"We are citizens of the Empire."We are citizens of the Empire." Once again the leader spoke in Arabic. The man who had just checked their bonds walked over to his camel and got his riding crop. Walking back to the now terrified Ivy, he grabbed her by the hair and forced her down to her knees, pressing her face into the host sand. She could feel him using the hand which held the crop to lift up her dress and petticoats. To her dismay, he did not stop at her bloomers. He pulled them down too. With her face pressed into the sand, she could not even scream. Her bare backside was exposed to all the marauding band of supposed rescuers, and, even more degrading than this, all of the ladies who accompanied the column were witness to this shame. Pain filled her entire body as the crop was laid across her buttocks three times. Pulled to her feet by her hair, she gasped for air as she was returned to the line of female captives. Her face was covered with a mixture of the dessert's fine white sand and shame. While the column and the Barbers who initially attacked it, were being picked clean by the pseudo-rescue party, Ivy stood with her head hung low. She managed to wipe her face off on the shoulder of her dress but did not look up. She did not want to make eye contact with the other English women. Having experienced a disgrace worse than she could have ever imagined, she did not want their pity or looks of horror. She was now a tainted woman. Feeling like she was being constantly stared at, she looked up for a moment and caught the leader looking down at her. He quickly looked away and directed a group of his men to check one of the wagons. It had to be her imagination. |