"More Harem Captives" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maclean Alistair)

15 -Taken!
16 - The humiliation of the sisters
17 - The lesbians are shorn and ringed
18 - The lesbians meet their Master
19 - The branding
20 - Shown to the Mullahs
EPILOGUE
A few months later - The Prince reviews the effect of a little harem discipline


PROLOGUE

NEW POTENTIAL VICTIMS

It was a fine early morning. In the palace in North Africa, the fat, unattractive-looking Prince was looking at his harem, unseen behind a lattice-work grille set in the wall of his office.
He was staring into the covered courtyard that formed the central room of his harem, watching his fine collection of beautiful women, kept secretly locked up under the constant supervision of his black eunuchs. The vision of them being disciplined and admiring their beauty was something he could happily do for hours.
Huge golden cursive Arabic scripts and blue and green tiles festooned the walls of this large room. In the centre a fountain played, creating a relaxing tinkling sound. On the elaborately tiled floor were groups of leather cushions, each group in the colour of one of the harem teams.
From this air-conditioned room, beautiful Arabesque archways led off to the dormitories and bathrooms of the rival harem teams. However, there were no doors in the harem - to prevent the women from having any privacy and ensure that they were constantly under the eyes of the supervising black eunuchs and the ever-vigilant security cameras.
Large French windows at the end of the room showed a round shaded swimming pool and shaded patio leading onto a beautiful garden with walks that were also shaded - for there must be no risk of the hot sun spoiling the pure white skins of the of the European concubines.
High walls surrounded the garden, too high and too smooth to be climbed. They served to emphasise to the Prince's reluctant concubines that, once incarcerated in his harem, there was no escape. Indeed, iron spikes at the top of the walls acted as a further deterrent to any woman trying to get out if the harem and to any brave man trying to get into it.
High above the garden were iron bars that made the garden seem like an aviary - except that it was not birds that were being kept in it, but women, the Prince's precious concubines. As if to underline the women's helplessness, birds were free to fly into and out of the garden, through the bars.
The gross-looking Prince was dressed, as befitted a member of one of the main Ruling Families of Arabia, in an immaculate long white thobe robe, covered in a light black lace cloak embroidered with gold. The usual Arab igaal round his white headdress was also interspersed with gold. Occasionally he would turn to the large monitoring screen of the security television system that covered, for his benefit and that of his black eunuchs, every corner of the harem by day and night. Not only could he switch to the scene that a particular camera was recording, but could also remotely control it to turn left and right and zoom in for a close up view of what a particular woman was doing - or more usually what was being done to her by her overseer, or by the other black eunuchs.
It was, he thought, all very satisfying, and he smiled as he looked at the cruel change he had recently made to his harem. He had been visiting Istanbul and had gone round the large 19th Century Dolmabahce Palace, in front of which was marble terrace that ran for nearly a quarter of a mile along the side of the busy waterway of the Bosphorus. Half the Palace was taken up by the Turkish Sultan's Harem and this, too, looked out onto the Bosphorus, through large, but discreetly barred, windows.
He had thought how delightfully satisfying it must have been for the Sultan, less than a hundred years ago, seeing the women secretly incarcerated in his harem and especially the European ones, longingly eyeing the foreign steamships and warships, ferries and local boats passing up and down the Bosphorus. Nor were they all, for a stream of European Ambassadors, Admirals, bankers and entrepreneurs, accompanied by the their handsome young attachшs, Flag Lieutenants, aides and secretaries and often their wives and daughters, arrived by boat at the palace steps below them, to call on the Sultan. All this would have been a constant reminder to the women of their lost freedom. Tantalising but barred windows from the harem looking out onto the free world outside.
The thought of this had made the Prince decide to make his own barred window for his harem, looking onto the free world outside. He had ordered a line of large one-way mirrors, made of armoured plate glass and protected by bars, inserted low down into the high wall surrounding the garden. No one outside could see through it into the harem but, like the women of the Sultan, his incarcerated women would have a constant, but tantalising view of freedom: in their case a distant view of the bare rocky High Atlas Mountains and below them, whitewashed villages. Even more frustrating was the sight of a distant busy road with passing cars and the buses of European tourists. All of this had made the Prince's women, like those of the Sultan, constantly sigh all the more for their lost freedom.
There was a knock on the door.
'Your Highness?' came a rather high-pitched voice.
'Yes what is it, Malaka?' said the Prince with an impatience that belied the reliance he placed on his chief black eunuch to run his harem for him - and to arrange for the acquisition of new recruits for it. Malaka was not due to make his daily report on the state of the women in the harem for another hour - after his Head Groom had reported on his stud of pedigree Arab stallions and brood mares and after his head Camel Driver had reported on his prize team of racing camels.
Reluctantly he turned his plump face, with its hook-nose, short goatee beard and cruel-looking, pig-like eyes, away from watching a particularly fascinating sight: the exercising of the Christian women in his harem whom he had selected for his favourite hobby: forced breeding. The sight of their nicely curved bare bellies never failed to arouse him - as did the sight of the chainmail breeding-belts locked over their beauty lips to prevent them from interfering with the unwanted black progeny growing inside them. Like it or not, for their Master's amusement, they would be made to carry their unwanted progeny, right through to final delivery.
'Good news, from Pierre, Your Highness!' came the high-pitched voice of Malaka, the Prince's chief black eunuch. 'I thought you should know immediately.'
Malaka was a short but powerful-looking figure, dressed in voluminous red Turkish trousers and a short brocade waistcoat over his muscular, jet-black torso. Over his shaven head was a gleaming white turban. With his cunning-looking eyes, he had the reputation of a man who could not be easily trifled with by the woman in his care - and especially not by a despised white Christian one.
'What do you mean, Malaka?' queried the Prince, half turning to look again into his harem.
Malaka coughed discreetly. 'Well, Your Highness, you will remember that our friend Pierre asked if you would be interested in acquiring a group of half a dozen clever and unattached young English business women. They were seeking financial backing to set up their own international Asset Management Company and Pierre felt that this might offer a fine opportunity for Your Highness to recruit an attractive and intelligent batch of white women for your harem. They had all been formerly employed by a London Merchant Bank, which recently failed through no fault of theirs and they had decided to set up as a team and look for a new backer.'
'Yes, indeed, I said that in principle I would be very interested - though not quite in the way that they are looking for!' The Prince gave a cruel laugh. 'And only provided that no one could connect their disappearance with their incarceration here in my harem.'
'Well, Your Highness, Pierre now reports that he can meet your requirements as regards secrecy and that the women are willing and keen to travel or even work abroad.'
'Work abroad!' The Prince stroked his short beard and again laughed.
'Yes. He has checked and confirmed that they are all definitely unattached so that their disappearance would not immediately cause any concern.'
'Better and better, Malaka!'
'Your Highness, he has now sent me the brochure that lists the women together with several photographs of each one.'
With a respectful bow he handed a glossy brochure to the Prince. The cover was headed "Your Team" and showed half a dozen attractive-looking young women, wearing well cut business suits and smiling as they looked up from their office desks or computers. A good-looking young boy was evidently a rather superior office boy.
The Prince looked carefully at the cover and with a grunt of approval turned to look inside the brochure. Glancing quickly through the blurb, he read:

"We offer you an experienced and successful International Asset Management Team that covers the whole Investment field. It is a team that is used to working together and comes complete with their own "Back Room" administrators:
*Patricia Kirk. 37. Single. British. She is the leader of the team. Was previously a highly successful Fund Manager in the City, specialising in International Stocks.
*Kelly Caruthers. 25. Single. British. Patricia's Personal Assistant.
*Jill Saunders. 29. Single. American. Before coming to work in London had experience as a Fund Manager in Wall Street. Specialises in the international Technology and Pharmaceutical sectors.
* Candice Sanders. 25. Single. American. Jill's sister who, having left University with a degree in Business Studies, has been working with her sister in London looking after Administration.
*Amanda Wethers. 37. Widowed. British. A senior Financial Analyst, specialising in the International Bond Market. Her 17-year-old daughter, Diana, and her sixteen-year-old son, John, both skilled in computer work, have been working in a busy Back Office with Candice Saunders and are thoroughly familiar with the administrative side of Asset Management."

The brochure not only showed individual photos of each of the women and of the boy, but also showed them standing up and working.