Chapter 12: The Officers' Mess

One of the buildings that had been sacked in the downfall of Tradagha was the Grand Vizier's harem. The younger women in it had been herded into a lorry and taken to serve the Officers' Mess as general bed companions. Most of them were completely resigned to this and were quite co-operative with their new Masters. A few had to be persuaded, but by the time the sacking of Tradagha was completed all the women in the Officers' Mess were most co-operative. The headquarters staff decided to throw a party, inviting every officer in the entire army to celebrate the victory.

The junior subaltern in charge of 'entertainment' had been told that a cabaret was necessary and he solved this problem in the time-honoured way of all junior army officers. He handed the problem to a senior NCO, in this case Sergeant Abdur. With the wisdom of all his years in the army, the Sergeant instinctively took the safest course, and did nothing.

In the Officers' Mess the meal was coming to an end and the officers were taking their pleasures in various ways. One was getting drunk quietly on some of the forbidden alcohol they had found; he would regret it on the morrow because he was drinking very cheap bathtub vodka and would wake with a monumental hangover. The others were mostly using women in one way or the other, being sucked or impaling their captives in one or other lower entrance. Meanwhile there were other women serving them with little honeyed cakes, fruit and other delicacies. These waitresses, in common with all the other women in sight, were naked and were being groped half-heartedly as they moved among the officers.

Suddenly there was an outraged yell from one of the officers and all heads turned in that direction as he sprang to his feet cursing. It seemed that the woman fellating him had, accidentally or deliberately, bitten him.

"Sergeant," came a crisp command, "Punishment."

A vertical whipping frame was in one corner, and it took only moments for Abdur's men to drag it to the centre of the room and shackle the woman in the open door frame shaped device with her feet well apart and her arms above her head, forming her body into an X shape, vulnerable front and rear.

"Two men in front and two behind," ordered the injured officer, "Four whips at a time. Teach the ugly she-camel the penalty for attacking an officer in time of war."

Abdur looked at the slave in the frame and saw a beautiful young woman of about twenty, with ample curves, smooth olive skin and long dark hair on her head. A dribble of cum from her arse-crack showed that she had recently been used there, and Abdur reflected that he hoped she had enjoyed it, because she was not about to enjoy the next few minutes. From the lack of marks on skin of her back it was clear that she had rarely, if ever, been beaten before.

"Gadhi, Bukhari, Nagib, Jalal, whip her," ordered the Sergeant.

The four positioned themselves and with a quick agreement as to targets drew back their arms.

Whishishishish ... THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK!

Four whips descended almost simultaneously, landing across the unfortunate victim's shoulders, buttocks, breasts and upper thighs. An unearthly scream echoed round the room from the slave. Four bright lines of angry red appeared, quickly darkening to black under the olive skin. Abdur held up his hand to stop the men for a moment until the noise died away. Apart from the girl's sobs, not a sound was heard as the whole room stared at this unusually vicious form of punishment. Abdur waved the men on.

Whishishishish ... THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK!

Four more lines appeared close to the others. The strokes were clearly being laid on with a will, because one nipple had split, allowing a trickle of blood to run down her left breast. No sound came from the victim this time; she hung in her bonds with her mouth agape, her eyes rolling wildly in her head and sweat pouring from her forehead. Again Abdur waited for the full effect to be apparent in the bruising before allowing another set of four strokes.

Whishshishsh ... THWACKACKTHWACKACK!

The timing was closer now, as the men got into the way of thrashing as a team.

'This could be a new Olympic event, Synchronised Chastisement, ' Abdur suggested to himself, irrelevantly 'I bet the tickets would sell like hot cakes.'

These four lines crossed some of the others and more blood appeared.