The Females of Wadi Ya Noh.

"David. Your time has come! Time, for you to pay! You will pay for your own sin - your sin against me. And you will pay for the sins of your wretched, treacherous, accursed countrymen. For, someone must pay!

"Now, you will face Katang. You will stand over the Hole of Humility. You will stand with your hands above your head, holding onto the pole, ready to receive the cane. You will receive one stroke of the cane, from each and every one of the females of Wadi Ya Noh. If, at any time, you are disobedient, or if you remove your hands from the pole before you have been given permission, your chastisement will be increased.

"Now, David. Step forward. Katang awaits you! Stand over the Hole of Humility, and hold onto the pole, ready to receive the---"

"Nnnnoooo!" I wailed in acute anguish, at the very thought of what was about to happen to me: A stroke of that terrible cane - the Katang - from each and every one of the females of Wadi Ya Noh. All 20 of them! My God!

Unperturbed - sounding quite pleased, in fact - Claudia calmly announced, "For your disobedience, David, today's punishment is now increased. You will now receive not one, but two strokes of the cane, from each and every one of us. If you disobey again, you will incur a third stroke of the cane, from each and every one of us. And so on ... I hope I am making myself quite clear.

"Now, David. Do I have to tell you again ...? No, I didn't think so," said Claudia sardonically, as she watched me miserably take up the position she had ordered: standing over the Hole of Humility, and with my hands above my head, holding onto the pole.

Claudia then stepped behind me and, moments later, my fear and trepidation - my absolute dread - was more than amply vindicated. I heard the cane announce its first approach - the first of many, that day. The very sound, of the long and flexible, whippy cane - the Katang - was filled to the brim with the shrieking, howling promise of sudden, excruciating pain - WHOOSH!

And, that was exactly what I got: delivered to my bare buttocks, by Claudia's wrathful hand.

And nothing - nothing - could have prepared me, for the agonising, unspeakable experience ... For the kiss of the Katang.

When the long, whippy cane bit savagely into the cheeks of my exposed bare bottom, the pain was utterly intolerable. I howled my anguish. It felt as though Claudia had savagely whipped my bare backside with a length of white-hot cheese wire. I cried out, screaming at the scorching, singeing fire. I wailed, at the explosive, flaring, devastating agony that nearly stopped my heart.

Still, I remembered Claudia's dire warning. I kept hold of the pole; hands above my head. I had already disobeyed once, incurring a second stroke of the cane from each and every one of the females of Wadi Ya Noh. And, I was certainly not about to make the same mistake again! For to do so, would be tantamount to personally placing the dreadful Katang in their hands again, and making them all a gift of a third.

The very sound of Claudia's first cane stroke striking my exposed flesh; the sound of my agonised, anguished cries; the sight of my tormented, pain-contorted face, triggered the continuance of the hideous, yodelling-like wailing, of the females of Wadi Ya Noh.

Their awful, blood-chilling ululations spiralled up to tumultuous, exultant new heights. They were beside themselves with malicious glee. They were in a fever of uncontainable, ecstatic anticipation of the joys still to come. Not least of which, was their own, two strokes of the cane, upon my exposed and vulnerable person ... their own turns, with the Katang.

Claudia then duly administered her second, scream-inducing stroke of the cane - making 'her mark', in exactly the same place as her first stroke. And, in that exact spot, there would be an enduring, tormenting pain; a pain, eclipsing all others. A pain, that would serve as an almost constant reminder of Claudia, in the coming days and nights.

Claudia then handed over that wicked instrument of exquisite torture, to her mother. Now, it was Meena, who wielded the Katang.

Cackling unpleasantly (a sound that I would come to know well), Meena; obviously an old and accomplished hand, at these traditional, time-honoured proceedings, gleefully dealt my bare buttocks a carefully aimed, expertly delivered, howl-inducing kiss of the Katang.

My God! The sheer, intolerable agony of it! It had me whimpering. Had me moaning. Had me begging and pleading for mercy. And, Meena cackled all the more, as she duly delivered her second; even more harrowing, even more devastating cut of the long and flexible, whippy cane, once again targeting the cheeks of my exposed and vulnerable bottom.

Meena then passed on, that dreadful implement of acute affliction; that guarantor of abject misery - the Katang - to the next vengeful female in line ... Fatima.

Meena then joined Claudia, who, after having duly administered her own two strokes of the cane, had come around to face me: To gleefully watch my face. To smile at me. To smirk. To taunt. And, to gloat, as I was soundly, mercilessly thrashed, at the hands of her vengeful village sisters.

First, Claudia had watched with appreciation and pride, the expertise with the cane that her own mother, Meena, had exhibited. Meena had then joined her and, together, they stood and gloated over my hideous predicament; their dark, almond-shaped eyes rarely leaving my face.

Claudia and Meena avidly watched my face as, one by one, the females of Wadi Ya Noh had stepped forward, and took their turn. Their turn - with the Katang.

First, they watched my face as Fatima had stepped forward, and then sadistically administered her 2 strokes of the cane. And then, it was Nagga who stepped 'up to the plate'. And then Kandi ... followed by all of the other vengeful females of Wadi Ya Noh.

My God! The females' cruel caning went on, and on, and on. It was awful. Terrible. I thought it was never going to stop.

One of the worst, most terrifying aspects of these hideous proceedings, was that I had absolutely no idea, where the next viciously administered stroke of that wicked-looking cane might strike my exposed flesh: my shoulders; sides; back; buttocks, or legs. After each cruel cut of the cane, I could only wait in trepidation for the next one.

And, this went on, until all of the shapeless, all-black garbed, shrilly ululating females of Wadi Ya Noh - all 20 of them, had dealt me their due entitlement: their two punishing, retributive - chastising - strokes of the cane.

I was in a world of pain. Such anguish! Such torment! I was moaning. I was crying. I was shaking and trembling from shock. I was babbling incoherent nonsense - all but demented.

And, it was as placidly as parents, watching the amusing antics of children partaking in some multi-participant playground adventure game, that Claudia and Meena had beheld the scene before them. In quiet contentment, Claudia and Meena had stood happily together, holding hands. Joined, in their spiritual solidarity.

And, it was with such a dark serenity, such immeasurable gratification, such immense pleasure, that they had watched my traumatised face, as I had stood (almost) without a stitch on, before them. Bleak, undisguised malice had shone desolately out from their dark eyes, like rays of harmful black light.

Claudia and Meena had revelled and gloried, in closely watching my agonised face. Revelled and gloried, as my face had crumpled, from the effects of such unbearable anguish. As it had screwed up; as it had contorted, from the just-can't-take-any-more, unspeakable agony. Revelled and gloried, in my being given one hell of a caning, by their village sisters. By the shapeless, shuffling, black burka clad, incessantly ululating females of Wadi Ya Noh.

Claudia now addressed me again. Her heartfelt satisfaction; her ineffable gratification, evident in her voice. "I told you, David, that you would learn repentance at our hands. That was your first caning, your ... initiation, with Katanga. We will bring Katanga to you again. On each and every monthly anniversary, of your ‘A Thousand Suns' sentence.

"You have now received your first lesson in repentance, at our hands, David ... Now, you will receive your first lesson in humility, at our feet," Claudia informed me, matter of factly.

At a gesture from Claudia, some of the females of Wadi Ya Noh removed the pole from the Hole of Humility, and they shuffled away, returning it to the outbuilding that they had got it from.

Claudia then told me, "Now, David, you will learn your first lesson of humility, at our feet.

"Unlike your lessons of repentance, at our hands - which we must teach you only once a month as, unfortunately, we must allow your skin time to heal, after your sessions with Katang - you will be taught your lessons of humility, at our feet, on a daily basis.

"Every day - yes, every day, for ‘A Thousand Suns' - at dawn, we will put you in your place of learning: the Hole Of Humility. Your head will protrude out of the Hole of Humility - at the level of our ankles. As is fitting.

"Throughout each and every day, David, you will be called upon, by the females of Wadi Ya Noh, to demonstrate the sincerity of your respect and humility, at our feet. You will be called upon, to convincingly convey to us that you wish for nothing more, than to be allowed, by the females of Wadi Ya Noh, these opportunities to demonstrate to us, the sincerity of your respect and humility," Claudia informed me.

Claudia then turned her back on me. As she shuffled away, I watched her Arabian Airways issue, lilac-coloured mules slapping against the bottoms of her bare brown heels as she walked towards the mud-brick structures, and I saw her enter the one directly ahead of me.

After winding the decidedly grubby, industrial-length tea-towel like turban around my head, as a means of protecting me from the oppressive, fiercely blazing Arabian sun, the females of Wadi Ya Noh - none too gently - lowered me into my "place of learning" - the Hole Of Humility. When my feet touched bottom, only my turbaned head protruded out of the hole, with my chin about 3 or 4 inches above the edge - at ankle height. ("As is fitting.")

Having put me in my place (as it were), as one, the females of Wadi Ya Noh looked down on me, in Humility Hole. Their dark, almond-shaped eyes solemnly promising me hard times ahead. I remembered what Claudia had said to me: "Perhaps you have some understanding now, David, of why you will be considered such a valuable prize."

The females - most of them - were of rather short stature; being not much more than 5 feet - 5 feet, 5 inches tall. Now, though, they towered above me. Seemingly 10 feet tall. I was their helpless, hopeless captive - their highly-prized, Englishman prisoner.

Surely, I thought, there was no chance, not even the remotest possibility, of escape, from Wadi Ya Noh. There was nothing but blistering, baking desert for miles around. And, even if I did manage to escape - at night; it would have to be at night ...

I could just imagine Claudia's outraged reaction: If she had to come out into the desert looking for me. If she had to rustle up a posse of her village sisters, to help her recapture me. If she caught me - and she would: Well, if I thought I was in trouble now ...

And all that I would accomplish, probably, would be to land myself with another sentence, for my trouble. An extended stay, in Wadi Ya Noh. Obviously, I was going nowhere.

Soon, I saw Claudia returning. She had changed out of her Arabian Airways air hostess uniform, and she was now wearing the shapeless, all-black garb - the customary, traditional dress of the spurned and abandoned females of Wadi Ya Noh.

I could still tell that she was Claudia, though: Though Claudia was now dressed in the same shapeless, clone-like, depersonalising black burka as her village sisters, somehow, she stood out from the crowd.

Claudia was carrying a large wooden bowl and, as she approached my 'place of learning', I could hear the tantalising, sloshing sound of water. Tinkling, like liquid music - literally, like music to my ears - it sploshed and splashed about in the bowl as Claudia walked towards me.

A few drops of water sloshed out over the edge of the bowl, and the brilliant Arabian sun lit them up, like diamonds under a jeweller's spotlight ... until they dashed themselves upon the dusty desert ground of Humility Square, when their lights went out forever.

Suddenly, at hearing those alluring sounds of water, I remembered just how extremely thirsty I was. Even more so, when Claudia tormentingly placed the large wooden bowl of water on the ground, just in front of my face. Just close enough, so that I could see over the rim of the bowl, and watch the mesmeric effect of the hot, brilliant sunlight glinting upon the tiny wavelets of the still sloshing - and, slowly evaporating! - freshly-drawn well water.

Claudia looked down on me. She watched me, as I watched the water. Attired as she now was, in the same, shapeless, all-black garb as her village sisters - the black burka - I could only recognise Claudia for certain, by her eyes. For otherwise - for all that she stood out - she was now (almost) as anonymous; as clone-like, as all of the other females of Wadi Ya Noh.

By now though, I was learning a lot, I felt, from the females' eyes - body-language skills, would not be of much use in Wadi Ya Noh! I was already beginning to discern, from their dark, almond-shaped eyes (apart, of course, from their obvious, bristling hostility; a trait, common to them all), a good idea, as to the approximate ages of the females, and hints as to their individual personalities, even.

As for their names ... well, the females of Wadi Ya Noh gave me plenty of good reasons to remember their names. And I learned them quickly.

As one, the females of Wadi Ya Noh gathered to Claudia. Their sister in scandal, who had so gloriously delivered me - an Englishman - into their vengeful hands. They listened avidly to Claudia, who translated for them at intervals as she instructed me as to how I was to always conduct myself, towards them: How I was to - at all times, demonstrate to them, the sincerity of my respect and humility.

How I was to - whenever a female approached me, at Humility Hole - address the female by her name, in welcome, and tell her that I was her slave.

And Claudia told me what I could expect, if I failed to comply with this standing instruction. Or if any of the females of Wadi Ya Noh, even so much as suspected my being insincere, to them ... WHOOSH!

It would mean the Katang, threatened Claudia. And, it was no idle threat, either. Though my body was now heavily cane-striped, Claudia informed me that there were some places on my body that had actually been avoided; left untouched, by the kiss of the Katang. Deliberately left unharmed, by the females of Wadi Ya Noh. So that any such supplementary chastisement could then be duly administered, in the event of its subsequently being called for.

So that the Katang could sit snugly in the palms of the females of Wadi Ya Noh's warm brown hands ... and strike again.

But, the use of the Katang - as truly terrible, as it was - was not, in itself, a disciplinary measure that was sufficient to cure the errant ways of every wrong-doer, in their society. In itself, the use of the Katang was not a guarantee of future deterrence, where certain ... 'problem' categories of offenders were concerned.

And so, a more ... efficacious, disciplinary measure was called for.

According to the culture of many parts of the Arabian Interior, not only was it socially unacceptable; a definite no no, but it was the greatest, gravest, most gross and offensive of insults - strictly taboo - to show the soles of your feet.

The Arabian penal authorities, in their infinite wisdom, had long ago devised a certain; 3-phase form of corrective punishment, that was effective - in almost 100 per cent of cases - to chasten certain ... 'problem' offenders.

It was a penal measure, that was designed to get such problem offenders back onto the straight-and-narrow - quickly, and permanently. As one might assume, from a measure that achieved such brilliantly successful results, it was a decidedly drastic measure. The implementation of which, the Arabian penal authorities did not take lightly. It was, due to its ... sensitive nature, only used when it became clear that nothing else was going to work. As a last resort.

This tried and tested, brilliantly successful penal corrective measure of old, was to actually subject these problem offenders, to their culture's acutest form of all possible humiliations: demonstrating the sincerity of their respect and humility, at the feet of ... 'Fallen' females.

Which, in their culture, was as low as it was possible to get - rock-bottom.

There were different ways, that the females of their culture could 'fall'. But, however these females had fallen, they never fell as far as the males who were brought before them ... to demonstrate the sincerity of their respect and humility, at their feet.

For, almost without exception, such males were afterwards left with a life-long, indelible stain on their character. And, not only, on their character. For, it was an indelible stain, that; although invisible from outside, would, like a slowly burning acid, forever be keenly felt, inside. Therefore, in being never forgotten; in always being reminded, served as an effective deterrent. For life.

And so, to achieve these desirable ends, the Arabian penal authorities - as a last resort - had these problem offenders transported to such bleak, miserable, dreadful places, as ... Wadi Ya Noh.

Transported to such places, to be subjected to their culture's worst of all possible humiliations. To suffer the time-honoured, traditional chastisement: Demonstrating the sincerity of their respect and humility, at the feet of 'Fallen' women; and at the feet of their 'tainted' daughters.

Claudia, as the victim of 'my' crime, had been duly accorded the privilege of being the first of the females of Wadi Ya Noh to administer that wicked-looking cane upon me - the Katang - and thereby initiating my ... initiation: my first lesson in repentance, at their hands. Now, by dint of that very same principle, Claudia would also be the first to teach me my first lesson in humility, at their feet.

"Now, David. Starting with myself, you will now demonstrate to us, the sincerity of your respect and humility, at our feet," stated Claudia. "Down the centuries ... for time immemorial, the females of Wadi Ya Noh have been ordained to perform these traditional, time-honoured rituals of chastisement. In strict adherence, to hallowed dictates of ancient standing, the females of Wadi Ya Noh perform these revered rituals, in three, distinct phases.

"First: You will breathe in, deeply, of our foot scent. You will inhale from our toes. And, as you do so, you will look at - focus your whole attention - upon the bottoms of our heels.

"Secondly: You will kiss the soles of our feet. As, and when, and how we present the soles of our feet to you. You will also kiss the soles of our feet, in your own, personal display of reverence, as we allow you to ... express yourself.

"Thirdly: We may then - or, we may not - permit you to drink. For we have the power of discretion, in this matter."

Claudia then positioned herself, accordingly: Standing with her back to me; the backs of her heels, directly in front of my face, and with the large wooden bowl of water just in front of her toes.

Claudia then slipped the big and second toes of her brown; admittedly rather shapely, dainty right foot, from the toe-post of an extremely well-worn, strapless, camel-leather sandal, thereby freeing her foot. Claudia then balanced her weight, upon her left foot. Her poise was graceful; steady, effortless and unwavering.