Chapter 10

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.