Beloved Infidel

Beloved Infidel 1 - The Caning of Sandra

Maudad Suleiman sat in a high backed leather chair at one end of the grand hall on the second floor of his palace. The stiff white cotton of his kaftan contrasted starkly against his deep brown skin. In his mid-forties, he exuded the charm and grace that comes from great wealth and good fortune.

Beside him stood Malak, whose simple black gown flowed from throat to ankle. She wore a heavy gold necklace, with a substantial diamond pendant – not a formal badge of office - but it nevertheless reminded all present that she was Maudad’s number one wife, and held all the power of such a privileged position.

Around the edge of the room were clustered wives and concubines – but no domestics and no males. The palpable air of excitement was fired by their enforced silence.

For in the center of the room, facing Maudad and Malak stood Sandra Suleiman, nee Palmer, a twenty two year old Kansan, her blonde fringe and freckled snub nose and cheeks framed ice blue eyes. She was wearing blue denim, as if to reinforce her American heritage and a pony tail as if to heighten her youth.

Two years earlier she had been saved by one Maudad’s contacts from entering into a life of sexual slavery, and in an unheard of short time, risen to be Maudad’s number two wife.

Maudad glanced up at Malak and asked “Please say what you have to say.”

Malak looked at Sandra, moistened her lips. “As is our custom when we know you are due to return to us, Master, we arranged a small feast on Tuesday. Your number two wife was not wearing that ruby broach she now has on her jacket.”

The rubies sparkled in one of the rays of sunlight beaming down from the small windows set high on the two opposing long walls of the room. Again, not a badge of rank – but clearly a possession of someone high in the hierarchy,

“When I asked her where it was, at first she would not say. Then she said that someone must have taken it from her room! That we had a thief in our midst! Naturally, I ordered that the entire palace, and every possible hiding place in it, be searched at once.”

“And it was found?”

“Yes master. Ghaniya found it. In Sandra’s room, between the bed head and the wall. That stupid woman had dropped her broach and then accused one of us being a thief!”

.”Mislaying a trinket is understandable, Sandra, but placing the blame on others – I can see why Malak needed me to get involved in this matter. Is what she said true?”

Sandra stared down at the red patterned carpet. “Yes. That is how it went.”

“False accusations. That is very serious, you know.”

Sandra dropped to her knees, spread her arms, palm up to either side and looked Maudad straight in the eye. “Master, I submit to your authority. It was my mistake. I am ashamed and it will never happen again. Please, my master, grant me your mercy.”

He nodded slightly. “I have to punish you, Sandra – there is no choice.” He announced to the room. “Twenty strokes of the cane. Let it be so” Sandra stood up and resumed her stare at the carpet.

He looked up at Malak - “Tell Ferran. I leave at midnight – tell him not today. I really do not want to endure any tears.”

He stood and addressed the room. “This matter is closed.”

He walked across to Sandra and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. “It will not be that bad. You are a wife – it is just a token. And then when I get back next time, we can talk … in private … in my room.” She lifted her head – and he could see tears already.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll be ok.”

He turned and clapped his hands to signify the meeting was over, and the ladies started to chatter excitedly as they exchanged their disbelief that a number two wife was actually going to be caned.

---oo0oo---

It was five in the afternoon, and Maudad lay half in and half out of the large bathing tub in a room adjacent to his sleeping quarters. Three concubines, splashing in the water, used jugs and sponges to wash his body and two sang one of his favorite songs, as they played a lyre and a lute.

Malak entered unannounced and clapped twice. The concubines, in well rehearsed maneuvers, quickly stopped their tasks, collected their things and quietly left the room.

“May I join you, master?”

Maudad smiled. “As if I could, or even would want, to stop you.”

She pulled a tie at the neck of cotton towel robe, and it fell to the ground around her ankles. She was naked. To meet her husband’s natural desires, she had kept to a lean diet, and even exercised from time to time. Her body was firm and lithe, a body to inflame him. And although nearly 35 years old, her breasts were still almost as pert as when she was a teenager.

She lay in the water beside him.

“Are you gone for long this time?” She started the massage that he liked so much.

“At least a month. Possibly a lot longer. I shall fly the Gulfstream just after midnight. To Argentina. And later to America – it will be at least a month.”

“You were very lenient with Sandra.”

“You are not questioning my decision, are you?” A hint of steel in the tone.

“No, no. Just an observation. I would have given her more.”

“Take care, dear wife. If I decided that more strokes are needed, it will be your bottom that receives them.”

“Forgive, master, I did not mean to speak out of turn.”

She swung a leg across his torso, and then stood up to face his feet. He was ready.

With only slight shifts in her body position, she lowered herself onto him, feeling the size and power of him within her. She sighed an animal groan and leaned forward to use his knees to support herself. And then started the up and down motion to bring him to his climax.

---oo0oo---

The following afternoon, Ferran bowed slightly as he entered the ante-room of Malak,

"Ah, Ferran, do come in." She waved him forward to stand in front of her chaise lounge.

"Yes ma'am."

"The master has ordered you to cane Sandra. This afternoon would be a suitable time."

"Yes indeed, ma'am, I have been instructed to carry out the task."

"She should have been whipped!"

"The master is always most gracious in his kindness, ma'am."

"Hmmm. She is an infidel. And a trouble maker."

She pondered for a moment. "It is not required for an infidel to be clothed when being punished, is it?"

"No ma'am - but she is a wife ....."

Malak picked up a single, small gold coin and offered it to Ferran. "A small reward for you, for accepting your responsibilities in such matters. I think it right and proper that she should be humbled as well as having her bottom striped."

"Very good ma'am. She will be stripped naked before she is caned."

"And I understand that sometimes you just make them bend over a desk or chair? When it is a light caning?"

"Yes ma'am, that often happens. And on both times that it was a wife"

"I think this impertinent wretch should go down on the bench and be held down just as if she were some serving wrench who broke a plate. Male hands on here body will embarrass her greatly. And I would imagine such a position causes the pain to be more ... intense?"

"That is so, ma'am."

"Here.." She offered another two small coins. Ferran took them and once more bowed slightly.

"It shall be done so, ma'am"

"Now, the cane itself. Some are far more painful than others. Is that not so?"

"Indeed ma'am."

"What makes them more painful?"

"Well, when a cane becomes frayed, and split, it causes more damage to the skin. And bites deeper into the flesh. Such a cane is to be feared, even by a grown man."

"Do you have any canes like that?"

"No ma'am, they are discarded when they get so worn."

"Could you get one?"

"I could create one. Beating the wall with a cane soon frays and splits it."

"Such additional effort deserves its reward..." Another three coins passed between them.

He nodded.

"You understand, Ferran, I want this woman to suffer the punishment she deserves. She tried to take my place, and failed. I want no other upstarts trying to take my place."

"That is most understandable and very clear, ma'am."

"Right. We understand each other. Now, the strength of each stroke is entirely at your discretion?"

"Naturally, but I always try to meet the needs of the master."

"Today the master is away. Today you meet my needs."

"Yes ma'am"

"I am told that the final stroke is often the hardest. As if you were making some sort of point by doing so."

"That is often the case Ma'am - particularly if there has been insufficient reaction to the earlier strokes."

"I see. On this occasion, I would not wish the last stroke to be the hardest. I would wish all of them to be equally hard. Every one delivered with every once of your strength."

Ferran rocked back slightly.

"Ma'am, but that would be dreadfully severe .... "

"Precisely. Very dreadful." Five coins were offered, and taken.

"The master may be distressed at the pain I will have inflicted on her. She is a wife ...."

"I shall give you my protection, if you give me your diligence."

He nodded.

"Finally, the screams. I expect such a beating to be accompanied by much screaming."

"I could not imagine otherwise, Ma'am".

"Good. The message may even get up to the top floor, then."

She placed a stack of ten coins on the side cupboard.

"I cannot pay for her screams until I hear them. After you have finished, come back and pick up your reward -if you have earned it, that is."

He nodded as he licked his lips. "You may be assured that I will have earned it."

"The master is away for at least another month. Go now and deal with her. You may leave my door slightly ajar. And you might also want to leave door of the cellar room slightly ajar as well. Now go, be away with you."

She waved him away and settled down with a delicious sense of intense anticipation.

---oo0oo---

Ferran knocked on the door to Sandra’s quarters.

Rather than calling him in, she half opened the door and looked at him, She was wearing a plain white dress that Ghaniya had told her was the right thing to wear. Nineteen light token taps, she was told, and then the final one that would really sting. She had endured far worse than that when she was paddled as a youngster.

“It is time, ma’am – please come with me.”

Sandra looked over her shoulder and spoke to some unseen people in her room. “I have to go now – stay here and wait for me.” Two or three voices chorused “Yes, ma’am”

---oo0oo---

They passed not a soul on the walk down to the cellar.

There was nothing to be said, and awkward silences were best avoided.

---oo0oo---

Sandra was surprised to see a group of four men waiting their arrival.

“Why are these men here, Ferran?”

“Please, ma’am, we just want to get this over with. Please do not make it any harder.”

She looked at the chair near the center of the room. “Do I bend over that? she asked, pointing.

“No ma’am, that is for your clothing.”

“Have you gone mad! I am a wife! You do not treat me this way!”

“Ma’am, you are now to take off all your clothes. If you do not do as I ask, these men will do it for you. I implore you, just do as you are told.”

Sandra looked at the five set of eyes, mentally measure the distance to the door, and started to unbutton the buttons at the back of her dress.

She stared coldly at Ferran. “You do know that you may live to regret this day?” She took of her bra, dropped it onto the seat of the chair, and stepped out of her panties.

Ferran had never seen blonde pubic hair before, and was slightly surprised at how unappealing it looked to him. But her navel – how could any girl have a navel that was so beautiful?

He pointed to a low, narrow table. “This is the bench. Please lie flat along it.”

She bit her lower lip, and placed herself face down along its length. “God, these bastards are going to pay for this” was the angry mantra that kept repeating itself in her mind.

“Mustapaha.” A swarthy and rather muscular man stepped forward. “Take her hands.”

He crouched down in front of her, and took one wrist in each hand. He parted them, and placed each one on the ground to either side of the bench. Sandra stared coldly at him, raging with anger inside. He smiled a small smile of encouragement in return.

“Saad – her waist.” Saad was a massive man, who waddled rather than walked. With some fluffing and shuffling, he eventually positioned himself so as to straddle her shoulders, facing her feet. Should the weight of his hands on her waist be insufficient to stop any unsightly squirming, sitting on her back would be a certain, if somewhat painful, cure.

Then Sandra felt two pairs of hands take her ankles. To her dismay, her legs were forced apart and she was placed into a kneeling posture, knees and shins pressed to the floor.

“For God’s sake, Ferran, there is no need for this!”

“We are only doing as we have been bidden, ma’am.”

“It’s Malak! She’s put you up to this, hasn’t she?”

“Ma’am – the sooner, the harder and the louder you start screaming, the easier it can then be for all of us.”

“I am damned if I am going to scream for her. Or anyone. God damn you. God damn you all …’

And then the first stroke landed. It was aimed at the center most part of her bottom, perhaps an inch or so higher than the little pink rosebud of her anus. The splits in the frayed rod left three tight parallel crimson tramlines that quickly filled into a single blood wet welt.

“Jesus Christ! Oh god, oh god, that hurts.”

Then the second. Just above the crease that marks the end of buttock and start of thigh. Equally angry, equally searing.

They felt her struggling against their hands, but there was never a serious chance that she could break free.

The third stoke land half way between the first two, and it was the one that brought the first scream of pain 

from the helpless girl.

Ferran placed all the following blows within the area defined by the first two, expertly laying each as close as possible to the others without them landing on top of each other.

Until about the fifteenth or so, when Sandra’s bottom looked as if it had a single band of pain painted in one wide swathe of blue and crimson. Then the strokes did fall on top of prior ones, and Sandra’s effort to break free became evermore frantic.

When it was finished, Ferran threw the cane into a corner.

“Please ma’am, I am so sorry.”

Eyes closed, tears flowing freely, Sandra said “I forgive you. Get me back to my room, now, please.”

They helped to her feet, she winced as she straightened up. Somehow they got her dress back on in some semblance of order. Underwear was irrelevant.

Ferrad and Mustapha draped her arms across their shoulders, and half carried up the staircases to the fourth floor, where the wives had their suites. On the way, several doors opened a crack, to allow astonished stares of disbelief at the faint red stripes showing across the seat of Sandra’s dress.

They handed her over to her maids without a word, who pushed them out and quickly got on with the task of dealing with their mistresses wounds.

At the top of the stairs, Malak called Ferran back.

She handed him the ten small golden coins.

“Well done, my friend,” she beamed.

“Ma’am, I truly hope for both our sakes, that Sandra never does get to be the master’s number one wife.”

“Oh, be away with you. As if that could ever happen.”

She closed the door to end the conversation.