinctive effort to bend double was thwarted by the chain to the neck on either side.

Seth Burdett contemplated his work with satisfaction. His eyes followed every curve and twist of the enslaved girl as she sought to allay agony. His voice was mockingly helpful. "That doesn?t do any good, y?know. It hurts the same wherever you hold it."

"It does so!" She flung her agony at him between gasps.

"Try another one. Hold it out again."

Corey stiffened, horrified, her response desolate. "I can?t… I can?t possibly. It hurts too much."

"Try."

"It?s impossible. You?ve no right to do any of these things to any of us."

"Hold out your hand, Miss Corey Gibson."

She sensed the steel in his command. The weight of chain on her neck dictated obedience. There was no escape. Bleakly, she raised her head, her demand incredulous: "The same hand…?"

"Yes. And don?t tuck it back under that arm again."

"I cant! I?m sorry… I just cant do it."

"You will either do it or each girl in de coffle gets one for you. It?s not the best way to make friends."

Corey Gibson longed to stamp her foot in fury at the complacence Male. He had her! Owned her! Every girl on the long chain was his and would have to do his bidding. they were slaves. Girls kidnapped from their former lives by a male and diverted to Male use. Aware of eight pairs of female eyes upon her anxiously, she held out her already wounded hand.

It was an explosion of the unbearable, the fiery cut, the screaming nerves, and then the throbbing horror of compelling her whipped hand to hang loosely at her side as though in unconcern. Corey?s anguished eyes sought Seth Burdett?s pity.

"You see, you do have it in you."

Did she detect faint admiration? Perhaps! Brokenly, she gasped: "I can?t let you hurt the others… You mustn?t…!"

"S?right, love." The Aussie drawl approved. "That?s why you?re going to hold out your other one."

Corey looked at him askance. "I… I… Oh, please! How many?"

"You don?t ask. Hold it out."

Corey held out her left hand. It was the same over again. Two cuts, numbing her fingers, throbbing with fearful pulsations of pain as she allowed her arms to hang limp. Suddenly Burdett was gone. The whipped girl buried her face in her agonized hands and wept bitterly. Her feminine companions on the chain pretended not to see. Audrey?s sympathetic hand, tender on a bent shoulder, was the only human solace the coffle would permit. The nine girls slept in a chained line throughout the day. There was much snubbing and jerking of collared necks until they learned to huddle close to utilize the slack between chained necks. After they had been fed at evening they were subjected to one more slave indignity. Their right wrist was locked in a communal shackle.

It was the coffle principle, the same as their neck. The same length of chain, and at the same intervals a metal wristlet, padlocked. If the wristlet was tight, they must not complain. Audrey received one stroke on each hand for her initial reaction:

"But this is so unnecessary! The chains on our necks stop us escaping!"

"And another on your right hand stops you being awkward, love. C?mon, stick it out. It doesn?t hurt."

"But why make it more difficult for us to march the way you want us to… all fastened together?"

It was then Seth Burdett used his peeled strip once more. Audrey Cotswold held out her hands for them in resigned misery. While she was still twisting with their pain, Seth inquired affably: "Think that will help you watch your tongue?"

"Yes, it will. I?m sorry. Here?s my hand."

The English beauty watched the metal circle her wrist, watched the padlock snap it tightly secure. For a moment she held up her new ornament to view, but it was snatched away by the chain?s need to accommodate the next in line. She shared a resigned shrug and rueful grin with Corey. They were learning their lessons.

There were four donkeys. Two for the men, two for gear. The slavegirls walked in single file, conscious always of Mustafa with a whip and of each other. With practice they learned a rhythm for their shackled arm and a cautious maintenance of slack chain between their collars. The white girls made the rueful admission that if nine naked slaves must traverse a wilderness their coffle was a most efficient instrument by which to keep them controlled. The chains irked but actually inhibited nothing except escape. With the addition of the fetter on their wrist escape was doubly impossible.