ISLAND

Chapter 11


To the left of Sara as she approached near the edge of the shelf, Cute Guy appeared to have entered a natural cave in the side of the mountain ridge. Sara walked carefully, and as quietly as she could while she watched, because there was a farm just behind her -- the earthen ramp down from the shelf in front of the trail, a copy of the one on the other side, led into the clearing for the farm. Sara had veered off towards a fringe of woods beyond the ramp to avoid it. There hadn't been anyone from the farm near the shelf, fortunately. In the distance, Sara could see a few slavegirls working in the field, and once they were out of sight, hidden by the trees, Sara still periodically heard the barks of what she first took to be real dogs, before remembering there were none on the island. The sound, she reminded herself, hard as it still was to believe, came from human women, the doggirls attending the working girls.

Sara now saw that the cave into which Cute Guy had turned his wagon was anything but natural. It went about thirty feet deep into the base of the mountain, its entrance about ten feet across and ten feet high. When she saw what the slavegirls were doing in it, she realized they were working at creating the cavern as she watched. It was the early stage of a tunnel being dug through the mountain.

Sara's eyes adjusted to the dim light within, and she determined that there were eight slavegirls, attacking the rear wall with sledge hammers. Two more returned with a wheelbarrow, apparently from dumping loose rock at some distance, who then took up hammers of their own and resumed pounding. Each slave sported not only the standard hobble chain, but also had her wrist cuffs locked together. The bondage didn't interfere with swinging the hammer, though two girls were needed to roll one wheelbarrow. Sara suspected that a wheelbarrow full of that rock might well be too heavy for one girl to move it even with her hands free to hold both handles.

The slaves were being supervised by two men who stood at some distance back from the slaves working at the rear wall. While it was doubtful that any of the slaves was stupid enough to attack an overseer with her hammer, the latter were also not stupid enough to tempt them by standing nearby. Having their hands fastened together, Sara judged, probably would make it more difficult to throw such a hammer with any accuracy. Of course, there were two doggirls watching the working girls intently, ready to bark and perhaps bite if any worker should leave her post and approach one of the overseers.

Cute Guy's arrival with his wagon brought the total number of slavegirls present to eighteen, including the four pushing the wagon, now being unlocked, the three that Sara believed had been newly purchased in Purity Town -- and Cherise.

It was hard to tell how long the project had been in operation. It must be early on, Sara decided, started perhaps a few months ago. There were years, maybe even decades, of work ahead, to be performed by more than one generation of slavegirls. No doubt in the future there would be torches illuminating the gradually longer tunnel, and possibly fans, powered by slavegirls, for air circulation. The tunnel wasn't yet deep enough to require such things.

Sara's stomach tied itself in a knot. This, then, is what Cherise was expected to do for the rest of her life: swing a sledge hammer against a wall, for many hours a day, and carry the resulting loose rocks away. Day after day, year after year.

And it is obvious, Sara thought, why Cute Guy would have wanted me for this.

Sara stood astonished, still holding the wooden box of rotten peaches, peering through a tall bush that hid her effectively from anyone not specifically looking for her. The shelf alongside the base of the mountain was perhaps twenty-five feet wide here, and Sara was just behind the three-foot drop-off at the edge of the path, where the barren rock of the mountains gave way to the lush vegetation of the forest. She was standing around fifteen feet north of the line straight out from the tunnel.

She finally realized she had no reason to keep holding the box. She set it down gently, off to the side.

Once Cute Guy's wagon arrived, it appeared the two overseers decided it was time for a lunch break. It occurred to Sara to wonder just what time it was. There was no way to determine where the sun was behind the still-unbroken cloud cover. Recalling what she knew of the geography of the island, she believed it would have been about eight miles from Purity Town to the mountain trail. The wagon, she decided, probably made it in four hours or so, maybe a little more. Another hour, perhaps, climbing up the mountain and going down the other side. They had started out... around 7 in the morning? That seemed about right. So it should be early afternoon.

The two overseers -- Wild Hair and Gimpy Leg, Sara named them -- had the slavegirls put down their hammers and assemble in front of a set of crates and what seemed to be a water trough. The girls eagerly ladled water out of the trough and gulped it down, and each was handed a bowl of what must have been food, though Sara couldn't tell specifically what it was. They ate it hungrily, using their fingers. There were water bowls and food bowls for the doggirls as well.

Cute Guy and Crushed Hat detached the four slaves from the handles of the wagon, and the three new ones who had followed behind -- after first connecting their ankle cuffs by hobble chains. They fastened the girls' handcuffs together in front of them, in the same way as the other workers. And then -- Sara held her breath and clenched her fists as she watched -- Cute Guy lifted Cherise out of the wagon, like the same bag of cement she'd been when he had dumped her there in the first place. He bent slightly as he lowered her towards the ground, but rather than set her down gently, he let her roll off the end of his arms and land heavily from about a foot up. When she heard Cherise cry out in pain from the impact, Sara nearly rushed into the cavern to take on all four men. Not now, she ordered herself, not now. I can't get myself into a fight I'll probably lose.

All Sara could do watch look on and grind her teeth. Don't you men know what you have? she thought at them. Don't you know who she is? You aren't fit even to touch her -- to look at her!

Cute guy bent to open the padlock that had secured Cherise's hobble chain wrapped around the lock of her wrist cuffs, then yanked her upright to stand unsteadily on legs that had been bent in that cramped position for hours.

Sara couldn't make out anything being said, but she did see the look of hurt and anger Cherise directed at the man.

Cute Guy, ignoring the facial reproach, unlocked the wrist cuffs from behind her and relocked them in front. With a contemptuous gesture he directed her to where the other girls were eating.

Sara was intensely relieved to see Cherise at least getting food and water. As far as Sara knew, Cherise hadn't had either since last night.

Sara began turning over ideas in her mind for effecting the rescue. As much as she hated the idea of Cherise being forced to work here for any length of time, Sara committed herself to spending days in the planning. She wanted to know everything about what went on here, what their working schedule was, what they did at night. She would wait until she had a plan she knew would work.

She hadn't been seen yet, but she became concerned about her light skin being picked out from behind the bush hiding her. Her dark leather clothes matched the tone of the bush well enough, but her skin offered too much contrast. She dropped to the ground, started grabbing handfuls of mud and began smearing it on her face, arms, and legs.

By the time she was satisfied with her camouflage, the lunch break was over. The veteran slaves went to pick up their hammers once more, while Cute Guy, who seemed to be the leader among the four overseers, seemed to be explaining to the new slaves, including Cherise, what was expected of them. Again, with echoes added to the accent, Sara couldn't quite make out what was being said.

The three newly purchased slaves, looking resigned, picked up hammers and joined the others taking whacks at the rear wall. Cherise did not.

As Sara looked on in growing concern, Cherise stood upright, glared at Cute Guy, and shook her head. With her wristcuffs fastened together she couldn't fold her arms across her chest as a symbol of stubborn resolve, yet her whole posture somehow suggested that she had.

Cute Guy gave her an amazed look, then gestured forcefully towards the other slaves, and said, in a shout this time clearly audible to Sara, "Do it! Now!"

Please, Cherise, thought Sara, please just do what they want! The memory of the girl up on the platform being whipped, trying desperately to relieve at least some of her pain despite her utter exhaustion after standing in her stretched and nearly suspended position all night, was still very vivid in Sara's memory, and it seemed likely that the girl's crime had been the exact same thing Cherise was doing now.

Two of the doggirls had turned towards Cherise, snarling and barking -- again, that amazingly authentic dog-like sound -- and were creeping towards her, their lips pulled back to show teeth. They stopped at a word from Wild Hair, but continued growling menacingly.

Sara could see Gimpy Leg raising his whip, preparing to restore order, ratcheting Sara's tension up yet another notch. Do it, Cherise! she thought desperately, though appalled to realize she was echoing Cute Guy. Just go pound some rocks! Please!

Cute Guy looked at the two nearest overseers, and gestured out beyond the cave. Getting nods in return, he signaled to Wild Hair to go behind Cherise. Wild Hair did so, grabbing her by the upper arms while Cute Guy, surprising Sara, unlocked Cherise's wrist cuffs. Moments later Sara watched, with less surprise, as Wild Hair wrenched Cherise's arms behind her and relocked the cuffs behind her, then forced her down to the ground. Cherise barely resisted, and gave no voice at all to the usual protests -- Stop, let go, you're hurting me, etc. -- that women usually shout in such situations. Cherise's jaw was set stubbornly, her entire posture suggesting "Bring it on!", yet her face looked as scared as any Sara had ever seen. From as far away as she was, Sara could easily see Cherise trembling. Sara didn't know what to make of the combination of body language signals.

Wild Hair now restored Cherise to the same bondage in which she had arrived, pulling her feet towards her butt, looping the hobble chain around the lock between her wrists and locking it to her ankles to complete the hogtie. Cute Guy picked Cherise up, and Sara blinked as he carried her out of the cavern. Sara then froze, trying for utter immobility, as Cute Guy headed almost directly for her position.

Crushed Hat followed Cute Guy out, carrying a coil of rope. Cute Guy, Sara now saw, was walking towards something to Sara's right to which she had paid no attention previously: a rock pile, oval in shape, about six feet long and three across, at the edge of the shelf of barren rock just before it dropped off into the forest, and barely fifteen feet from where Sara was hidden. The pile was so close to the forest that a jutting tree branch hung directly over it. The rocks in the pile were uniform in size, each about as big as a doubled fist, the outermost edges of the oval being a single layer of such rocks, while piled a little higher in the middle. Sara had not focused on the pile consciously because there were so many loose, randomly-placed rocks all around the area in and out of the cavern, probably overflow from wheelbarrows that had not yet been cleaned up. She realized now that this particular pile was more organized than the rest of the rubble.

Cute Guy stopped at the pile, dangling Cherise face down two feet above the jagged rocks, obviously to let Cherise anticipate what was about to happen. Cherise was facing away from Sara, so Sara couldn't see her face, but Sara marveled again that Cherise didn't struggle, didn't voice any protest, apology, nor plea, made no sounds at all other than a soft whimper of fear. Sara couldn't understand why Cherise, as scared as she obviously was about what was about to happen, wasn't doing anything to try to stop it.

Sara's hand closed on a rock near her feet. She tensed all her muscles, preparing to spring out of her hiding place, tackle Cute Guy first and brain him with the rock, as soon as he dropped Cherise on the pile. She would worry about the other men later.

Cute Guy lowered Cherise gently onto the pile, an act Sara found so unexpected that it failed to trigger her attack. It occurred to her that it was probably not an act of mercy, so much as avoidance of puncturing or breaking bones of a slave who needed to be physically fit to work. He simply wanted to cause pain, not excessive damage to a valuable piece of equipment.

It definitely was painful -- Cherise wailed as her full weight settled on the rocks, their sharp edges pressing into her stomach, breasts, mound, and thighs in dozens of places.

Wild Hair completed her misery, tying the rope around the joining of her wrists and ankles, then throwing the other end over the tree branch that hung horizontally about six feet above. He pulled on the rope, lifting Cherise's hands and feet behind her just a few inches, then tied the rope to the branch. The rope was obviously meant to prevent Cherise from rolling off the pile. Sara could see that the branch, at the point where the rope was tied to it, was worn, evidence that the branch, and rock pile, had been used in exactly this way before.

Cherise moaned, and wriggled to try to adjust her position to minimize the pain. It didn't seem to work. Wild Hair took one more length of rope and wrapped it around Cherise's head, through her mouth, to make a gag. He made it tight enough to pull back the edges of her lips, and tied several knots in her mouth, rather than behind her head, making a big wad of rope in her mouth that made speaking impossible. Sara supposed that was another standard part of the treatment, preventing the punished girl from having any hope of pleading her case to be released, presumably by swearing she would obey commands faithfully from now on.

Cute Guy looked back into the cavern and gestured with his arm. Crushed Hat and Gimpy Leg, in response, gave orders to the other slavegirls, who all dropped their sledge hammers and followed the two men out of the cavern. They were made to assemble in a semicircle about six feet away from Cherise and then... simply watch. Watch as Cherise wriggled, moaned, and occasionally squealed in pain. Of course, thought Sara grimly. Any punishment always has to be used as a lesson to all of the other girls. Sara could see most of the slavegirls wincing, biting their lips, and at least three of them crying. None would be likely, at any time in the future, to do what Cherise had done.

After about ten minutes, Cute Guy ordered the girls back into the cavern to resume work. He remained nearby with Crushed Hat. Sara judged that her opportunity to attack them had passed, now that they weren't physically occupied with dealing with Cherise. They were just a little too far away for her to have surprise on her side -- they would see her as soon as she moved, seconds before she could get to them. She could only look on in misery, tears streaming down her face.

Focused completely on Cherise, it took Sara several seconds to realize a quiet conversation was going on between Cute Guy and Crushed Hat. Crushed Hat said, "I figger she work tomorrah, har?"

Cute Guy looked at Cherise a few moments, and shook his head. "We can't keep her. Bad influence on the others." He sighed. "Least I didn't give up trade for her." Yes, thought Sara angrily, you got her for free. Not such a loss then, right?

What had first struck Sara about Cute Guy, in the first moment he talked to her in the restaurant, was that, while he had the accent, he didn't have the bumpkin speech patterns and vocabulary of the other men of the island. She wondered if there were schools on the island, which Cute Guy had been one of a small percentage of boys to attend. Or perhaps his manner of speaking had just been passed through his family, father to son, for several generations. Either way, Sara realized that had been exactly what had made him dangerous in the restaurant. He had immediately struck Sara as being apart from the men of the island, more like a mainlander, which somehow made it possible to relate to him, to be drawn to him. It hadn't quite worked on Sara. But it had on Cherise.

Crushed Hat shook his head, not in disagreement with Cute Guy but simply disappointment. "Bad we don't get a worker. Them other three new uns is a little scrawny, but this un look stronger. Why you get them three?"

Cute Guy sighed. "I got what there was. Didn't have enough trade for better ones." He looked irritated. "If our people here would give us more real workers 'stead of trade stuff, we could show 'em all better progress. But they won't part with more trained girls."

Sara suddenly put it together. The tunnel dig was, in a sense, a tax-supported public works project. Or no, not exactly tax-supported. Contributions were voluntary. It sounded as though a consortium of farmers had commissioned the tunnel, chosen these four men to be in charge, with Cute Guy as the manager, and had grudgingly given them some slaves for the labor. But like so many such projects, the tunnel dig was woefully underfunded, and its sponsors were reluctant to give up further valuable slaves for a project they weren't sure could even be done. They wanted some sign it was going to work. And so, in an irony frustrating for Cute Guy, he was expected to demonstrate the feasibility of digging a tunnel without enough slaves to do the work. So he had taken his limited resources to the other side of the island to purchase a few more slaves.

Crushed Hat grunted. "What we do with this un then, har?"

Cute Guy thought about it. "Trade her to the breed'n farm. Maybe for a new girl that ain't filled yet, or for enough trade to get us a new girl."

As soon as he finished that thought, Sara heard Cherise squeak, and try for the first time to speak. Sara had never seen that trick for making a gag before, but it worked very effectively -- Cherise couldn't make an intelligible sound. Cute Guy and Crushed Hat ignored her.

Sara herself was at least as horrified as Cherise. If they did turn Cherise over to a breeding farm, Sara would never be able to rescue her from it. She'd read enough about the breeding farms to know they were too closed off, that Cherise would be too inaccessible for Sara to succeed in a rescue.

Crushed Hat now looked towards Cherise with a nasty grin that Sara could easily read, and it raised her horror level another notch. "Girl got a nice shape. Like to get me inside un o' them holes. Let's we all do her 'fore the breedies get at her, har?"

Sara caught herself starting to shake her head, freezing her body motionless once more, though she couldn't do anything to stop the sudden surge of adrenaline shooting through her. They were going to rape Cherise! Right now! Or try. Sara would make sure the first man to make a move toward Cherise with his pants down would lose an important part of his body. Once more she readied herself to spring out of concealment.

She saw Cute Guy give Crushed Hat an exasperated "You idiot!" look. "You know what the breedies do to us if they find out we trade her to them already preg?"

Crushed Hat looked defiant, still eager for a chance at Cherise. "How they know it's us give her babies? And why they give a shit who done it?"

Cute Guy responded, "They know 'cause she'd just have the one baby!" Under the influence of the fertility drug, breeding farm girls usually had litters of five to seven babies. Sara could imagine the outrage at the breeding farm after taking a girl in trade and then finding that her entire first pregnancy had been wasted on producing just a single baby, and that they had wasted the valuable drug on a girl who'd already been pregnant when she'd arrived.

Crushed Hat looked as though he still wanted to press the point, but gave up at last. Cute Guy patted his back and said, "We can do her after she gets there," and turned to walk back to the cavern. Crushed Hat followed, looking disappointed, and walking awkwardly with an erection visible in his shorts.

As frantic as Sara was to do something, anything, she wasn't blind to the irony. The fear of making Cherise pregnant had saved her from immediate rape, and the men had no way to know Cherise had just had her period. They'd actually had nothing to worry about.

But in the near future, there was more to worry about than Sara thought she could handle. Cherise would certainly be raped at the breeding farm, perhaps a dozen times a day, maybe even more -- men would line up for a chance at the unusually pretty, intensely arousing girl. And it would go on for weeks. Cherise wouldn't even be able to be impregnated for a couple of weeks, and it might be as long as a month after that before they found out the task was accomplished. An endless string of rapes, for weeks on end, hundreds of them, was coming up.

And then, after that: fifteen, perhaps twenty years, all of the rest of Cherise's life, would consist of nothing but feeding babies at her breasts, and eating to make more milk, all day, every day, while feeling her tummy filling yet again with still more babies. And knowing she was just making more slavegirls for the island men to use and abuse.

Unless Sara could get Cherise away from here tonight. Sara discarded any notion of waiting for several days. She didn't have that kind of time. Cherise must not still be here in the morning, when Cute Guy, in all likelihood, would set out with his wagon for the nearest breeding farm, and Sara's last chance to save her would be gone. Sara had feared that they were going to take Cherise away now, this minute, but it seemed clear Cute Guy didn't intend to do that. Perhaps it was too late in the day. Perhaps he wanted to make sure the lesson continued -- that the other slavegirls should have plenty of opportunity to see Cherise's struggles with the pain, to hear the anguish of her crying and moaning. Probably both reasons applied, Sara decided.

But tonight, Sara told herself. It has to be tonight.

She sat back, miserably, to wait.

*   *   *   *   *

Through the waning afternoon, Sara occupied her hands with clothing repair, though her mind couldn't draw itself away from Cherise. Each of Cherise's moans was an icepick stabbing through Sara's ear. She found some twigs of the right size, and made use of the leather strings that had tied the lost bone buttons in their place -- the bones had been ripped away, but the strings were still there. Sara managed to tie the strings around the twigs, and use the twigs as her new buttons. They seemed to succeed in holding her vest closed, but wouldn't stand up to too much stress.

She found she needed to pee, which carried its own problems. She wanted to withdraw from the safety of the bush to avoid having to stand in a urine puddle afterward, but if anyone should catch sight of her, either from inside the cavern or somewhere on the farm whose edge she was on... No, she decided, it was way too dangerous. She absolutely could not let herself be seen out in the open with her shorts down, squatting rather than standing to relieve herself. Gritting her teeth, she remained within the bush, trying to ignore the scratching on her bare hips and butt as she squatted and peed on the ground. At least the continued pattering of the rain effectively covered any sounds she was making.

She remembered that the girl on the platform in Purity Town had been left there overnight. As much as Sara hated thinking about Cherise suffering in pain through the hours of darkness, Sara realized that would be her best hope. If they took Cherise back into the cavern, it would be much, much harder to get her out of there without waking everyone up. Yet the darkness, of course, presented problems of its own. It was still raining -- adding yet more to Cherise's misery -- and the sun hadn't been in sight all day. Sara had no idea what phase the moon might be in, and how much light it would offer during which parts of the wee hours, but the bigger problem was whether the moon would visible at all, behind the continued cloud cover. Sara might have to contend with absolute darkness, stumbling around with Cherise through a forest she couldn't see. She had no idea how far away she could get under such circumstances. Very likely not far enough to avoid being heard and easily found at daybreak.

At least, she thought, I can find Cherise herself. She's right here, and I'll know where she is even in the dark. As long as they leave her here.

It occurred to Sara that the fact of Cherise being so close to where Sara was hiding wasn't that much of a coincidence. For the men to use a rock pile as a punishment wasn't a surprise. It was just making a natural use of the materials at hand. And putting the pile where it was had obvious reasons behind it. It needed to be in a place under constant observation, so the men could keep an eye on Cherise, and so the slavegirls could absorb the intended lesson, so it needed to be up on the shelf, not out in the forest whose floor was out of the line of sight of the cavern for some distance out. But there needed to be that overhanging branch to secure her in place. There were plenty of trees around and a lot of branches, but only one branch was in just the right place overhanging the shelf. The only place that fit all requirements was right there, where Cherise was now. And Sara had also chosen a place as near the forest/shelf boundary as she could get, directly out from the cavern so she could see what was happening within. So I have to be where I am, Sara told herself, and Cherise has to be where she is.

Cherise's moans were frequently punctuated by sharp gasps and squeaks of pain. Sara sat back, put her palms against her eyes and cried as quietly as she could.



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