The tent of the Bedouin
by Bedouin
Part 11
Miel was on the brink of panic. She had watched, open mouthed, as the Bedouin
swung his gift lazily through the air, he seemed so pleased by the noise it
made. She had somehow felt sure that it would be crystal that would now be
beaten if Bedouin was impatient to explore with his whip, after all, she herself
had just been humiliated in such a terrible manner, used and ignored by the two
men. Naturally, her heart had gone out to crystal, the whip looked so cruel,
but miel knew, deep down, that crystal liked such treatment, would not protest
as the blows came crashing down on her. But...
She had not expected the Bedouin to point his whip at her!
Miel felt as if she had been winded, her strength had ebbed away in an instant,
her legs had begun to shake uncontrollably and she thought she might fall to her
knees. Worse, much worse than this, her mind could not contend with the fear
that overwhelmed her thoughts, she could not formulate any plan, could not make
a response, a small part of her brain knew that she should remain calm, use her
quick mind to salvage some sort of reasoning but a smothering hand of fear
blocked out all of her senses.
'She might faint..' thought Bedouin, as he watched miel, unsteady on her feet.
He saw how her legs trembled and how her body had bowed forwards slightly, as if
robbed of energy.
'I shall have to act quickly, to bring her to her senses' he decided, and
stepped closer to her.
crystal squirmed on her cushions, unsure whether to go to miel and support her
or not. She remained where she was and, unconsciously, began to twist her hands
together.
The Mulaazim Awil's eyes narrowed, he sat savouring the scene, his mouth parted
slightly as his tongue snaked across his lower lip. A sneer formed as he waited
with impatient anticipation for miel's torment to begin.
Miel had decided... She could find no plan but her whole being knew that she
could not withstand the Bedouin's whip, and so... She had decided she would beg
him not to beat her, she would fall to her knees and plead with him, ask to be
spared, surely... surely he would listen?!
Her mouth began to form her words as she saw him approach...
'Stand up straight, miel!'
Bedouin's words halted miel, and, to her own surprise she began to stand erect,
pulling back her shoulders and raising her head.
She began again 'Bedouin...'
'Be quiet!' He interrupted sharply and brought the slender whip to her throat,
touching her to keep her silent.
Miel swallowed a gulp and tried to reason with her captor, 'Please... I cannot
bear...'
'QUIET!' bellowed Bedouin. Obviously displeased, he brought back his whip hand
and, with careful aim, slashed miel across her stomach.
A surprised gasp of 'Oh!' escaped from miel, her feet moved a little to steady
herself from the unexpected blow and her head jerked backwards harshly.
If she had not been expecting Bedouin's slash, miel had even less inkling of the
second, Bedouin whipped her again, an inch above the first.
'I'm going to pass out!' thought miel as greyness began to shroud her mind, her
stomach burned terribly, she could feel the two red stripes scorching her flesh.
She felt helpless to stop the blows and knew that unconsciousness would free her
from her pain, she welcomed it.
'miel!'
Bedouin's words swept the curtain of relief aside as her mind awakened
'MIEL!'
Her eyes opened to look at him, she realised with real regret that she would not
be falling into the arms of peace after all.
'Come, come now... miel' His tone was light, almost encouraging 'Two simple
strokes...?'
'He is mocking me!' she thought with alarm, her mind began to focus again,
clutching back its senses. The anger in her rose.
Bedouin saw that it had been a close run thing, miel had almost slipped away.
It satisfied him to realise that it had been his voice that had brought her
around, he sensed a strong will in miel, a defiant strength that appealed to
him, he would have been disappointed if she had given up so easily.
He looked at her now, her eyes were beginning to flash once more, she had
straightened up using her own will, he knew that she was back with him.
'That's better..' He said smoothly 'You are getting stronger you know'
miel almost spat at him but instead let her anger show in her face, what she
said next horrified and shocked her even as the words tumbled from her lips.
'Whip me then...Bedouin!' she hissed 'Do your damnedest..!'
Bedouin raised his eyebrows in surprise, he had not quite expected such an
outburst, 'My word!' he thought 'She is a rare one!'
Miel's heart pounded, her blood raced through her veins, moments ago she had
been ready to beg him for mercy and now... Now, she felt jubilant! She could
not even think where the words had come from, they had just popped out, she was
glad they had! She had almost laughed as she had seen the surprise on Bedouin's
face, a part of her knew of course, that she would have to pay, with pain, for
her challenge but she did not care. She really didn't, she told herself, she
would be damned before she gave in totally to anyone's control!
Crystal twisted her hands more and more, thinking 'Oh no, miel, no..'
The Moor reclined, resting on one elbow, as if leaning back to regard the
developing scene.
'Foolish girl' he told himself.
Bedouin paused, seeming to reappraise the girl, he tapped the whip in the palm
of his hand, waiting, thinking.
It seemed like an age to miel, she knew that now she would be beaten, it was
inevitable, she could only steel herself for what was to come. A curious calm
had overcome her as she understood and controlled her thoughts, just one thing
bothered her. The waiting. She watched him tapping the damned crop in his
hand, why didn't he whip her? Surely, he wouldn't let her get away with her
insolence? She just wanted to get it over with, wished he would begin, raise
his whip and start the blows. A tiny voice of alarm raised the idea that she
might be disappointed if he decided not to beat her, she quickly brushed the
outrageous thought aside.
'Begin, damn you!' she screamed in her mind. Again, an odd sinking feeling came
as she thought that he would decline, again, she quelled the emotion.
'Oh, nooo..' miel groaned inwardly, as she saw him step behind her, the leather
straps at her ankles prevented her from turning to watch him so she stood as
straight as possible to show her contempt. The mixed feelings nagged at her, she
hoped that he would start now, end the waiting, she hoped too, that he would not
start at all.
Bedouin stopped behind miel, looking at her nakedness for a few moments, then
began.
It was not how miel had anticipated.
His hand touched her buttocks, they flinched slightly at the unexpected caress,
its warmth surprised her as his hand opened its fingers and traced the curve of
her bottom. It wandered over her, stroking her buttocks gently, his fingers ran
through her valley and brushed very softly against her anus. 'He has not
touched me like this before!' miel thought 'He is being so gentle!' She fought
to remain erect and hide any reactions.
Enough' he thought, reluctantly leaving his inspection, he would have to
continue this particular pleasure another time. He took a step backwards and
moved to his side, raising the whip.
Miel tried not to cry out but could not help it as the sharp cut struck her
bottom. She quickly swallowed the cry, determined not to let out another, and
thought, with relief 'At last!'
He whipped her again, on almost exactly the same spot, the previous stripe still
reddening.
He saw, with satisfaction, that she did no more than slightly rise on her toes
and clench her fingers as it landed, if she had been able to turn she would have
seen his faint smile.
Bedouin raised his arm a little higher, his aim careful to avoid her bound
hands, he cut her on the lower curve of her buttocks, following it swiftly with
a harder blow.
Miel battled hard with the pain, she knew that the Mulaazim Awil and crystal
could see she had her eyes closed, squeezed tightly shut as each stroke fell.
The pain varied, it all hurt her she realised, yet some blows were worse than
others, but she could do nothing but try to bear her pain and keep her mind on
top of it.
Bedouin wished that he could see miel's face, would enjoy its twisting, he
wondered if she were weeping, he doubted it, at least, not yet.
He rested for a brief moment, not wanting miel to be able to anticipate the
blows, then lashed her hard at the top of her legs, just below the swell of her
bottom.
'Ah, she had not expected that!' he thought with relish as he saw her hands
twist more furiously. 'She would be dancing for me if her feet were not tied!'
He laughed at the image in his mind's eye.
He adjusted his stance and whipped miel smartly on the side of her thigh 'An
excellent gift' he mused as he striped her once more just above the last.
'Time for the other thigh' He calculated idly
miel was unsure how much more pain she could take, with every blow she wanted to
cry out for him to stop, but something would not let her, she knew that tears
were welling in her eyes but resolved not to show any weakness that she could
control.
Miel would not cry out, but her mind screamed, screamed loud and very long with
each crashing stroke.
Bedouin had laid four neat stripes of burning flesh across each of miel's
thighs, the welts on her buttocks were becoming more livid and her bottom was
beginning to glow.
'Time to beat her properly' he decided.
Stooping slightly he brought his arm in low and hard, whipping miel's bottom in
a cruel stroke, this time he did not pause, merely withdrawing his arm and
crashing down on her naked buttocks once more.
He continued this way, whipping miel constantly with steady, hard strokes, the
air seemed to fill with the whoosh of the gift. Bedouin placed each blow
carefully, seeking out the parts of miel's buttocks that were not already
reddening, he saw that, where he had struck more than once, angry welts of flesh
rose, occasionally he would hit them again, knowing how it would hurt her.
Miel was numb, the pain was so great that she almost did not feel it, at least
not as single strokes of pain, only as one great ball of burning fire. Tears
rolled down her cheeks freely, she had begun to sob and make incoherent noises,
tiny groans and moans of helplessness. Still she did not make any overt demands
for Bedouin to stop his cruelty, she did not even move her feet anymore with
each blow, only occasionally shifting her stance. Miel could only endure and
hope that the accursed Bedouin would stop soon.
Crystal watched with awe as miel withstood her beating 'So strong!' she gasped
out loud to no one in particular. She was not even sure she would be glad to
exchange places with her! Then crystal thought, with a secret giggle 'Well,
perhaps..'
The hooded eyes of the Mulaazim Awil watched as Bedouin whipped the girl. He
drew smoke from the hookah with contented puffs and waited, he had a score to
settle.
Bedouin was breathing low, he paused, inspecting the bright red flesh before
him. He marvelled at miel's stubbornness, 'Ah well, I am not finished yet..'
Miel thought that it was worse when the beating stopped, for it was then that
the burning spread through her, she could feel nothing below her waist and above
her knees but searing fire. 'Please.. oh, please..' she pleaded inside 'Let him
stop'.
Bedouin moved from behind miel and returned to his seat, he laid the whip at his
side and took up his own hookah without glancing at the tear stained girl.
'How do you find the whip, Azizi?' asked the grinning Mulaazim.
'Most satisfactory, friend, its inordinate length takes a little getting used
to, but it is very effective' he answered truthfully.
Bedouin gestured to crystal, who, knowing precisely what the gesture signalled,
snatched up her jar of salve and went to attend to miel.
The two men puffed away happily with their pipes without the need for words and
crystal worked quickly with the ointment.
She knelt at miel's rear and gently applied the soothing cream, miel winced as
the coolness of the lotion made contact with her scarlet flesh but managed to
whisper a hoarse 'Thank you' to crystal. Once crystal was satisfied that all of
miel's bottom and legs were treated she moved to her front and carefully
smoothed some ointment into the flaring stripes on miel's stomach.
The ointment gave blessed relief to her pain, she still hurt, hurt badly but the
soothing cream cooled her quickly, leaving only soreness and stinging.
She had survived! The Bedouin had beat her and beat her hard she thought, but
she had coped! Miel amazed herself with the thought and, through her pain,
managed to congratulate herself on her own success.
As always, miel clutched her strength back, it only took a short while for her
to regain her self-control and she knew that she was ready now, ready for
whatever challenge might lay ahead.
Crystal, giving a miel a final sympathetic look, returned to her cushions,
wondering if it might be her next who would taste the gift.
'Ah, well' sighed Bedouin, taking his whip again, and standing 'Time to
continue'
crystal looked up hopefully but was downcast when she saw Bedouin move once more
towards miel.
'Mulaazim...' called Bedouin '... your assistance for a moment, please'
'Of course..' replied the Moor and rose to join his friend.
'Not me!' thought miel, the panic rising, 'Not again!' She began to pull at her
bonds as the dreadful realisation registered.
'miel..' said Bedouin as he approached her, the Mulaazim on his heels 'You took
your whipping well'
A ray of hope shone for miel 'He is not going to whip me again!'
'The test went well, I am very pleased with my new whip..'
Bedouin was explaining this matter of factly, he continued... 'Now, let us see
how your breasts withstand its touch..'
A bolt of terror struck miel's heart, she stiffened, unable to speak, unable to
comprehend the cruelty being forced upon her.
'Mulaazim..' Bedouin spoke, over his shoulder, '.. would you cut her bonds for
me?'
Without replying the Moor drew his dagger from beneath his robes and bent
towards miel's tethered ankle.
It was more than miel could stand, first the damned Bedouin, and now this evil
pederast! She saw the dull glint of the curved blade as it sliced easily
through leather strap. Miel adjusted her stance now her leg was free, easing
the ache and stiffness.
Mulaazim Awil next moved behind miel, to cut her hands free.
Out of Bedouin's sight and shielded by miel's body he stroked his hand between
the cleft of her buttocks.
Miel let out a tiny gasp of horror, which made Bedouin look up from the whip, he
had been studying the intricate design on its handle. He looked at her startled
face, decided to ignore it and returned to his study.
Observing this, the Moor smiled to himself and, with a brief movement, hooked
his dagger behind the straps around miel's wrists, slitting them, freeing her
hands. She immediately brought them to her front, rubbing them and flexing her
aching arms, glad to be rid of them but still shocked by the Mulaazim's illicit
touch.
It was then that miel made a serious mistake.
As the Mulaazim Awil bent to cut the last bond at her ankle he looked up at her,
she noticed his evil leer, he drew back his lips in a lascivious grin, as if
sure of some future assignation.
The look and his earlier touch suddenly enraged miel, her hate for him burst
forth.
With her free foot, miel kicked sharply at the Mulaazim Awil's head.
Anticipating the blow, the Moor let out a cry of surprise and raised the hand
holding the razor sharp dagger to deflect miel's kick. Miel's foot kicked the
Mulaazim harshly, missing his head and striking instead, his wrist. The force
of miel's hateful kick sent the Mulaazim's knife spinning high into the air.
It seemed, in that brief moment, as if time became suspended, both miel and the
Moor watched the shining blade rise, Bedouin had looked up on hearing the
Mulaazim's cry and he too, saw it climb in the air. Crystal watched from a
distance, shocked by the turn of events.
Four sets of eyes watched in fascinated thrall as the dagger reached the apex of
its climb and began to fall, fall towards miel.
In that suspended fraction of time miel could see that the blade was falling
towards her, she saw that the blade was heavier than the handle, that it would
not turn and perhaps strike her a glancing blow. No, the needle sharp point
would land in her flesh, the velocity would drive the blade into her body,
perhaps her shoulders, her back, or even her face.
Miel was able to think all of these things, and still have time to realise that
she didn't have time to avoid the knife, could only look in awe as it fell
towards her, she was calm as she considered this, and understood that she was
about to be badly injured.
She closed her eyes with resignation..
It was only when no knife came, and neither flesh was split nor sharp cut made,
that miel opened her eyes.
Bedouin had reached for the dagger, stopped its inexorable fall, he held it now,
by the blade, clutching it tightly in his grip just above miel's head.
Miel stared with wide eyes at the dagger and felt the Bedouin's blood splash
into her hair, she realised that he must have had to grab it with force and that
the razor edge of the blade was slicing not into her but into the palm of
Bedouin's hand.
She felt a sudden pang of natural gratitude towards him, wanted immediately to
help him, to clean and wash the wound, she reached for his wrist.
But the Bedouin was angry, angry at miel! He cast aside the dagger, snatching
his arm away from her and opening his palm to inspect the cut.
It was difficult to see, the depth of the cut had oozed a copious amount of
blood, he knew that he needed to staunch the flow rapidly, he saw crystal was
running towards him, clearly concerned. But most of all he was angry..
He shot miel a withering glance, his look of fury shocking her into silence.
'Damn you!' He seethed at her and stepped towards the nearing crystal.
The Mulaazim Awil stood and he too, cast dangerous looks at miel. She knew that
she should feel some sort of victory at having disconcerted the two tormentors
but felt only foolish and confused.
Crystal inspected the wound worriedly, she recognised that it would need a
surgeon's attention, she whispered this to Bedouin who acknowledged her with a
nod. She ripped a length of silk from her pyjamas and wound it around Bedouin's
hand as a makeshift bandage, then took his arm as if to lead him away.
Bedouin paused, putting his affairs in order.
'Mulaazim!' The Moor stiffened at the call ' I must go to see the Tabib'
'Azizi?' said the Mulaazim, full of concern
'Will you stay here whilst I visit him, and...' His voice showed his anger
'And.. watch her?'
He gestured with his bloodstained hand at the fraught miel.
The Mulaazim Awil bowed slightly, and with an ominous voice replied 'It will be
my pleasure, Bedouin'
With that, Bedouin nodded, satisfied, and marched from the chamber, crystal
running behind.
Seeing them leave, miel cringed and quickly knelt to try to untie her last bond,
to escape the Moor.
The Mulaazim Awil laughed as he watched her. Then stopped abruptly, his face
suddenly dark with anger.
Miel stopped her futile struggling with the ankle restraint and turned to look
at him
'Now, miel...' said the Mulaazim Awil, with an evil sneer '.. we have two scores
to settle'
