A Cruel Passing of Innocence by J.D. Jensen Page B

‘Perhaps things will go well for us. Make your spirit rise and have hope.’
    Yet Nassara felt those same dark thoughts brooding within her. She got up and went to where the platters of food were laid out, and taking some food and juice she watched her fellow slaves preparing for whatever the day might have in store. She looked back at Belithza’s anxious face, knowing her dark contemplations.
    Slightly apart from the others, Ugimba was seated on a cushion, combing her black hair with one of the silver combs provided for them, a distant look in her eyes. Every now and then she would glance down at her proud breasts, as if she felt a deep bitterness at the cruel defilement of their beauty by the chains and rings.
    On the far side of the dormitory, chatting together quietly and making signs and gestures whenever they failed to make themselves understood, Safarah sat with the fifth girl, Jammina. Occasionally they laughed together, often putting their hands up to their lips to suppress the sound of their giggling, as if indifferent to their humbled status or the nature of their surroundings, or even to their captivity and all that it entailed. Nassara reflected that perhaps their frivolity was a protective cloak against unwanted reality, shielding them from fresh wickedness.
    Jammina was the youngest of the five, Nassara thought, although without knowing how many seasons the girl had behind her. Her innocent eyes and delicate features reminded Nassara of a kitten, but the girl had beauty and a litheness that would, Nassara knew, be the desire of some lustful master, her body to be used at his will and whim.
    Nassara’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted, a surge of dread churning instantly in her stomach as Ahmood appeared, and feeling his dark eyes upon her she quickly turned her head away.
    Immediately the early morning murmurings of the slaves, and the bustle of the attendants came to a halt. Nassara felt the tension mount. Ahmood stood, as arrogant and severe as ever, surveying his charges, waiting for their full attention. This morning he wore a red sash over his crisp white tunic, and a tasselled cap on his head. Instinctively Nassara knew that this day would host an event of special significance, and her mind was at once filled with uneasy expectancy.
    Safarah and Jammina were once again attentive and serious, exchanging anxious glances, their recent innocent exuberance all but extinguished.
    â€˜Ashasha trabaja!’ Ahmood shouted, and to accentuate the urgency of his words he lashed out with his whip against a pile of cushions. ‘Ashami! Prezza!’
    A look of consternation crossed the faces of the slaves, unfamiliar with these new commands.
    â€˜His words mean “be quick to work”, I think,’ Belithza whispered to Nassara, rising hurriedly, as did Nassara, the other girls quickly following.
    They were led down the steps, but it was not to the cloistered courtyard they were taken. Instead Ahmood led them to where the steps went down into the gloomy subterranean world of passageways and cellars.
    Nassara’s heart sank, but then the reassuring bulk of Babbushan loomed in front of them, as did the silhouettes of the other bloated men. He beckoned her, and she could tell from his expression that here, at least, she had no further cause for fear this day.
    Soon, as before, she found herself ushered into the familiar cubicle and he gestured for her to get up on the raised stone slab, where already a towel had been laid, telling her to lie on her front.
    Immediately Achoochi was at her side, smiling down. He began to pour scented oil over her shoulders and back, and Babbushan started to massage the unguent into her skin, his large hands moving deftly over her, kneading the oil deep into her muscles.
    â€˜This day the master of all masters, the sultan himself, and our master’s brothers will come here,’ he stated, his face close above hers. ‘For their eyes we must make