The Arab had no intention of letting this chance of making fast money escape him. He had the girl completely under his control and he could turn that into quite a sum in a matter of hours if he kept the customers turning over fast enough. By tonight when he had to deliver her to the address the French woman had given him, he could have amassed a small fortune. He smiled to himself when he thought of the French woman's warnings to him about not hurting the American girl.
Great ghost of Allah, didn't she know it was impossible to wear it out!
She could perform just as well tonight after a hundred fucks as she could after one. Perhaps even better. She would be more experienced. He, Shalla, would see that her education was carried out properly.
He had planned it well. As soon as the Madame had left, he called his cousin. Mufta, and promised him one dollar for each customer he brought in. He warned him to be careful in those he chose and make certain they were foreign sailors and would keep quiet as it might be dangerous with the police if one of them talked about it afterwards.
Shalla was happy and pleased with himself for his cleverness. At least, he would have the days profit if anything went wrong with the rest of the plan tonight. He did not like to place all his eggs in one basket. Besides, he would not have to share this with the French lady. All of it would be his, except of course, the commission to his cousin. He might even take part of that back at the end of the day by selling him a turn.
Mufta should be coming back with the first customer soon, he thought happily, he had better go up and prepare the girl. There were not many hours for this little side business and he couldn't afford to lose time by any of her childish objections.
Jean's body jerked to life as she heard the rattle of the key in the door. This was the moment she had been dreading. The moment she would have to face the Arab again. She was totally helpless like this and she knew from the cruel eyes that no words Monique might say to him would stop him if he really wanted her. She had remembered his reference to her and his friends this morning. It had almost been forgotten but during the period in which she was alone she had time to ponder their entire conversation. He had spoken of her performing well. What did he mean by those things? She didn't like the tone of them and she hoped Monique would be back before the afternoon. Perhaps she could hold him off for that length of time. Well, she would fight as she had never fought before if he did try anything. She still had her feet to kick with and she vowed to herself she would use them with all her strength.
The door opened and the Arab entered, locking it behind him. His eyes flickered over Jean's form stretched down the length of the bed. Her body was tense and some of the bravado she had seen building up deserted her as she saw the cold business-like look on his face. He walked to the foot of the bed and looked down at her.
"Well my pigeon, we must open shop. Our first customers will be coming soon and we want to be ready for them."
"What-what do you mean?" Jean whispered in a low unbelieving voice. "You-you mean someone else is coming here?"
"Why, of course. I told you we would make much money together today," he answered walking around the bed. "But we must hurry. Mufta, my cousin, will bring our clients in a few minutes."
Shalla reached down, lifting her dress and began pulling it up her full thighs. Jean had lain motionless in a momentary state of shock from the horrible things he had just said, but as he reached down, her body reacted. She lifted one leg back suddenly and kicked up, catching him full under the chin. Shalla, caught by surprise, let out a sick gasp and tumbled backwards against the wall. He slid slowly to the floor, dazed and with a slight trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. He sat still for a moment, his mouth hanging open as though not comprehending what had happened to him.
Jean watched him, her heart in her throat. Then she saw his eyes flicker slowly up to meet hers. She had never seen such cruel hatred registered in a human face before. She knew by his expression that any compassion he may have had for her as a human being was now totally destroyed. Deep fear gripped her body as she watched him bring his hand slowly to his mouth and wipe the blood away. His gaze dropped to the smeared streak on the back of his hand and then quickly back to her.
He stood up slowly, not taking his eyes from her. His hands went under his robe and withdrew a long black belt from his pants. Without a word, he advanced on the bed eyeing her like an animal trainer advancing on his prey. Jean huddled frozen in fear, her legs drawn up in a tight ball in the center of the bed, her arms held tightly by the ropes above her head. She stared in wide-eyed terror as he raised his arm and cracked the belt through the air, the tip biting into her left breast with a sickening slap. She groaned from the sudden excruciating pain, kicking her legs out in automatic reaction. The belt sang through the air again, this time catching her full between the open thighs. She groaned again, this time deeper as the cruel leather cut its way into her flesh again and again, leaving tiny red welts rising on her skin behind its cruel path.
"Aaaaggg! Aaaggg! No! No! Please! No more, no more, I'll do anything!" she blurted out after several minutes of the sickening torture. The pain was unbearable and she knew if he hit her again she would faint dead away. Her mind was beyond logical thought, the only thing that mattered was to escape this horrible punishment. She couldn't stand it again.
"Has Madame had enough?" Shalla glared down at her, the whip raised for another blow.
"Yes, yes, oh please, don't hit me again!" Jean cowered into the mattress, tears streaming from her eyes.
"Shalla shall not be so gentle the next time. Let's hope you remember well."
He placed the belt on the table and came to the bed again. Jean closed her eyes tightly as she felt the humiliation of his hands moving over her, stripping her clothing away. He didn't bother to untie her hands, but ripping her thin summer dress from the neck down to the hem, peeling the pieces away roughly and throwing them haphazardly to the floor. She clenched her teeth tightly together, fighting off waves of nausea as he drew her thin nylon panties slowly down her rounded full thighs, lifting her buttocks with his free hand to let them pass. Her brassiere came last as he took each cup in a hand and tore it away brutally, her firm full breasts popping out like ripe succulent grapefruit ready for harvest. The tiny red tips hardened involuntarily as they hit the cool air and stood up like dainty pink buds of a spring flower ready to quiver into bloom.
Shalla stood back from the bed a few feet, viewing his handiwork. This should be a most profitable day, he thought happily, as his gaze wandered over the voluptuous body spread naked and defenseless before him, its spirit broken. She would cooperate now, he thought, or he would have to teach her a real lesson. He couldn't risk any of his customers being dissatisfied. He knew the brutality of the seamen that came into port here and if they paid money for something, they expected to get every penny's worth. He could not afford to have trouble with them. They might ruin the hotel.
Jean lay docile in the center of the mattress. Her thoughts were a jumbled mass of humiliation and helplessness. Monique had promised she would keep the Arab away from her but she had not. He was now going to turn her body into a receptacle for any man that was willing to pay for it. How could she live through this? How could she ever face Kevin or anyone again after she had been used as a common whore with the dregs of the earth using her young almost untouched body to satiate their warped desires. She had no idea what to expect but her imagination ran wild. What would they do to her? What would they expect her to do? Great tears of self-pity swelled through her clenched eyes and rolled silently down her cheeks. Her mind suddenly rebelled again, the pain of the belt was forgotten. She couldn't go through with it!
"I won't do it," she suddenly screamed, opening her eyes and looking straight at the Arab. "You can beat me, but I won't do it."
"Shalla has other ways, Madame," he said looking at her coldly. He did not intend to have his plans spoiled now. He had not really wanted to harm her too much as he would have to argue later with the French woman but it was beginning to appear that he had no choice. Time was growing short and he couldn't risk an outburst from this little bitch if one of the customers were there.
He calmly lit a cigarette, watching her from the corner of his eye as he did so. Jean stared back at him arrogantly, refusing contemptuously to drop her eyes from his almost amused gaze.
"Madame realizes, of course, that the belt is an orthodox way of convincing ones property to do its bidding. We Arabs are noted for the more subtle methods of gaining obedience. Do you wish to test them?"
Jean glared at him through hate filled eyes, refusing to speak. She was afraid her voice would crack from the fear that dwelled underneath. She was determined not to show it. He might conquer her body but he would never conquer her spirit again as he had the other night with drugs. She would never consciously submit no matter what he did to her.
"You leave me no choice, my pigeon," Shalla said, as he unlocked the door and disappeared down the hallway.
Jean's spirits sagged and she felt her body shaking violently. What horrible thing was he going to do? She had heard of the terrible tortures they used on each other in their wars and her faith in her resolution to fight him at all costs began to falter. She prayed that her strength would hold up against whatever it might be. She couldn't give him the satisfaction of total submission. She would resist if it killed her.
The Arab returned, carrying a cage in his hand with a huge black carnivorous rat squeaking inside, his long monstrous nose sniffing inquisitively through the wire bars.
Jean felt her stomach turn and a deep piercing scream escaped involuntarily from her throat. It was the most grotesque thing she had ever seen, it's evil little eyes darting about the room as though searching for something to fasten its tiny needle-like teeth on and rip to shreds.
"I see you like my little pet," he chuckled harshly. "He likes meat but only if it's flavored to his special taste."
As Jean cringed tightly into the mattress, the grinning Arab took a small piece of raw meat from his hand and dropped it into the cage. The rat scurried for it, sniffed it carefully and then backed away without touching it.
"You see, not to his liking."
Shalla took another piece and rubbed a liquid from a small bottle on it and dropped that into the cage. The rat leaped upon it, gulping it down greedily and then stood on his hind legs against the side of the cage squeaking wildly for more.
"You see, my dear, he is well trained in his tastes."
Shalla advanced on the prostrate girl who was frozen into immobility by the horror of the sight she had just seen. She tried to move but couldn't. Her body refused to answer. Shalla rubbed small droplets of the liquid smoothly around the nipples of her upturned breasts as she watched helplessly. Then, he opened the cage door and pulled the evil little animal from it, attaching a string around his neck. He dropped him on the bed, holding the loose end of the cord in his hand. The rat struggled against it, sniffing his way on the mattress along the side of the fear-frozen girl's body. She jerked spasmodically as Shalla gave him a little more line and he leaped to her naked belly, his tiny feet making slight imprints in her soft yielding flesh.
Jean shrieked in terror as suddenly the rat smelled the liquid. She could feel the horrible creeping claws dig suddenly into the flesh of her stomach as he struggled to get at her scent covered breasts. He squeaked wildly, fighting with savage desperation to crawl his way to the coated tips of her quivering nipples. Jean could see his tiny evil eyes down between the valley of her breasts, his teeth bared like a giant snarling dog. She wanted to scream out again but the paralyzing fear held her motionless, her flesh crawling in abhorrence from the touch of the vile little animal. Her body struggled to sink keeper into the mattress in escape but it was useless, there was no sanctuary from the cruel defilement. Shalla, taunting her proud full body, loosened the string again and she could feel the warm nose sniffing hungrily at the underside of her left breast, the sudden moist contact bringing back her voice without warning. Low whining pleas droned almost incoherently from between her clenched teeth.
"Ugggggg, get him off of me! Get him off of me! Please, please," her head churned from side to side, her wrists fighting against the bonds, "Oh God, get him off of me!"
"Say fuck, shit, cunt," the grinning Arab demanded. He would break her spirit completely before he let her go this time.
"Ooohh, fuck, shit, cunt," the words spat from her mouth without hesitation, there was no thought of resistance left, only the revulsion of this horrible beast struggling to devour her unprotected breasts.
"Say it again," he smirked, loosening the cord another hair.
"Ooohh! Fuck! Ooohh! Shit! No-Nooo, aaaahhhhggg! Cunt!" she shrieked, feeling the wet sniffling nose touching farther up the underside of her quivering breast, the sharp tiny nails straining against the flaccid skin of her ribs.
Shalla held the string tight, keeping the squeaking black rat less than an inch from the throbbing nipple for what seemed an eternity, and then, pulled him slowly from the churning girls body.
Jean was next to unconscious when she felt the vile hairy animal withdrawn from her flesh and the liquid wiped from her breasts. His hand dwelling longer at the task than necessary. Her body shuddered. She knew she was at his mercy. She could fight against pain or even humiliation – but not this – not this horror – it was asking too much. Only death would be better and she would gladly have killed herself this very minute to escape the degradations she knew were to be heaped upon her helpless body now, but there was no way. There was only hopeless submission or the rat and she knew her body would betray her again if she were subjected to those horribly cruel teeth straining to tear viciously at her flesh.
There was something else, something else that would help her through the grotesque ordeal coming, it had helped before – it was the only hope of coming through it sane.
"Shalla," she said lifelessly, her voice steeped in resignation. "Give me some strong tea."
"Madame is learning well, I see," he answered. "I will get some."
He had wanted her to have nothing, as seeing her conscious humiliation and submission meant almost as much to him as the money he would make but it was getting late. The first customers may be coming through the door downstairs even at this moment. He would leave out the sleeping potion when he mixed it and add some extra aphrodisiac. This would be almost as good, at least she would be fully conscious. Her drugged enjoyment of it might even be as good a show as her being forced to subject herself to it out of fear. It would certainly please the clients better. Perhaps he should have done this from the beginning and saved himself all this trouble.
He added the extra pinch of the lust producing powder, whistling softly to himself. It was a bit much but he hoped for many customers today and she must please them all. After all, what man wanted a limp piece of meat under him, especially when he had paid good money for it. This would put some fire into that proud little white ass. It would shake as it never had before or probably ever would again.
He returned to the room and presented the glass to the naked girl, loosening one arm so that she might drink.
"We shall leave 'Chiga' here just to make certain Madame. I want him close by in case we need him hurriedly. He is very hungry. I have not fed him in three days," he chuckled.
Jean shuddered again, looking at the horrible creature with unabashed loathing and took a deep swallow of the dark mint tea. Its warm refreshing flavor coursed through her emotion scarred body, a welcome sedative to the pain and soul searing torture her mind and flesh had been subjected to. It was almost a relief this feeling of surrender. She had done all that was humanly possible to avert the inevitable and now the burden of responsibility was lifted from her. She had no other choice and when one has no other choice their responsibility does not exist. Unless, of course, one is made of the stuff that martyrs are and there aren't many of those left in the world.
"Cover him please, Shalla," she said simply, taking another long swallow from the glass. "I'll remember he's there."
Shalla covered the cage with a towel from the rack in the bathroom. He could already detect a note of fatalistic acceptance in the girl's voice. The tea and the presence of the rat were working better than he had expected. He had anticipated some further form of resistance but it hadn't materialized. Now it was too late. With the amount of aphrodisiac he had put in the drink, she would be a churning mass of raw lust in a mater of a few minutes. He wanted to see that. He would like to stand at the foot of the bed and watch her go into heat. He had seen it before with others and it was an inciting thing to see an unwilling woman turned into a raging sex-crazed mass of flesh in a matter of minutes. He would, besides profiting well, also enjoy the day ahead.
Jean drained the glass and lay back against the mattress waiting for the conscious-killing sleep that she remembered from before. It did not come. She waited expectantly, praying the dream producing drug would begin its work before Shalla's cousin returned. She couldn't bear to be conscious and face the man who was to possess her body for money.
The Arab hovered over her suddenly.
"We have a long day, Madame, and Shalla does not want his investment ruined. We must make certain you do not tire." He took her free wrist that she had been drinking with and retied it to the top of the bed and then pulled a small jar from his robe pocket, holding it above her face. She recognized it as a Vaseline type substance. He removed the cap and took a swab on his middle finger. Jean automatically clamped her thighs tightly together as he looked down between her legs.
"Open them," he commanded.
Jean lay still, the fear rising again.
"Would Madame prefer 'Chiga'!" he nodded impatiently toward the covered cage.
Her eyes widened at the mention of the loathsome name and she drew her legs quickly apart, closing her eyes tightly to hide the shame of her exposure. She jerked abruptly as his hands came in electrifying contact with the fleshy lips of her vagina. He pulled them gently apart, until the hair-lined slit was wide-open, exposing the tightly clasped entrance to her cunt. He inserted his finger, massaging the lubricating salve all around inside the walls and opening. Jean's shame knew no bounds as his finger circled around inside her, unhindered by any resistance on her part.
"Oh God, if I could only fight," she groaned incoherently to herself. "If I only had the courage."
Shalla's humiliating rummaging between her legs was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Mufta is here," he said, excitedly, looking down at the stricken Jean as though she should share in his joy. "He has our first client."
Shalla's face sobered for a moment and he placed his hand on top of the covered cage, casting a menacing glance at the prostrate girl.
"Remember, if there is one complaint from a customer, then I shall give 'Chiga' your left breast. You have my word by Allah."
There was absolutely no doubt in the cringing girl's mind that he would do it. There was no such thing as mercy in his animalistic world, and she was fully aware that her survival as a whole human being depended on how well she accepted the hopelessness of her situation. Kevin had deserted her, and now Monique, she was alone and defenseless.