Elizabeth Enslaved Read online

  Chapter Five

  “There was a report of infiltrators landing within a few hours of the supposed wreck and not far from where she came ashore!” the Colonel had reported as the result of his search for the rest of Lady Elizabeth’s family. “Four persons landed in an inflatable boat but fled when fired on. The local inhabitants were ordered to help conduct a search a search, but it proved unsuccessful. I found a separate report, though, of a foreign youth found in suspicious circumstances by fishermen, who is supposed to have been lodged in the civil prison. Presumably the other three are still at large. Perhaps someone is sheltering them.”

  “The daughters would have been more useful,” Madame commented. “But I could think of uses for the son nevertheless!” The Colonel had been making one of his frequent visits. Madame Zurra had selected the esoteric set of sexual positions that Lady Elizabeth had to learn in the little room on the upper gallery, largely for his entertainment and he liked to sample the latest technique in which the prisoner had been trained.

  In addition to the position of the Ram there was the Stopper, El Asemund, which meant Lady Elizabeth on her back with a pillow under her butt, her thighs doubled back against her breasts. The customer took her poised on the balls of his feet and stretched over her, gripping her by the shoulders to hold her to him as he went into his fast thrusts. That kept her vagina tight and allowed a straight thrust with plenty of weight behind it.

  El Mokefa was Frog fashion, performed with Lady Elizabeth on her back again, knees lifted and widely parted. The man entered her squatting, putting her legs over his shoulders and pulling her to him by the arms to assist his discharge.

  El Makeumutt had the Englishwoman on her back this time with her legs in the air, the customer squatting and cradling her bottom between his thighs, holding her legs aloft.

  El Setouri meant the he-goat in English. Elizabeth lay on her side, one leg stretched out. The man squatting along her thigh lifted her other leg up to his shoulder, giving her maximum split and the minimum ability to affect the course of events, the man pulling her on and off him as he pleased.

  El Loulabi was the Screw, one favoured by a fat customer who liked to lie inertly upon his back, head on arms, smirking while Lady Elizabeth sat astride him, screwing herself down upon his upright manhood with all the appropriate histrionics.

  For El Kelouci, the Somersault, Elizabeth actually had to don knickers, the sole purpose of which were to be dropped down to cling about her ankles while she was bent double. Her ducked head was inserted into the stretched waistband and she was then somersaulted by her user to land on her back helpless to move further.

  Another animal imitation, Hachou en Nekanok, which was the Ostrich-tail in English, was performed half on, half off the bed with head and shoulders supported and her rump lifted on the man’s hands, her legs hooked over his shoulders.

  There was Ketchef el Astine, another position in which she was required to slavishly furnish all the effort. Her customer lay upon his back, knees lifted and Elizabeth got between them on all fours, head down and facing his buttocks, lifting her rear up and down on his shaft, peering along under her belly to judge her aim.

  An odd position was Neza el Kouss, the Rainbow, where both she and her customer lay upon their sides; she with her body between his thighs, arching back to reach a grip on his ankles while he bent forward to pull her hips to him. One that sounded the same, was Nesedj el Kheuzz. She only had to perform it once and confused the name, earning herself a caning since in practice it was quite different. The man squatted and Elizabeth was meant to sit on his feet against the front of his calves, her legs either side of him. There she was slid to and fro, carried by the in- out movement of his feet, which she had to assist by pushing with her hands behind her.

  One of the more showy positions bore the ominous name of Driving the Peg. Elizabeth was lifted and thrust up with her rear against a wall at waist height to the man. She was required to wrap her arms and legs around her customer while his human hammer drove his fleshy peg well home.

  Of course many of them were quite simple, like Dok el Arz where she bestrode the customer’s out-stretched thighs face to face while being bounced up and down by his grip on her waist. El Keurchi was even simpler, a standing fuck with Elizabeth backed against a wall. Nik el Kohoul meant rear entry with Elizabeth taken face down humped over a bolster placed under her belly. Rekoud el Air had the man half sitting to form a saddle with Lady Elizabeth riding in the V of his body between belly and thighs. Kaleb el Miche required her to take an active role again, the man lying back upon the edge of the bed with his thighs apart while Lady Elizabeth mounted his erection between them in a kind of reversal of roles.

  “She has been learning that men will like to use her rear opening too and how to give them pleasure with it!” Madame announced during one sampling while the officer, whom Elizabeth was used to regarding as a sort of sponsor, looked on with interest. She was flourishing an enormous pink dildoe in illustration, thrusting it under Elizabeth’s nose, before introducing it to her victim’s tender anal passage.

  “You must be made to practice it!” She shoved hard. “No! You are tightening yourself too much! Sometimes a man will like a tight opening at first but you must learn to give way readily before him. Make your body go limp as soon as the dildoe enters and wriggle onto it!” To falter now would only waste her painful progress so far. Kneeling upon the bed on hands and knees Elizabeth relaxed as far as she could bear to, then, thrust back her trembling rump “Better!” Madame approved. “Now squeeze as hard as you can, as if you want to keep it inside you!” Elizabeth gasped and squirmed a little as she felt the pain it caused employing muscles she had only recently discovered she possessed.

  “Those weals on your bottom are your own silly fault!” the brothel-madam reproved her. “Learn quickly and you will escape such handicaps! Now loosen yourself as it goes out again!” She pulled the dildoe smoothly out until it lay just within Lady Elizabeth’s clinging anus and then thrust it slowly back.

  “Open and relax!” “Squeeze again!” “Now slacken!”

  “Use all your bottom muscles! Keep repeating that action!” Elizabeth’s red- striped moons clenched and unclenched in a steady rhythm as if the sliding pink dildoe had been a man in rampant action. Then suddenly, without warning, two thick male fingers were substituted for the dildoe.

  “Keep going, Lady Elizabeth! Fingers, dildoe, or a man’s cock should be all one to you. It’s your duty to please the customer by whatever means he cares to indulge himself, is it not?”

  “Yes Madame...” Elizabeth panted. Anything else would have been treated as impudence and earned her the punishment appropriate for offending a customer. “There!” The two fingers drove deep, impaling her rear. “Close tight upon the intruder! Persuade the customer that you don’t want to lose him! That’s it!” The fingers came out with a definite plop.

  “Now I want to see you practice giving invitations, Lady Elizabeth. Invite your customer to use you! Remember that every cock going inside you may take you a little closer to paying off your debt, but only if you give complete satisfaction to your user! Thrust your bottom up as far as you can and spread your cheeks at the same time, begging to be used by your customer!”

  Concentrating hard to reproduce the guttural sounds, Elizabeth gasped out the phrases that she had learnt, suitable exhortations inviting a man to use her.

  “Colonel! Do you wish to test her?” By now that officer’s penis, standing from his robe was swollen rigid, the knob glistening purple and the veins like cables round its stem. The bed creaked as the Colonel rammed Lady Elizabeth forwards into it, forcing her to gasp and snort for breath. As Madame stood back, the officer took the still valiantly presenting Englishwoman by her rearing hips even before she got her words out and thrust himself into the pouted orifice. Elizabeth yelped startled, stiffening her resistance and Madame boxed her ear
s.

  “Pay attention!”

  “Yes... Madame...” Lady Elizabeth groaned. Discipline and eagerness to please was regularly reinforced in her owner’s office after the customers gave their invited assessment of her performance.

  “Your customer was not entirely satisfied with you!” Madame Zurra would say and Elizabeth would wilt in anticipation. “Of course there are reasons for your lack of accomplishment, but the quicker you acquire these skills the less painful it will be! Bend over the stool!” and Madame would produce the bamboo cane from her desk drawer. “What are you here for, Elizabeth?”

  “Please Madame. To satisfy my customers as a whore...” Swishhh-Crack! “To be a good actress... and encourage them to use me...” Swishhh-Crack! “To obey my owner... and attract more business...” Swishhh-Crack!

  “To justify my purchase price... Swishhh-Crack! Head downwards then, Elizabeth would gasp and squeal while her implacable trainer impressed the lessons upon her tender flesh.

  Chapter Six

  So this night, in her regular work place on the upper floor, Lady Elizabeth had greeted her customer as if he were a conquering lord, slipping to her knees and bowing low. It was her first duty to arouse the men, though fortunately few of them needed much encouragement. The grinning soldier had presented the ticket that confirmed his choice of position. His language was incomprehensible to her as probably was hers to him. She still found it a relief to be restricted to the language of gesture and attitude.

  “Effendi!” Well trained in her role, she began by arching herself against the brute’s solid frame, like a scented cat, rotating her bottom upon which the powder puff disguised the traces of the penalty for previous failures. She rubbed her nakedness against his khaki-clad loins with a gentle tinkle of bangles and anklets, the rewards given for good performances bearing their own element of shame. Slithering within his instinctive embrace, she raised her vivid lips to him, her warm mouth seeking his amid his bristly moustache. Finding only a cool response and with only the tiniest of pauses she sank gracefully downwards, brushing against his muscular body all the way. His language was incomprehensible to her as probably was hers to him. She still found it a relief to be restricted to the language of gesture and attitude. Sinking to her knees before him, she made a gesture of lascivious submission, her white hands going on at once to work upon the buttons and zips of his uniform.

  “O Effendi!” she whispered, delving softly into his pants with tentative exploratory fingers. The soldier’s large brown hand brushed back the fall of soft blonde hair that half obscured her face.

  Madame had endowed her with this fantasy origin as Lady Elizabeth, supposedly a relative of the English royals who had married an American Jewish millionaire and been recruited by enemy intelligence as an expert in seduction. According to the story, she had been captured and forced as a punishment to serve as a soldier’s whore. She assumed that the man examining her expression was curious as to how Lady Elizabeth accepted her humiliating fate. She hardly needed to counterfeit the appropriate feelings!

  What he saw evidently appeased him and he grunted amusedly, acknowledging as much. Looking up at his face for the first time, Elizabeth flushed, suddenly realising that this was one of her former captors from that night on the sea beach, how long ago that was she was no longer sure. They had sold her to her present owner she had been told. Perhaps they now had to pay for her use like any other! What did he think of his erstwhile prize, now bathed, perfumed and powdered, hair restored to flaxen silk, lips and eyes enhanced, nails trimmed and polished, even her neatly trimmed pubic bush, delicately tinted and perfumed? She was a piece of merchandise for sale, and one that other men desired. Did he regret his bargain?

  She quickly undressed him, long eyelashes downcast as if in modesty, but continuing to twine and rub against him. The man sometimes helped, but more often hindered by clutching at her soft wriggling contours. Murmuring soothing nothings, she led him, now quite rampant with arousal, towards the bed. She was trained to use her mouth if need, be leaving aside the last element of modesty to coax an uncertain or sluggish customer to a stand, but this one would be quick and uncomplicated she judged. She had learned to simulate reluctance, enthusiasm, or fear as required by the fancy of each man who fucked her, giving herself entirely to acting out her part, suppressing her real feelings. Of course she faked orgasm as was expected of her, though sometimes to her greater shame she slipped almost unawares from fake to real.

  Fortunately this one seemed to be no linguist. The worst customers she felt were those who insisted upon speaking to her in her own language, thereby requiring more than dumb show. Dialogue was doubly humiliating and full of pitfalls.

  She slid between the man’s brown thighs with no more than fleeting regret for lost past and shame for her present occupation. Madame Zurra’s training had been severe, but she told herself it had fitted her to survive. It had equipped her to please these men, upon the satisfaction of whose lusts her life depended. The thought lent added vigour as she exerted all her technique upon the rampant grunting brute beneath her; in pleasing him she triumphed over her fate. Madame had taught her not to repress any effort; to writhe beneath the impending weight of the male thrusting up her breasts for him to play with, and then to increase the man’s pleasure as he entered her by contracting her passage, using the muscles of her thighs and squirm of hips and rump to give a pulsating effect around his thrusting intrusion.

  So many sexual partners had lessened the effect upon her, diminishing their individuality, the process become almost habitual, potentially hostile males disarmed by the same ritual of submission, manoeuvred into satisfactory orgasm and departing assuaged.

  Chapter Seven

  “Your customer found you satisfactory, Lady Elizabeth!” Madame Zurra, counting a handful of crumpled notes afterwards, nodded approvingly with her usual pretence of being a kindly employer who only inflicted punishment for the delinquent’s own good.

  Elizabeth felt only relief. Though never quite lost to her, her former existence had sunk so far into the past that small rewards and punishments assumed a disproportionate significance. Bathing, grooming, applying make-up and choosing jewellery beforehand were simultaneously proof of acquired skill and shaming, since the ritual reminded her that she was not a wife and mother preparing for an anticipated dinner party, but a slave whore preparing herself for a night’s fucking with entire strangers for the monetary advantage of her owner. She might be whipped or caned less often, but the humiliation of being spanked like a naughty child by Madame for minor transgressions had its own effect. It even added diligence to her work, her nightly success in satisfying men seeming to reinstate her status as an adult woman.

  Every night, men came shambling one after another through the door. Mostly soldiers in stained and ragged desert khaki, shaven-headed and hot-eyed, each clutching a paper ticket, having paid downstairs, each eager to have his money’s worth. Elizabeth had to remember now to take each man’s ticket to show how many she had serviced. That their coupling involved next to no verbal exchange was a relief to her. For a time when trade was slack a discount was offered on the Position of the Night for Lady Elizabeth, which eliminated the difficulty of communication, since every customer expected exactly the same. Sometimes she even dared to refrain from employing those stock phrases, with which she had been forced to become familiar, and the exact meaning of which she hardly knew, except that they were those of invitation and submission. The men took that for granted.

  “The war seems to be becoming more disorganised and the soldiers more in- disciplined!” Madame remarked to her unhappy sex-slave. “No-one seems concerned to hide from enemy aircraft any more and the camps around the town are becoming crowded with randy soldiers. Business is booming. I shall have to give you a quota!” At first it was half a dozen a night, but before long it was; “You are a profitable attraction, Lady Elizabeth! A new regiment has arrived
fresh from the battles. We expect very big numbers! You will have to take the men more quickly!”

  With such exhortations and painful reminders, she had to learn how to speed up her customer’s performance. Most of the men to whom she was given were fully excited when they got to her. She had only to go through the humiliatingritual of slavish submission and then apply the repertoire she had learnt with as much of a display of outraged modesty forced by terror into compliance as she could counterfeit. Having always at the back of her mind the thought of what might happen if she became less useful to her captors, it was therefore with her anxious compliance that the numbers of men using her body nightly increased.

  One night she began as usual, when the house opened as darkness fell. There was a sequence of half a dozen men in the first hour, some of them local civilian labourers still in their work clothes. Then it went at the rate of a customer every half hour or so until the busiest time began, a couple of hours before midnight.

  Some variety of exhibition was now being performed on stage in the courtyard below and her total reached fourteen as excited spectators trooped upstairs afterwards. It shot up again as groups of men drifted in, men who had been lingering elsewhere in coffee shops and illegal gambling places. Now a queue of soldiers built up and Lady Elizabeth, the convict whore, was taking a man every ten minutes to reach a total of forty-eight, a whole pile of tickets on the bedside table before business eased or at least slowed, as customers below became too drunk or too satiated to feel any urgency. Nevertheless, from then until the close of business at dawn, Lady Elizabeth took another seven men. So many sexual partners had she been forced to entertain by now, that it lessened the effect of this night’s total upon her mind. They were no longer individuals and the process had become almost mechanical, potentially dangerous beasts, but readily disarmed by the same ritual of submission, manoeuvred into satisfactory orgasm and then departing drained and assuaged she hoped to her credit.