This story is just excellent!22. Diary of Kemal Agha, Captain of the Palace Janissaries. Rabi Al-Awwal 22, 1218
When my two officers came to tell me that that useless French whore had refused to let them take her in the ass, I was livid. Such insolence from an infidel slave! One who insults my officers, insults me and that must be punished most severely, lest I be considered weak among the Janissaries, something which could lead to serious trouble.
I turned her over to the eunuchs of the Palace torture chamber, instructing them to give her the full treatment. They would know how to take care of her. By the time I arrived, after dealing with some urgent business, they had the slut hanging naked from the ceiling, her wrists enclosed in rusted iron manacles, her body lifted such that her toes dangled just off the floor with her legs at full extension.
I did not know how long she had been hanging, but long enough that her face showed the strain her shoulders must be feeling. On the floor, a short distance from where the French whore hung, were two other infidel women, lying on their backs on the hard stone floor, their feet raised, their ankles held firmly in stocks. One was Barbara, the high-class English tart that the Sehzade had recently purchased at auction. The other was Mary, that pirate Karim’s whore. Interestingly, they were looking at each other like old friends, and I later learned something my spies in the port had not, that Mary had been Barbara’s maid back in England.
I decided to play coy. “What have these two done?” I asked the eunuch.
“They tried to poison the Sehzade.”
“Really?” I replied, innocently. “That is very serious indeed. I assume he will have them executed.”
“I don’t know,” he said. Our orders are to whip thei r feet with twenty strokes and then wait for further instructions.
“Very good,” I assured him. “Please proceed. “ He walked over to a barrel where a number of canes were soaking in water to render them supple, to impart the maximum force to the flesh of any disobedient slaves deserving of such treatment, as these two infidels surely were. He handed one to a fellow eunuch and the two men took a position a cane length away from the lovely feet of the two English whores and announced the punishment of twenty strokes.
Then, without further ado, the two floggers struck a vicious blow across the insteps of the two women’s helplessly bound feet. Such a racket you never heard! Howling, twisting their bodies, tears rolling down their faces. By the time they had taken four strokes, they were begging the men to spare them. These pampered infidel women are not tough like our Turkish girls, who would laugh at a mere twenty. The eunuchs, of course, didn’t understand the women’s foreign tongue, and it wouldn’t have mattered if they had, for they had their orders and no room for pity in their hearts, hardened by years spent practicing their art in this dark place.
As the whipping went on, the canes slashing against their outstretched soles, each stroke bringing shrieks of pain, the two sluts took hold of each other’s hands, to comfort each other in their agony. I have heard of unnatural relations among the infidel women, a disgusting perversion, against the teachings of our Holy Koran. May Allah forgive me for gazing upon such sin.
Finally, the eunuchs had delivered the full complement of lashes that these two sluts had justly earned, leaving them blubbering on the floor, their hands still locked together, when who should appear, but the Sehzade himself, no doubt come to be certain that his slaves had been properly punished. One glance at the soles of their feet, striped from heel to toe with livid welts would assure him of that. I bowed deeply to His Highness.
Now, the eunuchs turned their attention to the French whore, Marie. I was looking forward eagerly to seeing her body marked by the whip, to hearing her pitiful cries and begging for forgiveness, which, of course, I would refuse her. And they did not disappoint-lash after searing lash, the supple leather cutting into her whorish flesh, her body twisting in a doomed attempt to escape the supple leather that welted her delicate skin. The clever eunuch didn’t spare any of her most sensitive parts-breast, buttocks, back and thighs, all were welted. Blood dripped from spots where the whip had cut most deeply, a few drops falling on the cold stone floor beneath her feet. By the end, she hung limply in the manacles.
I thought that might be the end and prepared to leave. Then I saw the eunuchs pull the two English sluts up off the floor and drag them to the racks. The two slaves struggled and complained in their barbarous tongue, but to no avail and soon they were each chained next to each other on the solid wooden machine, and the eunuchs were turning the wheel stretching their naked bodies most delightfully. I could almost see the tendons in their shoulders and knees straining against the force.
“This is a plot you cooked up with that Karim, isn’t it,” the Sehzade shouted at them. “You will tell me the truth.
“Good,” I thought, “Let the pirate take the blame.”
The Sehzade continued berating the two English women. "It's that Barbary pirate, isn't it? All three of you are in on it, weren't you? A plot to have me killed, with a beautiful virgin English lady as the bait. But it had to be more than that. Someone else was behind it. I want the truth! Tell me all you know, or else!"
And it seemed the Sehzade meant his threat in earnest, for he called one of the eunuchs to bring over a brazier. The torturer pulled an iron out of it, the metal glowing a fearsome red in the dimness of the dungeon. “Perhaps you should test it on the French bitch. See if it wakes her up. The other two will see how she suffers and tell the Prince what he wants to know to avoid the same fate,” I suggested, stalling for time and not averse to adding further punishment to Marie for her derelictions of duty. Without hesitation, he strode towards Marie and pressed the hot poker into her thigh. The girl screamed and shook madly, like a fish on a hook. Before it cooled, he pressed it again against her skin, this time on her chest, drawing the same anguished reaction.
The two English girls on the rack looked absolutely terrified, suspecting that they might be next. However, the eunuch apparently felt that a further demonstration was necessary. He pulled two needles out of the fire and approached Marie. She begged piteously in French and the bits of Turkish she had learned in her time as my slave, but the eunuch took hold of one breast and slowly, as though he were assembling a shish kebab, placed the fiery point of the needle against the nipple and pressed it into the soft yielding flesh, which I had enjoyed so much, burying it into the fatty tissue.
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Marie howled and shook madly. Undeterred, he repeated the maneuver with the other breast. This time it got no reaction; Marie had fainted. I signaled him to stop-she would heal, I hoped, and once she did she would be placed back in service and I was confident she would perform her duties diligently, regardless of what would be asked of her.
That task accomplished, the eunuchs turned their attention to Barbara and Mary. They stretched them further on the rack. The two women shrieked as they felt their joints stretched near the breaking point. Then, two eunuchs each took a sizzling iron from the fire, each drawing it up the legs of one of the infidel whores, holding it close to the flesh so they could feel its searing heat, but not quite touching the skin.
The glowing rods moved between their thighs drawing close to their womanly place. It seemed that having seen what the hot metal had done to the French girl, Mary decided it would be wise to confess her crimes. “This here's all the doin's of that pirate, Karim.” Then she laid out the hare-brained scheme of that idiotic love-sick Moroccan. Did that fool really think he could free his precious English lady from the Topkapi itself, the center of the might of the Ottoman Empire?
And it had been so easy, with him asking the apothecary in the bazaar to make a sleeping potion. Of course my spies had been following him and when the apothecary went in the back room to mix the powders, my men had easily prevailed upon him (for who did not fear the wrath of the Janissaries?) to substitute a lethal poison.
I approached the Sehzade. “I will have this Karim brought here and questioned, Your Highness,” I told him, leaving the room to order a squad of Janissaries to the port to arrest the brigand. I had nothing to fear from what the pirate might say, after all, since the fool knew nothing. All that would happen would be that under fiendish torture he would confess that this was all his doing, for he knew nothing of me and my desire to be rid of the troublesome Sehzade so that I could prevail upon the Sultan to disband the infantry that he had recently authorized at the expense of the power and prestige of the Janissaries. Another chance to deal with the Sehzade would surely arise, Allah willing.
While I waited for Karim to be brought, I retired to my chambers to relax with one of my other slaves, a blond Ukrainian girl named Olga, who was more than happy to please me in whatever way I desired.
The way the women are simply the victims of scheming men with greater or lesser competence to scheme.
I'm well hooked!
