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The SHIP, the OASIS, the BOOK, the SLAVE, Part II. By GENEVA The Corsair Rami, after being transformed by a spell from an old book, is given the name Nesrine and is trained as a harem slave by her enemy. She is sold as a slave but eventually finds freedom and love. This is the sequel to my earlier story, The SHIP, the OASIS, The BOOK, the SLAVE. It would be better to read that story first for background. I awoke to another morning in the slave compound, as a slave, as a woman. Yet again I forced myself to look into the piece of polished metal that served as a mirror. Perhaps it was some forlorn hope that what had been forced on me might have magically disappeared or reversed somehow. But it was no use. The face staring back at me was entirely that of a woman, a beautiful one. Her hair was too short, but if anything, the face had become even more beautiful over the three or four days since I woke up from the spell that had changed me into a woman. Amira had read the spell to me from her little book. Like many previously, I had begun shivering, but had lapsed into unconsciousness while the spell did its work. At least my face had now lost the blotchiness and the fevered look, the immediate effects of the spell. My facial hair was gone completely. Most had simply fallen out a day after I woke up, and the few stragglers in the days after that. It was the same with my body. When I woke up I had been filled with aches, fatigue, and a lingering fever. Added to that was the sickening realization of what had been inflicted on me. My male body was gone, but at least now my body felt limber and supple. I had tried to avoid looking down at it, but it was no use, and I had given up trying as my ordinary movements brought my full female breasts, narrow waist and wide hips into my vision. To make it worse, along with the other slaves, I was kept entirely naked. Walid and Amira, my captors, who had used the spell on us, thus forced us to get used to our female bodies as soon as possible. I may have been able to avoid actually looking at my new genitalia, but those of the other slaves were continually in view as they moved around, reminding me of my own. Every time I had to squat to attend to the needs of nature too, my new body, its workings and my situation, were made apparent to me in an overwhelming fashion. Any of my male body hair had fallen out. My chest was now bare, with nothing to distract from the two breasts on it. At my groin, my thick male hair had fallen out too, leaving me with a much smaller dark patch. I cannot remember much about the actual times just before and after the spell making its terrible effect on me. I remember Amira reading the magic book right in front of me, and my struggles while I tried to free myself from the manacles holding me to the wooden post. I remember even the first shiver or so that took me, but after that I remember nothing except slowly becoming of aware of my surroundings in the small bed in the slave hut, being shaken and water offered to me. Then there was the immediate horror of wakening to discover myself in a new body, a female one, and the realization that my position in life was irrevocably changed. From a captain, a merchant, the head of a large trading house, and a man, I was now a female and a slave, with no standing in society. My previous life of adventure, its risks and thrills, and my eminent position in society, would be over completely. I knew that, like all the others in the slave compound, I would be trained as a slave. Moreover, because of my beauty and youth my fate would be different to many of my fellow captives. I would be sold in the Alexandria slave market to the highest bidder. My new future was a great blank, but what was certain is that I would be a female slave and most likely in a harem. From then. my main purpose in life would be to give my prospective owner a variety of pleasures, the kind a woman gives to a man. I would be a toy, subject to even capricious tastes. If I wanted to stay alive I would have to please him. I cursed the day I had met Nasir, who had put the idea of a plot in my mind. It had failed and led me to this. I cursed my uncle Youssef who had intrigued against me and used this ploy to get rid of me. I cursed Walid, now my owner, for the trick he had played on me. I cursed his wife Amira, for her implacable and terrible punishment. Most of all I cursed myself for my foolishness and greed. Now I was paying an awful price. Before my change I had been a partner with Walid. I captured slaves from the North European coast. He trained the slaves I brought, and with the help of his wife Amira's magic book, changed young men into beautiful women. Then my greed had got the better of me. I had tried to usurp his position. I had hoped to capture the oasis that held the compound that was now my prison. I had failed and as a punishment I had been changed, along with all of my forces, by a spell from his wife's magic. The other women with me tried identify themselves by their previous male names. "You are Ahmed? I was Marwen," or, "I used to be Sabih," someone would whisper when she gave her previous name. Perhaps they hoped to hang onto some of their old identities, despite having been assigned a female name. We were expected to answer to these female names each morning. If not, a rod or a whip awaited us. In fact, anytime we were caught using their previous male names a few strokes of a rod awaited us. I dared not admit to my fellow captives that my previous name had been Rami. I only used my assigned name of Nesrine. If I admitted it, I am sure I would have been killed as the women sought revenge against the foolish person who had brought them to this. At first when anyone asked my previous name I said that I could not remember it. Later, I said that I had been Aziz. He had been one of my crewmen and I had noticed that no one answered to that name. Still, this could not go on. We were women, without any doubt. We would have to accept our new female names. This was the fourth day since I woke up, like all of my fellow captives. The screaming, when they had discovered themselves in female bodies, had now mostly ceased. All were dulled with exhaustion or the effects of prolongued terror. Or bewilderment. Perhaps I was the only one who really knew what lay ahead. I had seen the spell used before in male slaves that I actually had delivered to Walid when we had been partners. Now that same transformation had been delivered to them, and to me. Not only that, I knew that we would be gradually trained into perfect female slaves. The most attractive and youngest of us would go to harems, the rest for domestic female slavery. Walid, and especially Amira, would be sure to especially supervise me. That way they would keep me from being a potential troublemaker. Of course, as I said, I dared not reveal to the rest of the slaves what was in store in case questions were asked about how I knew and my identity was discovered. I forced myself to look down at my new body, and shuddered. Like all of the rest of the slaves I now owned a beautiful body, slim yet voluptuous. My breasts projected well from my chest. The dark nipples and surrounding areolas were prominent. If I placed my hands at my waist. my stretched fingers could almost meet round it. Yet, below that, my body swelled again to generous hips and buttocks set over long shapely legs. The magic spell had given me the typical hourglass female figure. I shut my eyes tightly to stem the tears. Some bad times I wondered if I could kill myself, but there were no means. I could identify myself to the others, but then my death would be painful. They might tear me apart in revenge. I heard a clanging sound and sighed. It was time for us to be fed. As we had been instructed, we lined up in the hut and, at a gesture from the guard, we filed out before two serving women at a long table. They had pots of cooked rice for us, with vegetables and even small pieces of meat. We were captives and slaves, but we were fed adequately. We would not get fat, but no one would starve. I had scraped out my bowl and was sitting obediently on the sandy floor of the slave compound when Walid and Amira came to stand before us, accompanied by six guards. In a few minutes they were joined by several servants, both men and women. I heard a buzz of conversation as my fellow slaves took note of them. Among those with Walid, I recognized Leila, who had once served me as a female slave in better times. I shook my head at the memory, to try to stop from weeping. I was annoyed with myself. I seemed to be more prone to weeping now. I shrank back, hoping not to be recognized, but Leila fixed her eyes on me and a slight smile played over her face. She pursed her lips to me, but it was a gesture of amusement on her part, rather than affection for me. She had taken an important part in Walid's plans against me. Walid began to speak. There was a subdued growl and murmur of anger from the slaves at him, but the sight of the guards with whips and swords kept them in their rows. "Attention!" he said. "As you see, you are now all females. Also, you are now slaves. Quiet! I have given you several days to get used to this. I advise you to forget your past lives. They are gone. You were part of a force that tried to capture me, my family and this oasis. You were unsuccessful and are being punished. But I am being merciful and you will not get the deaths you deserve. Instead you have been given the bodies of women. Further, you will be trained in the duties of female slaves." There were screams and cries from the women round me, but a guard cracked a whip and there was silence. Walid ran his eyes over the rows of us. "You will be taught the proper behavior for slaves. The first thing to remember is that you will obey all orders promptly and without protest! You will be respectful to us, and then to your ultimate masters. If you are not, you will be whipped! You are fortunate that you are now attractive women. We have given you beautiful faces and bodies. You will not do anything to destroy your beauty. In fact you are expected to enhance it whenever you can. While here you will be taught to keep yourself properly clean and dress yourselves and show the proper behaviors expected in front of masters. So you will be taught to decorate yourselves as women, to use cosmetics, and perfumes. Some of you will be taught to dance or sing or play musical instruments for masters." I heard subdued mutters from the women round me. I wanted to shrink into myself. If Walid or Amira heard the grumbling it would mean a whipping for the culprits. "Accept this!" Walid commanded. "There is no choice. Any rebellion or disobedience will be severely punished by whipping or beating." He pointed to the whipping post set prominently in the centre of the compound. I did not doubt his words. I had seen a slave terribly disciplined there in the past. I had been fastened at that post when the transformation spell was used on me. "It is now time for your instruction and preparation to begin. There are about eighty of you. First, you will line up here before me for sorting. Now!" A guard cracked his whip and quickly, but sullenly, all of the prisoners formed a line before Walid and Amira. The first captive in the line was a woman who looked as if she was in her thirties. I had heard her previous male name and recognized it as that of one of my crew, now drastically changed. Amira pointed for her to stand by one of the guards. The next two were pretty young women. I surmised that they had been some of the youths that my traitorous uncle Youssef had sent with me, supposedly to bolster my forces. These were made to stand in front of another guard. The next woman was in her forties. She was attractive, but well past the flush of youth. She was sent to join the first. A woman in her late twenties was sent to another line. So it went, with the slaves being divided into four groups. I had been about two thirds of the way down the line. When it was my turn, I saw they eyes of Walid and Amira flicker with recognition, but to my relief they did not identify me other than my new name of Nesrine. I was sent to the line with the youngest slaves. I was only twenty. I knew what this group was destined for. "You are now in four groups," called Walid. "You," he pointed to the group on the far right, "you will be trained as domestic servants. You will do housework and be cooks." He pointed to another older group. "You are more suitable for outside work. You will be sold off to farmers and estate owners. Perhaps if you make yourselves pleasing to masters you may be given less strenuous work." To the group next to mine he said. "You are to be trained as workers in the workshops of artisans, in the shops of merchants and in bazaars. Some of you will be taught skills such as weaving or sewing. Or some of you may be personal servants to ladies, or men." The last group, my own, he looked out over with pursed lips. "Be glad! You are prime young material. We will prepare you and train you for selling off as slaves suitable for the harem. You will be taught to entertain masters with all the skills of harem slaves and odalisques." I heard screams and shrieks from those round me, suddenly suppressed as a guard cracked his whip. I shrank internally. Some others were just weeping softly. We were all in women's bodies. We would serve our masters as women. The three other groups were escorted off separately under guard, but Walid kept us before him. "The first item is to get your bodies suitably ready." The guard cracked his whip again and we were herded into one of the huts. Apprehensively, I saw twenty wide boards lying on the floor, fitted with manacles at each corner. We were directed to lie on them and were fastened in. The chains were drawn tightly so that we could barely move. Some slaves protested and tried to resist, but were either forced into the chains or savagely lashed until they lay down, weeping in terror and apprehension. I was stretched out so much that I could barely move. I was totally exposed to them. I was apprehensive but I knew we would not be killed or wounded. Walid valued us too much as expensive commerce for that. By straining my head I saw a pot over an open flame. As I watched one of the guards threw some beeswax combs into it and stirred. He nodded to another guard. "It is ready," I heard. I heard many cries and whimpers as cloths soaked in hot wax were laid over the exposed groin of a slave, and on her underarms. After three more it was my turn and I flinched as the hot wax touched my skin, but it was not hot enough to burn me. Soon I felt the wax cool and shrink slightly, but it was left for some more minutes. Walid himself came to stand over me. "We are making you pretty for the harem, Nesrine, You have to be free of body hair," he said, and, taking hold of the cloth at my groin, he pulled it sharply away. I screamed with the pain and barely had time to take a breath when the same was done to my underarms. I closed my eyes tight, to try to stop the tears from my pain and humiliation. I struggled in my chains but I was too well fastened. I could barely see for the tears in my eyes. Walid bent over me closely to examine my groin. "Yes, a good job, but," he prodded me, " I see we have missed a little here" and yet again I had to undergo the procedure. This time my skin was more sensitive to the hot wax and I screamed with the pain. After a few minutes I was released from the manacles and I rolled into a fetal position, crying at the pain and the humiliation, made worse by the knowledge that it had been only the first stage in a long 'preparation'. Some time before I had seen an earlier batch of Walid's slaves being 'prepared', a euphemism for a meticulous and rigorous training as slaves for a harem. Walid prodded me. "You will accept this, or die, Nesrine. The reverse spell is not for you! You understand?" That was a surprise, but I forced myself to be impassive. He had actually said there was a reverse spell! So, if I could ever get it, I might be able to regain my male identity. When all were done we were herded outside. Wincing at the dull sting. I looked at my groin. I was not bleeding, but the skin was red and inflamed. My female genitalia were fully exposed, no longer hidden by the small patch of hair. Under my arms felt tender. They left us alone the rest of that day. The other slaves even laughed at our discomfort, but I knew that their turns would soon come and it would be our turn to laugh. I gathered that they had been immediately put to work on some training. The group of women who were to be farm workers were dirty and tired out by the sun. They had been chained tied to a long rope and taken outside the compound to work in some small fields and gardens in the oasis. To our delight they had brought some fresh dates that they shared with us. Another group had been instructed in food preparation. We ate their cooking attempts that night. It was a good thing that some of the oasis women had supervised them. That was a warm night and I tossed and turned at the irritation at my groin and my arms, but by the next morning the stinging was mostly gone. Some of the slaves being trained as domestic servants brought in water and soap to us. A female instructor demonstrated how we were to wash ourselves properly. There was even water for our hair. Then she laid down some flat rough stones before us. She must have seen the puzzled looks on our faces. "These are abrasive. You are to use these to smooth your feet, especially your heels, and any other rough skin. Harem slaves have to be smooth." I gave myself a treatment with the stones, but it did not satisfy her. " Keep doing it until the skin is smooth and soft!" she commanded harshly, and gave me a cuff. It struck my mind that with tender soft feet, walking over the ground without shoes would be painful. It would hinder any possible escape. Afterwards we were given something to eat. This also looked like an attempt by the domestic slaves. "What do you think will happen now?" I heard from another slave, one they called Nadile. "I do not know," I said, but I knew that we had much more preparation ahead of us. I was not disappointed. In the afternoon we were summoned into a hut. One of Walid's female servants asked who could play musical instruments. It turned out that two of the slaves were able to play flutes and another a lute. These were seated, crosslegged, and instructed to play for us. Then, one by one, we were told words and asked to sing these. It seemed they would train the best singers to sing love songs. Fortunately, my voice was not thought suitable. I was shocked at its change, It was now a high pitched woman's voice. Next we were forced to form a circle. A servant with a small drum accompanied the musicians while they played. We were instructed to move and sway in time to the music. I could follow the tune, but I deliberately stumbled or made awkward movements. I did not want extra training as a dancing girl. I wanted time to plan my escape from the compound. Next day, I barely felt any discomfort under my arms or at my groin. The skin was still reddish but not nearly as tender. Several other girls were not so lucky and complained of oozing sores under their arms and eventually Amira arrived. From a small bag hung on a cord at her waist, she produced what I recognized as the spell book. We were all herded together and I saw Amira read a spell from the book. In a minute one of the girls cried out, and it seemed my own groin felt slightly warm. Yet, in a minute, the sensation passed. Those with the sores had become quiet. Amira held up one girl's arms, "See the power of my book!" We all watched in total wonder as the wound dried, closed and shrank. In another minute the wounds were completely healed. I had seen some of the healing powers of the book previously, but I pretended to be as awestruck as the rest. The tenderness had gone from my own groin. Another demonstration of the book's magic! Amira must have seen me eyeing the book as she deliberately demonstrated pushing it into her small bag. She was taunting me. I dared do nothing as she had two muscular guards. I wondered if she knew that Walid had let slip that there was a reverse spell in the book. Whenever I thought deeply about my situation, I was hard pressed not to start crying. That itself made me angry. I was a man. I should not let myself cry. But my life had been terribly changed. Had I not been so stupid as to allow myself to be drugged, I might have won the struggle with Walid. I might have been a powerful merchant and trader, ruling over this oasis, with holdings back in Tunis, and have a fleet of raiding ships. I would have power over many people. I would even have control of this compound. I could have taken my pick of the slaves. Now I myself was only the lowly female slave of a man who with his wife and minions were training me as a harem slave and would soon sell me in the Alexandria slave market. The next shock arrived about two weeks after our change. Some girls had begun to bleed as women do. I heard their bitter cries as yet another manifestation of their new bodies made itself known. I saw some hunched over in the sand, crying female tears. They knew what caused the bleeding, but that did not make it easier. I began my own turn a few days later. I woke feeling sore and uncomfortable and when I relieved myself I saw red blood on my legs. I was angry. Now this had been forced on me, another sign of my female body, and one that would happen monthly unless.... The alternative was much worse. I could not imagine being pregnant. We were not given anything to absorb the discharge. Instead we were forced to bathe more often. I saw a girl struck for showing too much blood while she was at a task. When one of the male guards laughed at me, my face reddened in embarrassment. One day the slaves who were destined as domestics were called together and led into a hut. Later I heard a series of screams coming from the hut. We looked at each other and shuddered. We did not see any of that lot that night, but next day in the compound we saw the women, all with red blistered marks on their upper left arms. "It is a brand," one said and began to sob. I looked at her arm carefully. There was not much to it, just the cursive Arabic for Walid's name. He was identifying the slaves as ones he had trained. I remembered that in the past I had seen his slaves at the Alexandria market before they were sold, bearing his brand, his mark of quality. I shuddered. It would happen to us too unless I could escape. But there was no way. The compound's walls were too tall and the guards were too vigilant. Then, even outside the compound and the oasis, there were the leagues across the open desert to the sea. And even if there, who could rescue me? It was only a barren beach. South, there was nothing but desert and death from thirst. Or, in the unlikely event I was picked up by tribesmen, there would be more slavery. Many days were spent in instruction, even as trivial as modulating our voices and learning and using soothing phrases. Apparently it was desirable for harem slaves to speak softly. We were even given a series of compliments to remember and practice. These were to be said to compliment some future master. I fumed at the humiliation. We were forced to practice gestures and supposedly spontaneous movements and postures. Many more days were spent in refining our walk, the way we sat or even posed on the beds. We were given instruction in how to react to a future master's mood. How to relax him, then attract him and service him with the touch of our fingers and hands, with our lips, the swirl of our hair, the grazing of our nipples over him, the tantalizing glimpses of our bare nether regions. We were taught to dance in front of the future masters, swaying our breasts and bellies to stimulate their passion. We were taught the positions to make love, how to tense or bellies and thighs to hold masters more tightly. And so our training went on for weeks as we were continually instructed in how to walk, how to pose ourselves gracefully. They had begun to train us in all the wiles and skills of odalisques, the female slaves whose one purpose in life was to give pleasure to men. Some, including myself, tried covertly to resist and act obstinately to the deliberate training that was forcing us into that female mould but beatings and whippings gradually broke any resistance. For my part, I pretended to cooperate with them. I would follow their training exactly, but each night in the hut I would force myself to think as a man. We were all kept completely naked. Initially we were all humiliated. The effect of the spell and its implications on us was to be in our eyes all the time. Yet, as the months went on, perhaps with the intensive training, I developed a sort of fascination with my new body, its distinctive hourglass shape and the sinuous curved line of my body, and how its curves would be exaggerated if I lay on the floor on my side or on my front. I became more intrigued by my breasts especially, the way they changed shape from just standing upright, to lying on my back. If I was on all fours, they would hang from my chest like ripe fruit. One day, as I had dreaded, it was the turn of my own group to be marked. We were herded into a hut and made to sit. One of walid's men was standing over a container filled with burning charcoal. He was holding a device over a brazier filled with hot coals, a long steel rod with a wooden handle and with patterned wire at its other end. It would be used for branding. By him were two guards with sword and whips who would enforce discipline. The first girl, one I knew as Azza, was sat down on a stool while two men took hold of her. "Now slave," said a guard. "You are to be branded with your master Walid's sign. Where do you want it? You have two choices, the upper left arm, or at your groin." He pointed to her bare mons. The terrified girl screamed and shook her head. She struggled but she was too well held. "The arm or the groin?" asked the man holding the branding device. She still shook her head and at a sign from another guard the device was taken from above the charcoal brazier pressed on her upper arm. There was a brief hiss and the girl shrieked in agony. I smelled burning flesh. I wanted to be sick. Two girls were done before me. Both chose to be branded on the arm. Both screamed and when released there were tears running down their cheeks. I thought desperately. If ever I was able to escape I did not want my status as a branded slave to be noticeable. I shook my head when it was my turn but they were implacable. The hot tip was approaching my arm when I screamed. "On my groin, my groin!" I closed my eyes. I was pulled back and the brander pressed the hot device to my bare mons. I too screamed with the indescribable pain, and through my tears saw the burned blistered mark on me. They released me and I stumbled into the courtyard, huddling in misery with the others. Someone had put a container of cool water and I poured some on me. It only slightly relieved the pain. Most of my group opted to be branded on their arms. Only a few had it done at their groin. I was humiliated. I had been stripped of my male hair, and now I had been branded. I knew what was next, my ears being fitted with earrings and a silver collar being placed on my neck. My brand stung all that night and the following day. I had the slight hope that Amira would use one of her healing spells on us, but she did not appear. My own group was left to recover the following day, but I saw another group, that of the budding musicians and entertainers being driven into the same shed, and soon I heard screams from them too. They stumbled out, many in tears, and over the next days all of the prisoners were branded. Then, when I had almost begun to relax, we were herded again into a hut and made to form a file. This time there were two men and a woman at a bench by a table. One man held a large needle. By them was a woman with tray of what looked like rings. When one guard pushed me forward, one man seized me and pressed my head down to the table on my left cheek, while the other held my arms. I was ordered not to move. I felt the first one seize my right ear, and almost immediately a sharp pain. Then the woman picked up an earring and handed it to the man. I felt another pain at the ear and then, with a pair of pliers, she pressed at the earring. I had barely time to react when my head was forcibly turned and I felt the same on my left ear. My eyes were filled with tears at the pain. When they let me go I wanted to run away, but one held me. Walid was standing in front of me. He looked me up and down, as if estimating my worth. "So Nesrine, I see your body is now prepared. You are branded and now have women's earrings." My hands flew to my ears but I knew that they were fixed on and I would not be able to remove them. "These are to make you even prettier," he said. "You will be worth more. You will be able to wear your news master's jewelry right away" I wanted to fly at him to wipe the smile off his face, but beyond him I saw the whipping post. I might attack him, but it would be a futile attempt as I had only a woman's strength. Better to wait for an opportunity. It was as if he was speaking to a child. "Now it will be time to start preparing your mind. Make sure that you learn your lessons well. In return maybe I will find you a good master. You are prepared for that? I think you will be a good slave. Why? I think you are one of the prettiest that we have." I did not appreciate this honor. My resentment and anger boiled out of me. "This is cruel. I am a man. You should not do this to me! It is wrong!" "Why not? I do not see a man. You are a female and my prisoner. We offered you either change or death and this is what you chose. Tell me, when you raided the coast of the Atlantic islands, took captives and brought them to me for change into female slaves, did you feel it was wrong?" I hunched over in fright. If one of the other slaves overheard him, it would identify me as Rami, the leader, whose carelessness had led them to disaster. I looked round. There was no other slave within earshot. '"But I was an important and powerful man. This is cruel." "That is the punishment. There is no escape for you. You will never use the reverse spell." He had just confirmed it! There was a reverse spell! I gave no sign that I had heard it. I pretended to fall down in tears. But I need not be inevitably stuck in this alien female body! I barely noticed Walid's dismissal of me. "Good day to you, Nesrine! Accept your slavery. Learn well." I looked round me. The other girls had gathered, some crying, some whimpering, some embracing and consoling each other, some staring blankly into the distance, as if in shock. Next day we all suffered from sore ears. The ears of a girl called Souha had become especially puffy and she was wincing with pain. A guard called us and we were made to line up before Amira while she inspected us. She narrowed her eyes at the girl with the puffy ears. "Take her into that hut there, " she commanded. A guard pulled the reluctant girl into a hut. The girl appeared an hour layer but was now sporting two gold earrings. Her ear lobes no longer looked puffy and red. I wondered why she was getting treated differently. "What happened?" I asked her. "Amira told me that some women's skins react to silver. She removed the silver rings, replaced them with gold ones, then read a spell to me. The puffiness disappeared almost immediately. Don't you like them? I think they re prettier that the silver ones." Souha actually seemed happy at being singled out and having special earrings. I even heard some of the slaves complain that Souha had been given special treatment but, whether silver or gold, I resented being forced to wear them. I resented this, my change, my slavery and all the assaults on my body. I tried to retreat into memories of happier times, but the next day we began even more intensive training and I barely had time or energy to daydream or reminisce. It was a continual exhausting round of being taught to walk, kneel and sit, supposedly gracefully. I had never paid much attention to women's poses before. I had not yet been able to have my own harem and in the streets any women were well shrouded from the gaze of men. It took two weeks ormore before the scabs at my branding wound fell off. The skin was still reddish, but now incised on it, easily seen, was a pattern of shallow marks, those of Walid's name. I swore that if ever I got free I would have the mark cut from me. A week or so later I heard cries of pleasure from those of the slaves who had been trained as laborers. Some clothing was being given to them and they were wasting no time putting it on. It was mean, rough clothing and dull colored, but it was clothing. They were even given crude sandals for their feet. I wondered why they were given special treatment. But then they were chained together and led in file through the compound gate. I bit my lip. I wondered what was in store for them. Amira had come to stand by us, accompanied by guards, as usual. We all immediately sank to our knees, kneeling, as we had been taught. "Watch them," Amira said. "These are women who will be field workers and cleaning servants. They do not need much further training so we will sell them. They are joining a caravan for transport to the Alexandria's slave markets." Strangely, I felt a sense of loss at a part of our group. In another week we saw the same thing with the women who had been trained as servants and domestics. They too were given simple clothing, then chained and led out the gate. Our number was now almost halved. Some weeks after that some clothing was also passed out to us all and we were instructed to put it on. Most of my group were delighted. Even I felt some pleasure, although I was apprehensive in case it meant that we too would soon be heading to the slave market. Also, it was distinctly women's clothing, more reinforcement of our female identity, and my heart sank when I saw that most was a fine material, almost translucent, and in bright colors. It barely concealed us. The curves of our bodies and the shapes of our breasts and the dark nipples and areolas were easily seen. This clothing was not to conceal us. It was to make us more tantalizing. Some other material was a heavy silk. This draped over us, hiding us, yet hinting at the curves of our bodies, our hips and breasts and showing the little bumps of our nipples. The first time I put it on, draping it over my breasts its sensual feel made my nipples and areolas stiffen. All the time we continued our instruction on our preparation. Now we were taught how to drape the new clothing, how to remove it gracefully, then, while naked, made to practice various poses for the benefit of our forthcoming masters. We were shown how to apply cosmetics and how to paint our bodies. Scarlet paint was applied to our fingernails and toenails. Red dyes were painted on our nipples, our lips and on our bare nether lips. We were shown how to apply dark powder around our eyes to make them appear larger, and colored pigments for our eyelids to match our complexions and eyes. We were given special soaps and shampoos to wash our hair, and to make it glisten. There seemed to be endless instruction on how to use hair ornaments, jeweled or plain, even fancier earrings than the plain silver ones set in our ears. We were instructed on the use and choice of bangles and bracelets. We were encouraged to sample a variety of perfumes, all in exotic musky scents, and how to recognize when one of these would find a master's particular favor. Then it was the time for those who had been trained as singers and musicians to go to the market. They were chained together, and led out of the compound. They too would be sold in Alexandria. They could also serve as attendants for the girls of the harem, and as entertainers for masters and their wives or concubines, or even for harem girls themselves if they developed enough wiles. Our own instruction continued, but this time our instructors were all female, servants of Walid and Amira, or some other slaves such as Leila. We were taught the many ways that women can satisfy men, and inflame their lust, using intimate caresses with their lips, their fingers, their breasts, their mouths and their hair. We even had to undergo another waxing, but it was not nearly as painful this time. Like the other girls I had little hair now growing at my groin and under my arms. It was now some months since our change and enslavement. We were now used to our bodies, the way our breasts hung, and how our hips swayed when we walked. All of us had now been bleeding regularly. It was when Amira and Leila were explaining how to use our mouths when lying with masters that I suddenly became aware of a strange feeling. I was watching and listening, bored at first, until Leila brought out a series of drawings. My mouth dropped. The drawings were of men and women in various poses. In the first drawings, the woman was displaying herself to the man, much as we had been taught. Another set showed her caressing him intimately, and another set , showed her leaning over the man, taking him in her mouth. Finally, in another set the man was taking the woman in various ways, front to front, or she on the couch, her rear raised to him, or her astride him. I gasped as Leila herself demonstrated the many positions. I felt a strange tension. I realized my breasts were tingling and my nipples and areolas had become hard and more sensitive. Then with horror I felt that my nether lips were moist. It was too much. I covered my face with my hands and sank to the floor, crying at yet another sign that the spell that had made me into a woman was still working on me, overcoming my attempted resistance. I was disgusted with myself until I saw two other slaves showing the same effects. I expected a whipping, but Amira just looked at me, a satisfied smile on her face. That night I lay in my bed, unable to sleep, as thoughts of the drawings continually entered my thoughts. I was slowly realizing that I would not be able to control this newly discovered desire in me, the desire for men, or at least something to satisfy the longings of my body. I knew now that the spell was affecting my mind, making me experience the desires of women. I cried at my own helplessness. I heard a slight noise from another bed and in the semidarkness I saw two slaves locked in a tight embrace, kissing, while their hands played over each other. I saw one take the other's nipple in her mouth and suck at it, her right hand gently pinching the other nipple. The other's hands were at the first girl's crotch. Their breathing became heavier and heavier until one, then the other, let out a series of whimpers, groans, and gasps. I had my hands over my ears but I needed to wipe the tears from my eyes. I wondered what I was crying for. Was it my dreadful situation and seeing the effect of the spell on others? Or was it frustration that, like these women, I had burgeoning female needs? Did I need these satisfied, or was I resisting them? I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and thought of revenge. I could not allow this to happen to me! I must resist these feelings. I must escape whenever I could. Yet, to do this I would need to capture Amira and make her change me back. I fantasized about the terrible revenge I would take on her and Walid, and on Youssef, my treacherous uncle, It was worse the next night. The pictures and the erotic poses in another instruction session had awakened even more lust in the slaves. I saw their eager eyes as they studied the models and the discreet pressing of their groins and pinches of nipples. That night even more crept into others' cots. One girl tried to slide into my bed. "Hold me, Nesrine," she moaned, but irritably I pushed her away. We had now been in the compound about four months. We had been trained without cease almost every day for the last three, and each day my stomach was growing more tense as it was getting closer to when Walid would take us to the slave market in Alexandria. Some of my group had the opposite feelings, actually discussing eagerly what they hoped new masters would be like, and anticipating opportunities to use their new skills. One morning we saw a fresh group of chained slaves led into the compound. By their fair complexions and the variety of their hair colors I suspected they were from some of the coasts of Western Europe that I had once raided with my ship. These raids now seemed so long ago, and in another life. I thought of my father who had died on one of these expeditions. What would he say now if he were still alive, to see his oldest son, his heir, now in woman's body, collared, branded and either naked or in flimsy clothing, and being taught to service men, trying in vain to resist growing female feelings? The new slaves were a mixed group of young men and women. Little did they know that they would soon get the treatment from Amira's book. More importantly for me, it meant too, with the fresh arrivals, that our sale was imminent. But that same afternoon the sky began to cloud over and by night the wind started to rise. By morning the sky was a dark brown cauldron, filled with flying dust. I could barely see across the sunken compound in the violent sandstorm. Dust was blowing into it, swirling around the huts, and sifting in through cracks in the door. Through one of the small openings I saw the drifting sands half burying the huts. I felt its gritty taste in my mouth. A sudden squall rocked my hut, lifting it off its base and then tipping it over, exposed us all. We were terrified, screaming and choking as dust filled our mouths and noses. Catching the wind, the hut was blown across the compound and smashed into one of the walls, knocking a section down. Most or the girls who had been in the hut scurried for shelter in the other huts or crouched down behind them, but, without even taking time to think about it, I ran from my position, past the wreckage and through the breached wall of the compound. I was still in the oasis and I took shelter behind a grove of palm trees, almost bent sideways in the wind. Then I saw someone run from the compound and crouch beside me. It was a young man, obviously one of the new prisoners. By some means he had managed to escape from his part of the prison. He was a little over medium sized, maybe a hand span or so taller than I was. I could not see him easily through the blowing dust, but he looked strong, with broad shoulders. He was fair haired and his skin was light, but dirty from his prison and the blowing dust. Even through the dust I saw his deep blue eyes light up when he caught sight of me. Self-consciously I drew my flimsy garments close to myself. It was difficult in the wind. It tried to whip them from me. I tried to keep away from the man but at a sudden new squall he actually pulled me to him and sheltered me with his body from the dust and blowing debris. Even in the vicious wind I caught his male smell. He was sheltering me and I felt safer, somehow. In some minutes the storm seemed to lessen and I looked round. There were no guards visible and I suppose the inhabitants of the oasis were sheltering inside their dwellings. I looked at my companion and pointed north. That would be the way to the sea. Understanding, he nodded, and we began to run away from the oasis. I was pleased to see the still drifting sand erasing our tracks. Then, even more suddenly as it had appeared, the storm finally blew over and the sun began to reappear. The oasis became clearly visible and I knew we would be visible from it too. I began to run, he following, but I was soon exhausted. My companion took my arm and, half dragging me, hurried to the north, to the sea. But even that was too much effort. I could not go on. Exhausted and dizzy, I sank to the ground. My tender feet were beginning to hurt. I just wanted to sleep. I awoke to an uncomfortable jolting. I realized I was being carried, slung over the shoulder of the man. Eventually I cried out and he gently laid me in the sand. I was exhausted and confused. I was free of the oasis, but to what advantage? I was still stuck in this body. Worse, I was in flimsy clothing and with this powerful man. He looked down at me with concern. I pointed to myself and said my name, "Nesrine." He grinned through sand crusted lips and pointed to himself. "Yann." When I had my breath back he pointed again to the north. I nodded. " La mer," he had said. I knew a little French and he had suggested we go to the sea. I nodded again. It gradually came to me that although I had escaped from Walid and that evil Amira, I was now in a dilemma. I was barely dressed. I was dressed in flimsy, soiled, ragged clothing. My woman's body and its vulnerability were exposed. I was at the mercy of this man. Also, I was being taken away from the oasis where Amira's spell book was located. If I went away. I would be stuck forever as a woman. Yet, to go back to the oasis, would almost certainly mean recapture and, soon enough, sale in the slave markets. For my companion Yann, I had no doubt as to what fate was in store for him. He would have no inkling of the effects of the spell that would be used on him. It was now nightfall and the sky was rapidly darkening. Worse, for me in my skimpy clothing, the temperature was falling. Yann found a slight hollow in the lea of a rock and with his bare hands scooped the sand out into a trough shaped depression that would hold us. The rock was warm in the heat of the sun and would help us too. We lay down together for warmth in the hollow and within minutes I was asleep from exhaustion. I awoke very thirsty in the half light of dawn, at first wondering where I was. My stirring woke Yann too. He smiled at me and without warning, pulled me to him and gave me a kiss on my parched lips. I stiffened and struggled back but when he gave me a grin my heart softened. Almost immediately,without thinking, I kissed him back. His lips were soft, but covered with grit. I kissed him again, relishing the intimate human contact. At first I did not object when his hand found my breast. Then I shook my head. What was I thinking of? I jumped to my feet. Laughing, he stood up as well, shook the sand from his clothing. He turned his back to me and urinated in the sand. I needed too, and blushing, I had to squat in the sand. At least he did not stare at me. When I rose he pointed to the north and began walking again. I followed him, shaking the fine sand from my clothing. I had begun to feel thirsty and hungry. Also, I was internally in turmoil at my response to his kiss. I shook my head angrily. I was a man surely. Yet why had I returned the kiss? The sooner I could I should get hold of the spell book and use it to change back the better. I did not want to be a slave. I should not want to be a woman. Yet I wondered why I had responded so. I would have to resist these feelings. We stumbled on for another hour, my mind in turmoil and apprehension. Our situation was desperate. At the worst we might die in the desert as we had neither food nor water. We might be heading to the sea, but there would be no food or water there either, unless on the unlikely chance that we were rescued by a boat. And if that, it was obvious I was a slave. I doubted that anyone would want to keep me free. Also, Yann was obviously European and should not be freely wandering around in North Africa. He would be killed or enslaved again. I was tired and soon he carried me again. He eventually stumbled onto the beach and gently laid me down. To our right I saw the large rock that was the marker for the oasis. The waves rolled in, but there was nothing for us. I just wanted to sit down and cry. Then Yann gave a cry and pointed along the rocky beach. Some distance away there was a new object on the sand, quite large from its shape. He set out to it, me stumbling after him and as we got nearer I saw it was a beached boat, lying on its side, presumably blown ashore in the storm. On its masthead was a tattered flag, red with a white cross. I recognized it as belonging to the Knights of Malta, a Christian group that was in conflict with us and that we had fought with many times. Even nearer, I saw two bodies washed up on the beach near the boat. They were men, with rough patched clothes, obviously seamen. Then, over the sound of the waves on the beach we heard a faint moaning from the boat and we climbed into it, following the sound. Lying in the underdeck, but trapped under some casks we found a woman. Yann and I pulled off the casks. She was lying in a badly twisted position. Her clothing was soaked and in disarray. Her skirt was up over her thighs and I saw a splintered bone protruding from her thigh. She made a small sound, and I held her head, wiping the brown hair away from her forehead. She opened her eyes, looked at me and muttered a few unintelligible words. Her head fell back and there was a faint rattle from her throat. I laid her down gently. Yann shook his head and shrugged. I mimed to him about burying the corpses and he gave me an exasperated look but at my face he shrugged. Together we pulled the woman's body from the boat and onto the beach above the hight water mark. With some planking we scraped a large hole in the sand, pushed her and the bodies of the two sailors into it, and covered them with rocks. They were buried and hidden, but I wondered if a tide would eventually wash their covering away. I sat depressed by the grave while Yann investigated the boat further. It was beached but appeared to be more or less intact. Maybe with some minor repairs it could be made seaworthy. The problem would be getting it back into the water. It was much too large for us to move. Two dozen men could have barely moved it. Yann began looking in the hold and I heard a whoop of delight. I stumbled to him over the tumbled cargo. He was holding up some jars. He took a drink at one and I took it when he passed it to me. It was water. It tasted of the wooden cask, but it was the most pleasant drink I had ever taken. Even better, further rummaging around revealed some dried fruit, some uncooked rice and even flat bread. It was almost a day since I had eaten and I filled myself, although cautiously chewing the rice in only small amounts. I knew that it would give me stomach pains if I swallowed a lot of it immediately. With filled bellies we looked around more, scrambling in the tangled wreckage and the chaos. Then Yann gave me a nudge and another cry of pleasure. He had found a small boat stowed away beneath one deck. In a few minutes he had pulled it free. Excitedly,he pointed to the north. He mimed setting up the boat and sailing. He was intending to use it to escape to Europe. But this was not what I wanted. I shook my head. I could not escape this way. If I ever wanted to change back I needed Amira's book. Without it I was condemned to live in this female body. I wrung my hands in indecision as Yann put the boat in the water and checked for leaks. Judging by the smile on his face he seemed satisfied. Then he set up a small sail and loaded some food and casks of water. He gestured to the boat but I needed time to think. I was torn by indecision. Perhaps he thought that I did not like the sea, but in my previous life I had sailed the seas, even out to the Atlantic Ocean. When I started crying he took me in his arms and kissed me. As his hand squeezed my breasts I felt weak and pressed back, against him. But the decision was taken out of my hands. I heard a distant cry, and riding towards us, I saw some horsemen. I knew it would be Walid's men, out looking for escaped slaves. Yann saw them too, and I saw him become exasperated with me. He even tried to pull me into the boat but with one last glare of desperate look of appeal he released me and pushed the boat out into the water. In seconds he had raised the small sail and the wind filled it. By the time the first horseman reached the water he was out beyond their reach. I ran to the men, splashing along the water's edge. I recognized Walid's main deputy, Ahmad. I sank to my knees before him. "Thank Allah you have arrived to save me. He kidnapped me and forced me to go with him." Ahmad looked at me skeptically, and the next thing I knew my hands were tied together. I was hoisted up on one of the horses and, with a rider behind me, we set off back to the oasis. At the oasis I was unceremoniously pulled to the ground and carried into the compound. Already repairs had been made to the high wall, and a group of the male prisoners that I had seen before the storm were working with shovels to clear the compound of any sand that had blown in. Even the huts had been repaired. One entirely new one was being fastened together. I supposed it would replace the one that had been destroyed by the storm. I was forced to my knees as Walid approached, a good thing too, as they were knocking together at the look on his face. His eyes narrowed and a faint sneer on his mouth twisted his lips. "Well, Nesrine, I hear you tried to escape? It took my men some time to follow you, time that would have been better spent repairing the compound." "Please, master, no! I tried to take shelter from the storm after my hut blew over but a man, one of your newer prisoners, took me. He tried to kidnap me. I resisted but he was too strong. If your men had not caught up to us he would have taken me away." "You say you resisted?" "Yes, he put me over his shoulder and carried me away." "I am not sure that I believe you, but perhaps what you say is true. Ahmad tells me that at one point he saw only the man's footprints in the sand. And he tells me you resisted going with the man on the boat." His face took a skeptical smile. "But then, Nerine, if you went away from here, you would have absolutely no chance of ever being changed back. So it would be in your interest to stay here, wouldn't it? But let me assure you, you hope in vain. We will never change you back. The reverse spell is not for you. Accept your new life. We have taken many pains and spent time training you as a female slave. That is your life until you die!" I kept my emotions under guard. I just hung my head to pretend I was sorry for what had happened, but I did not want him to read my face. He had again let slip that there was a reverse spell. He lifted my chin so I was forced to look into his hard eyes. "The penalty for an escaping slave is severe, normally thirty strokes of the whip. I will be very lenient, just in case you are really telling the truth. It will be just six strokes for you." I screamed in shockt. I had seen one his slaves savagely whipped for disobedience some time before. The girl had been unconscious at the end. I took his feet in my hands and bent to kiss them. "Please no, master, I am an obedient slave." But he spurned me. "You object to my decision? Then it will be ten strokes! I am pleased to hear that you consider yourself a slave, but you must be punished for what you did, and to discourage the others. Tomorrow morning! Do not worry, Nesrine! We will not kill you! Oh yes, the manacles will be padded. We do not wish you to get cut on the bare metal. You are almost ready for the market." I did not sleep well that night, my mind in dread, anticipating my terrible punishment. I was back to where I had been. At least I now knew that there was a reverse spell and the book was nearby, although completely out of reach. It would be in Walid's house, no doubt secreted away by Amira. I was locked in the compound. I thought of the young man Yann. He had tried to save me, not realizing how I was tied to the oasis, or knowing my real history. He had kissed me in tenderness or at least some kind of affection. I had even kissed him back. I had let him go by himself, yet, what could I have done? Even if we had managed to escape, he got back home, and I accompanied him, what future would there have been for me as a woman in some bleak fishing village on the windswept French Atlantic coast, away from the culture I was used to, and surrounded by an alien race? I felt guilty too. His land was one of the first areas I had raided in my former life, plucking the young people from the villages to take them for slaves, callously, with no more thought for their emotions and welfare and for the devastating effect on their families than if they were cattle, to be bought and sold. Next morning I was awake and trembling. My woman's strength was not enough to resist as two of Walid's men pulled me out of the hut, my feet making lines in the sand. They stripped me of my ragged clothing and dragged me to the post. Walid's Nubian slave stood by the post, holding a multistranded whip. Ranged in front of the post were all the slaves, even the new ones. They were making an example of me. They pulled my wrists up to manacles and fastened them. As he had said, the manacles were padded. My breasts and thighs were pulled on either side of the post. "Open your mouth!" Walid commanded. I did so and a small bundle of rags was thrust in. I would not bite my tongue, and perhaps I would not scream so much. I heard Walid's voice announcing to the assembled slaves why I was being punished. Then there was a terrible silence, except for the subdued scuffling of the Nubian's feet. There was a brief sound of the rush of air and I felt a terrific blow on my back, the pain erupting almost immediately. I screamed and jerked in the manacles but I was too well held. There was another blow on my back and I screamed again, tears beginning to flow from my eyes. I tried to avoid the next blow but it caught me again and now I choked in the pain. I could not get enough air past the rags in my mouth. The Nubian waited until I stopped coughing then the punishment began again. I barely felt the last blow and I hung half conscious in the manacles until I was released. I collapsed to the sand. I only just heard the other slaves being dismissed then a pail of water was poured over me and I was carried into a hut, sobbing both at the pain and the humiliation. I lay all the rest of that day on my cot in pain and uuter misery, in despair at my life. Perhaps I should have perhaps escaped with Yann, Towards evening one of the women instructors came and knelt beside me. "Drink this!" she ordered, holding a cup of some dark liquid to my mouth. I painfully raised myself and sipped at it but immediately spat out the foul brew. The woman shook her head. "You must drink it. Amira gave me it for you. She says it will make you sleep and will lessen the pain." I wondered if it was poison, but then I suppose that they would not have bothered whipping me. Even if it were poison, death would be an escape from my misery. Twisting my face at the bitterness, I drank it all. I had a coughing spell, but it must have worked as I next remember waking up to a new day. I carefully felt at my back, at the tender red skin. It hurt intensely to move, but I was not left in my cot. A guard pushed in the door and roused me from my bed for even more training. At his prodding I staggered outside for some food. The other women had almost finished their meal. Some of them embraced me, uttering words of sympathy. I was stricken with guilt. It was my foolishness that had brought them to this. If they knew who I really was, or who I had been, they would probably take their revenge on me. Later I saw more huts being constructed. I recognized the wood as planks from the wrecked ship. Two days later we were locked in our huts, and through the cracks we watched as the latest group of male captives were led in front of Amira. They were ordered to remove their clothes, and once again I saw her read from the book. The rest of the slaves with me were first curious, then awestruck as they saw the spell's effects. They had been changed by the same method, but had not seen it done to others. I saw some in tears as one by one, the men fell down. I had seen the spell used several times before it was used on me, but I dared not show it in case there were questions on how I knew. The unconscious men were left for some minutes, then were carried into one of the huts. There they would be chained to await their return to consciousness. Some had begun to start the shivering characteristic of the spell's starting effects. Then it was the turn of the women. They had seen the men fall to the ground, and ran about in panic, screaming, assuming that they would be harmed. Finally all were herded into a small cage and Amira read the spell from her book. As I had seen before with female captives, none of the women experienced more than short periods of dizziness. After an hour or two they were released into the compound and began their discovery of the beauty that the spell had given them. I heard cries of delight and wonder as they became aware of their changed looks and checked their faces, breasts and waists. But two days later a terrible screaming began as the formerly male captives woke up to their new female existence. I thought of Yann. I wondered what kind of woman he would have made if he had been recaptured. Or perhaps I should have said what kind of woman Amira would have made of him. As I had thought, a new batch of slaves to be trained meant that our time at the oasis was growing to an end. Sure enough, the very next day were given all-covering garments to wear, and roped together, we were led out of the compound, over the desert and to the seashore at the big Rock. Walid had chosen early morning for our star, but I did not see him there. We had barely enough time to get across the desert. Some girls were slow walkers and it was midday before we reached the sea. The sand had become hot and my feet hurt. I saw other girls limping. They too had tender feet from using the rough abrasive stone. I saw that to the west, the hulk of the wrecked ship was still there, but it now seemed more forlorn. No doubt, like Walid, some tribesmen or other scavengers had begun removing pieces and taking it apart. I wondered about the grave of the woman and the two sailors. Did they have loved ones that waited in vain for their return? Annoyed, I dismissed the thought. I seemed to be getting more sentimental. At least Walid's men put up a canopy to shelter us from the sun and gave us enough water and some fruit. A little later I heard a shout and one of the men pointed to the west at a sail on the horizon. I felt a cold anger when I recognized the approaching ship. I heard the buzz of conversation among my fellow captives when they recognized it too. It was our own xebec, the one that I had captained with my crew, in happier times, just months before. Now we had been all transformed into women captives, and were female slaves on the way to auction at the slave market on that very same ship. They divided us into small groups and ferried us out to the xebec in a small boats, There, we were ordered to remove our clothes, and naked, we were pushed into the cage on the deck. I flushed with embarrassment when I saw the crew boldly appraising us. I even recognized some of them. I had used them before on some of my Atlantic expeditions but they had not been part of my ill-starred expedition to the oasis. Of course they would not have recognized me. The captain of the xebec was a man I had known in the past as captain of his own small boat. He was called Maher, an