by LSF Publications
by Mike London
Anne-Marie had been enjoying herself until the police arrived.
As an air hostess she should have known better than to bring alcohol to a party in Saudi Arabia, but she hadn't been able to resist the appeals of Suhayla, one of the two local girls with whom she had become friendly. Now they were both being taken away with her in the police van, while the men were taken elsewhere.
At the police station the three girls were separated for questioning. Poor Anne-Marie did not understand a word of Arabic and none of the police spoke any English. At last she managed to get them to understand the name of the airline that she worked for. She was thrown into a dirty cell on her own where the only furniture was one unmade bunk and a tiny barred window too high for her to see through, and was left to her thoughts. Anne-Marie had no idea how serious this matter was; she only hoped it would not affect her job.
Insects were crawling about on the floor. Anne-Marie sat down on the bunk, pulled her legs up, and waited.
After a couple of hours the cell door opened and a policeman came in. He made no attempt to talk to Anne-Marie, but grabbed her roughly and dragged her out back to the interview room. There she was shocked to see David.
She was glad that they'd found someone on the airline's staff who spoke Arabic, and she knew that David was a fluent speaker. But she wished it could have been anyone but him. He fancied himself as a ladies' man and had been making himself obnoxious to her ever since she'd turned him down. Now she could notice a slight smirk on his face.
A senior police officer, dressed like an army soldier, came in. He spoke to her slowly and David translated his words...
"You were caught drinking alcohol. That is illegal in this country. Have you got anything to say?"
Anne-Marie looked questioningly at David, but remained silent.
"The other women have admitted the charge. They understood that if they put us to the expense of a trial their punishment would be much worse. That applies to you too. Did you drink alcohol?"
Anne-Marie thought desperately. She had done what they said. If the other women admitted it, she didn't see how she could get off. In any case, surely a 24 year old woman drinking alcohol couldn't be so serious, could it? She saw David nod his head slightly.
"Yes, I did," she said. David translated her words.
"Very well. The other two women have been sentenced to six months imprisonment and fifteen strokes of the cane. As you are not a citizen you will be deported and will receive twelve strokes of the cane."
David translated the sentence slowly, pausing to take in her reaction at the news that her friends were to be caned and then again at the revelation of what was in store for herself. Anne-Marie was so shocked that she didn't even notice the signs of thrilled excitement on her colleague's face.
The chief of police said something in Arabic that wasn't translated, and Anne-Marie found herself being dragged back to her cell. She banged on the door but no one came. Someone tried to speak with her through the wall but she didn't understand. She couldn't believe that this was happening to her, a British citizen, in the 1990s.
It was an hour later that David visited her, accompanied by a hulking police officer with a fixed grin on his stubbled face.
David said that he had been asked to explain the procedure of what was going to happen.
"You've got to get in touch with the British consul, David. This is barbaric!" Anne-Marie implored.
"It's not possible, Anne-Marie. The canings are due to take place this morning, in four hours' time, at dawn. There isn't time."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you, you bastard!"
"Don't be silly. I'm doing everything I can." But he was enjoying it. Especially the prospect of witnessing Anne-Marie's caning and the caning of her two pretty Arab friends. Quickly, he explained what was going to happen.
"You should try to get some sleep for a while, Anne-Marie. The guards will wake you up and you'll have to change into a special robe. Then they'll handcuff you and take you to the hall. The other two girls will be caned and then you. It shouldn't be too bad, really. The chief explained to me that the caners have to hold a Koran under their arm."
Anne-Marie lost her temper and made a move to hit David. But the guard dragged him out of the cell. The door slammed shut, locking her in alone.
She sat on the bunk, still in her party clothes, but sleeping was impossible. Strange wails and ululations echoed around the jail from time to time, but the main obstacle to sleep was Anne-Marie's anguished thoughts. She was going to be caned! Anne-Marie had never even been spanked before.
At her school the cane had been used, but Anne-Marie had always been much too well behaved to come anywhere near to getting it. She had always found the very idea frightening, and at the same time exciting. She remembered the only time one of her close school friends had got the cane. That had also been alcohol related.
Mandy had been caught having a drink with her boyfriend in the pub one lunchtime. Despite her previous good reputation, Mandy had been sent for the cane. Anne-Marie remembered how her friend had not even attempted to sit down until the third lesson after lunch and even then had squirmed so uncomfortably. Afterwards, Anne-Marie had asked her for all the gory details and got her to show her the awful marks that the cane had left on her bottom. Mandy had only got six strokes; she was to get twelve.
Anne-Marie had barely closed her eyes when the cell door opened. The big guard was back, accompanied by a large serious-looking woman carrying a robe and, once again, by David, acting as interpreter. He explained that Anne-Marie was to undress and change into the robe. She protested; she didn't want to change in front of David and the grinning male officer, but she had no choice. The expressions on the faces of the two officers did not change as the pretty air hostess divested herself of her party clothes, but David's greedy eyes drank in every inch of her humiliation.
When she was stark naked the woman did not pass her the robe. Instead she indicated that Anne-Marie should fold up her clothes and leave them neatly on the bunk, together with her jewellery. Blushing all over and feeling the eyes of the men all over her naked body, the girl obeyed. Then she turned to face the others, her hands covering her sex.
Only then did the woman pass her the robe. It was filthy, dirty and riddled with holes. Anne-Marie did not imagine it would provide much protection from a cane's sting. David told her that they had to go to the showers to prepare for the caning.
It was good to be in the shower, washing off the dirtiness from the cell and the robe, but she was soon called out. Then the woman examined her face to ensure that there was no vestige of make-up left. She then made Anne-Marie lie face down on a couch. David explained that she was going to spray Anne-Marie's bottom with an antiseptic, in case the caning broke the skin of her bottom. As he kindly explained, anything over eight strokes usually did.
The antiseptic felt cold on the flesh of Anne-Marie's bottom at first and then caused a light burning sensation, but it stung like fire when it came into contact with her private parts.
Anne-Marie was then allowed to stand up and had to put the robe on again.
When she had it on the male officer gestured to her to hold out her hands and cuffed them in front of her. It was simply awful to Anne-Marie to be restrained in that way, but at least the cuffs were not too tight. Then the two officers grasped her and marched her off to the punishment hall, with David walking along behind.
They thrust her into the large room. The first thing she saw was the large trestle structure in the centre. She was pushed against the back wall next to Na'ima and Suhayla, her two Saudi friends. Both girls were robed and handcuffed, like herself. Na'ima was about the same age as Anne-Marie, but Suhayla was younger, only 19 years old. Anne-Marie saw that her normally light-hearted young friend was crying silently to herself.
At the other end of the room was a small audience. The chief of police was there and, to her humiliation, she saw David wander down to join them. At least there was no one else from the airline. She recognised some of the audience as members of the families of Na'ima and Suhayla. They looked mortified.
The chief made a long speech. Anne-Marie didn't understand a word, but the audience, including David, applauded politely afterwards. Then the canings began.
Na'ima was first. She was escorted out to the other side of the trestle and bent down over it so that her bottom was towards the audience and away from the other girls. Her handcuffs were attached to the metal at the front of the trestle so that the girl was secure. Na'ima's long black hair fell forward, obscuring Anne-Marie's view of her face. A woman officer pulled the bottom of Na'ima's robe out the way, revealing her bottom to the view of the audience. Only then did Anne-Marie finally realise. The canings were to be on the bare.
The chief of police walked to a table at the side of the room and picked up a long cane. It was over three feet long, a straight length of rattan as thick as a man's forefinger. Smilingly, he whipped it through the air, demonstrating its flexibility. An officer came forward to take the cane from him. He was in shirtsleeves, not wearing a jacket.
Anne-Marie saw that he was, indeed, holding a copy of the Koran under his arm. However, this did not seem so helpful now as it had sounded earlier. The Koran was under his left arm, whereas he was obviously right-handed. Furthermore, the book was being held in a sort of pocket in the left sleeve of his shirt. Although they were going by the book, this obviously wasn't going to impede the force of his caning at all. He rolled his right hand shirt sleeve up before taking the cane, the book still staying in place.
The officer was of middle age and quite tall. He seemed to be used to using the cane. He muttered something in Arabic that Anne-Marie took to be a short prayer and then began.
He raised the cane behind his shoulder and then slashed it down hard across Na'ima's bottom.
WHACK!!
The sound of the cane striking bare flesh echoed in the silence of the large hall. Na'ima's head jerked up sharply. As her hair flew away from her face Anne-Marie saw her expression. But the girl took that first stroke in silence.
Stroke followed vicious stroke. Everyone could hear the clinking sound as Na'ima tried involuntarily and vainly to avoid the inevitable strokes, yanking her handcuffs against the restraints. Her reactions became ever more vociferous. Silent after the first stroke, she gasped loudly at the next four and then yelped at the next few, delivered with unrelenting force. After each stroke the chief of police counted in Arabic. Anne-Marie realised that, although the other girls would know how many strokes were to come, she would not. She did not even know how to count in Arabic.
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