Chapter 22 - Cattle raid

Another day meant another grueling session of training for the females at the complex. Nine girls were split into groups of three, forming a circle filled with uneasy anticipation. In each group, one girl was positioned in the middle, standing upright with her hands on top of her head. The task for the girls on either side was straightforward yet torturous: they had to lick the armpits of the girl in the middle.

“Half an hour, girls, then we will reshuffle you all! Now get licking, and girls in the middle, hold in your ticklishness! I don’t want to see those arms fall down! This is going to be tough for you all!” Mrs Parker’s voice rang out like a stern headmistress.

As the session began, the girls in the middle struggled to maintain their composure, trying to suppress the ticklish sensation while dealing with the discomfort and humiliation of the exercise. The girls on the sides grimaced as they forced themselves to perform the task.

Sabine was in the middle of her group, as Charlotte and Anna licked under her arms. Anna suppressed sweeter memories of Sabine’s sweat - she no longer had any interest in the German girl, and even when she did, the last thing she wanted to do was lick her armpits! Charlotte grew tired and disgusted as Sabine’s scent grew with the heat. Like the rest of the girls, her tongue was suffering every day with having to lick and poke it into the most disgusting places.

The Swedish sisters had to crouch and hold their girl, Fatima, by the hip bones to keep balance while they lapped up and down the girl’s sweaty armpits. Fatima had reflexively squealed at the first lick and brought her arms down, and had been met with a whack on her buttocks from Mrs Al-Haraz. She hummed and squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in short gasps and twinkling her toes in frustration as she had to deal with the relentless assault on her most ticklish areas.

Elena half whimpered half giggled as Holly and Camille licked her. Closing her eyes, the sensation almost carried her away, her mouth agape, her fingernails digging into her scalp, she almost forgot her situation. Until she lowered her arms below ninety degrees without even thinking and was woken up by a biting whack on her bottom from the Yemeni overseer. She gazed up at the ceiling. How could she do half an hour?

The one girl missing was Zara. She was strapped tightly to a medical table in the medic room, her torso and arms secured with thick straps, leaving her unable to do anything beyond twinkle her fingers and toes. She felt utterly helpless, and the giant Syrian ogre, like Frankenstein, terrified her even more.

“What ... what are we going to do? Please, please don’t kill me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I attacked the Master. I didn’t mean it, I don’t want to die! Please!” Her stomach churned with fear, her breathing shallow and constricted by the bindings around her chest, making it hard for her to even register the rise and fall of her breaths.

Jamal leered at her menacingly, holding a needle. “Not today, girl. You will not die today. It is just time for some ... changes...”

“What?” Zara’s voice was barely a whisper.

“No talking!” Jamal snapped. Zara could hardly see clearly on the side where he stood, the loss of her eye blurring her vision.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m ugly,” she sobbed. “I wish I hadn’t done this to myself. Please ... please just don’t kill me. I can do anything...”

“I am not going to kill you! Now, no more talking!” Jamal’s voice was firm and cold, brooking no argument.

Pembroke and Dmitri sat in the truck on a quiet street, their eyes fixed on the flat where the Akhmadova sisters were being held. They knew the women were on the ground floor. Dmitri had identified the weak spot—a window with a lock he could pick in less than two minutes, despite the heavy locks on the main door. A flat full of vulnerable women was like manna from heaven for Dmitri, whose predatory instincts had kicked in.

They were waiting for the Chechen brothers to leave for midday prayers at the mosque. Pembroke pulled out his messaging device and sent a message to Natalia: “Hi, once the brothers leave, just before 12, I need you to distract both of the women and get them upstairs ... can you do that? We need to open the window; we cannot afford to try and get in through the locked door.”

Tatiana had the device hidden in her room. She had been sick with worry for the last few days, fearing the Chechens might find it or that their special security might find it like it apparently detected cellphones. She and her sister kept wondering why Geoff couldn’t just bring the police around. Why had this not happened already? And why could this device only reach his, and not any other source? Her misgivings about Geoff gnawed at her, but what choice did they have?

They had hoped they could stick this out for another few months, thinking maybe these animals would release them, or they would get arrested. Surely this kind of imprisonment couldn’t last forever? But last night, her sister Natalia had an especially violent client from Germany. The brutality of it left Tatiana shocked and horrified. Seeing her sister shaking and crying this morning, she realized they could not endure this any longer. Geoff was their only hope, despite her doubts.

Tatiana typed out a message, “They are upstairs with us now.” Before pressing send, she hesitated, her mind racing with fear and uncertainty. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her wardrobe down, letting it crash to the ground. The noise was deafening, and she heard cursing and shouting as the two older women climbed up the stairs in anger. Just before they were about to reach her door, she pressed “send” and quickly hid the device under the mattress.

Seeing the message, Dmitri and Pembroke sprang into action. They moved swiftly and silently towards the window. Dmitri, a practiced criminal with insider knowledge, began working on the lock with precision.

Pembroke stood guard, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He knew that if they were caught, he could claim he was just being a “good Samaritan,” but the thought of falling into the hands of the Chechens was not a pleasant one.

Just then, Dmitri cursed under his breath as an old man appeared. The duo had to engage in a hurried conversation in Russian, which alarmed the man so much that his pace quickened. No one liked the Russians in this part of town, and several other onlookers hid away from the scary-looking thugs who seemed entirely in keeping with what they knew about the flat.

Meanwhile, inside the flat and upstairs, Tatiana was facing the wrath of the older Chechen women. They were grey-haired and fat, but their mean streak and aggression matched their younger male relatives. The room was a scene of chaos, with clothes scattered everywhere from the toppled wardrobe.

“You stupid bitch, how did you do that? What are you hiding in that wardrobe, eh?” one of the women snarled. The woman with longer hair began rifling through Tatiana’s clothes on the ground, convinced she was hiding something. Her suspicions had been growing over the last few days, and she had warned Tatiana and Natalia that if she found any phone or device, she would cut their faces.

The shorter, fatter woman shoved Tatiana onto the bed. Tatiana felt so vulnerable, clad only in skimpy frilly French knickers and a teddy top. She was terrified they would look under the mattress where she had hidden the device. Her heart pounded in her chest as she prayed for Geoff to come through for her now.

Outside, Dmitri finally managed to unlock the window. He slipped inside with the grace of a seasoned thief. He listened to the angry Russian arguments upstairs, they would not have heard them.