Chapter 1

Ante...

 

Malay pirates, under the command of Rajah Sindana Raga, have attacked and destroyed the American merchantman Friendship in the Strait of Malacca and taken its cargo of opium destined for the Hong Kong Colony. They have also taken the 25 survivors of the attack, including five English debutantes who had been traveling to marry naval officers as arranged by their parents. The ship had been under contract to the British East India Company and protected by the Royal Navy frigate HMS Java until cholera had forced the Java to abandon her charge and lay over in George Town harbor.

The pirate Raga ordered the 25 survivors enslaved. Those men who could sail, like Joshua Thomas, the Friendship's first officer, he made boat-slaves condemning them to serve his native fleet for life. Those men who had no useful boat skills, he sold as "ordinaries"-slaves fit only for physical labor. He earmarked the two wealthiest girls-Abigail Burns-Laughton and Catherine Fisher­­-for ransom and sent their two brown-skinned Indian handmaids-Madhuri and Taara-to the holding pens for women's ordinaries. He declared Sarah Barrett, Victoria Watson, and Mary Macdonald odalisques (harem slaves) and sent them for training with his slave-master, Mr. Ahmad.

Lieutenant Seth A. Walsh III, third officer aboard the HMS Java, was devastated by the attack and by his inability to save the girls from their horrible fate. The night before they sailed from Calcutta, he had formed a quick but intense friendship with Sarah Barrett. He believed that the Java's captain, William Symonds, should have ordered the Friendship to lay over in George Town until the Java's had purged itself of its cholera.

Over the frustrating weeks of quarantine, Walsh formulated a rescue plan. He had grown up in George Town, Malaya as a colonial-the son of a British army officer and a Malay woman. He was confident that his contacts, his knowledge of the language, and his understanding of local custom would enable him to rescue Sarah and the other girls. With Captain Symond's tacit agreement, he jumped ship, violating the George Town quarantine, and assumed the false identity of a British royal marine deserter, become slave trader.

Back in Calcutta, Lord Edgar Dalhousie, the governor-general of India and a director of the British East India Company, was plotting with Sir Percival Burns-Laughton and attorney Andrew Fisher, the fathers of the two girls Rajah Raga had offered for ransom. The three were determined not to pay the pirate a ha'penny, but to affect the release of their daughters through guile and deceit. Unfortunately for their daughters, their plan failed.

Enraged by the betrayal, Rajah Raga ordered the two girls, Abigail and Kate, boiled-to-death in retaliation after they had served a year as the slaves of their former handmaids. To make his revenge complete, he sent a letter describing the treachery to the editor of the Calcutta Times, embarrassing the three plotters and the East India Company. The letter also precipitated a public outcry for the total annihilation of the Soolo pirates.

In the weeks that followed, Lt. Seth Walsh began his obsessive quest, the navy prepared for a battle in the Malacca, and the seven girls slipped inexorably into their new lives as slaves.

 

Chapter 2

Sarah Barrett

 

Mr. Zhong waited patiently while his men wrist-bound the struggling girl and hoisted her naked onto her toes. He paused a moment when they finished then smiled placidly and lifted his hand from his lap. The gesture, hardly worthy of mention, was the signal to begin.

His tangan (assistant) stepped behind and began to strike her bare ass with a strap. He hesitated after each stroke and glanced at Mr. Zhong then continued. Her flawless skin and firm young flesh were valuable and only Mr. Zhong could order them exercised.

Seth knew that the old slaver was listening for just the right pitch in her screams, watching for just the right tempo in her arching body before moving on to the next part of his demonstration. Experienced slave traders like him understood human feelings better than most; they used pain and pleasure, sexual arousal, sadism, even pity to their maximum commercial advantage. Seth wanted to learn from him, to study his techniques, but the girl's suffering was too difficult to watch.

Instead, he studied the strap. It was a semi-stiff, triple-slit, Scottish tawse about 15 inches long. The fast-moving leather and the two slits in its business end delivered a sever jolt of pain to the ass and legs without leaving marks. He knew the strap well from his time at the British International School in George Town. The school's headmaster had used one to enforce discipline, and to indirectly express his snobbish opinion that the children of military men, like Seth, didn't belong in the same school as the children of aristocrats or even those of Company bureaucrats.

His father, Captain Seth Walsh II of the Coldstream Guards, had finally intervened. Seth never knew what the two men had discussed in their meeting; but after that, the headmaster's use of severe discipline to make his point stopped, and there was fear in his eyes when they interacted.

He looked back and met the girl's eyes-they were wild now, desperate to escape the pain. He forced himself to study her face-noting the way her nostrils flared, the way she bared her teeth just before the tawse landed, the way she rounded her lips to pant. The details were important, everything about the girl in the odalisque (harem slave) trade was important. It was attention to detail and keen observation that separated the successful traders from the wannabes.

One successful trader had told him that the real gold was in "the aura" the girl created. It was impossible to define, he said, but some girls could arouse a man with a glance when others, equally beautiful, in equally provocative circumstances, barely raised an eyebrow. Those who could excite sold in Far East slave markets for hundreds even thousands of pounds; those who could not became human fodder, good only for "under the table" tavern work.

"It is a hard and cruel reality," he said, "but, however she does it, a slave girl who can make a man feel his sexual power and prowess commands a higher price. That's the way the market works. That's our reality."

He was learning-every day he acquired more knowledge about these erotic pets; he gained more understanding of human emotions and feelings; he sussed out more insight into the workings of the slave market, into the art of slave pricing. He was also keenly aware that despite his aversion, he was good at it, he had a natural talent for the work.

The girl suddenly stopped jerking and stared at him with an animal-like sexual interest. Mr. Zhong quickly lifted his hand for the paddling to stop. Slave traders in the region called this effect the berhenti lapar (hunger pause). It happened in some slaves when their pain and helplessness stimulated an irresistible sexual response. One trader had explained that domination was the ultimate aphrodisiac for a submissive woman, no matter how spirited she was otherwise. Releasing the suppressed sexual desire in an odalisque was the goal of all slave traders. He was too new to the business to have his own opinion on these matters; most of the time, he just watched and learned.

Slowly, ignoring the burning agony in her ass and thighs, she opened her legs and wet her lips. There was no doubt that she wanted him, that she needed him at this moment. She was ready.

"The berhenti lapar response consistent with this one," Mr. Zhong whispered, well pleased with her performance. "Trust me, she will show even better on the auction block...when she is in front of a crowd of randy men."

Seth nodded and Mr. Zhong raised his hand again. The tawsing continued. Seth didn't trust himself to speak.

"Any interest so far, Peniaga Ewan?" Mr. Zhong asked politely between the girl's screams. "As you can see...she moves quite well...and has good instincts."

Peniaga was the Malay title for a trader. Zhong pronounced Ewan as "Yuan" in the singsong Chinese way. He knew Seth as Trader Ewan...Peniaga Ewan Dumadi. Ewan was his Scottish father's first name and Dumadi was his Malay mother's maiden name, both were easy for him to remember. Both names were also easy for Chinese and Malayans tongues to pronounce. He had let it slip one drunken night that he had been a corporal in Her Majesty's Royal Marines who, due to an unfortunate incident with a Hindi girl, had separated himself from the queen's service. In other words, he was a rapist and a deserter now working as a slave trader. It was a plausible cover.

Seth didn't answer Mr. Zhong's question; he just turned and stared more intensely at the girl, watching the way her body moved and tensed, the way her muscle lines darkened, the way her face revealed what she was feeling inside. Each strike of the tawse showed him something new and important about her...all important factors in setting her price. Mr. Zhong would expect this level of scrutiny from a real trader.

"She has possibilities," he finally said in a neutral tone of voice. "Would it be possible to see her in coitus extremis?"

Any trader worth his salt with a serious interest in an odalisque, a harem slave, would ask to see her orgasm. Any buyer or buyer's agent would ask for the same. He would be buying a pig in a poke if he didn't know everything about her sexual response.

Mr. Zhong nodded, clearly pleased with the request. He appreciated thoroughness. He waited for another five strokes-until the girl's agonized yelps were at exactly the right level-then he lifted his index finger from his lap. The tangan stopped at once, took a glove from his belt, and put it on. The girl sensed what was coming and began to struggle, twisting her supple body, using her toes to inch back as far as possible. Sean could see the outline of her rib cage, the ripples in her abdomen, the tensing of her mound. She kept lifting her leg as if trying to ward off the impending assault. It was impossible for her to prevent her diddling or to escape, but her flight instinct was now in control of her mind. She glanced at Seth in a wild panic, begging him to intercede; forced orgasm was as painful as it was pleasurable.

Mr. Zhong turned toward him, his face a mask of impassivity.

"The glove we use, Peniaga Ewan, is made from the pouch of a kangaroo with the animal's stiff hair left on," Mr. Zhong explained with cool indifference. "We have found it to be quite effective in expert hands. Brown-skinned beauties like this Siamese pet are especially responsive to the kangaroo."

Seth nodded and smiled. It was an inside joke, a slaver's joke. As every slaver knew, and contrary to popular opinion, the color of a girl's skin-brown, yellow, or white-made no difference in how she responded to clitoral stimulation. Every girl was equal under the skin. What did make a difference was her innate sexual potential, which had nothing to do with her race.

The use of the kangaroo-skin glove was interesting, though, Seth thought...hairy kangaroo, he had not heard of that used as a stimulator before. He filed the information away for later.

Without any preliminaries, the tangan put his gloved hand on her mound and impaled her squirming body on his middle finger. Slowly but firmly, he began to rub her clitoris with his thumb. With his other hand, he continued to swing the tawse into her lovely ass and thighs. She twisted wildly for a few seconds then her writhing and her screams settled into a more regular rhythm. The tangan began to synchronize his tawse strokes and his clitoral stimulation with her rhythm, slowly channeling the energy of her chaotic writhing into regular and powerful undulations.

In a few seconds, her mouth was wide open, her head was thrown back, and her body was rolling in simulated sexual intercourse. The man again increased the speed and force of his glove and paddle, and she responded with a more pronounced body arch, one so extreme it looked as if it might snap her spine. Suddenly, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she began to shake, to convulse as one contraction after another locked and unlocked her muscles. The tangan stepped back a step and let her move freely.

Seth felt himself aroused; it was impossible for any normal man to remain impassive watching her.

"You're right, Mr. Zhong, she is quite vigorous," he said with a neutral tone, fighting to keep the arousal out of his voice.

Mr. Zhong smiled in understanding. The rumor was that Zhong had been a eunuch freed by his master to pursue his trade in return for a one-half share of his profits. It was a common way for a rich man to invest in the trade.

"...And the price, Mr. Zhong?"

Zhong smiled again and poured him another cup of tea.

"I will make you a special deal, my friend, as you are an associate of Adi bin Agua."

(Adi was Seth's childhood friend, the son of a wealthy Malay, who was helping him track down Sarah Barrett.)

"Mr. Agua is someone with whom I would like to form a long-term business relationship; he has many Malayan contacts, you see, who are well positioned to acquire the outstanding merchandise I prefer to carry."

Seth knew that by "contacts" Mr. Zhong meant pirates and brigands, and that by "merchandise" he meant slaves. Adi was no angel, he never had been, but they were friends. They had remained close even after Seth had received his commission in the navy.

"£525...," Mr. Zhong said in a whisper as if nervous that such an absurdly low price would be overheard.

Seth smiled and nodded as if grateful for Mr. Zhong's "special deal." They both knew that a brown-skinned Siamese girl of superior quality and good sexual response was selling for between £360 and £400 on the street. Seth had bought several for his coffle in the past few weeks.

£525 was clearly out of the question. Not only was it too high, but he needed to be careful with his money. Part of his funding for his slave trading was from the money he had "borrowed" from the HMS Java's safe; another part was from the small inheritance his father had left him. Together, the amount was enough to get him started, but not so much that he could afford to make even one stupid deal.

He glanced at the Siamese girl again as if considering the asking price. The tangan's gloved hand was still covering her muff and presumably his finger was still inside her vagina. It was the only sure grip he had on the slithering girl, now shiny with sweat and body fluids. Her eyes were clearing, returning to normal, but she was still breathing heavily. She caught Seth's eye again, scared of him now. She knew her tawsing and diddling were for his benefit. An even more painful second orgasm was not out of the question.

"Thank you, Mr. Zhong, but I feel as if there is no room for any profit at a price of £525. I have no wish to offend, but the most I can pay you for her is £275."

Mr. Zhong smiled and sipped his tea.

"Would you like to see her shudder again, Peniaga Ewan? She will move even more attractively and scream even more loudly with a sensitive clitoris and swollen labia. The tawse on red skin also precipitates an interesting response."

Her head snapped in his direction with sudden panic in her eyes. He felt another wave of arousal; he had the power to make her suffer...

"Thank you, but that is not necessary, Mr. Zhong. I acknowledge her superior responses in support of the pleasurable arts. As I said, my issue is the asking price and my inadequate ability to turn a profit on her. My clients are well informed; they are quite aware of the current street prices for odalisques."

Seth was shaking his head sadly. Mr. Zhong waved at the tangan to remove the girl.

"Pardon me, Peniaga Ewan, for taunting you with merchandise of this high quality. I have many other girls in your price range. Allow me to show them to..."

Seth smiled and interrupted.

"Perhaps I can find another £25 for her, Mr. Zhong."

Mr. Zhong raised his index finger again and the tangan lowered the girl to her stomach, belted her wrists and elbows tightly together behind her back, and positioned her on her haunches in front of the two men. Seth could see the shine of leaked fluids between her legs; he could smell her sex; he could feel the heat from her slim body. The tight belt at her elbows was forcing her breasts and nipples out, pulling her shoulders back. He knew Zhong was using the pose to arouse him further. He fought the impulse to take her at any price.

As for the girl, she was keeping her eyes downcast, but her entire body was vibrating with lingering pain and sexual excitement. Sale day was a big event for a slave like this, and she sensed they were getting close.

"What is her name," Seth asked idly, distracted by the size of her nipples.

He knew instantly he had made a mistake.

"It is the buyer's right to give a slave a name," Mr. Zhong said, surprised. "I carry this one on my books as Siam3."

"That was what I meant," Seth said lamely.

Zhong stared at his for a moment-what did he care how he identified the girl on his books-then returned to the matter at hand.

"£450," he said putting his asking price into serious territory for the first time.

Seth relaxed. Mr. Zhong was going to ignore his faux pas in asking her name. He was grateful and wanted to respond accordingly in his counteroffer, but he needed more from him than a lower price. This was the moment to ask for it...

"I would be happy to pay you £400 for her, Mr. Zhong if you can give me a lead on any white meat in the area. I have a special client who is trying to round out his...collection of exotic pets. If I could find two white-skinned Europeans, I would be pleased to pay you top-dollar for your Siamese."

The role he was playing-renegade slave trader-required him to display just the right degree of ruthless avarice. He could only hope that Mr. Zhong didn't suspect his real purpose.

They were both silent for a few minutes.

"Russians...?" Mr. Zhong asked. "Would you accept Russians?"

Seth shook his head no. There was a glut of white Russian peasant girls on the market as a result of famines.

"My buyer already owns several Russians. He wants sophisticated Europeans of any nationality-French, Dutch...English.

Mr. Zhong stared at him then nodded.

"I did sell two English girls recently..."

"If I can have the names of their buyers and sellers, Mr. Zhong, we have a deal on the Siamese."

This was the tricky part. He needed the names of the sellers to confirm that the two girls were part of the Calcutta Five and not just two unlucky colonists taken by pirates.

"I can tell you the buyers, Peniaga Ewan, but not the names of the sellers."

Seth nodded. This was understandable-Mr. Zhong was not going to give away the names of his suppliers to another trader and risk being cut out as the middleman. He had not really expected the seller's name, just a clue...

Mr. Zhong nodded to his secretary sitting in the corner and the man handed him an open ledger.

"We sold Soolo-13 to the Russian plantation owner, Pavlovich, from Burma; and we sold, ah, Soolo-14 to an agent of the Emperor of Heaven, His Royal Highness, Thiệu Trị of the Nguyen Dynasty in Huế. I doubt he has any interest in selling."

Set nodded, trying to hide his elation.

"Then our deal is done for £400," he said quietly.

"Excellent...!" Mr. Zhong said, confirming their agreement with another cup of tea.

The information he had just given him about the buyers matched that Adi bin Agua had told him. Adi had attended the auction of the two girls Mr. Zhong had identified as Soolo-13 and Soolo-14, identifications that also confirmed that the two white girls had come from the Soolo pirates. It was not absolute proof, but it was the closest he was going to get to the information he needed to track Sarah. His search was about probabilities and persistence.

Siam-3 looked up and smiled at Seth not knowing why he was happy but glad that he was.