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What happened to Lucy?
By Dr. Quirt
A young slave trainer is abducted from a harem and sold as a common slave. After many
trials she is re-acquainted with an old friend, but this is not the end of the story. After
returning to her former master she is handed over to the last person that she wanted to see.
This story is the third part of a trilogy, the preceding parts being Julie’s Story and Nina’s
Tale. It may be read as a stand-alone work but, ideally, the other two stories should be read
first.
Nina’s Dead!
I was horrified when I was told that Nina was dead. I knew that we were in trouble when Ali
Pasha was dismissed from the harem but I never thought that Nina would end up being
whipped to death!
But, I am getting ahead of myself so I’d better tell you about some of the events that lead up
to the present day.
My name is Lucy, I’m 22 years old and I’m a sex slave. I’m of Eurasian extraction – my
grandmother was Vietnamese and my grandfather was an American serviceman. My mother
fell on hard times and I got adopted by a British couple. I barely remember my mother and
my father not at all.
So, I’m about a quarter American and three quarters Vietnamese and the resulting mix is
quite attractive, or so I’m told. I’m not very tall, only about 163cm in fact, but my legs are
long and I have a good, athletic body. My hair is long and black, as you might expect.
I had a happy childhood in England but, by the time I was a teenager, I began to realise that I
had serious masochistic tendencies. To cut a long story short, I was recruited into the
Master’s house, was trained as a slave and subsequently moved on to become a slave trainer
in a Middle-Eastern harem. A few months after taking this position I met Nina.
I was in charge of training about thirty slaves and courtesans in Sheikh Abdullah bin
Mahommed’s harem. That number of slaves was a bit much for one person to handle so it
was decided that I should have an assistant. So, I was dispatched to England, in the Sheikh’s
private aeroplane to pick up the new recruit – and that was Nina.
The first time that I saw her she was a mess. I was waiting by the ‘plane at the private
airfield at which we had landed when a long, black car drew up and a naked girl was dumped,
unceremoniously, onto the ground, before the car drove off. She was gagged and hog-tied
and had obviously been severely whipped as her entire body was covered in bleeding welts. I
knew that she had come directly from Sir’s establishment and I also knew that he liked to
treat girls in this way but, even so, I was shocked at the state that she was in.
I removed the gag and bonds and cleaned her up as best I could. There was a medical kit in
the plane so I managed to stop the bleeding. I couldn’t use any sticking plaster or bandages
though as this would have contravened the directive that all slaves must be totally naked at all
times. Did I mention that I was naked too? I haven’t worn any clothing since the day that I
was recruited and I don’t expect to ever wear clothes again. It seems quite natural now.
So, we flew back to the harem and Nina was inducted into life there as my assistant trainer.
We were overseen by Ali Pasha, the head of the domestic household, and life was generally
pretty pleasant for us. Maybe not so pleasant for the slaves and courtesans though – a lot of
punishments were handed out by the harem eunuchs and some of these were very severe.
Occasionally, a slave would die under the whip but this didn’t happen very often.
Then the awful day came when the Sheikh got killed in a riding accident. Everything went
rapidly downhill from there. The Sheikh’s brother, Faizal, took over the harem and brought
his own staff with him. Ali Pasha, who, to some extent, had been our protector, was
summarily dismissed as being surplus to requirements and was replaced by Sampson, a
Nubian. Faizal also brought Jo-Jo and Ludmilla, his own slave trainers and, from the outset,
this pair conspired to make life difficult for Nina and me. Something had to give and I was
soon to be affected personally.
Abducted
It was night time when Jo-Jo and Ludmilla came for me. I was restrained, naked, in my
room, as I was every night, when they appeared. I was gagged and then given a few strokes
of a martinet, just to induce me to co-operate. Then they hog-tied me, took me out of the
harem and threw me into the back of a donkey cart. The cart set off – I didn’t see who was
driving – and we seemed to travel for quite a long way before arriving in some sort of
courtyard. I was taken from the cart by two men in Arab dress and thrown roughly into what
I can only describe as a cell. There were no windows and only a barred grille in the door,
which opened into a corridor. A collar was fastened around my neck and was attached to an
iron ring, in the floor, by a short chain. Then they left me there, still hog-tied and gagged.
Time passed – I don’t know how long I was there – and I was soon lying in my own piss and
shit. Eventually, someone, another Arab, came and hosed me down, took off the gag and
hog-tie and gave me some water to drink. A bit later he came back with some bread. Then
the hog-tie went back on and I was left again. He left the gag off but I knew that it would be
pointless to call for help – I was a slave and it would only serve to get me a whipping.
I think that a few days must have passed in this way. I was fed and watered sporadically,
always by the same man, who never said anything. My Arabic is pretty useless so it would
have been pointless trying to talk to him anyway.
One day, a different man appeared. He was obviously of quite a different class to the one
who had been my gaoler, being dressed in good quality robes. He was carrying a martinet
and spoke to me, in English.
‘So, you are Lucy?’
‘Yes, who are you?’
The martinet came down with full force across my naked body – six times. I screamed!
‘I ask the questions! Any more insolence and you will be sorry!’
I should have known better but …
‘What is happening to me? Why am I here?’
This time I got ten strokes and was reduced to a sobbing mess.
‘You were warned and you will pay later.’
‘I am Khaled bin Khaled and I am a slave trader. You are here because you are a slave and
you are to be sold to whosoever wishes to purchase you for the right price. I am aware of
your exalted history – trainer to the late Sheikh Abdullah – but those days are over. Now you
are a common slave, just like all the others but, it seems, you are unwilling to accept your
new status. I can, however, help you with this little problem.’
‘Tonight you will spend here and tomorrow you will be whipped to acquaint you with your
new position. And when I say ‘whipped’ I don’t mean with this little toy. Afterwards you
will be taken to be auctioned.’
I was really afraid by this time – I had never really received a serious whipping before
because my training had been so successful that it had not been necessary. The martinet was
bad enough but I was sure that he had something much worse in mind – and I was right.
Whipped
The following morning I was taken and shackled, spread-eagled, between two columns, out
in the courtyard. A number of Arab men came to watch my predicament. After about 30
minutes Khaled appeared, accompanied by a large Nubian, who was carrying a bullwhip.
‘You will now learn what happens to insolent slaves. You will receive 100 strokes of the
whip and you can be sure that your tits and cunt will get their fair share of attention. We
shall try to avoid any permanent damage – we don’t want to reduce your market value after
all.’
He spoke in Arabic to the Nubian. Then the whipping started.
How can I describe it? If you’ve never been whipped you probably can’t begin to imagine
the degree of pain and humiliation involved. The first stroke is like fire across your body.
The pain takes a few seconds to build and then, just as it peaks, the next stroke lands and this
is much worse. You seem to hear someone screaming, in the distance, then you realise that
it’s you! The pain builds and builds as the whip welts your flesh – you piss yourself and then,
mercifully, you lose consciousness. But it’s only a short respite as they quickly revive you
with cold water. Then it begins again, worse than before. You think that it will never end
and even when it does, you are still in agony and will remain so for hours and hours.
‘You will stay there until tomorrow morning as an example to anyone that sees you. I hope
that you have learned your lesson.’
Khaled and the Nubian departed and most of the rest also left. Some stayed for a while,
obviously enjoying the spectacle – no-one tried to molest me though. I tried to look at my
body but, shackled as I was, it was difficult to get a good view. What I could see looked very
bad – raised welts everywhere, some of which were oozing. I was in a great deal of pain.
So, there I was, naked, whipped and exposed to the desert sun. Luckily, I have a fairly dark
complexion and I don’t sun-burn easily but exposure for several hours was not going to be a
good thing, I thought. In the end though the sun-burn was trivial compared to the whipping
and the sun probably helped to dry some of my oozing flesh.
Night came and I had a different problem. Not everyone realises that the desert is really,
really cold at night but it is and I really suffered. I must have been close to hypothermia by
dawn and I was still in pain.
Shortly after sunrise I was taken down from the columns and given some bread and water and
then Khaled re-appeared, riding a camel.
A Walk in the Desert
Khaled was dressed in his usual opulent robes and I, of course, was completely naked. He
was carrying that martinet again!
‘Today we are going on a little journey. I get to ride my camel but you get to walk – it will
teach you humility.’
I, of course, after my whipping and subsequent exposure, could hardly stand, let alone walk,
so there was a slight delay while I recovered the use of my legs. A collar was fastened
around my neck and my hands were tied in front of me. A rope led from the collar to the
saddle on Khaled’s camel. I was given some more water and then we set off with me
stumbling along behind, trying to keep my balance as best I could.
Walking in sand is not easy at the best of times and when your hands are tied and you have
been freshly whipped it’s really difficult and at first I fell over quite often. The camel didn’t
care, of course, so until Khaled noticed, I was just dragged along. Once the camel had
stopped I was left to struggle to my feet the best way I could. It was certainly a lesson in
humiliation – I have seldom felt so helpless unless under the whip.
The sun beat down and I was burning again but we just carried on. Every hour or so I was
given some more water. And so it went on until, just when I thought that I could go no
further, we arrived at a small oasis. It was late afternoon by this time and the sun was
beginning to set – it seemed that we would go no further that day. Khaled proceeded to make
camp and soon had a small fire burning, using some of the dead wood that lay around. He
concocted some sort of stew for himself but it was just bread and water for me.
‘You do not deserve any hot food. If you had been quicker today we would be at our
destination by now. As it is, we have another long walk tomorrow. Be thankful that I don’t
give you another taste of the whip!’
Well, he was OK – nice fire, hot food, warm clothes. Me? Not OK – tethered to a palm tree,
along with the camel, bread and water, naked. It was cold again that night but at least I could
sort of roll into a ball and keep a bit warmer that way. Very long night though.
The following day was pretty much a repeat of the day before – endless trudging through
sand, under the hot sun, until we arrived, in the early afternoon, at a small desert settlement.
This was very primitive with mud-brick buildings and a lot of dust and not very much else.
There was one fairly large compound, consisting of a number of buildings grouped round an
open square and, it seemed, this was where we were headed.
‘This is where we auction slaves. The auction will be held in three days time and in the
meantime we shall wait here while other slaves are brought in.’
I was shut up in a small room, very similar to the one before, and chained by the neck to an
iron ring in the wall. No hog-tie or gag this time though and the chain was long enough so
that I could actually sit reasonably comfortably. Time passed and I was fed occasionally with
some sort of watery broth. I was taken outside to piss and shit after feeding.
Although I could not see through the door grille – the chain was too short to allow that – I
could tell from sounds that I heard that other people were around and I assumed that more
slaves were arriving for the auction. One time there was a bit of a commotion outside and I
wondered what was going on. I was soon to find out.
I was taken outside, still chained by the neck, and was surprised to see upwards of twenty
female slaves assembled in the compound. Several well-dressed Arabs were also there. I
was taken over to join the other slaves, all of whom were as naked as I was. We were all
fastened to an iron railing at one side of the square. I wondered if I should try to talk to
someone but they all seemed very frightened and I gathered that it would not be a good idea.
Then Khaled appeared.
‘I am Khaled bin Khaled and I am the Master here. You are slaves and are as dirt under my
feet. You are my property and I will deal with you in whatever manner I see fit. Tomorrow,
most of you will be sold at auction to new masters but before that you are to witness the
punishment of one of your number that tried to escape on the way here. Observe and learn!
He clapped his hands and a swarthy Arab, stripped to the waist, entered the square, dragging
a naked Negress by her neck chain. He was carrying a long bull-whip. I had noticed that
there was a whipping post situated in the centre of the compound and in short order the
Negress was attached to this, hanging by her wrists with her feet clear of the floor, legs
spread apart by an iron bar. Then the Arab started in with the whip.
The very first stroke opened the flesh of her back and she screamed like an animal, trying to
kick her legs in a futile attempt to get away. Soon her entire body and legs were covered in
bleeding welts – she fainted often but a dowsing with cold water always brought her back.
Then he started on her genitals but she did not last long after this before they were unable to
revive her.
We slaves were taken back to our cells and the Negress was left hanging from the post. I
assume that she died shortly afterwards – she was not there the following day.
Auction
The next day we were taken outside to be auctioned off to the prospective buyers, quite a
number of whom had arrived the previous evening. A raised dais had been erected in the
compound and, one by one, we slaves were made to mount it so that our charms could be
inspected – intimately. The bidding was brisk and although I didn’t understand the amounts
involved I did see quite a lot of gold changing hands. Obviously Khaled was making a lot of
money out of this. Once a sale was agreed, the girl was led back to her cell.
Soon it was my turn and I stood on the dais, being pawed by all and sundry – tits squeezed,
arse grabbed, cunt inspected – it should have been humiliating but I was pretty hardened by
that time. The bidding started and seemed to go on for quite a while but, eventually, I was
sold to an Arab that I hadn’t noticed before for what looked to be a large sum. Then it was
back to my cell for the night.
Another Stroll
The next morning, early, I was taken out into the compound where five other slaves were
waiting, together with the Arab that had bought us all, who was mounted on a camel. We
shivered in the cold morning air as we were chained together by our necks. Each slave was
separated from her neighbour by about six feet of chain and the first slave in line was
connected to the camel by perhaps a twenty-foot length of the same. Our hands were tied
together in front.
The Arab spoke to us in English and again in Arabic:
‘My name is Ahmed. I am not your new Master but I am to convey you to him. We have a
long walk today but, unless you are tardy, we shall reach your new home by nightfall. I don’t
want any trouble from you and I don’t want to hear any talking. I shall not hesitate to use the
whip if necessary.’
And he brandished a short bull-whip.
I thought that the coming day’s ordeal would be much like the long track that I had been
made to do earlier and I was mostly right. I was a bit better prepared than some of the other
girls though, as it turned out. We set off and as the sun rose higher in the sky the day turned
really hot and a couple of the girls with fairly pale complexions started to suffer badly. All of
us tripped and fell from time to time but, on one occasion, the victim was reluctant to get up
again. A few strokes of the whip soon sorted that little problem!
As the day went on, one of the pale girls – more like a red girl by this stage – was clearly
exhausted, lay down and refused to go on. This time the whip did not work – she was past
that stage – so she was taken out of line and left behind. Not before Ahmed had whipped her
severely though, just to make sure that she would not survive.
The rest of us struggled on somehow – I didn’t feel too bad – and, just as the sun was
beginning to set, I saw an oasis ahead with lots of palm trees and many buildings scattered
about. We headed towards a large, walled compound which, evidently, was our destination.
Once inside we all sank thankfully to the ground and were given some bread and water. Then
we were locked into a fairly large cell for the night. We were to meet our new Master in the
morning, or so Ahmed told us.
Inevitably, the five of us that were left did talk, but very quietly. We had some language
difficulties but we managed to understand each other well enough. The girls’ stories were
varied but all had a common theme – sex slavery. Not all had been as fortunate as me,
having only been common slaves, but we all realized that we had no control over our destiny.
We could only hope for a reasonable master who would not be over-enthusiastic with the
whip. Eventually, we drifted off to sleep.
In the morning we were woken early and fed on some couscous and lamb. It was the first
solid food that I’d had for several days and it tasted delicious. Then I was taken outside,
alone, and my collar was removed – what’s happening here, I wondered? I was directed to
enter another building and went inside. This place was opulently furnished but quite dimly lit
and I had a bit of a problem seeing the person that was waiting inside. Then my eyes
adjusted and I recognized him. To my absolute amazement it was Ali Pasha!
Ali Pasha Explains
I just couldn’t help myself – I had to run to him and give him a big hug. I think that he was
taken aback at first but then he hugged me back.
‘Lucy, I’m so glad that you are safe. We have a lot to talk about but, first, I must apologise to
you for the treatment that you have received lately. It was harsh but it was the only way to
get you out of the clutches of Khaled – we had to make it look like a genuine sale or his men
would have taken you back. In fact, it was a genuine sale so you are mine, now, but more of
that later. You were an expensive buy but I expect to receive a refund, one way or another.
Come and sit here beside me and I’ll try to explain what has been going on.’
He clapped his hands and a servant appeared, bringing tea and sweetmeats.
I wondered if there was any news about Nina, so I asked.
‘We are still trying to find out what the current situation is in that regard but I’m not hopeful
of a happy ending. It was an absolute tragedy when Abdullah was killed – he was a hard
man, but fair – and that brother of his, Faizal, is a very nasty piece of work, but you probably
realise that already.’
‘What happened to you and Nina should not have happened. The contract that Abdullah had
with the Organisation quite clearly stated that, in the event of a material change of
circumstances, you and Nina were to be returned to your original Master until you could be
re-allocated. Unfortunately, Faizal was not prepared to honour that contract and so we had to
look for a way to get you out of there.
As you know, I was dismissed shortly after Faizal’s arrival but that was not really of much
personal concern to me. I had been with Abdullah for many years and he had treated me
extremely well. Because of this I am quite a wealthy man in my own right and I have this
home and many servants to look after my needs. I had no desire to work under Faizal so I
was not sorry to leave. I did have concerns about you and Nina though.
Now, as you know, the late Abdullah’s harem was very well guarded and this has not
changed under Faizal’s rule. This makes it very difficult for an outsider to gain access, let
alone to smuggle out one of the inmates. In this respect, Jo-Jo and Ludmilla did us a favour
in getting you to the outside of the walls. I believe that Khaled paid them well and he, of
course, expected to make a tidy profit from you – which he has, albeit temporarily, I hope.
They told Sampson that you had escaped and I think that some sort of search took place but
Khaled kept you well hidden until the fuss died down. They probably think that you died out
in the desert. Jo-Jo and Ludmilla hated you and Nina because you were so competent at your
jobs compared to them. They couldn’t wait to get rid of you and, in your case, they
succeeded and made money out of it.’
‘So, you have heard nothing of Nina?’ I said, ‘I fear for her.’
‘No, there is no information coming out of that harem and there is no way that I can get
anyone inside. Security is even tighter since you ‘escaped’.’ It was only by chance that I
found out that Khaled was auctioning a slave whose description sounded remarkably like
yours. I sent Ahmed to check this out and, if it was true, to purchase you at any cost. He tells
me that the auction was quite protracted and that it was a good thing that he had ‘unlimited’
funds as the competition was fierce.
‘So, you can see now why we had to go through with the charade of having you purchased as
a common slave. We were lucky to get away with it as Faizal has spies everywhere but you
are safe as long as you remain here. I intend to fulfil the contract that Abdullah had with the
Organisation so I need to re-patriate you as soon as I can arrange it. I need to get hold of a
private aeroplane and I believe that the late Abdullah’s might just be available. I don’t think
that Faizal has found much use for it but I know that the flight crew and engineers are still on
his payroll. I think that they could be induced to relocate the aircraft – perhaps permanently,
that would certainly offset my expenses. There’s a small airstrip not too far from here that
we could use.
So, give me a few days to see what I can sort out and, in the meantime, you can relax here.
You are still under contract to the Organisation though so the usual rules still apply – totally
naked at all times and that sort of thing but I don’t think that we need to restrain you at night.
There’s only sand and Faizal’s spies out there so you won’t be tempted to go anywhere.
Maybe after you’ve recovered a bit you might like to spend some time exercising my new
slaves – you need to keep your hand in, after all.’
I was happy to hear that he was looking out for me so I had no problem agreeing to train his
slaves for a while and I certainly had no intention of running away. I was housed in quite a
nice apartment – not luxurious but a lot better than I had experienced for a very long time.
Not being chained at night felt a bit strange though and I started to get my masochistic
feelings back again. I wasn’t sure what to do about this – I could hardly ask Ali Pasha to
whip me now – but, as it happened, it never really became an issue because events moved on.
I had been training his new slaves for a few days - it felt just like old times – when I got a call
to see Ali Pasha in his rooms.
‘Ah, Lucy, I have some news but I’m afraid not all of it is good.’
‘Firstly, I have acquired the aircraft and you will be leaving here in two days time. I shall be
sorry to see you go but I am happy that you will be returning to a more secure life. Secondly,
some news has leaked out of Faizal’s harem. It seems that a young Afro-French girl was
recently whipped to death there by the head eunuch. She was, apparently, a slave trainer who
had failed in her duties. I’m so sorry, Lucy, but it can only have been Nina. I suppose that
Jo-Jo and Ludmilla made it impossible for her to do her job – they hated her, as they hated
you, so she had to go.’
This was horrific news and I just broke down in tears. How could this have happened to such
a lovely girl and such a good friend? Then I realized, of course, that slaves have no rights
and that this sort of thing probably happens all the time. I was lucky that it hadn’t happened
to me. I was so upset that the prospect of going back to the Master seemed very unimportant
right then. I cried a lot that day and couldn’t help wondering what had become of Nina’s
body – I only hope that it had been burned and not fed to the dogs.
Return
The remaining two days dragged on – I was so upset over Nina that nothing seemed to matter
any more. When the time came to depart I was a bit sorry to have to say goodbye to Ali
Pasha – it was thanks to him that I was still alive.
Well, I didn’t have to walk to the airstrip – just as well as the trip took about an hour in the
blacked out car that Ali Pasha had spirited from somewhere. When we got there the
procedure was just the same as always – no aircrew visible but I knew what to do as it
certainly wasn’t for the first time. The flight time was about seven hours, just as before, and
we landed at the same private airfield. A blacked-out limousine was waiting – no visible
driver, as usual. The last time that I had been here was when I first met Nina – that thought
brought tears back to my eyes.
I wasted no time getting in to the car – I had forgotten just how cold it was there compared to
the Middle-East. I realized that I had lost all track of time – what time of year was it
anyway?
The journey back to the Master’s house seemed to take a long time, probably because I was
very apprehensive about what I might find there. Eventually, the car stopped, the doors
unlocked and I got out. It was all very familiar, the big, stone house, the gravel under my
bare feet, the Correction Centre a little way off.
I knew the rules so, after the car had driven off, I walked round to the rear of the house and
knocked at the servants’ door, the one that led into the kitchen. The door opened and the
Master was there.
‘Master?’
‘Lucy, how very nice to see you again. Do come inside. I hear that you’ve had quite an
adventure. Welcome back, your old room is waiting.’
This information hardly filled me with joy – back to a very Spartan existence, it seemed. I
was told that I was only back there temporarily and that I would be re-assigned as soon as
possible. In the meantime, I would assist Julie, who was still there, in training a new entrant,
Phoebe, who had only been there for a week. I was still bound by my contract and the regime
under which I would live would be exactly as before – so, it was to be naked and restrained at
night, shivering with cold, but I would get used to it again.
It was good to see Julie again. I asked her if she had had any further attentions from ‘Sir’ but,
apparently, she had been lucky in that respect. In fact, he hadn’t put in an appearance for
some time. She hadn’t been aware of just how badly he had treated Nina and, of course, she
was shocked to hear of her death under the eunuch’s whip. The new girl, Phoebe, gave me
the impression that her training might be a bit protracted – two major whippings in the first
week didn’t bode well. Still, Nina had apparently been difficult at the start and she came out
all right in the end – too good really, perhaps if she had been less so she might still be alive.
I helped Julie with the training for a couple of weeks and we made some progress. I couldn’t
help thinking that a trip to the Correction Centre wasn’t too far off though. Then came the
day when I was summoned to the Master’s study. He was in the company of a distinguished-
looking, elderly gentleman.
I’ve left this diary with Julie because of that meeting in the study. I don’t know if I’ll have
much opportunity to write more so it seems the best thing to do. You see, what happened is
that the gentleman picked up a wicked-looking quirt from the desk, turned to me and said,
‘Well, Lucy, we meet at last. I think that we shall get to know each other quite well – we are
leaving for my establishment in the morning. In case you are wondering who I am, you can
call me ‘Sir’.’
It was the last thing that I wanted to hear – ‘You can call me ‘Sir’…’
The End
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