Eloise was glad that she was at last settled into a job and able to send a little money back to her parents in Avignon each month. Madame Bergotine treated her well and even allowed her and Marie, another maid who she had befriended, to take the same afternoon off once every few weeks.

The Bergotine villa was sited up a valley from the coast so there was no view of the blue Mediterranean from the house itself. On their occasional afternoons off the two young maids enjoyed walking the short distance down to the beach and the little row of fishermen’s houses and looking at the sparkling sea and sand dunes from the shade of the pines.

Eloise commented to Marie that it was a shame the villa didn’t have a sea view such as the humble fishermen enjoyed.

Marie, four years Eloise’s senior, replied that Madame insisted they were much safer where they were.

Safer from the sea? Or from the coarse fishermen? Eloise didn’t want to show her ignorance by enquiring further.

* * *

The Barbary corsairs didn’t land at the beach by the village but further west, just after dusk. They were actually creeping silently towards the small mean fishing village from inland when, to their delight, they came upon the villa and its sweeping grounds.

Eloise was shocked to be roughly grabbed by the arm and be dragged off her straw mattress. She wasn’t given time to get to her feet before being dragged down the steep bare wooden staircase from her attic room.

The rest of the household had already been assembled in various states of dress, or undress, in the ground floor entrance hall while other pirates ransacked the house. Monsieur Bergotine was trying to comfort his weeping wife. As she stared at her mistress’s embroidered silk night dress Eloise was self conscious that she was being seen wearing the old threadbare men’s shirt she wore at night Then she realised that Marie was stark naked!

Monsieur Bergotine was beaten and kicked unconscious, bound with his arms behind his back and left on the floor. The rest of his family and servants had their hands tied behind their backs, were roped together about their necks and led barefoot over the moonlit hills towards the beach where the galliot waited. Annette Cholet, the family’s cook, dropped behind, gasping for breath and stumbling as her feet tripped against stones. To Eloise’s horror one of the pirates struck her across her back with the handle of the whip he carried,.

Despite her pleas he kept striking her, demanding she keep up, but Annette stumbled and fell to her knees. He struck her again and she fell forward . He dropped his whip and ripped the now tattered remnants of her nightdress away from her shoulders and pulled her hair clear of her neck. The sobbing woman didn’t see him reach for his scimitar and raise it above her.

Eloise looked forward, away from the cook, as the sword fell with a swish. She never looked back and tried to ignore the fact her own feet were becoming sore and starting to bleed. In front of her Michel, the young gardener, looked back; seeing Eloise close behind him he opened his mouth to speak but was cuffed about the head by one of their captors.

The captives were roughly dragged down to the beach and into the sea alongside the corsair ship which had run its bow onto the sand. Tears came to Eloise’s eyes as she watched a rope passed around Michel’s chest and two large Negroes callously hauled him up by it, dragging him up and over the vessel’s starboard bow ripping half his shirt away as they pulled him aboard.

Madame Bergotine was lifted aboard with considerably more care, then it was Eloise’s turn. The loop of coarse rope was dropped over her then passed up under her arms and tightened round her chest, within seconds the Negroes aboard the ship pulled it sharply upwards so it crushed her small breasts and cut into her ribs stopping her from breathing, her legs kicked fruitlessly for a foothold on the hull as they hoisted her up.

Once aboard, still gasping for breath, Eloise found herself bustled along the bridge running the length of the vessel to its stern. To one side of the narrow walkway lay the furled sail, to both sides sat rows of despondent slaves, naked and sunburned, most slumped over their heavy oars, or lying back against the one behind. Not one looked up at the prisoners being led aft.

At the stern was an expanse of deck partially covered by a faded green and red canopy. Here the captives were roughly pushed down onto their backs and held down in turn as rusty hinged iron collars were fastened round their necks, ankles and wrists. Those applied to Madame Bergotine were carefully fastened by padlocks of intricate design.

Eloise felt her hair pulled up from her neck and a heavy loose fitting collar closed round it, but instead of a padlock a stout metal nail was pushed up through the fastening holes, the head of a square headed block hammer placed on the deck beneath it then one of the Negroes started striking the protruding end of the nail with a sledge hammer to flatten it out or bend it over. As the pirate prepared for each blow Eloise saw the hammer raised above her head and sweep down towards her face, just missing it each time it struck the collar fastening; jerking the hard ring so it cut the skin of her neck while the resounding ring deafened her.

The pirates were laughing at her as the Negro moved his attention to her wrists. With shame Eloise realised they were pointing at the growing wet stain at the bottom of her shirt where she’d pissed herself. One, smiling and shaking his head as he looked at her put his foot under the hem of her shirt and tugged it up above her waist, Eloise felt the cool night air on her exposed crotch and hips.

The Negro tried a small manacle on her left wrist; closing it and tugging it he wasn’t satisfied that it might not pull off over her hand. He tried an even smaller one which was tight, slightly squeezing her skin. Satisfied, he hammered that one in place – the harsh edge of the iron cutting her soft skin with each blow. By the time he finished she could no longer feel her hand, only the warm trickle of blood on her forearm.

Once all her irons were fitted Eloise was rolled onto her side, her arms pulled behind her back, and a her neck, wrist and ankle irons pulled together with a chain which was then fastened to Marie, who was similarly manacled.

She saw Michel, chained up on the other side of the deck looking sorrowfully at her. With an effort she smiled at him, trying to block out the pain and discomfort. Then she realised he was probably staring at her body, exposed from the waist down. Eloise burst into tears and was still sobbing when the sun rose above the horizon in the east; long after the slaves had been whipped into rowing the ship back off the beach and the huge lateen sail had been raised to speed the ship away from the French coast.

Just after noon the westerly breeze which had been speeding them south started backing to the southwest and dying away. The sail was lowered and the slaves set to work again. A bronzed turbaned drummer beat time as the boatswains walked up and down the bridge lashing at whichever slave they judged to be putting in the least effort at any particular time. The lashes tore at the peeling sunburned backs, after an hour or so several of the weaker ones were slipping around as their own blood soaked the bench on which they were sat. One of them finally succumbed and slumped forward striking his face against the huge oar as it swung towards him.

Eloise watched disinterestedly as the barely conscious naked slave was unchained and dragged back to the poop. A sledgehammer and chisel made quick work of removing his irons, and half of his right hand she noticed with horror. His bleeding, feebly struggling, body was carried to the gunwale and unceremoniously tipped over the side.

They turned their attention to Michel. Eloise screamed obscenities at the pirates as, drawing their knives, they cut away all his clothes then dragged him, struggling wildly, to the empty place on the rowing bench. Eloise stared at his naked body. She’d always thought him strong and muscular but he looked quite feeble compared with his captors. She stared at his genitals then quickly looked aside, ashamed, as he turned his head in her direction.

It took continuous application of the boatswain’s whip for half an hour before he was satisfied with Michel’s rowing. Eloise saw the pain on the boy’s tormented face from the effort he was putting in and wished she could go to him to comfort him. She wished she could sit next to him at the oar to share his burden, even if she too were naked.

For three long days the galliot was rowed or sailed south. At least the slaves got fed, Eloise watched enviously as a piece of black bread was passed on the end of a stick to the slaves as they continued rowing. A wet cloth on the end of that stick was all they got to drink while rowing though a cup was passed round as they rested when the sail was set. But though Eloise got water she was fed nothing until after they had arrived at Algiers.

Madame Bergotine was taken to the Pasha’s palace as soon as they had landed and the oars had been removed from the ship. But the servants, fishermen’s wives and daughters and other prisoners who couldn’t be ransomed were taken off to the slave market.

The women were displayed with their arms stretched above their heads by tying their manacles to beams above and with their ankles chained together so prospective bidders could examine them at their will. As the tribal chiefs and rich merchants generally had a preference for well rounded females with full breasts the auctioneer left Eloise to nearer the end of the auction, just before the older and pre-owned slaves.

Only two rather scruffy Arabs bid for her. But after his first bid one walked up to her and ripped open her tattered shirt, looked at her small breasts and saw how the outline of her ugly ribs could be seen, he shrugged his shoulders and walked away. The other man, a dealer with very limited funds, bought her despite some misgivings.

At least Ali gave her something to eat. But the next morning after feeding her bread and water he tied a loop of rope to her iron neck collar and, with just a loop of string round her waist holding her torn and ruined shirt in place, they set off walking inland.

Through a dry stony, dusty landscape he walked her. Bare feet bleeding, legs, neck and legs burning under the unremitting sun. Ali did try keeping her shirt covering her as much as possible to minimise the damage to his goods. As the sun fell he stripped her so he could re-inspect his purchase. He contemplated using her himself. but decided to wait, in case he sold her at a profit first.

By the time they entered the gates through the high walls surrounding Hussein Bey’s town (he liked to call it a city) Eloise was too tired to notice the great iron hooks fixed to the tall stone walls about a third the way down both sides of the gateway.

To Ali’s surprise the Bey seemed quite taken with Eloise. He paid twice what Ali had paid for her and even returned the irons to him after his blacksmith had carefully removed them.

But Eloise had never felt so humiliated. She was made to stand naked as her irons were removed and again as her new owner stood watching his wives wash her and comb and trim her long hair, he looked with disgust at the bloody marks the irons had left. They would heal. At least he dressed her, in flowing white and blue robes, before parading through the square before his subjects.

But that night she tried to resist him as he again had her stripped and led her to his bedchamber. As he gently probed between her labia with his fingers she pressed her knees together. But he was strong and after a few minutes he forced her slender thighs apart so he could investigate deeper with his fingers, despite her frantic but feeble resistance. Ali was right, she was indeed a virgin! He smiled as he removed all his clothes, he would spare Ali’s life after all.

To save her virginity a little longer he decided to use her mouth first.

Eloise stared in terror at this disgusting man’s huge cock. She couldn’t imagine that inside her, anywhere. But his enormous hands effortlessly grasped her head, his thumbs forcing her mouth open. She screamed. But even that protest was silenced as the rigid, throbbing member was pushed into her mouth, ignoring her tongue’s useless attempts to stop it, deep into her tiny throat choking her.

As he eased off slightly preparing for an even deeper thrust of his still growing cock he moved his hands onto her shoulders. They felt so frail and delicate in his grasp. His fingers explored her prominent collar bone. Then he thrust his cock in again. Even further than before – only two thrusts into this alluring nymph and he was about to come!

Then, unable to resist in any other way, she bit. Hard. Right through the invading organ.

For a whole two seconds Hussein Bey was frozen. Confused. Somehow strangely disconnected from the mouth of his new concubine he was in the middle of fucking.

The Bey’s agonized scream echoed throughout the ‘city’. People locked their doors and blew out their candles. Soldier’s roused from their beds ran to the palace.

While the Bey was being comforted by his senior wives, who tried to stem the profuse bleeding, soldiers, unsure exactly what the cause of the commotion was, bustled Elloise, naked with her face covered in blood, to a basement cell. No one noticed the shrinking bloody penis where she had spat it out onto the floor by the side of the sumptuous bed.

For eight hours Eloise crouched, shaking with fear, in the corner of the cell. Filled with dread at the thought of the inevitable retribution.

Several soldiers entered just before dawn. They pulled the terrified girl from her corner and inspected her by candlelight. Without removing his turban one of them dropped his red trousers while two others pulled Eloise’s legs apart as she lay on her back on the hard floor:

“Stop!” commanded the Captain of the Bey’s guard as he entered the cell. “The Christian bitch is a virgin and His Excellency has commanded that she shall die without ever enjoying the intimacy of a man.” With that he drew his scimitar and inserted the tip of the blade between Eloise’s labia.

She screamed hysterically as he inserted more of the long curved blade. She barely felt her hymen part but moments later the tip pushed into her cervix. The pain was so intense she couldn’t even take a breath. The Captain felt the resistance to his blade. He paused, she mustn’t die yet; but she couldn’t suffer enough for what she had done.

Eloise didn’t dare move at all, the outer sharp edge of the curved sword was already cutting into the soft wall of her vagina. Then the Captain smiled at her and suddenly jerked the blade in a further couple of inches. Instead of entering her uterus the scimitar’s tip tore into its muscular wall while the razor sharp curved edge finally sliced right through the wall of her vagina.

Blood flowed freely from Eloise’s cunt and the Captain swiftly withdrew his blade and looked at the stunned soldiers “You have her for a quarter of an hour before she must be brought to the wall walk.”

The soldiers grinned as he left her to them. Her warm blood lubricated her well as they lifted her thighs up and ecstatically filled her ruined sex with their seed. Eloise just hung limp, the back of her head dragging about the dirt floor as she was passed around; several times her arms were trodden on, yet she cared only for the pain in her belly.

A gong sounded and she was hurriedly carried up the steps alongside the main gate to the top of the city wall. The Bey, grim faced and pale, was already sat there with four wives tending to him. As Eloise was brought before him his attendants gently lifted his great bulk to sit him on the broad parapet so he could also see over the edge.

Although distracted by the pain inside her and the blood trickling down the inside of her legs Eloise noticed a great crowd was gathered outside, staring up at them. They cheered as the Bey waved to them, too far away to see the pain on his face. Eloise was too weak to stand unaided without soldiers holding her arms., two more roughly grabbed and lifted her legs and carried her to the edge of the wall.

So, she thought, she was to be flung to her death from the top of the wall onto the stony ground thirty feet below, like a piece of discarded offal. She stared up at the clear blue sky as they dropped her over the edge.

The great curved rusty hook caught her in the small of her back. The barbed point bloodily burst out of her flat belly. With a jolt her spine was caught by the bottom of the hook and her frail body doubled backwards, arms and legs hanging down. The crowd cheered. But she wasn’t dead.

Several soldiers on the wall brazenly dropped their trousers and urinated on the broken body hanging a dozen feet below; more enthusiastic cheering from the crowd. Now confident the body wouldn’t fall the crowd surged to directly beneath it looking up, eager to feel drips of blood on their faces.

Her head hanging back Eloise dimly made out the crowd, upside down; a sea of faces each one staring intently at her pathetic carcass. There were also many faces peering down from the wall above, enjoying a closer and even more revealing view of her humiliation and agony.

Why couldn’t she die? The sun rose higher in the sky and most of the crowd dispersed. But Eloise was still alive. Only a few dozen lingerers stayed to see her painfully lift her arms to feel the bloody point above her belly before dropping limply once more. A bit later she made an agonising attempt to reach upwards again, fingers scrabbling at the rough stonework of the wall in a clearly futile attempt to grasp something with which to pull herself up.

The strain and lost blood made her lose consciousness for a short while. At midday the sun burned deep into her open staring eyes. Her open mouth and her throat burned with the dry heat. Yet she was still alive, or was she dead and in hell?

By the time the sun sank to the west and the desert air was cooler her eyes were sunken and unseeing in their dehydrated sockets. Yet she felt the clawed feet of the crows which landed on her hollow stretched belly, attracted by the dried blood on and around the hook.

But she didn’t stir and the crowd had long dispersed so, emboldened, the birds started exploring the peeling red skin stretched out beneath them with their beaks. Anxious to feast before darkness drove them back to their roosts one pecked hard at the skin stretched over her protruding bottom ribs until it split and came away, the fresh blood attracting the others to fight over it. Eloise’s limbs twitched slightly once more.

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