Hans Meijer - The slave girl

The path was faint but it was there. Corey wondered how many other naked girls had trudged the single track to maintain its identity. It snaked its way through thickets and rock that would defeat a jeep. They were nine lost girls, trekking each night farther and farther from their homes or previous owners. Pursuit seemed improbable. Rescue or recapture would not even release them from their chains.

With each step Corey knew herself more implacably enslaved. Each morning when it came to sleep through the sunlight hours Amrah and her counterpart at the other end of the chain were released to do the chores. When their tasks were done they passively presented their neck and wrist to be locked back into the coffle. Corey wondered if, given the chance, she would be equally amenable. Amrah summed it up.

"No sense get whip. Where a girl run in this place?"

"Why do they keep us chained then?" Corey asked irritably.

"Girls very foolish.?Specially white girls. White girl always make fuss and get herself whipped. Best when chained."

African logic! Corey recognized it as a prison without bars for attractive females. She never tired of examining the metal band round her right wrist and the padlock which kept it there. It beautifully symbolized a girl?s status in this Male dominion. She thought back to the girl friends of her former life. Woefully, she longed for some of them to be locked with her on the chain. Hate it as she might she was seeing it as a dimension of femaleness she could never otherwise have known. Apathetically, she asked: "But, Amrah, don?t you want to be free?"

The lead slavegirl sniffed disdainfully. "Girls ain?t never free. Much best we be bought by rich man."

"Who?ll probably whip you every day!"

"Mebbee he whip me. But I make nice for him in bed. Amrah like that too. He buy me presents."

"And chain you up every night."

"O.K. So he chain Amrah. Is not so bad." Amrah held up her shackled wrist and giggled. "Is nice bracelet. Pretty lock."

Corey envied her.

There was Seth Burdett. To Corey Gibson he was very much a presence in a way his partner Mustafa was not. Mustafa spelt bad temper and a whip but Burdett was hope, a small tenuous hope because he was white and because his sardonic regard held hunger for her nakedness. He had whipped her hands but he had liked her. She was sure he liked her. Corey Gibson was pragmatist enough to know she would give him her body willingly for the key to her chains. That he could take her body easily at any time without her consent did not diminish the feminine wisdom by which she knew the power of affection or her gentleness of female fingers and female lips upon a love starved man. Seth was rough and he was tough but he desired her. Risking the whip, she tested him.

"Mr. Burdett, why can?t we be covered?"

He cocked an enquiring eye at her pubic hair. "Can you tell me, Miss Gibson, why you should be?"

"Even slaves have clothes. And being always naked… it?s so messy."

"You?re not messy. We find a bit of water to dunk you in every day, don?t we?"

"I didn?t mean that." Corey swept her gaze up and down the line of chained femininity. "But look at us… all breasts and pubic hair and hips… We?re… too much!"

"Can?t have too much of a good thing, love. And we?re careful not to get you sunburned."

"You mean you like looking at naked girls?"

"Yes. Especially when they?re chained and well behaved."

Corey swallowed anger. "Couldn?t you at least cover our sex?" She looked him squarely in the eye. "Put our pubic hair out of sight?"

He grinned at her earnestness. "Tell you what I could do since it bothers you that bad. I?ll shave it off!"

She fell back on hauteur. "I?m sorry I asked. I should have known…"

"Known what?"

"That I?m only a slave." Corey swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. "I?m trying hard to be a good one but it isn?t easy. Being naked all the time is one of the most difficult things." Her tone placated. I won?t be a nuisance about it. I honestly don?t want to be whipped."

Seth laughed at her dolor. "You can?t be a nuisance, love, not chained the way you are. But you do have a gift for petulance. It will likely earn you a few stripes here and there on the trek."

Petulant! Like a disappointed child! Angry at herself and at Burdett Corey held out her hand, retorting in stiff resentment: "My apologies, Mr. Burdett. Perhaps you?d like to cut my fingers up with a few strokes?"

He pushed down her proffered arm. "In my own time." He said soberly. Before he turned away he chucked her under a sulky chin, and laughed at her obvious chagrin. "And remember this, young lady, from now on you address me as?Master?. Understand?"

"Yes, Master." She made the title drip venom.

"You?re really asking for it, y?know." Audrey cautioned after their co-owner had departed. "You sure you?re not in love with the son-of-a-bitch?"

Obeying the tug of their chain they lay down to sleep.

It was late afternoon close to the end of their sleeping when the turning of the keys wakened Corey from the last of sleep. Dazed, she allowed Burdett to raise her to her feet and lead her out into the trees. Her heart beat painfully at sight of the whip and cord he carried in his other hand. Out of sight and earshot of the camp, he positioned her, standing, whilst he sat upon a fallen tree. Toying with the whip, he examined her heaving breasts and allowed a silence to lengthen until the naked slavegirl could bear it no longer.

"Do you realize I?m not fastened or… or anything?" She asked coldly.

"S?right. Now?s your chance."

Corey sniffed disdainfully. "You know damn well I?m too frightened."

"You forgetting something?"

"I?m too frightened… Master!" "That?s better. Feel nice to be out of the coffle?"

Miss Corey Gibson was loath to admit how good it actually did feel. Without sight of the whip she would have been ecstatic. As it was she managed a polite: "Yes… Thank you." Then asked, plaintively: "Would you mind if I just moved a bit? I promise I won?t run."

"Go ahead."

Corey did not care how silly she might look. She rubbed her wrist, she massaged her neck. She walked gleefully in a small circle. She was free, free, free! It was absurdly miraculous to be rid of chain. "I really am grateful." She admitted ingenuously, then hurriedly added: "… Master."

"You do learn." He sounded pleased. "But d?you remember what I said happened to a girl if she got herself unlocked from the coffle?"

Corey remembered. Once more her heart began to pound. She longed for clothes, for a weapon, for help. Unhappily, she confronted fear. "Yes, I remember, Master. The girl gets flogged." She looked at the whip and then at him. "You?re going to flog me, aren?t you?"

"S?right."

"What have I done?"

"Nothing." He laughed at her chagrin. "Look on it as medicinal."

"That?s unfair."

"Get used to it, Miss Gibson. Whoever buys you will probably have his servants whip you regularly. There?s nothing fair about slavery and being a pretty girl."

It was useless to argue. In pulse leaping curiosity, Corey erased the tremors from her quiet acceptance. "Very well. So I get whipped! Is there some way you want me to position myself?"

"Damn cool about it, aren?t you? What goes, bravado?"

"Yes." She wiped tears of self pity from her eyes. "I?ve never been whipped the way you want to whip me. I?m scared to death."

"Good! It won?t hurt you to wait a minute. What d?you know about Assef Aslam?"

Corey looked at her owner with a glimmering of hope. "He?s prisoner of Abdul Nour?s the way Audrey and I were."

"Abdul screw you?"

"No. But he was going to."

"He?ll be hopping mad." Seth chuckled. "He can console himself with making a good deal on Aslam?s ransom."

She clutched at a straw. "If he does, you could make a good deal on Audrey and me. There?d be millions…?"