Jon Reskind - The abducted bride

"Aaaaggg! Aaaggg! No! No! Please! No more, no more, I'll do anything!" she blurted out after several minutes of the sickening torture. The pain was unbearable and she knew if he hit her again she would faint dead away. Her mind was beyond logical thought, the only thing that mattered was to escape this horrible punishment. She couldn't stand it again.

"Has Madame had enough?" Shalla glared down at her, the whip raised for another blow.

"Yes, yes, oh please, don't hit me again!" Jean cowered into the mattress, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Shalla shall not be so gentle the next time. Let's hope you remember well."

He placed the belt on the table and came to the bed again. Jean closed her eyes tightly as she felt the humiliation of his hands moving over her, stripping her clothing away. He didn't bother to untie her hands, but ripping her thin summer dress from the neck down to the hem, peeling the pieces away roughly and throwing them haphazardly to the floor. She clenched her teeth tightly together, fighting off waves of nausea as he drew her thin nylon panties slowly down her rounded full thighs, lifting her buttocks with his free hand to let them pass. Her brassiere came last as he took each cup in a hand and tore it away brutally, her firm full breasts popping out like ripe succulent grapefruit ready for harvest. The tiny red tips hardened involuntarily as they hit the cool air and stood up like dainty pink buds of a spring flower ready to quiver into bloom.

Shalla stood back from the bed a few feet, viewing his handiwork. This should be a most profitable day, he thought happily, as his gaze wandered over the voluptuous body spread naked and defenseless before him, its spirit broken. She would cooperate now, he thought, or he would have to teach her a real lesson. He couldn't risk any of his customers being dissatisfied. He knew the brutality of the seamen that came into port here and if they paid money for something, they expected to get every penny's worth. He could not afford to have trouble with them. They might ruin the hotel.

Jean lay docile in the center of the mattress. Her thoughts were a jumbled mass of humiliation and helplessness. Monique had promised she would keep the Arab away from her but she had not. He was now going to turn her body into a receptacle for any man that was willing to pay for it. How could she live through this? How could she ever face Kevin or anyone again after she had been used as a common whore with the dregs of the earth using her young almost untouched body to satiate their warped desires. She had no idea what to expect but her imagination ran wild. What would they do to her? What would they expect her to do? Great tears of self-pity swelled through her clenched eyes and rolled silently down her cheeks. Her mind suddenly rebelled again, the pain of the belt was forgotten. She couldn't go through with it!

"I won't do it," she suddenly screamed, opening her eyes and looking straight at the Arab. "You can beat me, but I won't do it."

"Shalla has other ways, Madame," he said looking at her coldly. He did not intend to have his plans spoiled now. He had not really wanted to harm her too much as he would have to argue later with the French woman but it was beginning to appear that he had no choice. Time was growing short and he couldn't risk an outburst from this little bitch if one of the customers were there.

He calmly lit a cigarette, watching her from the corner of his eye as he did so. Jean stared back at him arrogantly, refusing contemptuously to drop her eyes from his almost amused gaze.

"Madame realizes, of course, that the belt is an orthodox way of convincing ones property to do its bidding. We Arabs are noted for the more subtle methods of gaining obedience. Do you wish to test them?"

Jean glared at him through hate filled eyes, refusing to speak. She was afraid her voice would crack from the fear that dwelled underneath. She was determined not to show it. He might conquer her body but he would never conquer her spirit again as he had the other night with drugs. She would never consciously submit no matter what he did to her.

"You leave me no choice, my pigeon," Shalla said, as he unlocked the door and disappeared down the hallway.

Jean's spirits sagged and she felt her body shaking violently. What horrible thing was he going to do? She had heard of the terrible tortures they used on each other in their wars and her faith in her resolution to fight him at all costs began to falter. She prayed that her strength would hold up against whatever it might be. She couldn't give him the satisfaction of total submission. She would resist if it killed her.

The Arab returned, carrying a cage in his hand with a huge black carnivorous rat squeaking inside, his long monstrous nose sniffing inquisitively through the wire bars.

Jean felt her stomach turn and a deep piercing scream escaped involuntarily from her throat. It was the most grotesque thing she had ever seen, it's evil little eyes darting about the room as though searching for something to fasten its tiny needle-like teeth on and rip to shreds.

"I see you like my little pet," he chuckled harshly. "He likes meat but only if it's flavored to his special taste."

As Jean cringed tightly into the mattress, the grinning Arab took a small piece of raw meat from his hand and dropped it into the cage. The rat scurried for it, sniffed it carefully and then backed away without touching it.

"You see, not to his liking."

Shalla took another piece and rubbed a liquid from a small bottle on it and dropped that into the cage. The rat leaped upon it, gulping it down greedily and then stood on his hind legs against the side of the cage squeaking wildly for more.

"You see, my dear, he is well trained in his tastes."

Shalla advanced on the prostrate girl who was frozen into immobility by the horror of the sight she had just seen. She tried to move but couldn't. Her body refused to answer. Shalla rubbed small droplets of the liquid smoothly around the nipples of her upturned breasts as she watched helplessly. Then, he opened the cage door and pulled the evil little animal from it, attaching a string around his neck. He dropped him on the bed, holding the loose end of the cord in his hand. The rat struggled against it, sniffing his way on the mattress along the side of the fear-frozen girl's body. She jerked spasmodically as Shalla gave him a little more line and he leaped to her naked belly, his tiny feet making slight imprints in her soft yielding flesh.

Jean shrieked in terror as suddenly the rat smelled the liquid. She could feel the horrible creeping claws dig suddenly into the flesh of her stomach as he struggled to get at her scent covered breasts. He squeaked wildly, fighting with savage desperation to crawl his way to the coated tips of her quivering nipples. Jean could see his tiny evil eyes down between the valley of her breasts, his teeth bared like a giant snarling dog. She wanted to scream out again but the paralyzing fear held her motionless, her flesh crawling in abhorrence from the touch of the vile little animal. Her body struggled to sink keeper into the mattress in escape but it was useless, there was no sanctuary from the cruel defilement. Shalla, taunting her proud full body, loosened the string again and she could feel the warm nose sniffing hungrily at the underside of her left breast, the sudden moist contact bringing back her voice without warning. Low whining pleas droned almost incoherently from between her clenched teeth.

"Ugggggg, get him off of me! Get him off of me! Please, please," her head churned from side to side, her wrists fighting against the bonds, "Oh God, get him off of me!"

"Say fuck, shit, cunt," the grinning Arab demanded. He would break her spirit completely before he let her go this time.