I am Turk!
	I have been asked to speak of my past dealings with the girl called Oi: it will give me
much bliss to do so, for my dealings with her are well worth the telling, though what I
cherish the most, perhaps, is the state of her now, every day of her young life, for we
believe she is still but twenty-two, having been purchased when she was eighteen.
	I can speak only of her nights these last four years, for she is mine at night only - by
day of course she is Sir Stephen's favourite whipping girl and it is not for me to tell of
that, though I can say that sounds and sometimes the sight of her being beaten reach me
from time to time and please me greatly.
	Oi means sugar cane in our tongue: she has no other name that we know of, and needs
none: Sir Stephen has a favourite joke; he sometimes calls her Sugar, his sugar for
caning. As for me, nobody knows why I am called Turk. I am not Balikanise, of course, as
she is. I am a big man, some might say too big, and heavy with it, as big as she is small.
I would be handsome were it not for my scar. I am vain, perhaps, or I was.
	So, I have to take you back a few years, to when the girl Oi was at the State Orphanage
for Females. This institution is responsible for orphan women over eighteen years age
until they are sent for special training or sold.
	I was butler to Sir Stephen even then, so I had a little money to spend, and at night,
some nights after a drink or two, I admit to a drink or two, I would take a rickshaw down
to Suriwong Square, where the Orphanage is, but I was not interested in the street
cleaners who took such pains to avoid my eyes, supremely nubile though many of them were,
and there for the taking, nor the very shapely girl fastened between the shafts of our
best rickshaw, for at this particular orphanage the night porter would let me in, as he
did certain people, discreet people you understand, men with money, and I would pay him in
coins, for night porters are not well paid by the State, and he would unlock and swing
open for me that heavy wooden door that led to the delights of the dormitory.
	Inside the lights would be on, they burned all night I think, for visitors such as
myself might come on any night and at any hour of the night, so that each bed was brightly
lit, maybe fifty or so of them, and on each bed lay a naked girl stretched out upon her
back, or some would be arse up upon their stomachs, and either way her wrists would be
handcuffed to the two posts at the head of the bed and her ankles would be handcuffed to
the two posts at the bottom of the bed, drawing the legs wide and inviting a man to reach
up between and explore the juicy places there. The shorter the girl the tighter and wider
would that girl be stretched, for all the beds were the same size. The night porter did
not enter or interfere and there was no one else to say one no.
	On the wall at the head of each bed was a little wooden shelf painted green, with all
that girl's possessions laid out upon it. There was usually a jersey of one colour or
another, and a short skirt and a pair of black gym shoes and a pair of white ankle socks.
There would also be a thin brown blanket. If the inspectors were to come the blankets
would be used to cover the girls, but this happened seldom enough, in fact I have never
known it happen: indeed the blankets were often rolled up and placed beneath the haunches
of a girl, to raise her up for easier use.
	On a hook beside the shelf would hang the girl's punishment belt, which she must wear at
all times by day, made of heavy red leather, and her gag and ear plugs.
	That night there were two other men there already, going about, examining girls, making
choices, unlocking any girl they fancied, then locking her again when they had finished
with her, for when we paid the coins we received master keys to the handcuffs.
	Not many of the girls seemed to be asleep that night, although it was quite late when I
went. Frightened eyes were turned upon me with respect and dread for I am a big man as I
have said, and known, I think, for a certain cruelty. Oh yes, I admit to that. I glory in
my cruelty as a good Sadist should. Is not the Marquis worshipped in Balikpan?
	There was some noise but not too much, for the girls would have learned that any noise
they made would attract attention to them: most lie absolutely still and quiet as mice,
scarcely daring to breathe. But a girl in use would most likely be gagged to prevent
biting, as the drawing of teeth would be done later, before they were sold, if it were
worth doing. These gags allowed a little moaning but nothing to cause a disturbance. There
was noise at times, of course, when a man preferred not to use a gag, but not too much,
seldom too much, it was discouraged.
	The punishment belts were heavy, smooth on one side and with metal studs on the other.
It was considered bad form to use the studded side for beatings, as it renders a girl
useless to others for quite some time afterwards. There was one man who constantly
offended in this respect, but fortunately he concentrated of one particular girl, a very
fine specimen, lithe and long limbed with very big and very frightened eyes, and he only
visited occasionally, maybe twice a week.
	Some few girls, those few who were virgins and therefore could be trained as pleasure
slaves, were secured upside down, with their naked arses presented, for they had been sewn
and could only be beaten or buggered.
	The girl that this man visited was one such, and I think it was the fact that she was
sewn that enraged him. This particular girl had to be gagged by the night porter when she
was put down, or her constant loud whimpering became a nuisance, and at her admirer's
request she was laid on her back although she was sewn, because he liked to look at her
first and turn her himself.
	She always lay with her head to the door and she would begin to writhe about on the bed
as soon as she saw him enter. He would walk round the room first, her eyes following him,
longing for him to find other amusement, but always he came back to stand beside her bed,
smiling, with his hands on his hips, revelling in her distress, and then perhaps just
finger her for a few minutes, examining the sewing, admiring the bubbles round her gag as
much as the squirming and writhing of her and the salty tears that overflowed her eyes.
	This man also liked to hear the girl scream, so he usually came before his evening meal
to turn her over in readiness. He would lay the belt beside her on the bed, studs upwards.
The screaming would begin as soon as he removed the gag, although she must know that he
would most probably be going out again for a couple of hours or so before he attended to
her.
	His visits always made for a particularly noisy night, though a rewarding one for
onlookers, who tended to gather round the screaming girl's bed in admiration and await his
return. Sometimes he went out and did not return, perhaps he was diverted by meeting a
friend at supper and then he would almost always come back the next night instead, but she
would go on screaming for a long time.
	I liked the special sound and smell of that room. There was no screaming that night, but
whimpering and moaning and muffled cries there were, some sobbing even by girls who could
not restrain themselves although they were not yet attracting any admirers. Distress there
certainly was, and the smell of fear.
	It was possible, for a not insignificant extra payment which I could not afford, to
reserve a girl on a permanent basis. The white one just inside the door, for example, was
reserved in this way: a white girl was unusual, there were only three or four white girls
and a few black ones, most had the lovely golden brown beautiful smooth unblemished hide
of the true Balikanise: that golden brown is a lovely hue.
	Anyway, the night porter was paid always to blindfold this particular girl and ear-plug
her, and to secure her arse up with her blanket under her loins and her belt resting upon
her bottom, even though she was not sewn.
	She was always very restless, her spectacularly fine bottom was in more constant motion
than any other I have noticed, and being longer than the average Balikanise she was not
stretched so tightly by the handcuffs and could writhe and heave about quite freely. I
think this is partly what attracted such special attention to her, or rather to her very
mobile bottom! It was known that her special admirer did not object to others having just
one strike with the belt on arrival, so it would be a good one, but he who paid regularly
was the only one who really laid into her. He would start with a single crack like
everyone else - he was expert, one could hear that sharp crack of leather on flesh all
over the room, never mind the despairing howl that would follow! - and then he would lay
down the belt for a while and take off his jacket and roll up his sleeves before getting
down to really thrashing her in earnest. After one's permitted stroke one could admire the
way she remained tensed up for several minutes, especially if it had been a really good
one, whether or not her special admirer was coming that night.
	 It was his habit to pause for exactly a minute after every five strokes and move to her
other side. Only on the first blow of the second five could she be quite sure it was him,
for the 'one crack only' rule was not always obeyed, such was the temptation of her,
specially as some men prefer a white girl and there were so few there.
	Some men who had reserved a favourite girl would pay the night porter to beat her if
they had not come by a certain hour: it gave them pleasure to think of her when they could
not be there in person, and made the fucking even sweeter when they did come, because they
knew they could release the girl from her handcuffs and she would be very very nice to
them, tempting them to come more often, for on those nights she would not be beaten,
unless there was a failure of communication.
	Tonight, one of the men already there was coming down upon a girl in a far bed. I could
hear her squealing as I walked over to them, but I could see little of her as she wriggled
frenziedly beneath him. I knew which girl lay in that bed, however. When I tapped the man
on the shoulder, he rose from the girl, for I can be bad tempered and it was known that I
favoured this particular girl, as several others also seemed to do.
	He had put the blanket beneath her already, in the small of her back, to raise her for
entry. Several of the girls had been left like that, there was no rule about it, but it
helped to show which had had a visitor already that night. Some men prefer such girls,
considering that they have been warmed up, others prefer to avoid them, maybe select a
girl who is sleeping, just for the fun of waking her. One or two un-sewn girls had been
turned and lay secured upon their stomachs like the sewn ones, and some of these bore the
marks of the strap upon their buttocks. When the Orphanage Staff came in the morning they
would not enquire how a girl could unlock herself from the bedposts, turn over, and then
lock herself to the bedposts again: it was well known that the regular staff held flogging
sessions to generate a little unofficial income and had no need to interfere with the
night porter's domain, which was six at night until six in the morning.
	The man I had evicted from my favourite girl went round the room in somewhat of a rage
and I heard the crack of leather on naked flesh wherever there was an upturned bottom, and
muffled yelps. The white girl by the door got five really savage ones, though presumably
he had already had his allotted one when he arrived, so it was strictly against the rules.
I think she remained tensed for the rest of that night, for the cracks sounded just as
loud as those her regular admirer usually gave her, as although that man was bigger and
stronger he was not always so enthusiastic as he whom I had disturbed that night.
	But that was none of my business - I had been left to take my pleasure of the girl I
fancied, this particular girl who was so popular, this girl I always chose, who lay naked
on her back on the bed, handcuffed to it by wrists and ankles, staring up at me in dread,
the girl Oi.
	Oh yes, my favourite of all the girls there, she was, and had been for some time.
	I took a swig from the bottle I had brought in with me then put it down on the floor
beside her bed, and looked at her.
	She squirmed under my gaze; she was not pleased to see me!
	She always shrank from me more than any of the other girls did. Yes, something about
that saucy little face of hers was an invitation to beat her before I took my pleasure of
her, and that is what I often did.
	I ran my hands up and down inside her smooth thighs, conveniently raised by the blanket
already so well positioned beneath her, stretching her a little so her body was taut and
could not do more than wriggle a little. The beds are all of a standard size, and Oi was a
shorter girl than most, and that stretched her very tight and wide in any case. Her legs
were deliciously shaped, long in relation to her beautiful body. The tightness of her,
spread out so openly as she was, was part of what attracted me to her the first time I had
used her, when first she came to live there, I suppose.
	First I explored one thigh, then the other, going higher and higher, pinching here,
tickling there, to see how she contorted herself. Her thighs were really well rounded,
maybe a touch plump, but none the worse for it. At last my exploring fingers reached the
area of her sex. You should have seen how she shuddered, how she twisted and turned as
much as was possible within the bondage, how her budding breasts heaved in her distress.
	When I pursued my investigation with my fingers, she screwed up her eyes tight to keep
the sight of me from her, but tears still escaped at the corners and trickled down her
cheeks until I wiped them off with my handkerchief, for they distracted me from the
flawless beauty of her face. Were she not Balikanise I would have described it as
classical, or maybe elfin, and she had this certain cheekiness of look which she could not
help but which would stimulate any man's lust.
	It was always like that, every night I went there, a wriggling squirming convulsing
perfect warm little body and screwed up eyes, and usually I had to stake my claim, so
popular was she.
	But me, I kept my eyes open, and delicious she looked, her sex dreading any further
invasion, bare and so smooth to the touch, for all those at the orphanage were made to
shave there every day, for that is the custom with our women, we of the Sadists. I say
that with pride, though it is only my adopted religion. I worship the Marquis with
fervour.
	She went rigid as I pushed a finger in, strained up against her bonds.
	Just as she did every night I went there, which was perhaps twice a week, sometimes
three.
	I took out my finger and stood back and gazed at her. Should I go down on her as she
was, naked and secured, spread and raised up upon the mattress in lewd invitation, mine
for the taking, mine for as long as I wished with no danger of any interruption, no
consequences for anything I might do? No, I thought. No, tonight I have had a drink or
two, tonight I feel pleasantly relaxed, tonight I deserve a little more fun than that,
tonight I will make it last longer, tonight I will beat her first and take my time about
it.
	This is what I usually decided.
	I took another swig from the bottle, then I jangled the handcuff keys before her, and
she knew what was going to happen next, because it had happened so often before, and I saw
the horror and loathing in the deep dark pools of her eyes, for she is fully Balikanise of
course, very small and neat and oriental, just to my taste with those liquid brown eyes
and long black hair.
	First I gagged her, then unlocked her wrists and made her sit up, holding her hands
above her head.
	Her small fists were clenched. If she had not tried it before, I think she would have
struck me, and if she had not been gagged I think she would have bitten me, horrible
though the consequences would have been to her, for discipline at State Orphanages is
notoriously strong, never mind what I would have done!
	I took hold of both her wrists in one hand and pushed her back on the bed - these beds
have no pillows - and went down on her like that, for the more she wriggles the better fun
she is, and I am big enough to hold her two hands in one of mine whilst I put my lips to
hers and push the fingers of the other hand well into her sex to pull her up the bed as
far as her bonds will allow. I can control her even with drink taken, as they say.
	But this was just to tease her and rouse myself, and after a few minutes I got up again,
and I took another swig at the bottle, and then I took the belt from its hook and smashed
it down on the mattress beside her, and I saw once more how she dreaded that belt which
she must wear all day, how she dreaded and hated and loathed that heavy red leather belt
which I expect she had to offer for her master to use on her quite often during the day,
but for now she was at my mercy, and that was good, it excited me all the more, it always
did.
	I released her ankles as well, so that I could turn her over, and laid her on her front,
arse up, chest heaving, weeping copiously, with the rolled up blanket beneath her loins,
and I picked the bottle from the floor to take another swig of the strong liquor before
locking her into position.