Arabian Playthings Chapter 1
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Arabian Playthings Chapter 18 free porn video
For four more weeks, Belle continued to perform her duties ... the most menial, it not the most arduous in the whole retinue. And it would seem she performed them satisfactorily because not once was she summoned to feel Miss Reva’s whip. Indeed, apart from a few stinging slaps from Overseers, Belle was uns**thed as far as punishment was concerned. It was, by far, the longest period since she had become a slave.
Throughout all this time, when not on duty, she wore the anal device which was slowly stretching her. Every couple of days or so, Haroun would turn the little wheel which lengthened and thickened it. After a while, Belle became quite accustomed to it being there, though it had developed into something considerably bigger than when it started.
Belle was fucked regularly ... sometimes three or four times a day ... not only because she was new in the Harem but also because of her fine features and superb body. Also, she had a lot of sucking to do.
All this soon began to seem perfectly natural.
The sort of life a slave-girl could expect.
To offer oneself at the snap of the fingers. To give oneself without reserve. And, always, to be mindful of the honour one was being done! For, was it not an honour for a mere slave to be noticed, let alone to be made use of?
Needless to say, some of the Overseers were more bestial than the others. Otto, for example. Soon, if anything, Belle found she had a preference for Haroun and another Arab; also two of the Nubians. All of them were big, husky studs who made her orgasm regularly ... largely because they didn’t just ram like a****ls but used a certain amount of finesse.
One day, Belle had a most unpleasant experience. It was, it seemed, the chief slave Natasha’s ‘revenge’ for the caning she had received after she had bitten Belle’s breast. Unfortunately for Belle, it took place the very day after Haroun had removed her anal device and informed her that he considered her sufficiently stretched.
To prove it, he buggered Belle on the massage table. Despite everything, she still found it a most unpleasant and painful experience ... realising at the same time, how unbelievably appalling it would have been if the stretching had not been done!
Four of Natasha’s lesbian minions cornered Belle in one of the more isolated rooms that led off the main chamber of the Harem. Despite her fierce struggles and pleas, they tied her spread-eagled, face-up on a massage table. Helplessly, she gazed wildly up at them as they looked down, grinning.
“How can you do this to me?” cried Belle. “I ... I am a slave ... like you all are! For God’s sake . . . have . . . pity . . ..”
But they just went on grinning.
Then Natasha had entered, a dildo strapped about her flanks. It was just as big as Haroun himself!
“Oh God ... haven’t I endured enough?” cried Belle, even more despairingly.
“No ... your Ladyship ...you haven’t. Now you’re going to be properly fucked.”
The words ‘your Ladyship’ were like a slap in the face to Belle. Soon even her fellow slaves knew! Perhaps that’s why they were treating her so!
Natasha now mounted the massage table ... entered quickly and brutally ... and began to heave her haunches with remorseless vigour. All the time, her hawk-like eyes were gazing down into Belle’s ... who stared back with all the defiance she could muster. Sheer hatred for this vile woman gave her will and strength.
The dildo pounded on.
Belle clenched her teeth.
They would get nothing from her.
Suddenly, and briefly, Natasha smiled. “I’m going to fuck you till you come, you bitch,” she said, her voice grating. “So, the sooner you come, the quicker it will be over.”
“No ... I won’t ...” replied Belle. Then clenched her teeth again.
“We’ll see ...”
Remorselessly, the big dildo slid in and out. The four other women watched in rapt amusement. So often helpless victims themselves, it was delightful to be in a dominant role for once.
Two minutes passed.
Three minutes.
On and on. In and out. On and on. In and out.
Four minutes.
Now faster. Oh dear God, give me strength.
In and out. In and out. In and out.
Belle closed her eyes so that she could not see the hateful gleam in Natasha’s black eyes. A gleam that was slowly becoming triumphant.
What was the point of resisting?
Why not let go and get it over with?
Faster ... faster ... in ... out ... in ... out ... in ... out ... in ... out ...
Oh let go ... let go!
Yes ...
Belle thought suddenly of Haroun. She began to gasp. to pant, mouth opening. She heard a raucous laugh from one of the watchers. Felt the hate. For them. For herself.
“Come ... your Ladyship ... come .... your Ladyship ...” The watchers had taken up the chant. Rage filled Belle until she felt she must burst.
“Come ... bitch ...” said the voice of Natasha, her mouth only an inch or two from Belle’s. The dildo moved with a sudden frenzied flurry.
Belle let go ...
Whimpering and wailing ... head rocking from side to side ... Belle spent herself convulsively.
Loathing it. Loathing those who had made her do it. Yet lusting all the same. Oh how could they be so vile to a fellow sufferer?
The dildo stopped. Belle opened her eyes. Now the triumph was fully there in Natasha’s eyes. “You’re randy, aren’t you?” she said in a sneering vice. “Expect you like all the big pricks around here. Well, don’t worry, there’s plenty more to come for us yet!”
Natasha removed herself from Belle and got off the table. Then she unbuckled the dildo and handed it to one of her minions. “Help yourself, girls,” she said. “And have fun!”
Gazing in horror, Belle began to plead.
“No ... no ... no more ... for pity’s sake ... don’t ... don’t ... why me ... I ... I’m just a s-slave ... oh have p-pity...”
At these terrible words, Belle felt sick to the depths of her soul. For a moment, her head span and she thought she must faint.
But, unfortunately for Belle, she did not faint.
Screaming vituperation, she watched the new woman climb on to the massage table, dildo swinging before her.
“You’re simply going to love this,” the woman was saying, eyes smiling cruelly. “Because you love coming, don’t you, your Ladyship? Especially in public. And remember, it’s only just beginning. So much more fun to be had yet!”
The dildo rammed home.
An awful gasping-groan from the spreadeagled Belle. She was at the mercy of these hyenas. And they could easily **** her to death if they were so minded!
Belle must have fainted.
But when she came round, she was still being fucked. Was it the third woman or the fourth? Did it make any difference! Any one of them could go on fucking her indefinitely!
“Mercy ... mercy ...” she heard herself sobbing repeatedly.
The orgasmic feelings (they were not exactly orgasms) came in waves. Some weak, some strong. Waves of sickness came and went too. Waves of sudden clarity interwove with waves of half-insensibility.
The multiple fucking went on.
Would it never end?
Belle must have fainted again.
When she came round, it was even worse. She had been turned over and tied down again.
Now they were bum-fucking her.
The pain of it, the horror of it, were indescribable.
And how monstrous that this treatment was being meted out not by guards or overseers but by fellow slaves!
It was Natasha again. Belle knew. She could hear the vile woman’s breath rasping as she lunged and lunged.
“H-How are ... you liking ... it ... you Ladyship, eh? Good, eh? Haven’t -h-had . . . m-much of this ... yet ... have you?”
“O-Oh ... s-stop ... for God’s sake ... st-stooo ... opppp!”
“Stop? We’ve only ... j-just started on you ... you bitch ...”
Then suddenly, quite unexpectedly, there was a whistling sound ... a crack ... then a high -pitched shriek from Natasha.
“Get off! Get out of it . . . out! It was Haroun’s voice. The whistling sound came again. Another shriek from Natasha. Belle felt the dildo withdraw abruptly. She lay there, feeling sick, sobbing ... but now infinitely relieved.
“Shall I untie her, Master?” That was Tessa’s voice.
Oh the dear girl! She must have got wind of what was going on and informed Haroun! Oh how could she ever thank her enough! As her cords were being unfastened, Belle heard Haroun’s voice again.
“Right,” he said, “now each of you will get the whipping she deserves.”
“P-Please ... Master ...” came Natasha’s wailing voice, “we were just playing games ... having some fun together ... that’s allowed, isn’t it?”
“Girls playing friendly games together is allowed ... girls r****g another girl is not!”
“Please ... Master ...”
“Silence, slave!”
Belle pushed herself up on the table then sat weakly on its edge. She saw that Natasha was on her knees, hands still raised imploringly. The other four girls made a frightened little group. How wonderful! What a turnabout! Belle smiled her gratitude at Tessa. But ... oooh ... how horribly sore she was! Those monstrous creatures deserved all they were going to get.
“I’ll take you last,” said Haroun to Natasha. “And, since you’re the obvious ringleader, you’ll get the worst of it.”
The black-eyed woman shuddered. Belle felt not an atom of pity. Only joy. It seemed that, more than simply having the pleasure of knowing that her tormentors were to be whipped, she was actually going to witness it!
“You, flat on the table!” Arbitrarily, Haroun pointed to one of the group who at once lay face down on the table Belle had just left. “Fasten the bonds, slave,” he said to Tessa. Then Haroun went to a cabinet and returned with a three-thonged martinet like the one Belle had first seen Miss Reva use. Her heart filled with happiness. This was going to be worth seeing!
“If there’s any more of this sort of thing,” said Haroun, “the matter will be reported to Miss Lirium. Meanwhile . . . feel this . . .”
The three thongs of the martinet slashed down and curled round the girl’s bottom.
Three vivid red weals.
An instant gasping-shriek.
A frantic, twisting and writhing.
Again!
And again!
And again!
And again!
The shrieks grew louder and more agonised. The twisting and writhing became more frantic. Belle’s heart was singing. Her eyes were brighter than they had been for months.
Ssllaaa ... aaassssshhhhhh!
“YYYYAAAAGHHHHHHH!”
Sslllaaasssshhhhhhhhh!
“YYYAAAIIEEEE .... AAAAHHHHHH!”
Sslllassshhhhhhhhhhhhh!
“AAAAAGHHHHHH ... YYYYYAAAAGHHHHHH!”
Ssslllllaaassshhhhhhh!
“EEEGGGGGHHHHHHH ... AAAAGHHHHHHHHH”
Ssslllllaaaaaassssshhhhhhh!
“YYYYYAAAAAGHHHHH ... AAGGGHHHHHHHHH!”
Haroun stepped back, martinet trailing. “Untie her,” he ordered Tessa.
Ten strokes. Thirty vivid red weals. Belle gazed at them with relish, seeing the bottom flesh still continuing to twitch and quake in its torment. A wonderful sight. For a moment, Belle had a brief glimpse of what it must be like to be an overseer ...
Sobbing, the girl stumbled away, to collapse in a far corner of the room. Her hands pressed urgently to her buttocks ... yes ... obviously that martinet was no laughing matter!
“Next!”
Another pale-faced figure took the first girl’s place. Tessa corded her ... and once more Haroun’s arm began to rise and fall.
Once more the shrieks rose up.
Once more the frantic writhing.
Belle glanced at Natasha from time to time, seeing the mounting tension in her. Good ... good! She was going to get it worst of all! Belle could hardly wait!
The room was filled with the sounds of sobbing and wailing by the time Natasha’s turn came. Four well-striped slave-girl bottoms were on display.
“Up with you!”
Belle managed to catch Natasha’s eye as the woman mounted the table. She hoped the triumph on her face was noticeable. For what she had done to a fellow-sufferer, she deserved it all! Tessa, she noted seemed to take special delight in securing the bonds as tight as possible.
“Now, slave ... let’s hear you!”
The martinet swung and slashed.
To Belle’s surprise, little more than gasping-grunts came from Natasha ... though her buttocks clenched convulsively with pain. She had not reckoned on her being so tough, though being chief slave, she must be vastly experienced. Also, she was Russian ... and they were often mulishly stubborn.
Haroun seemed quite undeterred, continuing to swing and slash down the three-thonged whip at a steady pace.
Tough as she was, Natasha just couldn’t stand it. After six or seven strokes, the floodgates bust and her bellows of pain echoed loudly round the room. At the same time, her ample bottom began to squirm uncontrollably as the multiple thongs bit into it.
Belle was counting the strokes.
Nine ...
Ten ...
Just a fraction longer pause . . . then the eleventh descended!
Belle almost clapped. Natasha must be getting at least fifteen . . . maybe twenty. Her shrieks, ever-increasingly agonised, were like music in Belle’s ears.
Give it to her! Give it to her!
She kept saying the words inwardly as she watched the weals multiply.
Harder! Harder!
Oh heaven!
Then suddenly it was over. Yes ... it had been twenty strokes. Sixty stripes. A murderous punishment. There was not the slightest doubt that Natasha would watch her step closely in future!
Good! Good!
Belle temporarily forgot her soreness when, having been released, the sobbing, moaning Natasha could not stand. Unceremoniously she was dragged from the room by her companions ... with Haroun’s final words ringing in her ears.
“No treatment for any of you for four hours!”
Belle fell to her knees in humble gratitude as the Arab Overseer strode out of the room.
"Next time, your duties will be different." It was Miss Reva who spoke.
"Yes, Miss ..."
"A newly arrived slave will have the honour of cleaning her Highness."
"Yes, Miss ..."
Belle felt a shudder of apprehension.
Now, it seemed, she would be in the presence of her Highness. No longer hidden away as she had been.
She felt suddenly frightened.
A new role ...
Facing the unknown ... !
Her mind went back to the time when that had happened to her once before.
But then, what was to come had seemed far more terrifyingly horrible.
"Next time, your duties will be different." It was Miss Reva who spoke.
"Yes, Miss ..."
"A newly arrived slave will have the honour of cleaning her Highness."
"Yes, Miss ..."
Belle felt a shudder of apprehension.
Now, it seemed, she would be in the presence of her Highness. No longer hidden away as she had been.
She felt suddenly frightened.
A new role ...
Facing the unknown ... !
Her mind went back to the time when that had happened to her once before.
But then, what was to come had seemed far more terrifyingly horrible.
Throughout all this time, when not on duty, she wore the anal device which was slowly stretching her. Every couple of days or so, Haroun would turn the little wheel which lengthened and thickened it. After a while, Belle became quite accustomed to it being there, though it had developed into something considerably bigger than when it started.
Belle was fucked regularly ... sometimes three or four times a day ... not only because she was new in the Harem but also because of her fine features and superb body. Also, she had a lot of sucking to do.
All this soon began to seem perfectly natural.
The sort of life a slave-girl could expect.
To offer oneself at the snap of the fingers. To give oneself without reserve. And, always, to be mindful of the honour one was being done! For, was it not an honour for a mere slave to be noticed, let alone to be made use of?
Needless to say, some of the Overseers were more bestial than the others. Otto, for example. Soon, if anything, Belle found she had a preference for Haroun and another Arab; also two of the Nubians. All of them were big, husky studs who made her orgasm regularly ... largely because they didn’t just ram like a****ls but used a certain amount of finesse.
One day, Belle had a most unpleasant experience. It was, it seemed, the chief slave Natasha’s ‘revenge’ for the caning she had received after she had bitten Belle’s breast. Unfortunately for Belle, it took place the very day after Haroun had removed her anal device and informed her that he considered her sufficiently stretched.
To prove it, he buggered Belle on the massage table. Despite everything, she still found it a most unpleasant and painful experience ... realising at the same time, how unbelievably appalling it would have been if the stretching had not been done!
Four of Natasha’s lesbian minions cornered Belle in one of the more isolated rooms that led off the main chamber of the Harem. Despite her fierce struggles and pleas, they tied her spread-eagled, face-up on a massage table. Helplessly, she gazed wildly up at them as they looked down, grinning.
“How can you do this to me?” cried Belle. “I ... I am a slave ... like you all are! For God’s sake . . . have . . . pity . . ..”
But they just went on grinning.
Then Natasha had entered, a dildo strapped about her flanks. It was just as big as Haroun himself!
“Oh God ... haven’t I endured enough?” cried Belle, even more despairingly.
“No ... your Ladyship ...you haven’t. Now you’re going to be properly fucked.”
The words ‘your Ladyship’ were like a slap in the face to Belle. Soon even her fellow slaves knew! Perhaps that’s why they were treating her so!
Natasha now mounted the massage table ... entered quickly and brutally ... and began to heave her haunches with remorseless vigour. All the time, her hawk-like eyes were gazing down into Belle’s ... who stared back with all the defiance she could muster. Sheer hatred for this vile woman gave her will and strength.
The dildo pounded on.
Belle clenched her teeth.
They would get nothing from her.
Suddenly, and briefly, Natasha smiled. “I’m going to fuck you till you come, you bitch,” she said, her voice grating. “So, the sooner you come, the quicker it will be over.”
“No ... I won’t ...” replied Belle. Then clenched her teeth again.
“We’ll see ...”
Remorselessly, the big dildo slid in and out. The four other women watched in rapt amusement. So often helpless victims themselves, it was delightful to be in a dominant role for once.
Two minutes passed.
Three minutes.
On and on. In and out. On and on. In and out.
Four minutes.
Now faster. Oh dear God, give me strength.
In and out. In and out. In and out.
Belle closed her eyes so that she could not see the hateful gleam in Natasha’s black eyes. A gleam that was slowly becoming triumphant.
What was the point of resisting?
Why not let go and get it over with?
Faster ... faster ... in ... out ... in ... out ... in ... out ... in ... out ...
Oh let go ... let go!
Yes ...
Belle thought suddenly of Haroun. She began to gasp. to pant, mouth opening. She heard a raucous laugh from one of the watchers. Felt the hate. For them. For herself.
“Come ... your Ladyship ... come .... your Ladyship ...” The watchers had taken up the chant. Rage filled Belle until she felt she must burst.
“Come ... bitch ...” said the voice of Natasha, her mouth only an inch or two from Belle’s. The dildo moved with a sudden frenzied flurry.
Belle let go ...
Whimpering and wailing ... head rocking from side to side ... Belle spent herself convulsively.
Loathing it. Loathing those who had made her do it. Yet lusting all the same. Oh how could they be so vile to a fellow sufferer?
The dildo stopped. Belle opened her eyes. Now the triumph was fully there in Natasha’s eyes. “You’re randy, aren’t you?” she said in a sneering vice. “Expect you like all the big pricks around here. Well, don’t worry, there’s plenty more to come for us yet!”
Natasha removed herself from Belle and got off the table. Then she unbuckled the dildo and handed it to one of her minions. “Help yourself, girls,” she said. “And have fun!”
Gazing in horror, Belle began to plead.
“No ... no ... no more ... for pity’s sake ... don’t ... don’t ... why me ... I ... I’m just a s-slave ... oh have p-pity...”
At these terrible words, Belle felt sick to the depths of her soul. For a moment, her head span and she thought she must faint.
But, unfortunately for Belle, she did not faint.
Screaming vituperation, she watched the new woman climb on to the massage table, dildo swinging before her.
“You’re simply going to love this,” the woman was saying, eyes smiling cruelly. “Because you love coming, don’t you, your Ladyship? Especially in public. And remember, it’s only just beginning. So much more fun to be had yet!”
The dildo rammed home.
An awful gasping-groan from the spreadeagled Belle. She was at the mercy of these hyenas. And they could easily **** her to death if they were so minded!
Belle must have fainted.
But when she came round, she was still being fucked. Was it the third woman or the fourth? Did it make any difference! Any one of them could go on fucking her indefinitely!
“Mercy ... mercy ...” she heard herself sobbing repeatedly.
The orgasmic feelings (they were not exactly orgasms) came in waves. Some weak, some strong. Waves of sickness came and went too. Waves of sudden clarity interwove with waves of half-insensibility.
The multiple fucking went on.
Would it never end?
Belle must have fainted again.
When she came round, it was even worse. She had been turned over and tied down again.
Now they were bum-fucking her.
The pain of it, the horror of it, were indescribable.
And how monstrous that this treatment was being meted out not by guards or overseers but by fellow slaves!
It was Natasha again. Belle knew. She could hear the vile woman’s breath rasping as she lunged and lunged.
“H-How are ... you liking ... it ... you Ladyship, eh? Good, eh? Haven’t -h-had . . . m-much of this ... yet ... have you?”
“O-Oh ... s-stop ... for God’s sake ... st-stooo ... opppp!”
“Stop? We’ve only ... j-just started on you ... you bitch ...”
Then suddenly, quite unexpectedly, there was a whistling sound ... a crack ... then a high -pitched shriek from Natasha.
“Get off! Get out of it . . . out! It was Haroun’s voice. The whistling sound came again. Another shriek from Natasha. Belle felt the dildo withdraw abruptly. She lay there, feeling sick, sobbing ... but now infinitely relieved.
“Shall I untie her, Master?” That was Tessa’s voice.
Oh the dear girl! She must have got wind of what was going on and informed Haroun! Oh how could she ever thank her enough! As her cords were being unfastened, Belle heard Haroun’s voice again.
“Right,” he said, “now each of you will get the whipping she deserves.”
“P-Please ... Master ...” came Natasha’s wailing voice, “we were just playing games ... having some fun together ... that’s allowed, isn’t it?”
“Girls playing friendly games together is allowed ... girls r****g another girl is not!”
“Please ... Master ...”
“Silence, slave!”
Belle pushed herself up on the table then sat weakly on its edge. She saw that Natasha was on her knees, hands still raised imploringly. The other four girls made a frightened little group. How wonderful! What a turnabout! Belle smiled her gratitude at Tessa. But ... oooh ... how horribly sore she was! Those monstrous creatures deserved all they were going to get.
“I’ll take you last,” said Haroun to Natasha. “And, since you’re the obvious ringleader, you’ll get the worst of it.”
The black-eyed woman shuddered. Belle felt not an atom of pity. Only joy. It seemed that, more than simply having the pleasure of knowing that her tormentors were to be whipped, she was actually going to witness it!
“You, flat on the table!” Arbitrarily, Haroun pointed to one of the group who at once lay face down on the table Belle had just left. “Fasten the bonds, slave,” he said to Tessa. Then Haroun went to a cabinet and returned with a three-thonged martinet like the one Belle had first seen Miss Reva use. Her heart filled with happiness. This was going to be worth seeing!
“If there’s any more of this sort of thing,” said Haroun, “the matter will be reported to Miss Lirium. Meanwhile . . . feel this . . .”
The three thongs of the martinet slashed down and curled round the girl’s bottom.
Three vivid red weals.
An instant gasping-shriek.
A frantic, twisting and writhing.
Again!
And again!
And again!
And again!
The shrieks grew louder and more agonised. The twisting and writhing became more frantic. Belle’s heart was singing. Her eyes were brighter than they had been for months.
Ssllaaa ... aaassssshhhhhh!
“YYYYAAAAGHHHHHHH!”
Sslllaaasssshhhhhhhhh!
“YYYAAAIIEEEE .... AAAAHHHHHH!”
Sslllassshhhhhhhhhhhhh!
“AAAAAGHHHHHH ... YYYYYAAAAGHHHHHH!”
Ssslllllaaassshhhhhhh!
“EEEGGGGGHHHHHHH ... AAAAGHHHHHHHHH”
Ssslllllaaaaaassssshhhhhhh!
“YYYYYAAAAAGHHHHH ... AAGGGHHHHHHHHH!”
Haroun stepped back, martinet trailing. “Untie her,” he ordered Tessa.
Ten strokes. Thirty vivid red weals. Belle gazed at them with relish, seeing the bottom flesh still continuing to twitch and quake in its torment. A wonderful sight. For a moment, Belle had a brief glimpse of what it must be like to be an overseer ...
Sobbing, the girl stumbled away, to collapse in a far corner of the room. Her hands pressed urgently to her buttocks ... yes ... obviously that martinet was no laughing matter!
“Next!”
Another pale-faced figure took the first girl’s place. Tessa corded her ... and once more Haroun’s arm began to rise and fall.
Once more the shrieks rose up.
Once more the frantic writhing.
Belle glanced at Natasha from time to time, seeing the mounting tension in her. Good ... good! She was going to get it worst of all! Belle could hardly wait!
The room was filled with the sounds of sobbing and wailing by the time Natasha’s turn came. Four well-striped slave-girl bottoms were on display.
“Up with you!”
Belle managed to catch Natasha’s eye as the woman mounted the table. She hoped the triumph on her face was noticeable. For what she had done to a fellow-sufferer, she deserved it all! Tessa, she noted seemed to take special delight in securing the bonds as tight as possible.
“Now, slave ... let’s hear you!”
The martinet swung and slashed.
To Belle’s surprise, little more than gasping-grunts came from Natasha ... though her buttocks clenched convulsively with pain. She had not reckoned on her being so tough, though being chief slave, she must be vastly experienced. Also, she was Russian ... and they were often mulishly stubborn.
Haroun seemed quite undeterred, continuing to swing and slash down the three-thonged whip at a steady pace.
Tough as she was, Natasha just couldn’t stand it. After six or seven strokes, the floodgates bust and her bellows of pain echoed loudly round the room. At the same time, her ample bottom began to squirm uncontrollably as the multiple thongs bit into it.
Belle was counting the strokes.
Nine ...
Ten ...
Just a fraction longer pause . . . then the eleventh descended!
Belle almost clapped. Natasha must be getting at least fifteen . . . maybe twenty. Her shrieks, ever-increasingly agonised, were like music in Belle’s ears.
Give it to her! Give it to her!
She kept saying the words inwardly as she watched the weals multiply.
Harder! Harder!
Oh heaven!
Then suddenly it was over. Yes ... it had been twenty strokes. Sixty stripes. A murderous punishment. There was not the slightest doubt that Natasha would watch her step closely in future!
Good! Good!
Belle temporarily forgot her soreness when, having been released, the sobbing, moaning Natasha could not stand. Unceremoniously she was dragged from the room by her companions ... with Haroun’s final words ringing in her ears.
“No treatment for any of you for four hours!”
Belle fell to her knees in humble gratitude as the Arab Overseer strode out of the room.
"Next time, your duties will be different." It was Miss Reva who spoke.
"Yes, Miss ..."
"A newly arrived slave will have the honour of cleaning her Highness."
"Yes, Miss ..."
Belle felt a shudder of apprehension.
Now, it seemed, she would be in the presence of her Highness. No longer hidden away as she had been.
She felt suddenly frightened.
A new role ...
Facing the unknown ... !
Her mind went back to the time when that had happened to her once before.
But then, what was to come had seemed far more terrifyingly horrible.
"Next time, your duties will be different." It was Miss Reva who spoke.
"Yes, Miss ..."
"A newly arrived slave will have the honour of cleaning her Highness."
"Yes, Miss ..."
Belle felt a shudder of apprehension.
Now, it seemed, she would be in the presence of her Highness. No longer hidden away as she had been.
She felt suddenly frightened.
A new role ...
Facing the unknown ... !
Her mind went back to the time when that had happened to her once before.
But then, what was to come had seemed far more terrifyingly horrible.
Cheryl
- 14.10.2020
- 5
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