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The winding corridor eventually took us along to the accommodation cells. As we walked by Sarah said, "Aren't we going to see the girls after all? I thought..."
"They've been moved," said Brad. We turned a corner. Coming the other way was one of Brad's guards. Clad only in black leather trousers and a leather hood that masked the upper half of his face, his torso glistened with the sweat of recent effort. He and Brad exchanged a few quiet words. The guard took the ring of keys that hung from a clasp on his belt and passed them to Brad. We carried on as the guard pushed passed us. Sarah watched fearfully as he went.
The corridor carried on down into the castle's cellar and the room that the Emir had fitted out as a dungeon-come-torture chamber. Sarah gave a startled, "Oh!" as she entered the room.
What she saw was the six girls we had delivered to the Emir, locked into one or other of the Emir's medieval "toys". Femke was strapped to the heavy wooden rack, her arms and legs already stretched to painful tautness. Peta was hanging by her wrists and ankles which were tied star fashion to the rim of a great wooden wheel dangling from the ceiling of the room. She was crying out as she tried to relieve her arm and leg muscles of the strain of supporting her weight.
Janice had been tied, naked, in a hogtie. She hung by the ropes that ran around her chest so that her crotch was only millimetres above a knife sharp block of wood that threatened to split her in two if the rope supporting her should fail or be loosened. Karen sat alongside her strapped into a heavy wooden chair with her head locked in a strange frame that could be tightened by handle and ratchet. Similar boards designed to press and crush on limbs enclosed her arms and thighs. "We're missing one," said Brad. "Oh yes." He pulled back a heavy oak box that was hanging from chains. It was clear from his effort that the box and its contents were extremely heavy. As he pulled it back a chained and helpless Jillie could be seen struggling, tied to the frame beneath it. "Terrible thing if this should fall," he said, letting it swing back into place. Brad moved across to where Greetje was standing in a human form cabinet. Naked, bound and gagged, her eyes wide with terrified panic, she watched as Brad started to swing the door of the cabinet closed. A grotesque skeleton was painted on the front of the cabinet door providing a clear indication of the likely fate of the occupier. "This," he said, "was known as the Iron Maiden. There's one in Nuremberg which as you close the door pierces the occupant with spikes." Greetje screamed behind her gag. "This one's a bit different; you can control the depth of the spikes from the outside with this wheel. Of course it's easy to get things wrong. Look at these," he pointed to two thick spikes in the head piece of the cabinet's door. "they'd pierce the eyes like cocktail sticks in olives." Greetje screamed again. "And Greetje here is unlucky too. I hear she suffers from claustrophobia. Isn't that right Harry?"
"Mmm," said Harry responding. "Yes, she was in a terrible state when we got her out from behind the couch in the caravan after we snatched her. She must be finding this awful."
"Well, yes. But still. Where was I?" He let the door of the Iron Maiden slam shut absent-mindedly. Sarah gave a horrified squeal. Greetje gave another gagged scream. "Oh yes," Brad said to the helpless girls. "Thought I'd introduce you girls to Sarah," he said. "We sort of wanted her to help us out with a problem but it seems like her principles won't let her. We can't persuade her to change her mind. I'd planned to do some other stuff this morning but now I'm feeling a bit upset and I'll need you girls to help cheer me up. I hadn't really thought I'd put these toys to use but it seems a shame to let them rust." He grabbed Sarah. "Why don't you sit down and have a chat with the girls. I'm sure when you explain your point of view they'll be OK with it," he said manoeuvring her to a set of stocks. He locked her ankles in the stocks. "Now if you're going to chat." Brad walked across to each of the girls in turn and pulled off the tape that gagged them. He opened the Iron Maiden and peeled back the tape gagging Greetje. Immediately she started yelling, hysterically, begging to be let free. "Oh, no," said Brad, "that won't work." He smoothed the tape back down and shut the door again. Greetje's muffled screams could still be heard from inside. "We'll talk again in a bit, Sarah," he said.
"You can't do this," yelled Sarah as he got to the door. "It's, it's, it's unfair."
"Unfair!" the Emir almost exploded. "What is unfair is slaves that won't do as they're told; slaves that think they can hold out on their owners. Just you remember girl, a slave owner invests a lot in his property he's entitled to expect the slave keeps their part of the bargain. We do the owning, you do the being owned. This is all your fault, Sarah, you made the suggestion, now you're backing out on it. Don't talk to me about unfair. You can solve the problem yourself. It's all up to you."
We didn't go far. The CCTV link in the next room let us watch the proceedings. Femke, Jillie and Karen were pleading the most convincingly. Janice was adding her own punctuation of groans as their own discomfort increased. Peta could be heard moaning from beneath the box that threatened to crush her. The whole conversation was punctuated by Greetje's stifled but progressively more panic stricken screams from within the case that held her. Sarah was trying to defend herself.
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