Abducted Ch. 07

"I'm sorry, Madam," whispered Emma meekly. "I was surprised, and unsure who it was."

"And wondering why I am completely covered up, no doubt?"

"Yes, Madam," agreed Emma.

"Well, inside the palace, women are encouraged – even expected – to wear Western clothing. Outside, however, traditional local dress is compulsory. We have to go outside to get to the Health and Beauty Section, so we need to dress up. This is your outfit."

Amira dropped her package in front of Emma, who opened it to reveal a shapeless heap of beige cotton, and a pair of sandals.

"You'll need some help. Stand up, Leila," ordered Amira.

Emma did as she was bid. Amira picked up the largest piece of clothing and held it up. "This is your abaya," she explained. "It's a sort of neck to floor dress. This is the front, but you'll find it is pretty shapeless. Slip it over your head, and put your arms through the sleeves as usual."

Emma looked at herself in a mirror. Indeed, the abaya hung straight from her shoulders, completely hiding her body, giving no hint of the curves beneath.

"And this," continued the older woman, "is your khimar," holding up another piece of cotton. "As you can see, it's basically a circle with a hole cut for your face. It goes on like this."

Amira placed the garment over Emma's head, and adjusted it. Emma's hair was completely hidden; the garment clung snugly to the side of her face, and her chin, and then hung down to her waist.

"And to complete the look," Amira went on, "we need the niqab. It's a sort of veil. It goes around the forehead and is tied at the back of the head. As you can see, there's a slit for the eyes."

Emma looked in the mirror again. She saw a figure completely encased in beige cotton, anonymous except for a pair of bright blue eyes staring out through a small slit.

"That will do fine," announced Amira. "Put on the sandals, and follow me. You'll actually find the dress quite comfortable in time, and much cooler than Western clothes. I'm wearing my normal clothes underneath, because I won't be outside for long, but often I go naked like you. It's much better than being constricted."

Emma followed Amira out of the door, and along a corridor, down some stairs and towards the entrance hall. The doors swung open as they approached, and the two women left the hospital, suddenly finding themselves bathed in bright sunshine. Even at that early hour, the temperature was nearly unbearable in the sunshine, and Amira hurried towards the shade of a covered walkway. They crossed a couple of courtyards and then entered another building, which Emma soon recognised as that in which she had been held for the first days of her captivity.

Soon Amira opened the door to the Health and Beauty Section. The beautician who had attended to Emma the previous Friday welcomed her with a smile. 'Was it really only three days ago?' pondered Emma to herself; so much seemed to have happened in the intervening time.

"Welcome, Miss Leila," exclaimed the beautician, a young woman, mid twenties, with an olive complexion, and slightly plump. "My name is Khadija. I believe you have had some adventures since we last met!" She smiled at Emma, revealing a row of pure white, perfectly-formed teeth. "Please take off your clothes and lie down here on the couch, and we'll get started."

As Emma began to remove the unaccustomed garments, Amira took her leave. "I'll arrange for someone to collect you just before one o'clock, and take you back to your hospital room for lunch. Don't forget to put on your costume; Khadija will help if you have problems. Your new master will see you at about two, in your hospital room."

Emma lay on the couch. Khadija expertly reviewed her client's naked body, feeling her bruises, and tracing gently the outline of her still-red wheals. "Oh yes," she murmured, almost to herself, "a bit of a beating; but healing very well."

She reached for a bottle, and began applying ointment to Emma's skin. "It's Master Hans, isn't it?" she asked. Emma nodded. "That's good. He doesn't like a lot of make-up, just the merest hint, and a very subtle lipstick. He likes a smooth body, however, so I think we'll shave you again, and give you a really good manicure and pedicure. You'll want to make a good impression on him, and he's very keen on perfect nails, on both fingers and toes!"

"You know him?" asked Emma, intrigued.

"Oh yes, of course; everybody knows Master Hans," replied Khadija, smiling. "He's great – the best and most experienced trainer in the palace. And they say he's a great lover. Apparently, when he was younger, he used to be able to last over an hour without cumming; that made him very popular with the ladies of the court, and he became quite wealthy. Unfortunately, he's never asked me, but I'd go with him gladly, if I got the chance. He has a reputation of being very strict, but very fair, and knows what he wants."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I probably shouldn't tell you this," she continued, "but I've looked after several of his trainees, and they've all turned out to be pretty special. I feel quite envious of you."

"Why? Are you a slave too?" asked Emma.

"Oh, no, Miss Leila," replied Khadija with a smile, "but my mother was. She wasn't keen for me to become one, and anyway I'm really not pretty enough to please His Highness," she continued modestly. Her voice again dropped to a whisper. "In any case, there's a bit of uncertainty as to who my father might be. It could be His Highness himself, or his late father, and it would be embarrassing if His Highness were to find out that he had committed incest with me!"

Emma was intrigued. "Why?" she finally asked. "How did that happen?"

Khadija giggled as she carried on anointing Emma's skin with soothing oil, and massaging it in. "Well," she began quietly, "the story I got from my mother was that she and about twelve other slaves were involved in a big orgy, organised by His Highness' late father, lasting over twelve hours. She lost count of how many men had her during the night, but they included both His Highness and his father. She was on the pill, but at the end of the month she and two of the other girls were found to be pregnant. It seems they had been sent a faulty batch of contraceptive pills. There was a big row with the supplier, but the result was my birth, nine months later. So, you see, my father is unknown. I suppose they could do DNA tests to find out, but probably they would rather not know for certain. Anyway, I was brought up in the harem, until my mother left to get married."

"Get married?" repeated Emma, surprised. "You mean slave girls can leave and get married?"

"Oh, yes," whispered Khadija, "but probably I shouldn't be telling you all this. Please keep your voice down."

"Sorry! But do go on," murmured Emma.

"When I was about four, one of the senior palace officials became very fond of my mother, and asked His Late Highness if he could buy her. The prince agreed, but only on condition that he paid a pretty hefty price, and took me as well. My mother liked him a lot. When I was six, she gave birth to a boy, my half-brother; he's eighteen now, and being trained as an officer in the army. Soon after that one of the official's wives died; he gave my mother her freedom and married her. They seemed very happy together, and she was very upset when my step-father died a couple of years ago. They had two other children, another boy now aged fifteen, and a girl of twelve."

Yet again, Emma marvelled at the attitude of the people who inhabited this strange environment. Khadija's attitude to the events she had described indicated that she regarded them as perfectly normal and natural. "And what about you?" she asked Khadija. "Are you kept here permanently?"

"Goodness no! I could leave at any time, but this is my home. I went to Paris for training as a beautician and masseuse, and was offered several jobs there, but the money is much better here at home – and the work more interesting," replied Khadija. She smiled. "Also," she continued in a whisper, "my boyfriend is here, in the palace guard. Perhaps we'll get married soon."

Two hours later, her whole body tingling gently from the thorough shaving, her finger nails and toe nails freshly painted, and her hair washed and dried, Emma admired herself in the mirror as Khadija put the finishing touches to her discreet make-up. Suddenly she was startled as the door flew open, and a veiled figure rushed in. Emma recognised Amira, and promptly fell to her knees in submission. "Hurry," gasped Amira breathlessly, "there's been a change of plan. The Grand Inquisitor is needed at the capital to-morrow, so the Inquest has been re-arranged for to-day. You need to report to Master Hans at once, for preparation. We don't need to go outside, so just put on that robe and follow me! Leave your traditional clothes here; I'll get them sent on later."

Quickly, Emma did as instructed, thanking Khadija as she scurried out of the door behind the older woman. Several corners, a flight of stairs, another corner, and a long corridor brought them to a door marked 'Room 111'. Amira knocked. A deep voice, muffled by the thick wooden door, sounded. "Come!"

Amira pushed the door open and entered, beckoning Emma to follow. "Good morning, Master Hans," she started. "This is Slave Leila D297, as arranged."