Felicia (17 page)

The sheik was entertaining a new set of guests, six men and two women, all European from the way they looked and dressed. They all seemed to speak English, though with varying types and degrees of accent, they all seemed to be wealthy, and they all were perfectly at ease here, which worried Felicia.

The sheik had turned out his entire harem to entertain his guests. Most of them were clad in the same gauzy, revealing, practically obscene outfit as Felicia had been made to wear when she was given to Abou for the night. Neha was dressed differently. More exactly, she was undressed except for narrow leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles, and a wider leather collar around her slender neck. The cuffs and collar had tiny bells dangling from them that chimed as she danced before the sheik and his guests to music that was being piped in from somewhere. Neha moved supplely and gracefully, apparently accustomed to being made to perform naked.

Felicia herself had to watch the barbaric spectacle from the opposite side of the room from the sheik and his guests. She had been told to kneel quietly on the cushion that had been provided, and say and do nothing unless told otherwise. She was neither naked as Neha was nor provocatively dressed as all the other harem girls were. Instead, she was covered from head to foot on a voluminous gray robe much like the ones she had seen on Abou’s slaves. Even her head and face were covered, by a separate headdress made of the same light gray cloth. A patch of lace sewn into the front of it at eye level enabled her to see, but not very well. She saw the guests eying her from time to time as she knelt quietly and knew that they were wondering about her.

Under the robe, she was naked. Even her feet were bare, though the robe concealed it. There were rings through her nipples, navel and labia. There were the familiar and hateful leather cuffs buckled around her wrists and ankles, and the equally hateful collar secured around her neck. The robe concealed those as well. And, while she had been warned not to say anything, and had every intention to obey, there was a big black ball gag stuffed into her mouth and buckled tightly in place, apparently just for insurance.

Neha’s dance was explicitly erotic, and strenuous enough that a fine sheen of her own sweat covered her body and caught glints from the lighting. She moved, she writhed, she gyrated her hips suggestively, her bare feet moved sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, but always surely, across the floor. And with every step and every move, the tiny bells rang. In spite of herself, Felicia was starting to find it fascinating, almost hypnotic. She could tell from the looks on the faces of the men and women watching that they found it the same. The women looked aroused, the men lustful. The sheik merely appeared to be amused. And every so often his gaze drifted from Neha to Felicia. That always left Felicia feeling uneasy. At first she had been happy not to be clad like the other women and made to serve the guests, but as time went by she began to worry why she had been so clearly set aside.

The music came to an end and Neha stopped dancing. She stood, feet apart, her arms at her sides, palms turned towards the audience, head down. The sheik snapped his fingers, and she dropped to her knees. Even from behind, Felicia could tell that she was breathing heavily. And now what? It was a question she had been asking herself many times since she had first been brought here.

“My friends,” the sheik said as he rose from his chair. He turned to face his guests. “I promised you all something very special tonight. Yet you have all seen my lovely little Neha dance before. Some of you have even enjoyed her company in your beds.” He waited until the brief spate of laughter had died away, then continued.

“I am quite proud of my collection of female slaves,” he said. “They are all young, all beautiful, and all well-trained and properly submissive. Would you not agree?” Again he paused while his guests all agreed, nodding.

“Yet I have long wanted to add a little variety to my stable of slaves,” he went on. “I wanted something different, something special.” Felicia saw two of the harem quietly detach themselves from the party and make their way over to her. She thought that she knew what was coming now. She was becoming accustomed to being displayed naked to complete strangers, though she would never come to like it. But the sheik seemed to like reminding her, in numerous demeaning ways, that she was his property. This would be just one more time.

“I have succeeded at last,” her master said, pointing at her. “I would like you all to see my latest acquisition. She has been trained, but she is not yet completely broken to the saddle, so to speak.” The guests all laughed politely. “Stand up, slut,” the sheik commanded.

Felicia obeyed. One of the two dark-skinned slave girls tossed aside the cushion while the other began untying the knot that was all that kept Felicia’s robe on. Felicia would have sighed wearily if the ball gag had allowed it. She felt the knot come undone and stood patiently as the two slave girls parted her robe and pulled it off of her. The hood stayed in place, still covering her head.

“Oh, my God!” one of the women guests exclaimed: “She’s absolutely stunning!”

Safe for the time being behind the anonymity of the hood, Felicia rolled her eyes.

“And very, very white, as well,” one of the men chimed in.

“Come and have a closer look,” the sheik invited as he approached Felicia. He gestured with his hand towards the two slaves. They each took Felicia by a wrist and raised her arms. Now Felicia understood why she had been placed between two small columns. The slaves attached chains to her wrist cuffs and fastened the other ends to rings set high on the columns. When they bent to take her ankles, Felicia groaned inwardly. She was going to be strung up spread-eagled again so this party of Euro trash could play with her body. She suspected that her master would leave her head covered until the last minute, the better to impress his guests with her pretty face and long blonde hair. The slaves chained her ankles to the columns and moved away, bent over and walking backwards. Strung up and spread wide, Felicia waited.

The men and women crowded close around her, making comments about her legs, her ass, her tits. She felt her face turning red. She recognized these people – well, the men, at least – as being from the same class she had sought out in her previous, lost life: Wealthy and amoral, intent only on satisfying their own considerable appetites and possessed of enough money to indulge themselves. Now instead of her feeding off of them, they were going to feed on her.

“Please,” the sheik said to them. “Feel free to inspect her even more closely, if you like.”

Felicia felt hands on her naked flesh. One of the women stood directly in front of her, cupping her breasts and lifting them gently. She seemed quite pleased to discover that they were real. There were other hands sliding up and down her legs, squeezing her ass, stroking her back. The woman caressing her breasts moved away and a man took her place. He squeezed them, not at all gently, and flicked at her nipple rings with his fingers, laughing at her reactions. This was the part of being put on display that disturbed her more than anything: Those hands, those nasty, groping hands, all over her. Being stared at was bad enough, especially when she could see the men devouring her with their eyes. But actually feeling their hands on her made her skin crawl. And there was nothing she could do about it. She was only property, after all, a slave, to be treated and used as her master saw fit.

“I see that you put rings on her down here as well,” a man called out from somewhere behind Felicia. A moment later, she felt someone tugging at her labial rings, just hard enough to really discomfort her, but not enough to seriously hurt. Now she began to squirm and complain. The only thing she hated worse than those fucking rings was somebody playing with them. But the chains held her fast, and the ball gag fit her mouth so tightly that all she could do was make muffled, unintelligible complaints. The groping went on.

“These are truly spectacular legs,” she heard one of the men say. At the same time, she felt hands running up and down her leg, starting at her ankle and going way up her thigh, then back down again. “Here, just feel these calf muscles.”

“You’re right. She’s in great shape.”

“And these are magnificent tits,” another man said as he pressed hard up against Felicia from behind and reached around to play with her breasts. “The rings are an elegant touch.”

Felicia tried to hold still and endure it, but the hands were everywhere and after a while fingers were everywhere too, including inside of her. Felicia yowled, or tried to, and kicked, or tried to. None of it did her any good. The men and women tormenting her simply laughed and went right on with what they were doing. And they kept at it until their various curiosities were satisfied.

“Is there any chance of seeing her face?” one of the women asked.

“Is that really so important?” the sheik countered. “In any case, for now it pleases me to keep her face concealed while her body is naked and on display.”

“And a most impressive display it is,” one of the men commented. Someone was running a hand over her ass. Felicia assumed that it was the man who had just spoken. “Where did you find such an absolutely stunning white slave?”

“I was most fortunate,” the sheik replied. He said nothing more, and no one asked any more questions on the matter. Felicia felt angry, violated and frustrated. All of them were speaking English. If she had been able to speak, she would have told them who she was and how she had come here, in the desperate hope that one of them might be able to do something about it… assuming that any of them cared to. She struggled wildly with her chains for a moment, mumbling angrily behind the ball gag.

“Well, we truly do appreciate you showing her off to us like this,” one of the men said. “A rare and beautiful specimen she is. And quite young, from the looks of her. What is she, about twenty? Twenty-one?”

“I am pleased that you find her so attractive,” the sheik said, ignoring the question. “But I had more than pride in my ownership of her in mind when I had her displayed like this.”

“Really?” one of the women commented. It was a very drawn-out, upper-class-British-sounding ‘realllly’.

“Yes, indeed,” the sheik said. “I said that she was trained, but not broken to the saddle. Recently she misbehaved rather badly, and she needs to be punished for that. I thought that you might enjoy participating in her chastisement.”

“Oh, jolly good!” one of the men exclaimed. Felicia wailed. She remembered all too clearly, and all too painfully, what had been done to her the last time she had been strung up like this before an audience. She knew what she was about to be ‘chastised’ for as well. It was for trying to bite Anulka. She had thought that after being given to Abou for the night that particular episode had been forgotten. Clearly, it hadn’t. Even as those groping hands roamed all over her body she looked around for any sign of Selim and his whip. There was none. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried about that. He could be right behind her somewhere, and she’d never know it. She was already bracing herself for the first kiss of a whip.

“Might we do other things to her as well?” a man asked from behind her.

“Of course!” Ismail replied. “She has been well conditioned. I can assure you that she is equally tight in front and behind.”

Felicia sobbed. It was bad enough to be used as a sex toy. Being used that way in front of a crowd was… well, it was far, far worse. The humiliation she felt when a man used her body was mitigated a little when it was private. In public it was almost unendurable.

The sheiks other slaves began bringing things over to the people surrounding her. Felicia saw leather straps, wooden paddles, and a nasty-looking dildo with what looked like warts running up and down the shaft. There were other things too. She saw them being handed out, but couldn’t get a good look at any of them. Those things were somehow more frightening than the things she had gotten a good look at.

“I say, this simply won’t do,” one of the women spoke up. “If we all crowd around her like this, none of us will get to fully enjoy her.”

“What do you propose then, Miss Nolan?” a man asked. His voice had more than a hint of a German accent, and it set Felicia’s nerves on edge. She’d heard stories about Germans.

“I’d say,” the woman began as she stepped in front of Felicia. She was a small woman, dark-haired with dark eyes that glittered evilly as she looked Felicia up and down. Felicia guessed that she was somewhere in her forties, and very high-maintenance.

“I’d say,” Miss Nolan continued as she reached up to tweak one of Felicia’s nipple rings, “that there’s plenty of this white bitch to go around, so we take turns at her until we’re all satisfied.”

“And what do the rest of us do in the meantime?” another man inquired.

“Why, you can stay and watch, if you like,” Miss Nolan replied without looking at him. “We’re all old friends here, and I think this slut will provide simply oodles of entertainment.”

Felicia stared into the woman’s eyes. What she saw there chilled her soul. She let her head fall back and wailed hopelessly around the ball gag.

“See? She can hardly wait,” Miss Nolan snickered. “Simon, do be a good boy and stay with me while all you good people take seats and get comfortable, would you?”

Felicia kept looking up at the ceiling. Being able to see what was coming would only scare her all the more. She would be hurt, she was sure. Miss Nolan would see to that. She heard the other guests go back to their chairs. Hard male hands began squeezing her ass. She had to assume that that was Simon, being a good boy but taking the opportunity to play with her body a little.

“Now, my dear,” the woman said after a moment. “You have one of the most beautiful young bodies I’ve ever seen. I assume you like sex? With men?”

Wearily, Felicia raised her head and nodded.

“Why doesn’t she speak?” Miss Nolan demanded.

“She is tightly gagged,” the sheik called out from his chair. Felicia saw that he had Neha curled up in his lap. He was watching the show, but his hand was roaming freely over Neha’s dusky skin.