Free A Cruel Passing of Innocence by J.D. Jensen Page B

isolation.
    The headman moved to her front and eyed her breasts appreciatively, a sly smile upon his lips. He reached out with one hand, and as if momentarily unable to decide which to fondle, his fingers hovered uncertainly between them. Then he grasped one, harshly squeezing into its softness, his fingers clamping the swollen sphere, kneading, cupping and prodding with apparent approval. Then he pinched the pert nub between thumb and forefinger, manipulating it with circling movements that made it swell and harden.
    All the while Ugimba stood submissively staring at the ground, her gleaming ebony body still gripped by the trauma of her fear. The headman’s face was twisted in a sneering, lustful smirk as he mauled her, looking down at her as though daring her to react. But then he seemed to tire of his cruel indulgence, and curtly pointed for her to drop to her knees again, which she gladly did, immediately resuming her subservient position.
    He moved on, and within a few minutes two more girls had been selected and made to scuttle away on all fours. Now only a few male and female slaves remained, and the headman clapped his hands dismissively before moving away with his black guards, leaving the whip-boys to order the slaves to rise and follow them.
    â€˜Arribaja!’ they snapped. ‘Arribaja! Aprezza!’
    Nassara watched Zheeno and his four companions being quickly ushered down the same steps that led to the underground chamber of the steaming pool, as Belithza whispered to her. ‘We are still together, Nassara – you and me and Ugimba. There are only five of us girl slaves now.’
    They followed a little distance behind the male slaves, the whip-boys herding them. At the bottom of the steps they were led away beyond the pool, along a dark passageway that eventually opened up into a low chamber. The atmosphere was cool but strangely oppressive, and there was a faint smoky smell of burning embers. Lanterns on iron poles hung out from the gloomy stone walls. There was a muffled, echoing silence, apart from the idle flapping of the whip-boys’ sandals on the stone floor, and the whispering scuffle of the slaves’ naked feet. Nassara felt a growing, nagging apprehension, not knowing what fresh ordeal awaited them beyond the gloom.
    Eyes more accustomed to the glare of the sun peered blindly ahead, trying to make out the sinister shapes that seemed to hover expectantly near the end of the long chamber. Nostrils sniffed at the musty burning odour that seemed to pervade the place.
    They came to the end, where the low chamber divided into several cells, and Nassara saw that Zheeno and his male companions had been herded into the furthest cells. Ahmood impatiently signalled the girls, waving his whip towards the remaining two tiny chambers. Ugimba, ahead of Nassara, was the first to step hesitantly into the one indicated, and Nassara followed with Belithza behind. The two other girls were ushered into the adjoining cell.
    Nassara blinked to adjust her eyes to the new brighter source of light. Set against the walls was three wooden trestles, like cots, only bolted at each end were two iron rods that extended outward. The tips of the rods were raised above the trestles, and set at a wide angle apart from each other, like two skeletal arms protruding from the frame. At the extremity of each arm a curved prong jutted up to form a rounded, supporting brace, and there was a leather strap for each. Attached to the trestle itself, at the head, was an assortment of thick leather straps bolted to each side, and from the two central slits near the outer end.
    In the shadows, waiting for the girls’ arrival, were Babbushan and two other obese men.
    Ugimba immediately shrunk back with fear, but Ahmood pushed her forward. One of the fat men took her by the arm, propelling her towards the furthest trestle.
    Babbushan moved to Nassara, guiding her firmly to the middle of the three trestles. ‘The pain will