Chapter 13 - New girls learn the ropes

“Do you think anyone is looking for these girls? It’s been so long, surely one of these girls is important enough to someone, that there will be a search and they will find all of us...”

Zara was whispering to her cousin, Fatima. Six girls—Sabine, Anna, Fatima, Zara, Charlotte, and Camille—were sitting against the wall in the cell located in the underground hall. They were allowed out for a few hours each day for exercise, but only within the hall. They were permitted to go outside only when all the men were at the compound, and even then, only as part of a coffle, with each girl chained to the next by their collars, which were fitted on before the exercise.

The smell was bad, but the girls were getting used to it. No clothes, not even underwear, had been allowed. The cousins, who had previously been fiercely protective of their modesty in front of anyone, had now lost their inhibitions around each other. But the shame of the lesbian sex they had been forced to carry out with each other still went unspoken between them.

“Zara, I just have to stay positive for Ayesha. If he is going to sell us, then maybe the next man will be better, and I can escape from that.”

“What kind of man buys a woman from a man like Pembroke.” Zara spat out the words. “I wish I could kill him.”

“Quiet, girls!” Jamal was playing cars against himself at a table at the far end of the hall, mindful of his instructions to keep the girls’ communication to a minimum. Psychologically, it was better to break them down, and of course to stop any foolish talk of resistance and escape. The girls were given nothing to occupy themselves with, just six naked females with a long bench and a large mattress, and a shower, a toilet and a water fountain.

Charlotte had transformed from a haughty and proud girl into a bedraggled, zombified figure. She mumbled to herself, pulling out her hair one strand at a time to pass the time. There were no tennis matches, no friends, no parties, and no studies to fill her schedule—just endless hours of nothingness with only the other naked girls beside her. She avoided eye contact with the others, thinking of the disgusting things she had been forced to do to with every one of them.

Camille felt the same. Like most of the girls she had no interest in women, and even though the other cell occupants were beautiful, the smell and the sounds and watching them go to the toilet beside her every day disgusted her. She leaned her face against the cell walls, staring out at the empty hall around it, just artificial lighting and a single secure exit door, desperate for the space, to be away from this naked flesh and the smell of pussy everywhere. Like the rest of the girls she thought of her family and friends and her life outside. Was it all over? Would she ever get out, and could she recover from this.

She cringed when she saw Fatima’s back, still criss-crossed with red lines from the caning, mirroring her own. The pain had been one distraction for a few days, and the welts were still so thick she wondered if they would be permanent.

Sabine and Anna had been grateful for each other’s company in the early days of their confinement. However, the constant suffocation of being locked together, naked, with the other girls, the lack of privacy, and the way their conversations could be overheard by everyone was destroying their intimacy. What could they talk about? Their exciting plans, the beauty of the forest they had been hiking through, education, skiing, their work? None of that felt real here; it felt absurd to discuss the outside world. Beyond hugging, they barely showed any sign of affection towards each other as a couple.

Sabine had been raped constantly in all her holes, while Anna had ‘only’ been anally and orally raped. They had been forced to have obscene sex with each other and every other girl in the cell for the men’s amusement, and so they could not enjoy it between themselves. It was not just that it would be in front of their cellmates, but their brutal experiences here had tainted sex for them, maybe forever, whether they got out or not.

Jamal got up and left. Some of the girls began to chatter. Zara and Fatima spoke in Arabic a little louder. Camille said to no one in particular “that fucking freak, he makes me sick to look at him.” “I feel ill, I need to get out of here!” Anna was aggravated, she felt a fever coming on, it was her period and she hated having the blood freely running out of her.” “We need a doctor to look after us” wailed Sabine, anxious for Anna.

“Who cares, first to die is the luckiest.” Charlotte spoke without looking up, as she knelt on the ground playing with her hair.

“I agree!” Zara had picked up a little more English since her arrival. “I am going crazy, I want them to kill me.”

Anna still had some hope. “My father will do everything to find me. I am sure you all have the same, something will come up!”

“The bastard killed my relatives and my family think I am dead” spat out Zara.

“They think we are all dead, except you Charlotte, you are the only missing girl here,” said Camille, ruefully recalling Pembroke’s taunts to them.

Charlotte’s disappearance was indeed the only genuine kidnapping known to any police force, the other girls were missing, presumed dead. Her family were going berserk at the slow progress of the French police, who had been baffled, but had a description of the African driver who had collected her. But Charlotte didn’t care. Her world had been destroyed over the last few weeks. She stayed silent, drawing imaginary circles on the wall.

Jamal returned with Mrs Al-Haraz. He had gone to check on her, and released her on her request into the hall. The older woman was clean, and in a long vampires dress and high heels, clicking as she followed Jamal. She did not seem to mind being a prisoner, this was heaven compared to the one she had been inside in Yemen and even her life before that.

She and Jamal whispered together in Arabic. Jamal grunted, he did not trust any female and was just as happy to knock her around as the girls.

Mrs Al-Haraz approached the cell. “Hello bitches. I need a slut to sleep with me tonight. Any volunteer?”

All the girls shrank back. It was not just the mutilated face of the woman that still disturbed them, but her cruelty.

“Anna?” She leered at the mixed race Swiss girl, she loved her slim petite athletic body.

“So-sorry Madam, I am on my period.”

Mrs Al-Haraz noticed the red marks around her pussy and tutted. She looked elsewhere, scanning the sea of breasts and hips and hair of different colors. She did not want the marked backs of Camille and Fatima, they reminded her of her own, still painful a few days later. She looked at the bedraggled blonde hair of Charlotte, hiding her face but she knew the beautiful blue eyes beneath.

“Charlotte?” She smiled lustfully.

“Madam, I too have period” and Charlotte slipped her finger between her legs, and brought it up for Mrs Al-Haraz to see, bright red. The older woman sighed again, she did not want a bloody pussy. She looked at Sabine, at the curly brown hair and the blue glacial eyes, and the tall toned body with the perfect pneumatic breasts, covered in bruises still from bite marks.

Jamal suddenly spoke up in Arabic and the two had an argument, which was settled with Jamal clenching his fist and walking up to the Yemeni woman, towering over her.

“Well, Sabine” the older woman spoke cordially “you will be getting fucked by Jamal. So, Zara, you, will come spend the night with me.”

Sabine shuddered as she looked at the even more deformed Jamal again, and his hulking body. She prayed it would be just sex and not a night of cuddling in his huge hairy body and having to kiss his mouth, half open to the air with the scarring. She felt a touch from Anna in sympathy.

Zara was furious. She spat out words in Arabic towards Mrs-Haraz. The two women shouted at each other through the glass wall, muscles tensing in their necks, and spit landing on either side of the glass.

Jamal sighed, and opened the cell door. His huge size frightened them all into silence, even Zara. He hauled her out of the cell without saying anything, and spoke to her quietly in Arabic. She bowed her head and cried.

“Come, lick my pussy here” taunted Mrs Al-Haraz. She lifted her dress up, revealing she was wearing nothing underneath and ran her hands over her pussy. Zara cried, but walked to where Mrs Al-Haraz was, and knelt down. But something stirred within her. She gripped the older woman’s buttocks and moved her face closer to her pussy, then suddenly bolted up to her feet and pushed her overseer away. She backed off, and started shouting furiously in Arabic, that she was not a slave, and that she could not do this anymore. Mrs Al-Haraz was furious and grabbed her hair and the two started fighting.

Jamal sighed again, and with barely any effort lifted Zara off Mrs-Haraz, then threw her to the ground, and kicked her in the stomach. The girls in the cell gasped and Fatima screamed. Jamal lifted the spluttering girl to her feet and slapped her again. She was barely conscious now and could barely stand up by herself. But she could still scream a volley of curses at Jamal, about his face, his mother, and what she wanted to do to him.

Jamal tried to calm himself, but could not let it slide. He clenched his fist and punched her, right on her mouth. She went silent, and flew back through the air, landing on her back, knocked out cold, her hair splayed around her, he arms and legs spread out lifelessly.