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Nina’s Tale
By Dr. Quirt
A young Afro-French girl explores her masochistic desires but gets a lot more than she
bargained for.
This story is the second of a trilogy, the first part being ‘Julie’s Story’ and the concluding
part ‘What Happened to Lucy?’
Part 1
Hi, my name is Nina and I am going to try to tell you my sorry tale. I don’t know if this
message will ever reach the outside world as I shall have to try to smuggle it out through one
of the harem guards, tonight. I don’t think that I shall be alive by this time tomorrow so, all
you aspiring masochists out there, take heed and don’t make the same mistakes that I have
done.
I’ll start at the beginning and I’ll tell you a bit about me. I’m 24 years old and 5ft 8 in tall –
and a lot of that is leg. I think that I have a good body – high, firm breasts, flat stomach, and
nice arse – and most men seem to agree with me on that. I have long, dark hair, probably
because my father was Afro-Caribbean and my mother was French and, for the same reason,
my skin is a lovely honey colour. My face is quite European looking though I do have plump
lips. I suppose that I’m quite an attractive piece really.
But, I have a problem, or rather, I had a problem. Ever since I was quite small I’ve had a
fascination with being physically punished. This probably started when my Father used to
spank me for being a naughty girl but he seemed to think that, once I started to develop
physically, he shouldn’t do this any more and I really missed it.
So, I had to find a substitute and, ever since he stopped spanking me, I was looking for ways
to punish myself. I would make little whips out of whatever I could find and use them on
myself when I was alone in the house. I would often strip myself naked and run out to the
garage, where I would throw the house keys, without looking, whip myself and then have to
find the keys to let myself back into the house. I nearly got caught many times but this was
all part of the fun for me. The only problem was that whipping myself never really seemed
to work – just a few strokes and I was having an orgasm and I couldn’t carry on after that.
When I was a little older, and had a place of my own, I used to experiment with self-bondage.
You know, keys to padlocks trapped in ice blocks – that sort of thing. The epitome of this
experience was when I froze some keys in a big bucket of ice – it took nearly two days before
I could release myself and I spent the time lying on a cold, wet, garage floor. It was OK but,
you know, lying naked in a puddle of your own pee sort of loses its attraction after the first
day.
I didn’t have much luck with boyfriends, either. OK, there was no lack of them but the
relationships never lasted very long. I think that my masochistic tendencies tended to put the
boys off because they all ran a mile when they found out. One or two would tie me up and
spank me but no-one wanted to give me the thrashing that I felt that I needed.
So, I got a little older and wiser and soon had to start earning a living. I was never very good
in school so my paper qualifications were less than impressive. I ended up working in a call
centre and, if you’ve never done that, you have no idea of quite how dire an existence it can
be! The working environment was not exactly conducive to finding my ideal partner and I
had no luck outside of work either.
Then, one day, I happened to be passing one of those places that that are known as ‘Adult
Shops’ or, more popularly, as ‘Sex Shops.’ I went inside, just for a look. It was mostly
pretty harmless – dodgy videos, sexy underwear, adult ‘toys’. There were even some little
whips on sale but I knew that they would not harm a fly as I had tried out many similar
products before.
Then, I happened to notice some Contact Magazines on sale. I was quite surprised that these
things still existed, what with the advent of Internet Chat Rooms, and the like. I bought one,
just for a laugh. The content was actually pretty dire – the photographic reproductions were
awful, talk about a black cat in a coal cellar, but I spotted one entry that looked interesting.
Someone – professional gentleman – required ‘totally uninhibited females, age 18 -30, for
obedience training.’ Long-term accommodation was offered for suitable candidates.
Respondents were to provide personal details and an ‘undraped’ photograph.
I took the magazine home and thought about the advert. It was fairly obvious that the
‘gentleman’ was looking for someone to act as a sex slave. This was a turn on for me and
just thinking about it got me horny. I just had to strip off and give myself a bit of a whipping,
there and then, so that I could think rationally again. I felt that replying to the ad would lose
me nothing so, after using my digital camera to take the photo (it took a few goes before I
was sure that my assets were displayed satisfactorily) I typed out my personal details and sent
the sheet and photo back to the box number in the advert – and then forgot all about it.
Part 2
It must have been a month after I posted the reply off when a plain, brown envelope landed
on my doormat. It contained a set of instructions and a first-class rail ticket to a Northern
town that I had not heard of – I had to get out the road atlas to find it and it was a fair distance
from where I was living.
If agreeable, I was to catch a certain train, on a certain date, and present myself at the
booking office at my destination, where I would be met. It was emphasized that I should
bring nothing with me apart from a few personal items – certainly no spare clothing would be
required. I should dress skimpily with no underwear and no shoes – this way I would be
easily recognizable. Long-term accommodation would be provided in exchange for
‘services’ that would be explained fully on arrival. If I did not want to proceed I could
merely return the rail ticket and would hear no more, otherwise I should confirm my intention
to participate.
The date on the rail ticket was two weeks in the future, leaving me barely enough time to sort
things out. I decided to not give up my flat entirely and I sub-let it to a friend, whom I told
that I was going away on holiday for a few weeks. I resigned from my job – and was glad to
do so – as I could always get something similar when, and if I came back. Of course I
wondered if I was doing the right thing but felt that I had little to lose, really. If things didn’t
work out I could always come home.
As the day approached I wondered what to take and what to wear. Because I had to catch an
early morning train I decided to stay in a cheap hotel, near the station, on the night before. I
wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt (no bra) to go to the hotel. I took with me just some small,
personal items and a white mini-dress, which I would wear on the journey. The receptionist
at the hotel didn’t look very pleased to see me in my bare feet (I often go barefoot so this was
quite normal for me) but gladly accepted payment in advance for the dingy little room in
which I spent the night. I had nothing to do so I stayed in the room and masturbated – I felt
like being whipped but had nothing suitable with me to do the job.
I woke early, changed into the mini-dress and left the hotel without seeing anyone. The jeans
and t-shirt I left behind. It was raining a bit that morning and I got quite damp on the way to
the station – I got quite a few strange looks from various people, on the way. I just hoped
that the dress didn’t become too transparent as I didn’t want to get arrested. Anyway, I made
it to the station and dried off a bit in the ladies’ loo. After a while, it was time to board the
train.
The journey was quite interesting, in a way. In first class, most of the travellers were ‘suits’
and were clearly unused to seeing a very skimpily-dressed woman on the train. I knew that
they were thinking what they would like to do to me but, as they were all wimps, no-one
dared approach me. When I got up to go to the buffet you could feel the tension in the air –
mind you, that dress was unfeasibly short!
Eventually the train arrived at its destination and I got off. I was a bit disgusted at the state of
the platform – it was raining and my feet were filthy by the time that I got to the booking
office. A distinguished-looking man was waiting for me.
‘Hello, you must be Nina. I am the Master. I’m glad to see that you followed your
instructions properly. I have a car outside so please come with me now. We have a fair
distance to go so make yourself comfortable.’
We went outside into the car park. Happily, it wasn’t far to walk as the ground was covered
in sharp gravel. OK, I was used to walking pavements barefoot but this was a bit painful.
The car was long and black and I was put into the back while the Master got into the front. It
wasn’t until I was seated that I realized that the windows were blacked out and there was a
partition between the front seats and the passenger compartment in the back. The rear doors
didn’t open from the inside either!
We set off on the journey to the Master’s house.
Part 3
I was in the back of the Master’s car for the journey to his house. There was an intercom, by
means of which the driver could talk to the passengers in the back – talk to me, that is.
‘I hope that you are comfortable back there – we shall take about an hour to get to the house.
You can take off your dress now – you will not be needing it for a while. It’s OK; no-one can
see you.’
Strangely, although this was said in a pleasant tone, I couldn’t help but feel that it was an
order that I had best obey. He obviously wanted me to be naked in the back of the car so I
took off the dress and put my watch and ear-rings into my bag. I was absolutely starkers and
started to feel very horny. Soon, I was sitting in a little pool of my own juices. The road was
quite bumpy and I must have been making some noise because the intercom came on.
‘Enjoying yourself back there?
‘Er, yes, thank you, er… Master?’
‘Yes indeed, I am your Master now – if you decide to stay, of course. I shall explain things
to you once we get to the house and, if you are not happy with the arrangements, I can always
bring you back to the station.’
Eventually, I felt the car turn sharply and there was the sound of the tyres crunching on
gravel. We came to a stop and the car door was opened by the Master. I picked up my dress
and bag and started to get out but he stopped me.
‘Leave your dress and bag in the car. You will not be needing the dress at all and I will see to
your personal things later. Come along now.’
I got out and took a look around. The car was parked in the courtyard of an imposing
Georgian residence, set in extensive grounds. I couldn’t see a lot as it was getting fairly dark
by that time and there was a cold mist hanging in the air. I shivered and followed the Master
across the courtyard to the main door of the house.
‘This is the only time that you will use this particular door. After this you will enter and
leave by the servants’ quarters at the rear but, on this occasion, I shall treat you as a guest.
Please come inside – I would ask you to take your coat off but you don’t seem to be wearing
one – ha ha!’
We entered a large hallway, which came complete with an ornate staircase, and then entered
one of the receiving rooms. This was expensively furnished and had many pictures hanging
from the walls. A cosy fire was burning in the grate. He asked me to sit down and then left
the room, returning a few minutes later with some sandwiches and a pot of tea.
‘You must be hungry after your journey so tuck in to the food while I explain what happens
in this establishment.’
‘Of course, Master. Thank you.’
‘This house is part of an organisation of similar establishments, worldwide, the network
providing a service to many like-minded gentlemen. In short, we train young girls, such as
yourself, to be top-of-the-range sex slaves. If you decide to stay with us, when you have
completed your training, you will be an extremely marketable commodity. Girls that pass
through this house usually go on to become slave trainers in their own right – the
opportunities are numerous. The girl that has just left here, Lucy, has gone on to be the head
slave trainer at a harem in the Middle East. I believe that she has about thirty slaves under
her.
I don’t want you to be under any illusions though – the path will be long and hard. However,
you have shown by your willingness to comply with your joining instructions that you have
the right attitude. As you may have guessed, you were set a little test and, if you hadn’t
passed that test you would still be waiting at the station.’
I asked him how long the training would take.
‘I would say a minimum of three months to get to an acceptable standard – of course there is
always something new to learn but that sort of time period will get you a long way towards
our goal. I shall want you to sign a release document and, once you have done so, you will
be committed to staying here for the minimum period. We can review the situation again
after that. Now, I am sure that you must want some time to think over your decision so why
don’t you take a little walk in the grounds. It’s a nice evening apart from the mist so take
your time and, when you have come to a decision, come round to the rear entrance.’
I was a bit taken aback.
‘You want me to go outside for a walk, like this?’ – indicating my state of undress.
‘Indeed, and you had better get used to the idea. You will not be wearing any clothing while
you are here – inside or outside.’
He escorted me to the door and out into the courtyard. It was fully dark now and the mist had
thickened and it was bloody cold. The door shut and I was left alone. Despite the cold and
dark I couldn’t help being rather excited at the prospect of what might lie ahead. After all,
this was what I had been hoping for – sex slave training, with all that that entailed. I made
my decision quickly and found my way to the rear door. I knocked and it opened – the
Master was there.
‘That was quick – weather a bit too inclement for you?’
I replied that it was quite chilly out there but, in any case, I had already made up my mind to
accept his offer.
‘Good, come inside then.’
We went into what appeared to be the servants’ kitchen. No luxury items here but it was
clean and functional. I sat down at the table while he fetched a document for me to sign. I
looked at it briefly – it merely stated that I was there of my own free will and had not been
coerced in any way. If I signed it I agreed to the minimum 3-month period that he had
mentioned before.
‘Everything satisfactory? Good, we shall sign the document in a moment but first we need a
suitable witness.’
He pulled a bell-cord, which was hanging next to the fireplace, and I heard a faint jangling
somewhere in the depths of the house. After a minute or so, a door opened and a stunning
young woman entered the room. The first thing that struck me was that she was completely
naked. Then I took in her long, blonde hair and her superb figure. There wasn’t a spare inch
of fat anywhere on her legs or body – there wasn’t any spare hair either as she was
completely shaved. Then I noticed something else – there were several faint marks on her
body that looked as though they might be old scars from a whipping. I wondered what she
had done to receive those?
‘This is Mistress Julie – she is my head trainer here. In fact, at the moment she is the only
trainer apart from myself. Mistress Julie, this is Nina, who is joining us today. Could you
please witness her consent form?’
‘Of course, Master, at once.’
The Master took a pen from his pocket and we all duly signed the form.
‘Good, that’s done. Now, I am going to leave you in the capable hands of Mistress Julie.
She will explain the training programme to you and get you settled into your quarters.
Training will start tomorrow morning – we shall just do some easy stuff for the first few days
but, make no mistake about it, I shall expect to see real progress being made. We have ways
of dealing with slaves that are lazy or have the wrong attitude. Anyway, over to you Mistress
Julie – I shall see you tomorrow.’
And with that he left the room and I was alone with Julie.
Part 4
‘Right,’ she said, ‘there are a few things that we need to do tonight and the most important is
to deal with that pubic hair of yours. I can see that you shave regularly but that isn’t good
enough. When the Master says ‘totally and absolutely naked at all times’ he means just that.
I shall give you a Hollywood wax on your pubics and attend to your legs and armpits too.
We’ll do that shortly but we’ll look at the facilities here first and then show you your
quarters. I don’t think that we’ll have time to see the Correction Centre tonight though – it’s
already getting late. We’ll just do the main house – it won’t take long.’
We did a Cooke’s tour of the house, most of which was under dust sheets and was obviously
not used much.
‘It’s a bit quiet here right now but sometimes the Master has guests and then we open up a
few more rooms. We’re responsible for keeping the house clean so we have to dust and
vacuum in between training sessions. Luckily, the Master is something of a Cordon Bleu
chef and he happily prepares all of our meals, except breakfasts, which we have to do. He’s
not so good with the washing up though. Naturally, we don’t have any problems with
laundry and he makes his own arrangements for his own stuff.’
We stopped off in one interesting room. This was quite large and was obviously intended as
some sort of a punishment room, judging by its contents.
‘This used to be the main training room but now it’s just used for punishing our more trivial
sins. Anything serious means a trip to the Correction Centre, which is in another building –
we’ll try to find time to look there tomorrow. As you can see there are plenty of ways of
making you suffer right here in this room – I shall be very surprised if you don’t taste a few
of them very soon. Be aware that the Master is something of a sadist and I have that
inclination too. He was injured some time back and having sex is a bit hit and miss so he
prefers to get his kicks by inflicting pain on young girls. So, the least excuse will do – expect
to get punished for the smallest infraction, or for nothing at all.’
I was beginning to wonder what I had let myself in for – it all sounded very exciting though.
‘Actually,’ said Julie, ‘you are really lucky to have someone to show you the ropes. When I
came here there was no-one. I didn’t know what was expected of me and ended up getting a
pretty severe thrashing on my first night – and the next day too.’
This seemed like a good time to ask about the scars.
‘No, the Master didn’t do that but I was lazy and had a bad attitude. He brought in a
colleague to teach me a lesson that I would never forget. The scars are from a very severe
bull-whipping – they serve to remind me that only 100% obedience and 100% effort is
satisfactory. I nearly died but the Master managed to save me – he used to be a doctor you
know. How he ever managed to do that and become a chef, I’ll never know!’
I looked at her scars again – they really were not that bad and almost enhanced her sexuality.
I wondered if the same thing would happen to me.
‘Anyway, as I was saying, we don’t do too much training in here. When I came here I was
expected to train outside, in all weathers, and I quite came to enjoy it. So, all of the other
girls that have passed through here have trained outside too – and so will you. When the
weather is really bad – and I mean driving sleet, or similar – you might get a concession but
don’t bank on it. You’ll get used to training out in the courtyard eventually.’
I didn’t quite know what to think about this latest revelation. I’m not too keen on being cold.
‘Right, we’d best get on – I’ll show you your quarters and then we must do the waxing.’
She took me up to the top floor of the house and along a damp, cold, corridor. She ushered
me into a small, bare room. I must have looked askance because she said,
‘What did you expect – luxury? This is what you get here and, before you ask, mine is just
the same!’
The room contained only one item of furniture – a double bed, minus mattress. There was
just the wire-sprung bed base – nothing else apart from the restraints at each corner. The
floor was covered with bare linoleum.
‘This is a very practical arrangement – never any bed-linen to wash. At night you will be
restrained on the bed base, totally naked of course. If you should need to pee in the night you
will just make a puddle on the lino – easy to clean up although you can expect to be punished
for it. When I came here there was not even any lino – not so easy to clean up! We alternate
– one night face up, next face down and always exposed to the whip, should we deserve it.
You may also be expected to provide sexual services but you may not be restrained totally for
those activities. It’s a bit cold and damp up here, as there is no heating, but you will get used
to that. It’s summer now, or what passes for it. It was November when I arrived and it was
really awful weather for weeks.’
I expressed surprise that she, as head trainer, was expected to live just like a slave.
‘I am a slave – just a more senior one. Don’t think that I escape punishment just because of
my position. If I slack off I get thrashed even more severely because I am shirking my
responsibilities. If you do not do well then I shall be whipped, as well as you, because it’s
my job to make sure that you co-operate and work hard. Don’t expect an easy ride – if you
need to be whipped I shall do it without hesitation. As for the quality of the accommodation
– it’s basic but adequate. When I finished my basic training the Master offered me better
conditions – a proper mattress, unrestrained at night – but I had got to quite like the regimen
by then so I decided to stick with it. And, as I say, it’s very practical.’
I asked about bathroom facilities.
‘There is a shared bathroom at the end of the corridor. Your personal things have been put
there. You will notice that there are no towels provided – this is part of the ‘totally naked at
all times’ requirement. You just have to dry off naturally. Now, let’s do that waxing.’
The next hour was pretty painful but, by the end of it, I was as smooth as a baby’s bum. Julie
then took me back to my room and restrained me, face-down, on the bed. It was pretty
uncomfortable as the wire base dug into my thighs and tits and Julie pulled the restraints
really tight so that I couldn’t move. She then put out the light and left me to it.
I lay there, wondering when someone – the Master maybe – might pay me a visit. I was
really horny and badly wanted some sex and, preferably, a good thrashing to go with it. No-
one came. After what seemed like a long time, but was probably only an hour or so, I was
disturbed by the sound of leather striking flesh, accompanied by some sharp little cries. This
went on for some time until I heard the unmistakable sounds of a female in the throes of
sexual ecstacy. OK, I thought, my turn next – but no-one came. I was feeling very frustrated
but, in the end, managed to sleep fitfully until dawn showed, greyly, at the un-curtained
window.
Julie appeared and released me from the restraints.
‘Hurry up and get showered – we need to get breakfast over and get your training started.’
I warmed up a bit in the shower but, by the time I had found my way down to the kitchen, I
was cold again – and still soaking wet. The Master was nowhere to be seen but Julie had
made us some cereal and toast.
‘Hurry, we need to get started!’
That was when I noticed all the fresh welts across the back of Julie’s legs and body.
‘Yes, I have been whipped for wasting time with you last night when I should have started
your training. The Master is angry with me and he gave me rather more than my usual ration.
He’s not here right now but he will be back later and he will expect to see some progress – if
not then you will get whipped and so will I!’
I said to Julie that I would quite like to be whipped and that I was surprised that nothing had
been done the previous night.
‘Be careful what you wish for – you might just get more than you bargain for!’
Julie picked up a quirt from the table and we went out into the courtyard. It was raining and
cold.
‘Today you will learn the first two positions. There are more than thirty in all – I’ll briefly
demonstrate them now before we begin. So saying, she laid herself down on the wet gravel
and proceeded to show me all of the positions. I was dumbfounded – was this girl double-
jointed or what? Some of the positions were clearly impossible – but she was doing them!’
Soon it was me, lying face-down on the gravel, trying to spread my legs and arms to achieve
position one – face-down spread-eagle.
‘Pathetic! You’ll have to do better than that!’
And Julie’s quirt came down on my inner thighs as encouragement. Christ, how it hurt!
‘Stay there and practice the position. When I come back I expect to see an improvement.’
I tried for a while but my heart wasn’t in it. I was wet and cold and anyway, if I didn’t do
well I might get that whipping that I wanted, so I didn’t stay down there for long. When Julie
came back she found me sheltering under a tree and I felt the sharp end of her quirt,
immediately.
‘What do you think that you are playing at? You were supposed to practice the position – get
down there and spread – now!’
I lay down and made a half-hearted attempt to spread my legs. The quirt came down again
but I didn’t feel like trying too hard.
‘Right! We’ll take a short break for food then we must get on to position 2. You had better
do a lot better this afternoon or it will be the worse for you.’
Position 2 was just like position 1 only the other way up. I wasn’t too interested and Julie’s
quirt only seemed to heighten my frustration. I would definitely have it out with the Master,
tonight.
Well, ‘tonight’ came, the Master returned and we all sat down to an excellent dinner. Then,
after we had finished eating, the Master addressed Julie.
‘Progress report on Slave Nina, if you please, Mistress Julie.’
Julie then reported that little progress had been made and that I seemed to be obstructive,
with a bad attitude.
‘Anything to say, Slave Nina?’
I explained that I was feeling frustrated, didn’t see the point of the training and wanted to be
whipped.
‘Well, Nina, you might just get your wish but let me explain. Last night you were tired from
your journey and I thought it only right that you should have an uninterrupted sleep. Today
though, your behaviour has been inexcusable. I will not tolerate insolence, laziness, and a
generally bad attitude so, yes, you are to be whipped and I expect that you will find the
experience more than you bargained for. Do not blame Mistress Julie for what will happen
now; she is merely doing her job. As you are new here I shall be lenient - but only this once.
Mistress Julie, please take Slave Nina to her room and restrain her face-up on her bed. I will
join you shortly.’
So, I was tied to the bed, spread-eagled, everything on display. I thought that this was more
like it but Julie warned me again.
‘Don’t say that you didn’t ask for this – I don’t think that you’ll enjoy it though!’
The Master came into the room, carrying a martinet.
‘This little toy is made from rubber so it doesn’t tend to cut the skin. It is extremely painful
though and I intend to use it all over the front of your legs and body – and on your cunt. I
think 100 strokes will suffice – unless you decide to beg, in which case it will be 150 strokes.
And don’t forget to count or we might have to start over. Ready?’
And he flogged me with the little rubber whip. I quickly realized that my previous
experiences had in no way prepared me for this. The whip stung like fire and the pain
quickly got worse as new lashes overlaid those that were already there. I managed not to beg
but I must have lost count more than once as the punishment seemed to go on for a long time.
The strokes to my nipples and cunt area were the worst but, afterwards, I began to feel really
horny. They left me there in the dark and cold, still feeling frustrated. At sometime during
the night I peed myself and that gained me ten strokes from Julie’s quirt, next morning but I
was still far from satisfied.
Training continued. I tried a bit harder but my heart still wasn’t really in it. There were
many new positions to learn – some fairly easy and some, seemingly impossible. Positions 4
and 5 were the worst. Position 4 involved kneeling with legs spread and tits on the ground
and arse and cunt projected backwards. I just kept falling over. Position 5 required me to
lock my ankles behind my neck, while lying on my back. I had seen Julie do this but it was
still beyond me. I regularly received ‘encouragement’ from Julie but, frankly, it didn’t help
much. Then, after about two weeks, it was time for the Master’s progress review.
‘Take Slave Nina to the courtyard please and put her through her paces. I shall join you
there.’
We went out and I lay, face-down on the gravel, waiting for the Master. I felt a stinging blow
to my arse and knew that he had arrived. I was then made to demonstrate all of the positions
that I had learned, or was supposed to have learned. Some went better than others.
‘Well, Slave Nina. Your progress has clearly been sporadic, to say the least, and Mistress
Julie still reports that your attitude is lacking the qualities that we require. Have you anything
to say in your defence?’
I hadn’t really but started to make excuses about things being impossible and about not
getting any sex or regular whippings – I must have sounded like a whiny thing.
‘Very well, Slave Nina. Firstly, nothing that you have been asked to do here is impossible –
merely very difficult – we don’t expect miracles, only your best efforts, which have been
sadly lacking. Secondly, if you want sex you will get it, eventually. I shall have guests soon
and I am sure that they can satisfy your needs. Thirdly, if you want regular whippings those
can be provided but remember, there is only so much skin to be whipped. If you do not want
to be permanently marked we have to be careful. But now, we have to deal with your
insubordination and for this you are to be severely punished. I promise you that you will
experience pain such as you have never known – but we will be careful not to disfigure you.
Mistress Julie, please take Slave Nina to the Correction Centre and hog-tie her in the sluice. I
must consider an appropriate punishment, which will commence tomorrow morning.’
I was taken from the house, down a path, to another building. This seemed very utilitarian –
concrete everywhere - but contained many pieces of equipment, most of which were strange
to me. I was hog-tied and restrained, in what seemed to be a shower cubicle, by a short
chain, fastened between a neck-collar and an iron ring, set into the floor. I couldn’t move.
‘This is the sluice. Every 30 minutes ice cold water will come from jets in the walls, soaking
you from head to foot. The water level in the cubicle will rise and you will have to strain
every muscle to keep your head above water. It will be painful and you will think that the
night will never end – I know, I’ve been here.’
Julie switched off the lights, leaving me in the dark, on the cold floor. And, soon enough, the
water started and it was just as she had said it would be. Soon I was in agony with only brief
respites when the water level dropped a little. It was a very long night.
In the morning, when they came for me, I couldn’t stand unaided. Not that this mattered as I
was quickly restrained within a wheel-like structure, limbs spread and pulled tight.
‘Slave Nina, Mistress Julie is now going to whip you severely. However, mindful of not
causing permanent damage we shall extend your punishment over several days. Today you
will receive 50 stokes to your arse and thighs, tomorrow, 50 more to your back, the next day,
50 to your tits and stomach and, finally, 50 to your inner thighs and cunt area. That is 200 in
all and you will remain restrained in the wheel for the duration. At the end, you will be
placed back in the sluice for 24 hours. Mistress Julie, you may commence.’
So, I spent four days in the wheel while Julie flogged me with a carriage whip. Yes, it hurt
like hell but, every time, after the whipping had stopped, I felt really horny and had more than
a few orgasms – all without even being able to touch myself. The tit and cunt floggings were
the most effective – and also hurt the most. I began to think that I was just a pain slut with no
limit to what I would endure just to get off. I was given some water between sessions but
nothing to eat – probably just as well as the wheel could rotate and I spent some time upside-
down – and I just had to pee. The final 24 hours in the sluice were the worst time – freezing
cold and in perpetual agony but everything comes to an end.
I couldn’t sit or stand when they took me from the sluice so I was carried back to my room
and tied to the bed, again. I think that several days passed in a blur before I was lucid again.
Julie said to me, ‘I warned you not to wish for too much, didn’t I. I think it’s time for you to
shape up and the Master is willing to give you a second chance. We’ll give you a couple
more days to recover then it’s back to training again. Make an effort this time. By the way,
you really get off on being whipped, don’t you? I couldn’t help but notice. Be careful –
don’t get carried away or anything could happen to you.’
Part 5
So they gave me a fresh start and I did decide to co-operate and to really try my best to please
the Master. The training continued and it was hard work but I slowly started to make some
real progress. As a reward for this, I think, I started to get some regular whippings, in
addition to those that seemed to form an indispensable adjunct to the training itself.
Sometimes I got flogged on my front side and sometimes on the back side but I was always
tightly restrained. I always managed to achieve at least one orgasm during each session and
sometimes dildos and other toys were used on me. It was great and my only regret was that it
couldn’t happen every night but, as the Master had said before, there is only so much skin to
whip and it does need some recovery time between sessions.
On some days the Master had guests and Julie and I were expected to put on a show. We
whipped each other, of course, but the highlight was our full-on lesbian sex session – and I
don’t mean simulated. After the show the guests were free to do anything they liked with us,
within reason, so we usually got gang-banged in all of our holes. We didn’t tend to get much
in the way of sleep, those nights.
So, I settled into a comfortable sort of existence – not physically comfortable, of course – and
usually knew what to expect, from day to day. Then, one day, after I had been at the
Master’s house for maybe two months, Julie came running into the training room, where I
was cleaning – naked, of course – with her face as white as a sheet. She was trying not to cry
but was shaking like a leaf and very distressed.
‘Oh Nina, I have terrible news. Sir is here. He’s with the Master now and they’re discussing
you. This is bad – he’s the one that gave me these scars. They’re talking about transferring
you to his establishment to finish your training and I expect that he will want to put you
through your paces. Please try hard to please or it will reflect badly on me. I don’t think that
the Master can do anything – Sir seems to have some sort of hold over him.
Sure enough, shortly afterwards I was summoned to the Master’s study. I found him there in
the company of an elderly, distinguished-looking man.
‘Nina, this is a colleague of mine, who is visiting today. You will address him as ‘Sir’ and
you will obey him as you would obey me.’
He turned to his colleague.
‘This is Slave Nina, who has been with us for about two months now. She is progressing
nicely but still has some difficulties with certain positions. Maybe you will be able to help.’
‘Certainly, but first I shall need to see what her achievements have been. Shall we go
outside, Nina, and see what you can do?’
I had no choice, of course, and followed him outside, into the courtyard. Soon I was down on
the cold, wet gravel, striving to demonstrate that I could do everything required. The
problem though was that I was still not very good at some positions and, of course, Sir
quickly picked up on this. He started to apply his riding crop liberally to my unprotected
body in order to encourage me to do better. It was no worse than I had experienced before
but seemed to go on for rather longer than I had expected that it might do.
‘OK, get up! Mostly not too bad but definitely some work required. Follow me!’
He gave me another couple of blows to my arse with his crop and then we went back inside
to the Master’s study.
‘Well, she seems to have done quite well but we’re not there yet and some work is going to
be required. I’ll take her to my place to finish the training and she can go straight on from
there.’
I was thinking – ‘What? I thought that I was supposed to have a choice about this.’ I asked
the Master for an explanation of what was going on – big mistake, as it turned out.
‘Well Nina, you obviously didn’t read the small print on your release document or you would
have noticed that, in the event of unsatisfactory progress, we have the right to keep you on
here or to transfer you to a different establishment. This is really beside the point though. In
daring to question my decision you have broken the Number One Rule – that of total and
absolute obedience at all times – so now you must be punished, and you will be. You are
going to renew your acquaintance with the sluice and tomorrow you are going to be severely
whipped. I’ll just ring for Mistress Julie.’
Julie shortly arrived in the study.
‘Mistress Julie, Slave Nina is to be transferred to Sir’s establishment to finish her training and
will not be returning here. She has just broken the ‘total obedience’ rule and is to be
punished before she departs. You will take her to the sluice, hog-tie and confine her
overnight. She is to be severely whipped tomorrow. And, as for you, I am surprised that you
have not instilled better discipline in this slave so you are to be punished also. You will be
whipped tonight in the training room. Now, take this slave away!’
Julie took me to the Correction Centre.
‘Nina, I’m so sorry but there’s nothing that I can do. Don’t worry about me – I’m sure that
the Master is putting on a bit of an act for Sir’s benefit – I’ll be alright.’
She left me there in the sluice and it was just as bad an experience as I remembered – a wet,
cold, painful, very long night.
When they came for me the next day, the Master and Sir had Julie with them. I was horrified
to see that Julie was covered in fresh, angry-looking welts, more than a few of which were
oozing blood. She had not been alright, it seemed. Perhaps Sir had insisted on punishing her
himself.
‘Well, Slave Nina, you can see what your disobedience has cost your friend. Now it’s your
turn.’
They tied Julie to an iron ring in one of the walls and tied me to a St. Andrew’s cross. The
Master gave my back, legs and arms, 50 strokes of a carriage whip and then they turned me
round and gave me another 50 on my front while Julie was made to watch. Yes, it was painful
but no more so than other whippings that I had had before. I could even feel myself getting
horny again but didn’t dare let it show.
I spent the rest of that day and the following night back in the sluice – the pain was worse
now because I was covered in fresh welts. The next morning I was taken out by Sir, gagged
and thrown roughly, still hog-tied, into the back of the blacked-out car that I had arrived in. I
didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Julie or the Master and I haven’t seen them since that
awful day.
Part 6
It was an uncomfortable journey for me, lying hog-tied in the back of the car. I probably got
some blood on the seats, as I had a few cuts, but that was not really my problem.
At the end of the journey I was pulled from the car and chained by the neck to an iron ring in
the floor of what I presumed was a cellar. I couldn’t see very much as the lights were off –
there was just a dim illumination coming through the open door and this soon ceased as the
door was shut and I was left alone on the cold, damp floor.
I lost all track of time – it seemed that I was left there for a very long time – I only remember
that I was cold and in pain and that I was soon lying in my own filth. I didn’t get anything to
eat or drink and by the time that Sir appeared I was in a pretty poor state.
‘You are a disgusting animal – just look at you, lying there covered in shit and piss. I think
that we had better hose you down!
And, so saying, he washed me down with water from a hosepipe. I was so cold! Afterwards,
the gag was taken off and I was given some food and water, which I had to eat like a dog as I
was still hog-tied. Then I was left alone again, on the cold, wet floor, in the dark.
More time passed, with the same treatment occurring several times. I think, looking back,
that it was all to do with breaking my spirit and, largely, it succeeded. By the time that I was
released from the bondage I was willing to do just about anything.
‘So, Slave Nina, your little holiday is now over – today we start on your enhanced training
programme. I hope that you are in the right frame of mind because, believe me, if your
performance is not satisfactory you will be punished and it will not be trivial. Now, to work!
We are going to put you through your paces to determine just what remedial action needs to
be taken to get you ready for your next employment. Get down on the floor and show me
Position One!’
The problem was that because I had been tied up for so long I was very stiff and I couldn’t
even achieve a good spread on Position One, which is the easiest position. So, I was beaten
with a quirt on my arse, legs and back. I screamed, of course, but I did not dare ask for
mercy as this would have just increased the punishment. I got flogged for Position Two, as
well – it was agony as my cunt and tits received special attention.
Over the next few days I did begin to loosen up again and was soon using Sir’s special
equipment to help me with the more difficult positions. I think that it must have been about a
month before he was reasonably satisfied and I must have received hundreds of strokes from
his quirt during that time. My whole body, and my legs and arms, were covered in stripes
from that quirt.
So, the time came when I was judged ready to leave. It hadn’t been quite as bad as I had
expected, up to that point, but Sir hadn’t quite finished with me, as I was about to find out.
‘Well, Slave Nina, we are about finished here and you will be moving on to new things in
two days. However, there is just one more thing left to do. I like to give all the slaves that
pass through this establishment something with which to remember their experience here.
Therefore, before you leave, I am going to give you the most severe whipping that you have
ever had. I can promise you that you will know pain such as you have never thought possible
and I intend to mark your body permanently’.
‘I am undecided just how many strokes of the bullwhip you should have – it depends on your
attitude when under the lash. Any sign of begging will result in the punishment being
doubled and it would be pointless in any case as I am not known as a merciful person. Also, I
owe Julie 100 strokes but, as she seems somewhat reluctant to visit me again, I am minded to
award you her strokes in addition to your own. Firstly though, I shall confine you to the
sluice overnight. Does it surprise you that my own establishment offers facilities similar to
those of your former Master? It should not do so. This house and the Master’s house are but
two of many similar establishments, located throughout the world.’
Yes, Sir’s sluice was just like the one at the Master’s house, and just as cold and painful.
Another long night but I soon began to wish that it hadn’t ended so soon! I was hung upside-
down from the ceiling of the cellar, with my legs pulled wide apart – I felt as if I was going to
split in half and of course all my charms were fully exposed. My arms, he tied to rings in the
floor – spread wide again and pulled really tight so I was in quite a lot of pain before he
started in with the bullwhip.
‘You are going to get at least 200 strokes – more if you beg or make too much noise – and I
might yet decide to give you that extra 100, if I think that you can take it without dying on
me. Ready? I’m going to enjoy this but you won’t, I assure you!’
The whipping started and it was bad – very bad. No danger of any orgasms this time – this
went way beyond my masochistic limit and I felt as though I was being torn apart. The tip of
the whip went everywhere and Sir was very accurate – he had no problems with whipping
nipples or clit. Soon my whole world was just a sea of pain that got worse and worse and I
could only see things dimly through a red mist. I suppose that I must have made a lot of
noise but I have no idea if he kept his threat about the extra strokes. I fainted away several
times but cold water always brought me back for more. Once, I thought that it had ended but
he was merely having a rest so that he could continue at maximum strength.
Afterwards, I was left hanging there, slowly dripping blood onto the floor from my numerous
open welts. I don’t know how long I spent like that before I was taken down, hog-tied again,
and put back in the sluice. The cold water kept my cuts open so I was still bleeding the next
morning when I was bundled, blindfolded and gagged, into the back of what was probably
the same car as before. The journey wasn’t too long but I was entirely unprepared for the
sight that greeted me once I was out of the car and the blindfold had been removed.
Part 7
I was roughly dumped out of the car, onto the ground and I heard the car drive away. Then
someone removed the blindfold and I struggled to focus my eyes. The first thing that I saw
was a stunning Asiatic girl – totally naked. She was about 5’ 4” tall with a slim build.
Gorgeous legs and arse and very nice tits too.
‘Hello, you must be Nina. I’m Lucy and I was at the Master’s house just before you went
there. Let’s take that gag off you and remove those restraints. Hell, you look a bit of a mess
– Sir’s work I suppose – we’ll have to get you cleaned up before we board the plane. The
Sheikh will go ape-shit if we get blood on the upholstery.’
Sure enough, there was a small, executive jet parked nearby, in a corner of what seemed to be
a private airfield.
Lucy fetched a first-aid kit from the plane and attempted to stop my cuts from bleeding. I
noticed that she didn’t attempt to use sticking plaster or bandages though and, when I asked
why, I somehow wasn’t that surprised to find out that total nakedness was required, even
under the present circumstances. The salve that she used was quite effective though and soon
the bleeding had stopped.
‘OK, let’s get on board – we have a fairly long flight. I’ll explain things to you along the
way.’
I never did fully understand just how it could be that a private plane could make unauthorized
journeys, carrying passengers with no documentation (or clothes for that matter). Obviously,
someone somewhere was very, very influential. I remembered the Master saying something
about a world-wide network so I suppose that some very high-up people were involved.
The interior of the plane was luxurious – like a five star hotel and then some. I never saw the
flight crew and there were no hostesses, just Lucy and me. Lucy closed the cabin door and
we strapped in for take-off – so we were not totally naked for once, if only for a few minutes.
She had plenty of time to fill me in on other details though, once we were airborne.
‘As I said, I was at the Master’s before you and when I had finished my training I was offered
a post training slaves for the Sheikh. Actually, I found the training really quite easy but, there
again, I’ve always been very flexible, physically. I didn’t get whipped that often – not often
enough really – and I managed to escape Sir’s ministrations completely, thank God. You
have not been so lucky and neither was Julie – she and I became good friends, by the way.’
‘I’m in charge of about 30 harem slaves and minor wives – basically they are under the same
regime that you and I have come to know so well. The problem is that 30 is a few too many
for one person to handle so the Sheikh decided that I needed an assistant – and that is where
you come in. You’ll understand the situation better when we arrive but, for now, I’ll rustle
up some food and drink and then we can get some rest. It’s going to take us about seven
hours to get to where we’re going.’
The flight seemed to pass quite quickly and then we strapped in for the landing. Looking
through the windows as we came into land all I could see was sand and guessed that we were
flying over some desert or other. There was no green to be seen anywhere but Lucy
explained that the Sheikh’s palace, for that was where we were headed, was situated at an
oasis, which was actually quite a pretty place. The palace, she said, was magnificent in its
opulence – the Sheikh was a very rich man.
The plane landed and came to a halt. Lucy opened the cabin door and we disembarked. The
scenery was certainly sandy, although I could see what looked like trees and buildings some
way off. It was also very warm and I couldn’t help thinking how nice it would be to be never
cold – unlike at the Master’s, where it always seemed to be cold and wet. There was no sign
of anyone waiting to meet us but a limousine with blacked-out windows was waiting. We got
in and were immediately driven off. I think that the black-out was not so much to stop us
seeing out as to stop anyone seeing in – we were both stark naked, after all.
The car ride was very short as the airfield was not far from the oasis. We got out of the car in
a sort of walled courtyard and, again, there was no sign of life. Lucy led me through a
doorway, down a passageway and through a second door, which opened into a sumptuously
appointed room. The floor was covered in expensive-looking carpet and there were tapestries
hanging from the walls. Several items of furniture were dotted around but the room was
dominated by a huge, silk-covered divan, which was on a raised dais. There was one person
present, whom I assumed to be a servant of some kind as he kept his eyes downcast. Lucy
spoke to him brusquely in a language that I did not recognise – I only made out the words
‘Ali Pasha’, which sounded like someone’s name – and he left the room.
Lucy then motioned to me to get down on the floor, in front of the dais. She quickly assumed
Position One, with a truly awesome spread, and I, taking the hint, did likewise. We lay there
for some minutes and then I heard someone enter the room.
‘The Slave Trainers may rise.’
We got up off the floor but remained kneeling, facing the dais. A handsome, middle-aged
man, dressed in Arabian-style clothes, was reclining on the divan. Was this the Sheikh, I
wondered? It was not, as became immediately obvious.
‘Welcome Nina to the palace of my master, Sheikh Abdullah bin Mahommed. Allow me to
introduce myself; I am Ali Pasha, head of the Sheikh’s domestic staff. All servants here,
including the slave trainers, report to me and I report only to the Sheikh. Lucy you have
obviously met and, no doubt, she has filled you in on many of the aspects of life here and
what your duties will be. I shall leave it to her to induct you into the system. Do you have
any immediate questions?’
I wondered when I would meet the Sheikh and asked Ali Pasha about this.
‘You will meet His Magnificence before too long but I think it better if we get you settled in
and orientated first. We also have some restorative work to do on your body before then. I
see that Sir has acted with his usual enthusiasm. Come here, Child, let me have a better look
at you.’
I stood up and walked to the dais. Ali Pasha got down from the divan and examined my
wounds thoroughly, including those on my abused pussy.
‘Yes, I’m afraid that Sir has exceeded his remit and has left you in a bit of a mess. Most of
your cuts will heal cleanly, with some help, but there are a few that are going to scar. Lucy,
when you have settled Nina into her quarters please take her along to see the physician so that
he can attend to her wounds. Do it today – we should not waste any time if we are going to
minimize the scarring.’
We then prostrated ourselves again and waited for Ali Pasha to leave.
‘Well, Nina, that was Ali Pasha. He’s OK, mostly, but don’t get on the wrong side of him –
he could make your life here very unpleasant if he wanted to do so. He’s a very strict
disciplinarian – there is only one way to do things round here and that’s the Ali Pasha way so
just remember that and you’ll be fine.
As he said, he is in charge of the domestic staff here and that includes just about everyone
except the harem guard, who are not eunuchs, by the way. We do have eunuchs here and
they are responsible for maintaining order within the harem. Their function is entirely
different to that of the guards, who are there to keep intruders out. No fully functioning men
are allowed within the harem itself, except for the Sheikh and Ali Pasha and he is a law unto
himself.
Right now we have six courtesans in the harem, along with about another 25 harem slaves.
The courtesans are available only to the Sheikh and are, effectively, minor wives. He does
have a ‘number one wife’ but she does not live within the harem walls. The slaves are, of
course, available to the Sheikh but also to other members of the staff and to the guard. Our
status is akin to that of the courtesans except that, on occasion, we may be expected to
provide sexual services to visiting VIPs – and to Ali Pasha, of course. Also, because the
Sheikh has a lot of women to service, we can use the guard to alleviate our frustrations when
he isn’t fucking us himself – which is most of the time. The courtesans tend to get done in
rotation, although some are more popular than others. The slaves get done rarely and it is
every slave’s ambition to be elevated to the rank of courtesan. The whole thing is a bit like
an on-going competition, with the Sheikh as the prize.
Every week all of the slaves and courtesans have to display their prowess – good performers
may get promoted and poor ones get demoted or, in extreme cases, expelled from the harem.
Any hint of laziness or non-cooperation is punished by the head eunuch – and I mean
punished severely. A little while ago two slaves got into a fight over something quite trivial
and had to be punished. They each got 100 lashes with a bull whip. One particularly
recalcitrant slave, who had offended before, was awarded 300 lashes. She survived but her
body was ruined and as she was of no further use she was expelled to live as best she could
outside of the walls. I don’t know what became of her in the end.
Anyway, enough of this talking, for now. I’ll show you your quarters and then we must go to
see the physician.’
We left the room and walked down a corridor until we came to a set of heavy, steel-
reinforced, wooden doors. These were guarded – and the guards did not avert their eyes but
appraised us thoroughly. They obviously knew who Lucy was as they immediately opened
the doors and let us through. We then went down another corridor, through another set of
guarded doors and into the harem proper.
The main area of the harem was like a large courtyard, enclosed on all sides by high walls.
There were lawns, gardens, fountains – it was very beautiful. Several buildings were dotted
about – some quite large – and I assumed that these were accommodation for the residents.
There were quite a few women around – all beautiful and all completely naked and all of
whom prostrated themselves as Lucy and I approached. One other thing that I noticed was a
pair of substantial stone columns that stood in the centre of the space. Quite ordinary
columns until you noticed that they were equipped with restraints – obviously designed to
stretch a slave for whipping.
‘Oh, you’ve noticed the whipping columns. Yes, those get used quite a lot. There are two
because disciplinary offences often seem to involve two people and the eunuchs like to be
able to do simultaneous punishments. One of the other buildings in here houses a fully-
equipped torture chamber, just in case a whipping is not enough. Not been used since I’ve
been here though. Our quarters are in that building over there – come on!’
We went across to our quarters. The luxury stopped at the doorway – no sumptuous carpets
and wall hangings here! In fact, I was not at all surprised when, having climbed a bare, stone
staircase we were confronted by a set of little, bare cells, each containing a wire-based bed
and nothing else. Just like at the Master’s in fact – even the restraints were the same. The
only concession was that here we each had an en-suite shower cubicle and toilet – no towels
though. I could see that I would feel quite at home very quickly – it was too warm though!
‘Looks familiar? By the way, it isn’t all that warm at night here but at least it isn’t that awful
damp cold that we had at the Master’s house. We sleep restrained, of course, unless we are
required for ‘services’. The sleeping arrangements for the slaves are even more primitive
than this. They just sleep chained to the stone floor – naked and spread, naturally. The
courtesans do a bit better – they get a thin mattress on the floor and are only restrained by one
ankle – still naked of course. Your room is this one here and mine is just up the corridor.
The rest have no-one at present but we have room for expansion if we ever need more
trainers.’
We went to see the harem physician and he was most sympathetic to my condition. He was
not, of course, allowed to use plasters or bandages, but had a range of healing salves, which
he applied to my cuts. My poor pussy got special attention and I was told that I must not
attempt sexual intercourse for at least a month as I was quite badly damaged. The salves
acted surprisingly quickly and I could feel the pain reduce as soon as he applied them. I was
to return for more treatment twice each day until I was completely healed. There would be
some scars left but, he thought, not too bad.
I had lost track of time a little bit – was it only that morning that I was at Sir’s house? It
seemed longer ago than that but, what with time zone changes and jet-lag I didn’t really know
what time of day it was – or even what day!
We reported back to Ali Pasha and told him what the physician had said.
‘OK Nina, I think that you are on holiday for a few days – just try to help Lucy a little bit but
don’t try doing any of the positions yourself. It will be a bit hard for you when you assume
your full duties as you will have stiffened up, I’m sure. You will cope though and we shall
not expect a perfect performance straight away. I shall also make sure that you will not be
expected to provide any ‘services’ until you are fully healed up. You will, of course, be
restrained at night but you will not be disturbed in any way, for the time being. And now, it’s
getting late so I want you and Lucy to return to your quarters – she has a heavy day
tomorrow, even if you don’t. Don’t forget to visit the physician in the morning.’
So, we retired for the night and yes, I was undisturbed and I was even reasonably warm for
once. The wire bed base was uncomfortable but no worse than I had experienced before
provided that I didn’t try to move because that caused my cuts to chafe. Lucy didn’t have a
quiet night though – I heard someone using a whip on her at some stage during the night and
I could tell that she was enjoying it! I don’t know who it was and I didn’t ask.
The following day, Lucy showed me the parts of the harem that I hadn’t already seen. We
had quite a good breakfast – both European and Arab food was available from a buffet in one
of the buildings. Clearly, being hungry was not going to be an issue. The slave quarters were
pretty basic – just stone-floored rooms with restraint rings set into the floor. Every night the
slaves were chained up, spread-eagled, by the eunuchs. The courtesan rooms were a little
better, but not much – just thin rugs and mattresses on the floor and rather less in the way of
restraints. We had a brief look at the torture room – very medieval with racks, wheels,
crosses and an awful lot of whips. I hoped that I would never experience any of it – it was
clearly intended only for punishment with no sexual connotations whatsoever.
Lucy carried out a training session that morning for all of the slaves and courtesans. It was
very similar to the sessions that I had endured before. Everything happened out in the open,
the residents being expected to achieve all sorts of interesting and next-to-impossible
positions. Lucy did the demonstrations – and boy, was she flexible or what? I confined
myself to giving a little encouragement, where needed, with the aid of a vicious little quirt
that had been provided.
The dexterity of the residents was quite variable – some very good, some not so good and a
few who were clearly going to be in big trouble if they didn’t improve quickly. The day
passed quite quickly and pleasantly. I thought that I might get to like being there but, after
the evening meal, something happened that made me think again. We were all summoned to
the courtyard by the eunuchs and assembled next to the whipping columns. A pretty, young,
naked girl was dragged in, kicking and screaming, by two burly eunuchs who quickly and
brutally shackled her to one of the columns. She had obviously transgressed in some way
and was now to be punished. Ali Pasha, who now entered the courtyard, read the charges.
‘Slave Malinda, you are convicted of having a liaison with one of the guards here. You have
denied this but we know that you are guilty. You can expect no mercy and you will be
afforded none. The sentence is that you shall receive 200 strokes of the bull whip on your
back and legs. You will then receive a further 200 strokes on your front, including your
breasts and genitals. If you survive you are to be cast out of the harem to live as best you
can. Let the punishment commence!’
The chief eunuch, an enormous person, bearing a long bull whip, approached the shaking girl.
He cracked the whip in the air – the sound was like a pistol shot and the girl screamed, even
though the whip had not touched her. The next stroke was real enough though and opened up
a cut across the middle of the girl’s back. This time her scream was pure agony. Soon her
back and legs were covered with bleeding welts – the eunuch even contrived to place the tip
of the whip between her spread buttocks, attacking her most intimate places. She fainted
often but cold water revived her and the whipping continued. At the 200 count, the whole of
the back of her body and legs had been reduced to raw flesh. Then they turned her around
and whipped her front, achieving a similar result. Her animal screams as her genitals and
breasts were reduced to bloody pulp were terrible to hear. At the end she was still alive,
barely, but was left shackled to the column overnight. I heard later that she had died in the
night – she was certainly not there the following morning.
Ali Pasha spoke. ‘You have all witnessed this punishment so let it be a lesson to you. Any
breaking of the rules here will be dealt with severely and remember, there are no trivial
offences. Be careful – obey the rules and work hard and life here can be pleasant. Break the
rules or not give 100% and I will make your lives a living hell. Dismiss!
Over the next few weeks I witnessed several more whippings but not of the same severity as
that first time. Most punishments were for laziness or for having a bad attitude to the training
and were usually only 50 strokes with a light whip – painful enough to make the victim think
twice but hardly debilitating. I, myself, was responsible for ordering some whippings as I
was now recovered and participating fully in the training programme. I knew that laziness on
the part of a slave would reflect badly on me so I had little hesitation in prescribing
punishment.
One day it was time for one of the Sheikh’s regular progress demonstrations. We were all
assembled in the courtyard, prostrate in the Number One position. Ali Pasha, who was
present, then cried out, ‘Tremble, Oh Slaves, His Magnificence Sheikh Abdullah bin
Mahommed comes!’
We lay there, spread wide, and then I heard a different voice.
‘The trainer Nina may rise. The rest will remain.’
I got up onto my knees and beheld a handsome, youngish man, clad in traditional Arab dress.
‘So, Nina, we meet at last. Come close, I wish to look at you.’
I started to shuffle towards him on my knees but he stopped me.
‘Rise, Nina. Rise and come here!’
So I did. He examined me thoroughly and intimately. I should have been embarrassed but,
somehow, it felt natural and anyway, everyone else was face-down on the ground and
couldn’t see anything.
‘I’m glad to see that the physician has done a good job. Your scars hardly show and they will
fade further with time. I shall get to know you better quite soon now but first we must see
how the training has been going. Ali Pasha tells me that you have settled in nicely and are
proving to be a great help to Lucy. Ali Pasha – please put them through their paces.’
Each slave and courtesan then had to demonstrate their abilities, in turn, while Lucy and I
gave ‘encouragement’, where necessary. Ali Pasha marked off a check sheet for each
participant – it was this that determined who would be promoted or demoted or punished. On
the whole it all went rather well. One of the courtesans was demoted to common slave, for
under-achieving, and the best performing slave was promoted in her place. Quite a lot of re-
ordering went on in the slave ranks. Normally, being placed low in the ranks did not, by
itself, mean that punishment was inevitable – that usually only happened after failure to
progress because of laziness. We had one slave, an attractive Negress, who was in this
category – third from the bottom this time and a history of failure. The Sheikh was not
pleased with her!’
‘Ali Pasha, we have had problems with this slave before. I remember remarking, last time
that she was making little progress and now, it seems, she has actually regressed. I do not
believe that the trainers are at fault here – they can only do so much. The situation is clearly
unsatisfactory. I will see this girl whipped and I will see it done here and now. If there is no
improvement next time I will have her whipped to death. Have the chief eunuch flay the skin
from her back – the others can watch.’
The Negress was shackled to a whipping column by two eunuchs. She was shaking in
anticipation of what she knew was to come and tears were rolling down her face. The chief
eunuch then approached, bearing his long bull whip – he looked at Ali Pasha, questioningly.
‘100 strokes to the back and legs and lay it on hard.’
The whipping commenced and it was just as brutal as that first one that I had witnessed. The
girl screamed and screamed but to no avail. She received the full 100 lashes and was left,
shackled and bleeding, to the column, overnight.
‘Ali Pasha – she is not to receive the attentions of the physician. I want her permanently
scarred as a reminder to others of the penalty for laziness.’
We then had to prostrate ourselves again as Ali pasha cried, ‘Sheikh Abdullah bin
Mahommed leaves!’ Then we carried on with our duties. Everything was back to normal,
apart from the bleeding, sobbing girl, hanging from the whipping column.
That night, as I lay shackled to my bed, I received a visitor – one of the harem guards.
However, he had not come for ‘service’ but was there to take me elsewhere. He removed my
restraints and I followed him out of the harem and into a part of the palace that I had not seen
before. The furnishings became increasingly opulent as we progressed more deeply into the
building and eventually we passed through a door into a sumptuously appointed bed-
chamber.
The guard spoke. ‘Prostrate yourself and wait.’ He then left and I assumed Position One on
the luxurious carpet. And I waited.
‘Nina, you may rise.’
I looked up to see that someone had entered the chamber – it was the Sheikh!
‘I think that the time has come to know you a little better so, tonight, you will stay with me
here. Come over to the bed, lie down on your back and spread yourself. I am going to
stimulate you with this little whip and, when you are ready, I shall make love to you. If I find
you satisfactory we may make this a regular event.’
He picked up a small, multi-thonged whip from a table and motioned to me to get on the bed.
He then started to whip my tits and pussy – but only gently at first. As I started to get
aroused he plied the whip with more force until I was begging him to fuck me, which he did
and it was the best fuck that I had ever had. He made full use of me that night and I was quite
sore by morning but I was happy and fulfilled. I couldn’t help singing to myself as I went
about my duties that day.
After that, I was summoned to the Sheikh perhaps once a week – it would have been more
often except that he had many other girls to keep happy as well as me. I did get fucked by
other senior members of the household from time to time but no-one was in the same league
as the Sheikh. So, I was quite happy – I was getting regular sex, whipping when I wanted it
and the training work was going well. I felt quite at home until, one dreadful day, everything
started to go horribly wrong.
Part 8
I had just finished a training session when Lucy came running up to me.
‘Oh, Nina, I have terrible news - the Sheikh has been killed in a riding accident. Ali Pasha
will make an announcement at the evening meal so, until then, don’t say a word. This is very
bad and I have no idea what will become of us now.’
Sure enough, Ali Pasha told the assembled harem the news. The Sheikh had been out
exercising his favourite stallion when it had tripped and unseated him. He had struck his
head on a rock and had been killed outright. Ali Pasha proclaimed that the court would
immediately go into mourning, which would last for one month. After that, it would be
decided what would happen to the harem – it seemed likely that the Sheikh’s younger brother
would take over.
The following weeks were anything but pleasant. We were confined within the harem, along
with the slaves and courtesans and were reduced to eating very basic rations. We were not
allowed to carry out any training although, on the quiet, Lucy and I still did exercises to keep
ourselves supple. The courtesans, of course, immediately lost their status and became just
ordinary slaves. They lost their rugs and mattresses as well and were chained to the floor,
spread-eagled, at night. This did not go down well and led to some muttering in the ranks. A
few girls were whipped for this.
Eventually, the mourning period ended but this was only the start of our troubles. As
predicted, the younger brother, now a Sheikh in his own right, took over the harem. The
major problem was that he brought his own retinue with him, including his wife and slaves
and, unfortunately for Lucy and me, his own trainers.
It was obvious from the start that we were all second class citizens now. The new Sheikh,
Faizal bin Mahommed was an unpleasant man who immediately started to exert his authority.
The first casualty was Ali Pasha – surplus to requirements as Faizal had brought his own staff
with him. He was summarily dismissed and we didn’t see him again. The second casualty
was Abdullah’s wife. We hadn’t seen too much of her as she lived outside of the harem walls
– until now. It was declared that she no longer had any status and would now live with the
common slaves and former courtesans. In order to impress upon her that she was now no
better than the dirt under his sandals Faizal had her stripped and whipped in front of the
assembled harem.
Ali Pasha’s replacement, a Nubian known only as Sampson, was equally unpleasant. He had
a habit of carrying a coiled bull whip everywhere and he did not hesitate to use it - Lucy and I
soon felt its sting. But the worst was his head trainer, a muscular Negress known as Jo-Jo.
She obviously considered that Lucy and I were not needed anymore and went out of her way
to reinforce this belief in the minds of Sampson and Faizal. Jo-Jo had an assistant, Ludmilla,
who I think was Russian – unpleasant again but she paled into insignificance compared to Jo-
Jo.
So, life wasn’t so good any more. Even the quality of the food went down as Faizal didn’t
consider that slaves warranted anything other than a basic staple diet. The four courtesans
that he brought with him took over the senior positions amongst the harem but it didn’t stop
there. He decided that the ten ordinary slave girls that he had brought should have a superior
status compared to Abdullah’s slaves so they were given extra privileges, such as not being
spread at night when they were chained up. The new courtesans were not chained at all.
As for Lucy and I, we were still restrained as before, even though Jo-Jo and Ludmilla were
not and it was quite normal for either of the new trainers to visit us during the night, just to
use a whip on our defenceless bodies. There was no hint of sex at all – I think that Jo-Jo and
Ludmilla had some sort of Lesbian relationship going.
Lucy and I were still expected to do the majority of the training. Jo-Jo did nothing apart from
strut about, carrying a nasty, vicious quirt, which she tended to use rather a lot, and Ludmilla
was just about useless. I never thought before that someone might benefit from spending
some time with Sir but I quickly changed my mind where Ludmilla was concerned. What
with the increased numbers and total lack of help the training became really hard work and
the standard began to drop. There were just not enough hours in the day to do a proper job
and things were made worse by the recalcitrant attitude of the new courtesans and slaves.
The courtesans seemed to be immune from any from of chastisement – if anyone was going
to be whipped it was usually one of the original slaves, not the newcomers.
The first time that we had an inspection it did not go well and Lucy and I were warned that
we must do better. When we tried to explain out difficulties to Sampson we were just
ignored. A feeling of helplessness began to set in – nothing that we did seemed to be right –
and a whipping by the eunuchs seemed to be inevitable. Then things got worse – one day
Lucy just wasn’t there any more. I never found out where she went, or why she went and I
never saw her again.
So now, the training was all down to me and it was an impossible task. Far from getting any
help from Jo-Jo and Ludmilla, they seemed determined to make my life as difficult as
possible. I am quite sure that they were telling Sampson, and therefore Faizal, that I was
useless and I believe that some of the new slaves were told to under-achieve, just to make me
look bad. I was in a no-win situation and was permanently exhausted from the work.
The first inspection day after Lucy disappeared went very badly for me. Some of the slaves
had obviously been primed by Jo-Jo and the result was that I was sentenced to be whipped for
not doing my job properly. I was chained to one of the columns and given 100 with the bull
whip. I don’t think that it was any worse than the punishment that I been given by Sir but
this time there was going to be no access to the physician with his healing salves. Some of
my cuts have still not healed properly and will leave permanent scars – not that this is likely
to be of much concern to me.
Faizal likes to have inspections on a monthly basis and we have had the latest one today. I
had made no progress since the one before, when I was whipped. Permanently exhausted and
in pain from the whipping it was obvious to me that I was in serious trouble – I certainly
couldn’t do an effective job now. So, it was no surprise when the inspection went badly,
again. I was made to prostrate myself before Faizal while Jo-Jo related all of my failings.
Apparently, I was useless, didn’t work hard, didn’t try and had a bad attitude. She didn’t
have one good thing to say about me. Faizal had a quick word with Sampson, who then
pronounced sentence.
‘Slave Nina, you were warned at the last inspection that your performance was inadequate
and that an immediate and substantial improvement was required. You were whipped to
reinforce this message but to no avail, it seems. If anything, your performance as slave
trainer has deteriorated further and we see no alternative other than to punish you severely.
After the evening meal tonight you will be chained to a whipping column and you will be
given 500 strokes of the bull whip on your back, front, legs, breasts and genitals. If you
survive you will be permitted to remain in the harem to serve as a lowly cleaning slave but
your position as slave trainer is finished, as of now.’
I think that I have a good idea of what 500 strokes of a heavy bull whip is likely to do to me.
I’m not so bothered about the pain – after the first 100 it won’t matter that much as long as
they don’t use a stimulant to keep me alert. That would be bad but, even then, all things
come to an end. I am not expecting to survive – I would rather die than live on with a ruined
body.
I have been left alone for the last few hours so I have been hurriedly composing this message.
I don’t know if anyone will ever read it as I shall have to try to smuggle it out via one of the
guards. I’m going to end now as they will be coming for me soon.
All you girls, and boys, out there, take heed. Don’t wish too hard for something – you might
just get more than you bargain for. I know.
Goodbye
Nina
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