Amalthea stood in front of the mirror, turned from side to side, and decided that she was happy with how the light summer dress looked as it skimmed her slender waist and flared out a little across her hips where the fabric was caught up into her bustle. She smiled a bit ironically at her reflection -- after all, there was no chance that anyone would see how well it fit outside of her own home -- not with the all-enveloping cloak she needed to wear out on the street.

She wrinkled her nose, remembering the rotten fruit and fish that had been thrown at her when she had first arrived in Cairo -- before she decided that dressing as the native women did was much simpler! She firmly pinned her hat into place, and then stepped out of the room into the hallway. Her maid was waiting at the foot of the stairs with the long black chador, which quickly swathed her, so nothing but the tips of her shoes were visible. Even her face was hidden behind gauzy folds. "Good-bye, father" she called down the hallway into the ambassador's study. "I will be back within the hour. "

Her father emerged into the dim hall, with a worried frown on his face. "Are you sure that's wise, Thea? I've heard that there has been some trouble in the suq." Thea dismissed the rumors of strife in the marketplace with a wave of her hand.

"Whatever you may have heard, father, I shall be fine. I am known to the merchants, and I shall have Siaza with me as well as Mahmet. Now, would you prefer fish or lamb for dinner?"

"Lamb dear...but stick close to your maid and the manservant." He hugged her briefly, and watched as the trio stepped out into the bright glare of the Egyptian afternoon.

Thea led purposefully towards the suq, stepping around piles of ordure with the skill of long practice. Natives stepped aside in respect, for the material that covered her was fine, and the fact that she was escorted by two servants betrayed that she was wealthy.

As she neared the edge of the marketplace, the traffic and the odors in the street both became thicker. Amalthea stopped short as a camel was led out in front of her. There was a sudden gurgling sound behind her, and she turned in time to see Mahmet fall, a dagger thrusting from his throat.

Her maid cried out too, as strong hands clutched at her hood, twisting the folds into her mouth so she could not cry out herself. A foul stench suddenly rose to her nostrils, and she struggled against the arms holding her as one of her unseen assailants mashed a smelly rag into her face. She had just time to realize that she was being drugged when she passed out.

Amalthea's first conscious thought was of nausea. She opened her eyes, and saw the room spinning about her, so she rapidly closed them again. She heard someone mutter something in Arabic, but was unable to catch the meaning of the fluid words. She felt herself sinking down into unconsciousness again, when a sudden vivid image of Mahmet intruded upon her mind. She sat up with a start, and felt hands on her shoulders at once. A basin intruded itself before her face, and she realized that it was just in time. She was quite thoroughly ill into it. When she recovered herself, she looked around the room.

An anonymous servant handed her a glass of clear water, and she gratefully rinsed her mouth out, and then splashed some on her face, hoping that it was potable. "Where is my maid?" Thea asked. There was no response, so she tried again in Arabic. Still no response. Raising her voice, Thea called out "Siaza! Siaza!" The servant still said nothing, but another voice spoke.

"Your maid cannot hear you, Amalthea DuBois. She is far away from here." Thea looked into the shadows, but was unable to see the face of the man who was speaking. She could discern his bulk, though. He was clearly enormous. He was swathed in a native-style robe with a keffiyah upon his head, and she thought his accent sounded slightly French.

"Did you rescue me from those ruffians, sir?" she began timidly. "Thank you for your kindness. If you will just notify my Father --"

"Let us begin with a full understanding," the voice cut through hers. "I hired those ruffians, and I have no intention of telling your Father."

"I beg your pardon?' Amalthea suddenly felt her vision contracting, as if she were looking down a dark tunnel.

"I am a ... merchant, " came the reply.

Now Amalthea could clearly hear the smirk in his voice.

"and you are going to be merchandise."

"I beg your pardon?" Amalthea repeated, as she stared into the shadows, uncomprehending.

"What do you mean, merchandise?"

"I am what is so quaintly called a 'white slaver' Miss DuBois. And you are a slave."

"You are joking!" Amalthea tried to stand, but the servant had hold of her shoulders again. The figure in the shadows clapped once, and a second servant appeared.

"Indeed I am not joking." He settled back in the chair. "In fact, it is time for your first lesson in obedience. Take off your clothing."

"I most certainly shall not." Thea crossed her arms and drew her ankles together. The man clapped, and she found herself drawn effortlessly to her feet by the two servants. They moved quickly and gracefully, pinning her arms up behind her spine, so that she had no option but to stand up straight.

"Last chance," came the sardonic voice. Terrified, Thea could not answer aloud, but simply shook her head.

"As you will." The voice seemed indifferent now, and she saw the glitter as the shadowy figure rang a small bell. A large man materialized and bowed gracefully. "Fesal will be happy to assist you."

A knife was suddenly in the man's hand, and Thea tried to shrink back, but found she was held too tightly. The tall man said something she didn't understand, and she realized that he was speaking one of the Hillman's dialects.

"Fesal suggests you stand very still lest he scratch you with the knife," her captor advised.

"You can't do this to me!" Thea protested. "My father will pay a ransom for me, to get me back unharmed."

"No doubt, but -- if you are as shapely as it appears -- I can get as much or more from my usual sources." A hand waved languidly towards her and the knife approached.

As Thea's eyes fixed on it in horror, the knife came up until the tip of it grazed her collarbone, and then, with a single swift stroke, he cut down through her bodice, all the way to below her waist. With equally powerful moves, he cut away the sleeves of her dress, so the whole slumped to the floor around her ankles, leaving her in only a camisole and her petticoats over her drawers, for she was slender enough not to need a corset.

"Very good," came her owners' voice from the shadows. "And what have you beneath those garments?"

"Please don't have him cut them off!" Thea's voice was quiet with shock. She realized now that she was fully in the power of this strange man.

"Begging already, my dear?" She saw a glint of gold in his smile. "Very well, then you may take off your underwear yourself."

Dead silence greeted this remark, and with a shrug he snapped his fingers. Instantly the knife wielding native was at work again, deftly removing Thea's undergarments. Struggling did not help her to cover her nakedness, and she felt a hot blush rising within her as her every charm was revealed to his gaze.

"Yes---very nice indeed." He said something and one of the servants dropped her arm and ran out. Before she could take advantage of her partial freedom, the remaining servant gathered up her wrist behind her back. In a few moments, the servant was back, escorting another man. This one looked like a European.

"Yes, sir?" The man came to attention before the shadowy corner.

"I've got some fresh meat for you. First we'll find out if she's a virgin---" he ignored Thea's indignant shout, "and then we'll test her...reflexes."

"Certainly sir." The man turned towards Thea, and looked her up and down. At his scrutiny, she felt herself become even hotter, and knew she must be beet red. he said something in the Hillman's language, and she felt her arms being lowered a few notches. She took a deep breath of relief, and began to speak. Surely this man would understand that she was a person of consequence?

"Sir, I am the ambassador's daughter, and --" Suddenly he slammed his hand towards her mouth. Before she realized what happened, he had forced a large rubber ball on a leather thong into her mouth and tied it securely behind her head. She could no longer speak, and rolled her eyes in horror. At almost the same time, she felt something snap onto each wrist. Looking up, she saw that they were now encased in leather-lined bracelets that were attached to stout cords.

The two servants tied her arms tightly to a pair of rings set in pillars, so that they were pulled up and away from her body. Then they knelt and put similar anklets on her, and roughly pulled them apart to tie them also to the pillars. She was barely standing, spread-eagled now on her tiptoes. Before she could feel the strain, a leather harness was buckled around her body, and the ropes in it passed through a ring on the ceiling, taking most of her weight. The European hooked a stool to him with his foot, and sat down between her legs.

Thea wished that she was still unconscious. A servant put a lamp down between them, and she could feel the heated air from the chimney on her inner thighs. The man roughly grabbed her, and stared at her feminine parts.

"She is indeed virgo intacta." Then he removed her gag, and she hung her head, tears of shame leaking from her eyes.

"Good, very good. In that case, you know what to do. We'll keep that sheltering piece of flesh there, it'll increase her value." He stood up, and turned to leave through a door that was behind the chair. "Get her ready."

As soon as he was out of sight, Thea tried again. "Please, sir, don't be a party to any more of this evil! I'm the ambassador's daughter, and he'll pay --"

"I don't much care." The man sounded slightly less bored, more...eager. Thea shuddered. "I get a generous salary...and lots of perquisites." He added something else in the native tongue, and the servant men smiled at her. One reached out and patted her breast, like she would have petted a cat.

"One of my job benefits is I get to find out more about your nervous system than you yourself know." He smiled, and Amalthea abruptly found herself wishing that the dagger at the marketplace had found her throat and not faithful Mahmet's. "Let's see...what shall we do..."

"I think we'll start by putting the gag back in. It does pull at the corners of your mouth, but we won't be needing that for a while." Thea recoiled at his words, but he applied pressure on her jaw until it opened almost of its own accord.

"And a blindfold, so you won't worry about who is watching you" A leather face mask appeared in the hands of one of the servants, and he laced it over her eyes.

Thea was very still, listening, above the sound of her own heart to the small sounds as her tormentor moved about the room. Suddenly there was something brushing her arm. She strained to identify it.

"We needn't keep you hanging, sweet child" came the voice very near her ear. There are ropes in plenty here, and much furniture."

Her arms were suddenly released, and they fell down to hang by her sides. She immediately tried to cover her treasures. A sharp slap knocked her hands away.

"No, don't cover yourself. You are mine, mine to look at. Mine to...tie." hands were busy at her back, and suddenly she felt a loop of the rope around her middle and her hands were fastened to it somehow behind her. Another loop was passed across her throat.

"There's a slip knot there, my sweet. If you struggle, you'll cut off your own air." She felt the hands again, hot and slightly damp, caressing her flanks. She shivered, much as a horse shudders against a fly. the hands lightly traced her lower ribs, and then the underside of her breasts. She tensed, expecting something painful, but nothing happened.

The gentle stroking continued, as he whispered into her ear "That's not so bad, is it? Most women like being stroked so. Relax, dear heart. I'm not going to hurt you. You can't resist me, so why try?" All the while, the warm hands gently brushed her chest, stroking the curved undersides of her breasts. She began, almost imperceptibly to relax to the hypnotic sounds, breathing more slowly and regularly.

"Yes, pet, that's right. Do what you're told to do. Relax, and this will be easier for you." The hands shifted imperceptibly higher, until suddenly they were somewhere else. Thea felt the fingertips gently snagging on her nipples and panicked again, fighting her bonds, the gag, even shaking her head as if to dislodge the blindfold. None of this worked, and after a few minutes she again hung limp while the hands continued to move gently across her breasts.

"These are sensitive, pet, aren't they. Made to suckle a child, or to give pleasure to you or to a man. How dark they are! And look at how the aureole crinkles up. Surely this too feels good?" The light stroking became circular patterns now, and again she tensed, feeling the rope grabbing at the flesh of her throat, beginning to cut off her air -- she panicked -- trying desperately to writhe free as the rope became tighter. She was beginning to hear a roaring in her ears when she suddenly felt his hands at the throat. He slipped his hand under the thong, forcing it loose again, and she nearly sobbed with relief.

"That will not do at all," he said firmly. He removed his hand, and she forced herself to stay still, not to fight. She could not decide what she was more afraid of now -- the prospect of the horrible things that this stranger was going to do to her... that all of these men would do... or the idea of strangling now, and having everything over. She felt a tear trickling down her face and tried to sob with embarrassment -- but the gag prevented her. "Don't worry, pet -- we won't allow anything to harm you," he seemed almost to be laughing at her, and she felt his finger on her cheek where the tear was trickling down.

Then his lips, kissing her face and throat as his hands moved slowly and gently over her breasts again. She felt his breath on her ear as he leaned close. "Listen closely, Amalthea DuBois -- for I shall say this only once. I am your only friend here, for I shall try to rescue you. I am a government agent -- but we are both under surveillance now"

She felt him straighten again, and wondered with a stunned feeling if he was telling the truth. Surely a government agent could not do these awful things to her body? And yet -- what had he to gain by his claim? Was she not completely in his power? She tensed again, feeling his hands upon her body, but only to gradually relax. Surely, if he was an agent, he would not allow her to be ... damaged? This anonymous stranger was right...for all that his hands were roaming over her exposed flesh, it didn't hurt...it felt rather good, actually, though she was suffused in shame at the thought. He was watching her closely, and was able to interpret the blush for what it was.

She could not see his smile, but she heard it in his voice. "You have beautiful breasts, my dear, like pomegranates, with tips like raisins." He increased the stimulation to her nipples, and Thea felt as if she were floating in some strange dream. She had felt this way once or twice before, and she wished that she could move her legs. She wanted to go for a walk, to leave this importuning voice, these insistent hands. He pinched her lightly on the nipples, and she flinched, returning to her present. She was suddenly terrified. He could be lying to get her to relax, after all -- and she knew that there were others in the room -- she felt the air currents as they walked about. She wanted to run away, to scream and never stop, to bury herself in a cave -- anything to get away from whatever fate awaited her.

"Yes...very sensitive...." she could tell that he was breathing harder now, and she was even more frightened. "We're going to know each other very well, Miss DuBois. Why don't you think of me as Lawrence?" The hands continued to knead her breasts, playing with the nipples, kneading her flesh lightly.

In the silence that followed his self-identification, Thea found herself concentrating more and more on his hands. They were warm and knowing, and she could visualize the tanned, spatulate fingers moving across her creamy flesh. He was watching her body so closely, able to wring her innermost secrets from her. She could not help it, she began to yearn for the touch, and when the pressure lessened, she felt herself trying to lean into his caresses.

"There, Amalthea," he crooned at last. "There, darling. I knew you would enjoy this. Here's something you'll like even more." It took her a fraction of a second to realize that the new sensation was his tongue, gently stroking her engorged nipples, as Lawrence's mouth sealed around the tip of her left breast. The sensation was so strong that she felt herself begin to shake, and didn't know why. A part of her brain tried to analyze this...she wasn't cold, so why was she shaking? The rest of her brain was tied up in the sensation.

A small mewling cry escaped around the gag as he switched his attention to the other breast, leaving the first one exposed and cold in a sudden draft. Soon his warm fingers were back, teasing the tip. He became marginally rougher, scraping her with his teeth as he switched back, pinching with his fingers. Suddenly, to her confusion, she felt his mouth leaving hot kisses on her shoulders while one hand stroked her flanks and another pulled out her hair pins. Yet, at the same time, the pleasurable feelings at her nipples continued.

"What you feel now on your tender tips are called nipple clamps, my pet," he whispered in her ear. They're very gentle ones...like a snaffle bit on a child's pony. There are others, less gentle, but you'll need to be toughened up first." She shuddered in fear, despite the fact that he really had been gentle so far.

"Then there are nipple rings, rather like the earrings you are wearing now. So convenient, for fastenings. These could come off..." he demonstrated with a tug, and then replaced them gently, adding "...rings won't."

A deep shudder ran through her body, and he traced it with his fingertips and his mouth. It was as if he was sucking the resistance out of her body, and she began to feel herself pliant again as he gently stroked her and teased her breasts. She decided that he was holding the lines to the nipple clamps in his left hand, and worried about what he would find to do with his right. she felt his breath, warm on her neck as he kissed her gently, and began to stroke her legs...first the outer thighs and then the inner. When she tensed he simply waited, continuing the gentle movements until she relaxed again.

"That's right, Thea, trust me." Gradually she began to feel natural, hanging in her bonds, feeling his touch on her body. His hands circled on her upper inner thighs for a while. It could have been ten minutes, or ten hours. Thea began to feel light all over. She was having trouble breathing, and her body seemed to yearn for something, but she didn't know what. She felt one of Lawrence's hands circling on her lower stomach, while the other grazed her nether lips.

"You have beautiful hair," he said, his breath warm against her as he leaned against her ribs. "It is long and silky at both ends." She felt his hands twining themselves in the hair now, and some very strange sensations followed between her legs.

"Ah, my innocent one, what charms lie beneath your fleece?" She heard a faint metallic snick as one hand left her body. "We shall find out soon... for I shall trim away your covering of hair." His second hand continued to caress her as the first clipped away at the locks of pubic hair. She felt his hand, stretching the skin away from the blades as he trimmed it all very short. With each touch, she shuddered, not really caring why it felt good. There came some splashing sounds, and then his voice warned her "Shaving soap" and she felt the brush, tickling in a way that didn't quite tickle. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt a warmth spreading within her.

After a few more minutes, she felt cold metal against her belly. "Be very still now, child, so I don't accidentally cut you." She felt the blade moving as he handled her, and it seemed quite natural, almost as if this was part of her regular grooming routine. "In some pasha's palaces these razors would be used here--" his hand touched lightly on the kernel of her desire and she moaned "-- to ensure that you get no pleasure out of this yourself. But I feel that you will try harder to please me if you can be made happy when you do."

His hand returned there briefly and she felt it as if a hot brand had been pushed against her flesh. She felt her hips rocking of their own accord, and then he pulled away. He finished shaving her in silence. His hands left her body then, and she stood, bereft of his presence. What would happen next? She began to feel quite cold as she waited. Her breasts seemed weighted down by the little clamps, and she felt the leashes trailing down over her belly, hanging loosely. She heard some Arabic spoken, too softly for her to understand, and then she felt the harness being removed.

She tottered her muscles crying out with stiffness as they were released to hang limply, and would have fallen but for the hands on her person. She could tell immediately that they weren't Lawrence's hands...no, it was two others. One had hot sweaty hands, and the other rough, callused palms. She felt herself blushing again, though they handled her completely impersonally. Or, perhaps, because they handled her so. Her hands were untied, and then her body lowered onto some sort of couch and retied. This time, her hands were pulled straight above her body, although her legs were still pulled apart. She was very conscious of how exposed her body was, to any one's gaze.

Then she felt the support shift beneath her, and felt Lawrence's hand again, upon her breast. She relaxed again, and reflected on how odd it was that she felt safe with this strange man near her naked body. He reached over her body, and she felt the cloth of his clothing brush her face. She couldn't quite figure out what she felt next, but soon realized that he was kneeling over her, one knee on each side of her torso. She wondered at the odd position, but she was beginning to feel dreamy and relaxed again. She idly wondered if this was an after-effect of the drug. His hands caressed her for a long time, and she was only half aware when he untied the gag.

When he removed it, there was a sudden abrupt shift in his weight, and then her mouth was filled with another gag...this one was warm and resilient, and moved within her mouth. "Lie still...just like that...don't fight it." He had his hands on the corners of her jaws, and she could neither turn her hear nor close her mouth.

"That's my manhood, and you have aroused it greatly. Keep your mouth open, your jaw relaxed." Thea could not help struggling at this sudden invasion of her person -- she realized as by a flash of light what he had put in her mouth. But, as with all else, her struggles availed her naught.

"Yes, relax," he crooned. "Use your tongue on it. Round and round. Oh... good. Pretend you are drinking through a large straw, and suck on it. Yes, you're doing it as well as if you were born to do this. Thea felt his hips rocking back and forth as the fleshy gag entered and receded from her mouth. She tried to visualize what was happening, but failed utterly. She had nothing to compare with, no referents to use. His hands relaxed from her jaw, and began to stroke her face and neck, to twine themselves in her hair.

Suddenly, he pulled back, and she felt a flood of wetness on her cheeks. She began to weep again in her confusion. Lawrence was gently stroking her again, and telling her that she was vary good. "Don't cry, Amalthea..." He continued with an edge of surprise to his voice "I may even buy you for myself. In the meanwhile, you have been a very good girl, and you deserve a reward."

Once again, she felt his hands stroking her, one on the upper thighs, one on the lower stomach. He continued to softly praise her until her tears dried, and gradually her whole being began to center once again on what he was doing. She sighed as his fingertips brushed newly shorn flesh, and then gasped as his fingers slipped inside, to folds where fleece had never grown. She seemed to be suffused with heat, glowing like molten gold as he bent closer until suddenly his mouth was working upon her.

His hands continued to stroke her thighs, massaging them, as he drank deeply of her nectar. His agile lips found her center, and nuzzled it while shocks ran through her body like lightening. His tongue was white hot as it followed her natural patterns, turning and twisting as she began to write beneath his touch. His hands became firmer, pinning her against the cushions, and it seemed as if every muscle was stretched to the breaking point. Suddenly, her universe contracted, and all she felt was pleasure rolling through her body as he back arched in a long lasting spasm. Amalthea didn't hear her own cries, but Lawrence heard them and was glad.

Amalthea came to her senses in a well lit room, with a light breeze blowing over her body. She was draped over with a light sheet of gauze, which she clung to as she sat up. There was food and drink on a small table to the side of the couch were she lay, and she moved towards it, tentatively. Glancing down at her body, she could see even through the thin gauze by her denuded loins that it could not have been a dream...a nightmare...a dream. She stopped confused, and flushed with heat as she remembered Lawrence and the hands that had roamed over her body... and what had followed.

She paused, staring at the fruit and bread and flask of wine, unsure again. Would it be safe to eat or drink here? And why should she? Surely death was a better fate than enduring the caresses of these slavers? A sudden draft made her look up, and she recognized the merchant himself by his sheer bulk.

"Awake already, child?" He smiled, revealing unattractive and jagged teeth which glinted with gold. "Good, for it shows a strong constitution. Lawrence tells me that he quite wore you out last night." Amalthea felt her blush spreading, but replied not at all. She stared down at the floor, studying the intricate mosaics and their repeating patterns of flowers.

"I'm sure that you realize your position, girl." This time there was a hissing undercurrent to his voice, and although Amalthea could not bring herself to look up, she knew he was sneering at her. "You are quite debauched. No decent European man would have you now. Especially since he knew you enjoyed yourself so."

Perhaps it was hearing her worst fears confirmed so casually, or perhaps it was the summation of her experiences. Thea felt a cold shudder spread down her body, and felt her knees go weak. She sat down abruptly on the couch -- and had it not been there she knew she would have collapsed fully onto the floor. When she looked up again, it was because of the draft her master's exit caused. His words floated through her mind though, uttered with a laugh as he left: "Your auction will be this afternoon."

There was clearly no reason for her to worry about poison now -- for if she died, surely she would escape the legendary "fate worse than death" which she had once scoffed at. She decided to eat, and hoped that somehow there would be an opportunity to escape. She had finished her meal when the doorway swung open again. Feeling a bit more alert, she glanced up in time to see the uniformed guards in the hallway before the door swung shut behind two twittering little women. They were clearly hill folk, and -- though she tried with English, French and Arabic -- did not seem to understand a single one of her questions.

The women each grabbed one of her wrists, and led her down a passageway, with her three guards following. They came into the largest and most luxurious bathroom that Thea had ever seen. She was pushed behind a curtain in an alcove, where she dealt (with some relief) to her personal needs, and then rapidly pulled over to an enormous soaking tub. Before she was permitted to climb in, they washed her down quite efficiently, tsk-tsking the few bruises on her body. Then they carefully helped her into the tub, where they arranged Thea so that they could dress her hair without themselves getting wet.

The tub did help, and Thea felt all the stiffness leaving her, until she felt quite herself again. She looked about, studying the room, but saw that there was only the single entrance. The water flowed out in a decorative river through a carved stone fretwork, and Thea could see the garden beyond...lush, blooming, and surrounded by a high wall. She could not see any of the other inmates, but Thea knew that them must be there. When the breeze swept towards her, she could here an occasional laugh...or perhaps a sob?

Too soon, her attendants chivied her out of the bath, and wrapped her carefully in a very sheer piece of rose colored silk, and then another, more opaque wrap of a darker red. They each caught her by a wrist, and again led her out into the hallway. Amalthea soon realized that it would be futile to try to break away now...not only were there again three guards (perhaps, she mused, one for each woman?) but the passages twisted and turned in no discernible pattern, and she knew that she would soon be lost.

At long last, they came to what was apparently their destination, and her escorts motioned Thea to sit on a plushly upholstered bench. A fourth guard entered, bearing a small casket, which he carried up to her and flipped open. Her female escorts motioned for her to look in, to take what was offered. She looked, and saw that the casket held two bracelets. They shone as if they were gold, and had intricate scenes etched upon them. Thea leaned closer to see, and picked one up. As soon as she closed her fingers around it, she realized it was truly gold -- no plated brass would feel so heavy. With dismay, she realized that the scenes were or an erotic nature, showing men and women in improbable positions.

Further, there was a slender chain depending from the heavy arm-band -- which she realized with horror was actually a cuff which would lock onto her slender wrist, allowing her captors to chain her where they wished. She recoiled, dropping the armlet, but was unable to escape. The two women caught her arm effortlessly, locking it in place, and then following that with the other. She heard the snick as the mechanism closed, and pulled frantically. Surely she could snap the slender chain? Thea knew how soft gold was -- but it was to no avail. She was trapped again, her arms chained behind her back -- and now that chain fastened to the couch.

With a smile and a bow, the man shut the little chest, and all six of the natives walked out. Amalthea struggled for a while against her bonds, but finally gave up, hanging her head in exhaustion. The only thing she freed was her hair, which lost the confining pins and slid down from the carefully piled coiffure. She could sit or lie down on the couch, but not move more than a few steps from it. Neither could she move the large piece of furniture, which was clearly stone beneath the layers of plush and padding.

A thin sheen of sweat coated her body despite the breeze that entered through the carved stone walls of her cell. She could not escape the feeling that someone was watching her, and knew that she could not escape the auction block. She fought back tears, trying to see how she could escape from this horrible palace and her unscrupulous captors. A slight scraping sound attracted her attention, and Thea glanced over to see a pair of shoes. Her eyes followed up the trouser legs and the waistcoat, coming at last to a face she recognized, with mixed feelings, as Lawrence. She blushed again, thinking of the previous night, as he approached, hands behind his back. His eyes had a strange glitter, and she was suddenly afraid again. How could she resist him, fastened down as she was? Nevertheless, she resolved that she would try again to convince him to help her to flee.

"Lawrence--" she began.

"You have displeased me," he interrupted. "Look at you -- all mussed from fighting what you can't escape....not that I truly believe you wish to escape, after last night. " He walked around her, and her eyes followed him, her head turning on her slender neck. "You are surely born for this life!"

"But --" She tried again, but again his words cut her off as if she had not spoken. "You resist these beautiful bracelets, and make my words to the master die without echoes as I praised your obedience." His hand suddenly flew to her neck, pushing her back onto the cushions with her hands behind her back so that her body arched awkwardly.

"If you want to live, you'll do as I say -- now." The hand released her, and she quaked, terrified. She didn't know what he was capable of in this mood...but she was sure that she would not live to escape unless she did as she was told.

"On your knees!" he snapped his fingers, and before she knew what she intended to do, she was kneeling on the floor in front of him, her neck bowed and her hair streaming down her back. He walked around her again, stepping over the chain as if it were of no import. Thea didn't dare to look up this time, and followed his movements only from the corners of her downcast eyes.

"Straighten your back! Head up!" She straightened, without conscious volition, although her eyes remained focused on the floor, their bright orbs masked by her long lashes.

"Very good." he paused, behind her. "I may let you live." Amalthea was very confused. Surely Lawrence had liked her yesterday? She remembered his tone of voice, the gentleness of his hands. He had seemed so pleased with her. This man was like a total stranger, and she felt her skin crawling with uncertainty as she strained her senses to try to guess what he would do next. She felt a hand stroking her hair, and nearly jumped. He must have sensed the incipient movement, for he hissed at her

"Don't move, if you value your life. No matter what, hold that position." She shuddered, but complied, and felt the hands stroking her hair again. She felt some of the strange stirrings that she had felt last night, and held still with difficulty. She had never been so confused, so frightened in all her life. She wanted nothing more than to plunge out through the open doorway, but knew that his strong hands would be fully able to break her neck should she attempt an escape. She heard a sighing of fabric behind her, and realized that he was sitting upon the couch. His hands continued to stroke her hair, as if they had a mind of their own, but gradually slipped below her tresses to gently slide along her neck.

They unfastened her robes, which slipped down, leaving her bare to the waist. Lawrence must have been watching her very closely, for he sensed the moment at which the fear for her life suddenly became another type of fear. "Sit quietly," he whispered, his breath warm on the back of her neck.

"Don't even try to move. You're mine, now." His hands slipped on down, caressing her breasts, and he added, "you may watch my hands if you like." Her eyes were drawn down, as if they were puppets, to watch as his sun-browned fingers stroked her, smoothing down the skin, playing with the weight of her breasts, gently gliding along her taught nipples. She followed each twisting finger's pathway as though she was hypnotized, and did not even notice how dry her mouth was beginning to feel, or how heavy her breathing had become. Her body was beginning to ache with the strain of holding still, and she undulated slightly, as if to press herself even harder into his hands.

A quick tweak of the nipple stopped her, and she involuntarily jerked back slightly. "No!" he said, as calmly as she would have corrected a puppy's error. "Sit still."

He took his hand away briefly, and then it was back, holding something that glittered. Swiftly, he placed it on her taught nipple. It was a nipple clamp, and quickly followed by another one on the other breast. It stung, and she did not recall that they had done so the previous night. He jerked the chains that hung from them -- ever so slightly -- and she almost cried aloud.

"This will hold you still. They won't break the skin -- quite, but they are not merely tighter than the ones last night...they are made with many little needles of wire to hold you fast." There was a brief pause while he let his words sink in. "I would strongly suggest you hold still now." He began to stroke her breasts again, and while she was at first rigid with fear, she began to relax under his expert touch, her nipples throbbing in a way that she could not determine if it was pleasure or pain she felt.

"There, girl, relax..." he murmured, his mouth against the crown of her head. "You're mine now, and I shall be a demanding master." He must have read her surprise in her body language. "No, pet, no auction for you -- I persuaded our mutual master that I was willing to pay more than any Pasha would to posses you." He chuckled. "You may think yourself lucky now. Maybe you even are. But mainly, you are my property now. I can do whatever I want to you."

Amalthea started shaking, realizing what he meant to do to her. She was halfway to her feet before he could react, but he was too powerful to let her get further. His fingers wrapped in her hair, effortlessly converting her motion up into a arc, ending with her on her back on the divan again. It was only then that she realized how the movement had hurt her chest.

"So that is how you wish it to be?" he loomed over her, smiling coldly. She realized that he was at least half mad, and was afraid that he would kill her slowly. He snapped out something in Arabic, and suddenly his hands were full of light chains. He held them over her body, the ends trailing in random patterns as he studied her form. "You will never know what I want from you from day to day. Maybe I will fasten you down. Maybe I will simply whip you for disobedience. Maybe I will whip you for no reason other than that I wish to watch you scream and beg for mercy."

Thea went quite still, afraid almost to breathe. Lawrence's eyes were enormous, their pupils boring into hers as the chains continued to sweep over her body. She felt the breath catch in her throat, and knew with a cold fear in the pit of her stomach that if she moved, if she so much as whimpered, he might very well begin to whip her...and now stop until he had flayed her flesh off with those slender golden chains. Gradually, his eyes began to look human again, and he smiled gently down at her.

"Today, I think it will be a more rewarding lesson if the mercy you are screaming for is one which we shall both enjoy equally." He fastened her arm bracelets to small clasps nearly hidden amongst the pillows, so that her hands rested limply just above her head, with only a few inches of play on the chains. Then, he fastened her legs, chaining the ankles together with a similar cuffs to those on her wrists, and then clipping the chain to the foot of the divan. She had considerably more freedom to move than the previous night, and yet she was as surely pinned down for his pleasure. He stood next to her for a while, staring down, admiring her perfectly formed breasts, the gently hollow of her navel, the slender columns of her thighs and the graceful arcs of her calves and arches.

He twitched playfully at the leashes which still hung from the nipple clamps, smiling when her body jerked in response, and then he reached down to remove the chains, leaving the pincers themselves firmly attached. "Later you will be well enough trained to hold still as a statue carved of ivory...but for now we will make due. It's not your fault, pet, that I expect so much of you too soon." He stroked her cheek gently. "Now then, where was I?"

He unbuttoned his waistcoat, and folded it neatly, and then unbuttoned his cuffs and collar. Soon his shirt was also off, and his shoes and socks as well. His hands undid the fastening of his trousers. "Prepare yourself, pet, for you will never have seen this before." Thea found that she was unable to look away, as he peeled down his trousers, revealing his manhood swollen and standing away from his body. It was smooth skinned, with a rounded head rather like a young mushroom, and like a mushroom it seemed to grow even as she stared. She wasn't sure why, but she could not see it as grotesque despite it's purplish sheen.

"It's quite glad to show itself to you, pet, and would like to know you better...and it shall, in time." He reached down, wrapping his fingers around himself, and giving a long, slow, firm stroke. But for now, there are other delights to be seen and tasted. Lawrence came and lay down beside Amalthea on the couch, his male member delicately resting atop her thigh. She could feel how hot it was, and felt every little twitch and leap that it gave as Lawrence lowered his right hand again to her body, using his left to prop up his head so he could get a better view. For a timeless interval he lay there, his hand roaming as if it were some creature with a life of its own.

Thea began to feel quite odd, as if she could lie there beside him for all her life, and yet as if she wanted something more. She vaguely recalled from last night what she wanted, but had not clue what to ask for, even if her pride would have allowed it. She wasn't sure when her breath began to catch in her throat again, or when her blind-eyed face first turned towards him, but she felt his mouth against hers, his tongue gently teasing he teeth until she opened her mouth to him, and then the mutual entwining and seeking as they deeply probed each others' mouths. He felt the first moan break free of her control, and slid his hand lower along her belly, where she unconsciously eased his passage by turning out her two knees so that he could reach her inner folds with ease.

He gently steered her knees up and out, and then reached over to some hidden cache and pulled out two more clamps, which he fastened to her innermost lips, pulling them out and open. His fingers glided over her clit, strumming gently as she began to cry aloud, not sure if what she felt was pain or pleasure, desiring more. He eased away from her side, and -- his fingers never ceasing their relentless rhythm, kneeled between her legs, staring intently as her flesh quivered and her hips began to undulate. He carefully chose his time, and backed off.

"Please?" Thea begged, her false pride forgotten. "Please?"

He looked up, meeting her glazed eyes. He smiled. She was doing exactly as she should, exactly as she must. He felt himself expanding again, his balls pressed tightly against his body, the turgidity of his flesh jutting forwards. He stroked her again, lightly, feeling the tremors in her thighs as they came close to the ultimate release. He leaned forwards, raising himself up off of his heels so that he could approach her more closely. He would not need any lubricants, despite his size, for she was perfectly prepared. Grasping his tool with one hand, he rubbed the head against her flesh, swirling closer to her opening. he pulled the inner lips apart carefully by the clamps he had fastened there, stretching her even wider. Poised in the opening, he reached down again, two fingers lightly pulling at the hood of her clit, sliding it back and forth.

She moaned, and he could see the clenching of her belly muscles, the arching of her back, as a small portion of him slid into her body. She was hot, wet, and tight, even better than his wettest dreams. His other hand reached over to caress a breast, tweaking the nipple clamp gently and feeling her answering moan as her muscles tightened around the very tip of his cock. He felt the clamps from her lips, twitching as if there were jaws there ready to chew on him, and drove himself a little deeper with an almost involuntary spasm of pleasure. He could feel her barrier now, and feel the alarm she was feeling through the pleasure.

His prick muscles tensed, as even more blood flowed into the engorged organ. He had never felt such pleasure. It was as if she of all women had been built exactly to his personal measurements. His tense fingers probed again, sending another spasm shooting up her spine, and his in turn. Lawrence shifted his balance, gripping onto both of her breasts, and with a single surge of his strong thighs pushed past her virginity and deep within him, until all eight inches were sheathed in her flesh to his very held, his balls tight up against he backside, his pubic hair harsh against her body.

Amalthea was lost in the sensations, and barely felt him pushing into her body as wave after wave of release poured through her. Her young muscles clamped down and released him many times, as he held himself perfectly still within her, not yet wanting the pleasure to end. Gradually, her convulsions subsided, and he began to move within her. Each movement of his body made her feel that hooks were being driven into her, and yet for all the intensity of the pain, she felt pleasure as well, as her clitoris responded to the steady rhythm of his pounding body.

Soon his thrusting became more rapid, more urgent, as his crisis approached, and she could feel his body jerking within her as he gathered her close within the circle of his arms and carried her with him to her second orgasm. She felt his cock swelling, as it probed deeply into her innermost being, and then the hot foam of his semen rushing into her, as Lawrence sank down across her body, too drained to do more than hold her close.

the end....for now....