Saving Brigit (5 page)

Brigit snorted in disgust. “I trusted the wrong person.”

“Does…does anyone know where you are?” Fatima whispered the words tinged with hope.

Brigit shook her head. “No.” Tears trailed down her cheek. “They think I’m visiting my boyfriend’s family in Islamabad. I found out later he’s from Tajikistan. Is that where we are now?”

“Yes. Is it he who betrayed you?”

Brigit didn’t have the heart to answer. “Fatima, how long have you been here?”

“I am not certain.” She seemed to think. Or maybe she fell to dreaming of a better time and place. “One day is like another, but based on the seasons, I have served about one year.” She hesitated again. “And an untold number of men.”

That said it all. Brigit’s morale sank. This would be her life, too. Until she died, at any rate, a fate she would gladly embrace. Except now her actions affected someone else. She’d force herself to live rather than bring more suffering to Fatima.

Footsteps sounded outside the cell. The pass-through in the door slid open. A man gave an order in what Brigit now recognized as Tajiki.

“What did he say?” Brigit asked when the pass-through closed.

“It is time for me to prepare you to eat.” Fatima rose and went to the door where rope and a black robe had been pushed on the shelf.

Fatima came forward. “First your hands.”

Brigit jerked back. “No.” Tears stung her eyes. She would never make it, never last in this…whatever hell this was.

“Stand, please. You must be tied until they are sure you will be cooperative.”

“But, I won’t be able to eat.”

“I will feed you. It is part of my task.”

Reluctantly, Brigit stood and held out her hands. With efficiency, Fatima bound them, then wrapped the rope around Brigit’s waist and secured it. “Is that too tight? The object is to restrict movement, not cause pain.”

“Fine,” Brigit responded bitterly. “I suppose I’ll have to go naked until they’re sure I’ll be cooperative?” With her hands confined to her stomach, she was unable to wipe away the tear trickling down her cheek. Fatima stared at it, but didn’t wipe it away either.

Silently, she draped the black material over Brigit, leaving only her head visible. Fatima tied the sack under Brigit’s chin. “Sit, so that I can cover your feet.”

Brigit fell back onto the bed. Fatima slid warm socks over her feet and then assisted Brigit in standing.

Hands bound and covered from neck to ankles in a black, formless bag, Brigit was as far from the life she’d known last week as it was possible to be. She wanted to cry, to scream, to pound her fists against the wall. She wanted her mother.

“I can’t believe this,” she said in a strangled voice.

“I am sorry. Soon, this is all you will believe.” The words rang like a death knell in Brigit’s mind.

The door squeaked open, and Fatima started forward. Brigit followed, knowing she had no choice.

A popular phrase from the 1980s filled her mind. “This is the first day of the rest of your life.” Suddenly, whether in hysteria or the sheer contrast between the old affirmation and what she now faced, Brigit wanted to laugh.

The trip to the dining hall, the meal, and the walk back were not much more than a blur to Brigit. Fatima held the leash as loosely as possible, but the shame of being treated like a pet burned. Humiliation was high on Brigit’s mind, right along with betrayal, fear, and the knowledge of her foolishness.

One of her friends had warned her about Middle Eastern men and their view of womanhood, which differed greatly from those of the West. She’d heard the news reports and seen the features on the lack of women’s rights in places like Afghanistan, but she’d ignored all that. Omar hadn’t fit any of the stereotypes. He’d been good to her and fun. They’d gone
drinking
together for Pete’s sake—wasn’t alcohol against their culture?—proving her friend’s fears were unwarranted. He’d seemed different from what everyone described. But he hadn’t been. Now she knew he’d seen her only as a piece of meat, a means to an end.

Granted, she wouldn’t have wished this joint on his sister or any other woman. But that did
not
give him the right to imprison her.

All Brigit noticed of the halls and rooms she’d been through showed a starkness that contrasted with the material in Fatima’s attire. There had been a dozen or so women in the dining hall, which resembled nothing more than a gray-walled institutional room with two lines of tables. They sat on benches and were served by a number of other women who scurried between the tables under the watchful gaze of a few guards. The serving women wore muslin shifts, while the women seated at the tables had all been dressed similarly to Fatima, in filmy gowns that hid nothing of their bodies. The exception was another woman who, like her, wore a black sack. No one had spoken, certainly not to her. She’d never seen a room of women so silent.

The food proved simple but ample, though it tasted like ashes in Brigit’s mouth. All she could think about was her stupidity. She’d been not only dumb, but arrogant. Against good advice, she’d trusted Omar. She’d put him and her desire for adventure above her parents, and she’d ignored the cautionary statements of her own government when she agreed to travel to this godforsaken part of the world. Now she might spend the rest of her life here, unable to make amends.

When Fatima led her back to their sparse room, a woman stopped them and spoke in a low voice.

The door closed and locked behind them. “We will be leaving again soon,” Fatima said apologetically. “So I won’t be untying you.”

Brigit tugged against the restraints. “Where are we going?”

“One of the others is being punished. We all witness.”

A niggling of fear ran down Brigit’s spine. “Wh…why? What did she do?”

“I don’t know. They might announce the reason or they might not.” Fatima leaned toward the mirror and adjusted her earrings. Her movements were casual, but Brigit spied how her fingers trembled.

“Not us,” Fatima replied. “That is all that matters. Do not mistake a friendly word as finding a friend, Brigit. No one here cares for you. It is easiest on your heart to be the same.”

“But, how can you live without friends? This place would be unbearable to face alone.”

Fatima placed her hands on Brigit’s shoulders. “It is unbearable no matter what. If I were friends with the woman who is being punished today, how could I handle watching her humiliation and pain and know doing anything would bring the same to myself? We must each take care of ourselves.”

A feeling of despair enveloped Brigit. Every time she thought she’d reached her lowest point, something happened to prove her wrong. She’d thought if she were miserable, she’d at least have female companions who would understand. “So when you’re no longer my mentor, we won’t talk again or share our experiences?”

“It would be best.” Sadness crossed Fatima’s face, but the expression passed quickly and she put Brigit from her. She turned and paced in the small space, looking uncomfortable. “It is simply the way of this place,” she said harshly. “Learn, or you’ll be sorry.”

Brigit didn’t know what to say. Words would have caught in her throat anyway. The spartan living conditions, the regimented lifestyle, and the nutritious but bland food—she could adjust to that. She could even deal with servicing the men because she had to, but to live without friends? To have no one she could trust?

She took a deep breath. “What will they do to this woman you don’t know or care about?” She didn’t bother hiding the bitterness from her voice.

Fatima cast her a troubled glance and then turned away. “She most likely upset a guest, so it is his decision. We won’t know what he chose until we arrive.”

Horror filled Brigit. “But, what’s to stop a man from saying we did something wrong? Suppose something happens that isn’t our fault? He still gets to punish us? That’s not fair!” Too late she realized what a ridiculous statement that was.

“This is not America, Brigit. We have no rights. If we are blamed wrongfully, we must beg the guest’s pardon and hope he will look upon us kindly.”

“Bullshit.” Brigit sat on the bed, crossed her legs, and swung the one on top. “This is all bullshit.”

Fatima shrugged. “I once saw a girl strapped to a wooden wheel. The guards turned the wheel so that she was dunked in a pond, and they left her there for a long time. I understood that some girls could be revived after such punishment, but she could not be. She died before our eyes, and all because she took too long to respond to a guest’s wishes. There is no authority here. Any of us can meet Allah on the whim of a guest, a guard, or the Claw.”

“Barbaric damn people.”

The door swung open. Brigit stood and Fatima took the end of her leash. They hurried to the dining hall where Fatima secured Brigit’s leash to the table leg tightly enough to restrict her movement.

Two guards dragged a naked woman to the center of the room. They attached her wrists to a bar, then raised it over her head where they attached it to chains hanging from the ceiling. They separated her feet and attached each ankle to the ends of another bar.

With a wild glint in her eyes, the woman’s gaze raked the crowd of women and then shot to a man sitting at the high table reserved for the guards. She cried out to him in a language Brigit didn’t understand. Her tone begged. To no avail.

The man flicked his hand, and the woman dissolved into tears. A different guard, the largest man Brigit had ever seen, spoke. A gasp escaped the woman, and then she started crying harder.

In a low voice, Fatima translated. “For taking too long to drop to her knees and take our guest into her mouth, the customer has requested the Violet Wand.” Fatima took Brigit’s hand through the robe and squeezed.

The guard held out a wand-like stick with a clear glass bulb at the tip. When he flipped a switch on the wand, purple sparks shot around inside the bulb. He held it near the woman’s side and an arc of purple electricity shot from the bulb to her skin.

The woman shrieked and tried to move away, but there was nowhere to go. He touched her breast, and her scream rang through the hall.

Male laughter came from the high table where the pig who’d condemned the woman to the Violet Wand pointed and laughed. Another man joined him. He wore a white robe and turban. Black gloves covered his hands, and he fiddled with a string of beads. He sat with the guest but didn’t laugh, just watched without emotion. Brigit would kill them without a second thought, given the chance. As it was, Fatima tugged on the leash, making her face forward again.

Except for the man, silence filled the room. The woman’s torture seemed to be without end. Finally, she passed out. Still, they weren’t finished. They revived her and continued with the wand. They shocked her on both breasts, her legs, neck, face, and butt before she fainted again. After reviving her, they moved to her sex. Brigit knew she’d never erase the sounds of the woman’s screams from her mind. When she again fainted, she was abandoned, left hanging for all to see as they filed past.

Quietly, Fatima led Brigit back to their cell. They undressed and climbed into their beds.

“What will happen tomorrow?” Brigit couldn’t imagine how the women could face the next day.

“Our days are all alike. We have breakfast and then a walk and exercise. Later, we can once more enjoy a walk in the courtyard, soak in the scented pool, and prepare to meet our guests.”

“Every day?” Boredom would kill her if fucking fat pigs who enjoyed the torture of young women didn’t do it first.

“Most days, yes.”

“Did you know her, Fatima?”

Fatima didn’t speak for several minutes. “Go to sleep, Brigit. Whatever happens tomorrow, it is in our interests to be ready.”

Despite the upheaval of all she’d experienced that day and the thoughts and fears of what awaited her tomorrow, exhaustion overtook her. Brigit was asleep almost before her head touched the pillow.

* * * *

The next day passed more quickly than Brigit could have guessed. They woke to a bell, dressed, and walked to the dining room for breakfast. She was restrained, as before. Afterwards, they walked outdoors in a courtyard filled with flowers. The contrast between the outdoors environment and what they faced in their room was so great, Brigit’s heart almost broke when they had to go in. But instead of being led back to the gray walls and closeness of their cell-like space, they were sent to an exercise room.

Fatima explained that their pleasing shapes were important to maintain. Especially vital were Kegel exercises. “Men enjoy the strong feeling of a woman’s pussy clutching their manhood,” explained Fatima.

I’d like to clutch someone’s manhood, and his balls, too.

An hour or more later, women bathed them in a large, fragrant pool and then provided a relaxing massage. Outside the walls of their room, Brigit could almost believe she was being pampered in an exclusive mountain spa—except for the ever-present guards, and the silence of the women. Fatima met her gaze, but no one else did and few spoke to Fatima. When Brigit moved toward another woman, Fatima tugged on the leash, pulling her up short and chafing her neck. The woman to whom she’d intended to say hello met her eyes for a brief moment—enough for Brigit to see them filled with fear—then she glanced at a nearby guard, dropped her gaze, and hurried away.

“The gifts you experienced this morning are provided for those of us at the highest level of service. Do not be fooled into thinking that all the women here live as grandly as we do,” Fatima confided when they returned to their room after dinner.

Grand? This?

Fatima unfastened Brigit’s bonds, saying, “I must prepare myself. Rest for a few moments.” She moved to her bed and bent to pull a basket from below it. Sitting, she opened the basket and removed several items.

“What are you preparing for?” Brigit stretched out on her side and propped up on her elbow. Fatima applied a dark brown eye shadow, which enhanced her dusky skin tones.

“There is a party for a group of men. They have requested me to serve as the entertainment.” With a light hand, she added glitter to the lids of her eyes and a powder that gave her cheeks a golden glow. “Because you are new, no one will expect you to participate, but you must accompany me so you get an idea of what
will
be expected.”