I'm a nervous wreck, I lived on coffee, cigarettes and wine, and I hardly slept. This is probably the most intense piece I've ever written.

WARNING this chapter contains adult material. There is sex, violence, rape. If you take offence in any of that don't read any further.

If you read it, reviews are very much appreciated. I also can live with flames, but not with silence. And now I want to sleep.

Thanks to ellenar for editing. Big virtual hug- you're the best.

Chapter 6- the Devil's Playground

Don't look back…Rowan feared that if she did he would see something in her face, he would recognize her involuntarily looking out for someone, a dear face, hope. But there was no hope, at least not now. She had to go with Shardul and not turn around or she would endanger Jack. He must not know about Jack. He should believe she was here on her own. So she went with him, even allowed him to wrap his arm possessively around her waist. She hated his touch; it sent icy cold shivers down her spine. She also knew that Jack wouldn't understand, that he'd probably feel hurt. However, Shardul would hurt him much more if he found out about them. So she put on an indifferent face, hiding all her feelings. Hiding her fear. She wasn't an anxious woman but she knew Shardul, knew of what he was capable of.

"Mylady," he said mockingly as he offered her to take seat in his howdah, his eyes cold and yet filled with dark, ill-fated lust; he had never concealed his lust for her. Rowan sent a quick prayer to whoever was listing and sat down. The curtains were closed. Then the elephant rose, swaying heavily.

Suddenly there was a turmoil outside; someone had spotted Marris. Shardul flashed her a malicious smile and put up a prize on his head, adding, "I want him alive."

Rowan was glad she was sitting since her legs were shaking and her knees had turned to jelly, nevertheless she managed to keep her faked indifference. But in her head the worries increased at high speed. What if Marris does not escape Shardul's henchmen? What if they catch him? What will they do to him? No, don't even try to imagine… it simply must not happen or all is lost. I can't bear to se him suffer, tormented, wishing to die but he won't let him die. He knows to keep people alive in order to torture them more and more…

"By the way, dear Rowan, do you still have that pretty little lamp I sent you?" Shardul asked casually.

Now she felt really sick. He was referring to a lampshade that had found its way to her a year after the dark ceremony at the crematorium ground; it had been a lampshade made of human skin. She had known it had been sent by Shardul and Santiago had known it too, so they had packed their bags once again, hoping to cover over their trails by heading to another port, another country… she should have never come back to Asia. But she had thought that the dust had settled by now. Well, actually she hadn't wasted much thought about Shardul at all until her past had caught up with her today.

"It didn't fit with my other stuff." She replied coolly.

"What a pity. Manas has always been so fond of you."

Manas. The gentle priest of Kali. He warned me when the blood sacrifices started, he saw the rise of an unholy death cult that had nothing to do with Kali. He was right. That's why Shardul killed him, probably skinned him alive…Oh please don't let them catch Marris… And why the hell did I never tell Jack about Shardul? What if he completely misunderstood the scene in front of the tavern? What if… no, not Jack. Jack will come and save me.

Rowan clung to her only hope while Shardul told her in detail what he would do to Marris once his henchmen had captured him and all the time he sounded as if he was talking about the fine weather in Ceylon. She didn't listen. It was better not to listen or her stomach would cringe. How could someone enjoy so much to see others suffer? He had a truly sick, perverted mind and he was definitely mad, which was an ill-fated combination. Maybe it had not been such a wise idea to follow him without a fight. Maybe it would have been better to die. But she knew as well he would not have let that happen. He still wanted her.

The elephant swayed again and Rowan was thrown against Shardul who immediately grabbed her in a vice-like grip. He looked at her with cold lust, licking his lips. His eyes held a promise she didn't like at all.

"Later, my dear."

She couldn't suppress a reluctant shudder, wishing he would let go of her. But his grip only tightened more and then he pressed his mouth on hers. He didn't kiss her though, he just bit her so hard she tasted blood on her lips.

"I'm sure we'll have a great time."

Rowan doubted that. He might- she definitely would not. Nevertheless she was willing to sacrifice herself for Jack and all the others. Better to let him have her way with her than to see her lover, her friends, die in the cruellest way possible just because they cared for her. It would be unpleasant but not unbearable… so she thought then. She even allowed herself to smile a little when she heard that Shardul's men had not managed to capture Marris and that he had apparently fallen off a cliff didn't bother her at all. He could swim like a seal, he would make his way to Jack and tell him everything, and then Jack would come for her rescue…

BANG! Her head seemed to explode when Shardul struck the smile from her face with the back of his hand.

"Don't even dare to dream this insignificant little weasel could boldly enter my realm and take you away from me." He headed for her throat, his hands pressing slightly enough not to throttle her only as tightly as it was needed to warn her, to underline the meaning of his next words. "You're mine now."

Then he tossed her away and left it to his devoted servants to take her to the boats that lay in wait here, at a desolated beach. After recovering from the shock of that assault, Rowan noticed for the first time that she wasn't the only prisoner- there were also three young Dutch girls. Panic-struck they clung to each others hands for support, awaiting their fate frightened, without any hope. There simply was no hope here, only despair, and the dark long-tail boats with repulsive demonic faces as figureheads didn't look encouraging either. Hope faded even more when they were forced to board these boats, sailing towards an unknown future. And that was only the beginning…

After a while the boats reached the shore of an island. Rowan could make out the sound of waves crashing on rocks, but she was given no time to take a look at her surrounding. Instead, she received a hard shove in the ribs to make her hurry. Shardul's demonic masked guards escorted the women through dim, scarcely lit corridors cut in deep stone. Wherever they were, that place was cold and damp. It must have been quite pleasant in former days though, as she could still see some fading signs of forgotten glory. A carpet on the wall here, torn and filthy, a pretty silver chandelier without candles there. Now the place reminded her of the palace in Madras after the old Maharaja's violent death. Barricaded windows, no sunshine, hardly any light at all. And the barren walls breathed out damnation, despair. She shivered involuntarily. Hell wouldn't look worse but it was probably warmer there. Somehow it dawned on her that she had gotten herself in a really miserable situation.

That feeling increased when she was tossed into a room, apparently the harem. But it wasn't the Arabian Nights version of a harem one would imagine. There were no women reclining languidly on thick cushions, no musicians playing sensual tunes, no erotic dance nor oriental scents. It was rather a parody of that.

The room was large to hold a great amount of women and there were many indeed, from every nationality in the world. Though they all looked different they had one thing in common and that was the terrified expression in their eyes. There were also some boys but only a few. They must have been young and pretty once before they had come here and their childhood had ended abruptly. Now they were broken in body and soul.

Depression filled the air as well as opium smoke, the only escape from a reality too cruel to endure. Rowan had never seen a place where there was so little hope. A windowless room with no chance to ever catch the sight of the sun, to feel the wind on your face. It was a hopeless life between dead plants in marble flowerpots and dirty, worn down couches.

"Find yourself a place." The fat chief guard of the harem said with little sympathy in his voice as he pointed to the couches. "There are always some spare ones. People come and go, some die…"

He was a eunuch like all the other guards in here, guards with blank faces since they knew the meaning of horror, they had experienced it themselves. Nevertheless they were loyal to their master- or maybe they were too scared of dying.

Since there was little else to do Rowan sat down on an empty couch and surveyed her surroundings. The other women didn't seem to bother about her, they didn't even look up. Everyone was too occupied with her own misery. A young woman, almost a girl, sat on the bare floor, rocking to and fro, whimpering, clutching on to her rosary. She was most definitely gone mad with despair but no one cared for her either. This was a place for fears, not for friendships.

There were dark stains on the couch. Rowan didn't want to know what that was… some die…Then she noticed some women whispering but it took her a while to grasp they were making bets on how long it would take until the master would summon her, and the master's attention was feared very much here. They were also making bets upon her survival… Oh bloody hell, what have I landed myself? But there had been no other way so I'll pay for it, sooner or later.

She hadn't expected it to be quite so soon however…

It was not possible to tell how much time had passed in a place without any daylight, it could have been hours or just a few minutes when one of the demon masked soldiers appeared at the gates of the harem, his heavy footsteps echoing uncanny and fateful in the bare stone corridor. The women began to stir nervously as they knew what would happen next. It would be announced which of them the master had chosen to become his playmate tonight.

"The Master has made his choice. He wants the red head."

It was unmistakably clear who was tonight's meat and Rowan knew it too. It was also clear to her that there was no sense in disobeying or resisting the order since Shardul didn't tolerate disobedience. What he wanted he would get- and she had known what he wanted when she had agreed to go with him. After all one unpleasant night was only a small sacrifice in comparison to what he would have done to Jack if he'd caught him unawares of the grave danger he was in… unawares because of her, because she hadn't told him. It was all her own mistake.

She rose without resistance, without showing fear although she was quite nervous indeed. Some of the women whispered behind her back but she couldn't hear what they were saying, probably they were just glad that they had been spared this time.

A group of four soldiers led Rowan to Shardul's quarters. There was no escape. Even if she could overwhelm all four of them- very unlikely- she would not be able to get out of this windowless pit of despair. Yet thinking of ways to escape helped her to soothe her growing feeling of unease. She was almost calm when the door was finally opened for her- but then no longer. Her mouth went dry with fear.

The room was warm, that at least. A fire was burning in the chimney and the light of many candles illuminated the room to reveal a bizarre, horrifying scenery. She saw various instruments used for flagellation, all well tended. The leather of the whips was oiled, shackles were polished until they gleamed threateningly in the flickering candlelight. There were rings and chains on the walls, an iron cage in one corner and there were also many other things Rowan didn't even know the names of. She didn't doubt their use was anything but pleasant though. All in all, this room looked like the private torture chamber of a perverted madman.

"You like what you see?"

Rowan jumped edgily at the sound of his voice for she hadn't heard him approaching. Suddenly he was there, right behind her, his breath hot on her neck. It made her shudder.

He roughly turned her around so that she had to face him, the expression of twisted lust in his eyes. "You will like it, laJjika. Now take off your clothes."

He had called her laJjika- whore- for that's what she was to him. His whore. She had expected that and thought she had been prepared for it. But that was before she had seen this room, his private torture chamber. Things could only get worse.

He struck her hard across the face with the back of his hand when she didn't obey his order as promptly as he wished. For the second time today she saw stars and her already split lip started bleeding again. Nevertheless she shot him a defiant look.

"Don't be so rash. Ye'll get what ye want…"

"Oh, I will!" He grabbed a good fistful of her hair and jerked her on her knees, just in front of his feet. "I know what you're good at, laJjika. I saw you with my brother, many times when you thought you were undisturbed. I saw the things you did to him with that greedy mouth of yours, your naughty tongue."

Her insides cringed and a wave of nausea floated through her stomach as he unbuttoned his pants. Please, can't he just simply rape me and spare me this?

But he didn't spare her, either of that or of all the other things his sick mind told him to do and there was more, much more to come. Most of it was painful and the rest was humiliating. She didn't know how long it lasted, too long in any case. Sometime she just lost track of time, everything blurred in a crimson vision of pain and terror. He couldn't break her though. He tried but failed. Jack would come to save her, and she clung to that.

Rowan woke up, lying coiled on the couch in the harem and immediately her memory of the previous night- day- whatever- came floating back. She had hoped it had only been a nightmare but her whole body ached, reminding her of the bitter reality. She felt sore. It was useless to try and locate where the pain exactly came from because it came from everywhere. Her head was about to explode, every inch of her skin stung, maltreated with the whip and beating, shackles… daggers… What damage had he done to me? Daggers in his hands, cold gleaming metal, cold on my skin…I flinched and it aroused him, it aroused him to see the horror in my eyes, and then…a cut…a very slight cut, not deep but deep enough to make blood drip…

She felt something cool on her head, water dropped on her face. Someone muttered something unintelligible to her, soothing, like speaking to a child. She stiffened, lying in wait, knowing there wasn't any sympathy or any tender gestures to be expected here. Here, there was only pain, abuse and humiliation. She grabbed the hand forcefully, twisted it and sat up with a start. She yelped with pain that shot through her lower regions but so did the woman, only for a different reason

"Ouch! Let go of me! I'm only trying to help you!" She screamed, and when Rowan let go of her, she added calmly again. "Your wounds have to be cared for."

"Are ye a doctor or what?"

"No, I'm just a woman," the woman laughed bitterly. She was about Rowan's age and quite pretty, with aristocratic features, strawberry hair and bright blue eyes, eyes that hadn't completely lost their sparkle to desperation and despair. Yet there was a good bit of bitterness in her voice, "and as you may know, women studying is frowned upon, I am, of course, not a doctor. But since it is appropriate for a woman to be involved in charity, I often assisted the nuns at the cloister where I once lived. I know about herbs…" She shrugged. "Alas, there are no herbs in this place, only hot water and opium."

Rowan lay down again. "Is there much damage done?" She asked then, trying to sound indifferent but… the crack of the whip, the gleaming daggers…helplessness. "Scream if you want, no one will hear you. But you like it, laJjika- don't you? Soon, I promise, I'll have you begging for more." And in the end I did everything he wanted, I screamed, I begged, I cried…too exhausted to hold back my tears…

"I know it sounds cynical but he is actually very skilled in his… um, perverted ways. He wants to dominate, cause pain and terror, but usually he is careful enough not to maim his concubines, especially not his favourites " The woman bit her lips and looked away, avoiding Rowan's gaze. "I thought you knew that because… well, they say you came here voluntarily, at your own free will."

"The hell I did. Damned, I'm no…" She broke off, feeling miserable. I'm not naïve, I should have expected that. I knew there are people who like to dominate and get aroused by causing pain while others are submissive, seeking pleasure in pain… but not I. I like it rough sometimes, with Jack… Oh Jack, what have I done to us? Maybe I sacrificed too much…

"Sh, sh, don't worry. You will heal perfectly well. He always gives his concubines time to recover before requesting them again. Sometimes it takes days, sometimes weeks, sometimes he forgets- not you though, I fear. Your hair is much too flashy to ever be forgotten. But well, usually he prefers younger women, virgins. He believes the blood of virgins grants him potency and immortality…"

"And potent he really is." Rowan groaned dryly. She propped herself up on one elbow and scrutinized the other woman. "How about you, Lady? You're not that young either nor do I believe you came here as a virgin. So how did such a fine lady get in the hands of Shardul? Who are you? A baroness? A duchess?"

"My name's Catherine and my rank is of no importance. What makes you think I'm a noblewoman anyway?"

"Hard working women usually have no time for charity." She hadn't intended the words to sound as sharp as they did so she muttered an apology. Noblewoman or not, Catherine had treated her with great kindness.

"Rest now. You had a hard time and you will need all your strength to survive in here." Catherine said tolerantly.

"I don't intend to stay very long."

"Ha, none of us did. But actually I had expected you to be wiser than the naïve young girls who still believe a prince on a white horse will rush to their rescue."

"Not a prince but a pirate and instead of riding a white horse he sails a black ship." Rowan said unintentionally, it just slipped out of her mouth. She could have bitten her tongue for being so unthinkingly foolish. There was no one to trust here. But fortunately Catherine didn't take her seriously, perhaps she explained it as the fantasy of one who was slowly losing her mind. Should it be, she didn't give a damn. All she wanted was to sleep and forget.

Alas, sleep refused to come. It was too cold in here, the walls breathed out the dampness of old wet stone and the thin blanket, more a sheet, didn't warm her either. And there was still this scent, his scent, lingering on her; everything reeked with his repulsive smell of depraved lust. Her insides convulsed with disgust, she felt nauseous… pain and torment hadn't been the worst part, the worst part was him turning gentle and my body, wet with sweat, tears, blood and- ah, whatever, craving a gentle touch, reacting to it. For the first time I really- begged him to stop, feeling so embarrassed… humiliated…aroused. He just laughed, cold and cruel, and continued. I didn't want it to happen but my body betrayed me…his hands provoked it… again, the sound of flesh bumping against flesh as he took me from behind, his triumphantly laughter in my ear when he emptied himself inside me, still feeling my climax. I cried then, so ashamed, hating myself…He licked the tears from my face. "You love me, laJjika, isn't it so? Tell me you love me, my favourite whore." His hands came around my neck, throttling, forcing me to say it. But not that, no, never… She had to vomit but only bitter-tasting bile came out. When had she eaten last? Not here… sometime, in another world.

Nevertheless, when Catherine came hurrying back to her side, worriedly asking if she was alright- damned, do I look alright? Is there anything alright in here?- it wasn't food she plead for but a bath. She had the urgent need to scrub her skin until it was clean of Shardul's scent, his touch...

Catherine shook her head. A bath was a rare privilege only given to the master's favourites, a privilege like many others. It was then that Rowan learned about the hierarchy of the harem.

The master's attention was feared and no one longed for it, except perhaps the twins, two tall, shorthaired Negro women with skin like gleaming ebony and bodies as lissom as gazelles. It was said they were trained to endure pain, even found pleasure in it. Two submissive servants, the master's favourites, and the uncrowned queens of the harem. In their following were only a very few, selected women- mostly young girls who would never dispute nor envy their position, for they were both very jealous. They used the girls as their personal maids, reluctantly sharing their surplus of food, soap or other things with them.

Then there was Catherine, a noblewoman with some skills in healing. She had gained her position not by pleasing Shardul's ill-fated sexual fantasies but by keeping his playmates alive, which was- somehow- a doubtful task; she admitted herself. Nevertheless she fulfilled her duty without complaining since it was her way to stay alive, and, needless to say, she had seen many die in her months of imprisonment.

"How did ye get here?" Rowan asked again, this time more curious. Somehow she had begun to like the noblewoman although she was still far from trusting her.

Catherine told her. She had come from England, glad to be able to escape her possessive but uncaring husband for while, accompanying her niece to Madras, where the girl should be married to a captain of the East India Company. Then she sighed.

"But no marriage took place. They overwhelmed us on our way to the Governor's house, Christine, her best friend Abigail- the Governor's niece- and I. I give credit to Captain Thornton that he immediately set sails to rescue his fiancé, but unfortunately he failed. His ship sunk in cannon fire…"

"Thornton? Captain Richard Thornton?" Rowan interjected thoughtfully.

"Yes. Did you know him?"

"Well, knowing him is probably saying too much but- let's put it this way- I met his acquaintance once… you could also say we commandeered his ship."

Suddenly Rowan's words about the pirate and his black ship made perfect sense to Catherine, she had heard Captain Thornton telling the story of the most unusual pirate attack. She should have known that Rowan was the female pirate the same moment she first saw her, there weren't many people with such an unusual hair colour as described by Thornton.

"You're a pirate."

"Aye. At least you know now I'm not a whore, craving for Shardul's attention. But tell me, what happened to yer niece?"

"She died." Catherine whispered, wiping away a tear. "Actually, they committed suicide, she and Abigail. They couldn't live with the shame… you know, they were raised in the belief that virginity was their most precious item and after losing it in a place like this… "

"I'm sorry." Rowan said, actually meaning it since she liked Catherine. After all, she had distracted her a bit from her own miserable situation. Until the chief guard came up to her.

"You come."

Rowan was frozen with shock for a moment. Did Shardul send for her again, already? No, it wasn't the same guard that had pronounced the 'chosen one' yesterday, it was just the fat chief eunuch. Also, the women weren't nervous. Actually the atmosphere in the harem was quite relaxed today and she even felt a wave of pity for her when she painfully got to her feet. Probably all of them had had the same experience.

Her body still hurt so much it seemed impossible to walk, nevertheless she managed, clenching her teeth, slowly taking step after step. She was so focussed on fighting back the throbbing ache, so busy keeping her head held high with dignity that she didn't notice the change of mood. Pity faded and was replaced with disdain when the chief eunuch led her to a niche in the wall, a small chamber separated from the harem by a curtain. It contained a plain but clean bed with pillows and a blanket as well as a little table.

"'Tis your room now." He declared. At his sign another eunuch appeared, carrying a tray with food and candle that he put on the table. "Women come and go, some die."

And apparently the last one who slept here had died, Rowan thought with bitter cynicism while her eyes gazed around. It was also apparent that she had become one of the privileged. Though the room was not particularly comfortable it granted her at least a bit of privacy therefore it was definitely a luxury compared to the big hall, and the food looked much better than what had been served earlier on- a thin rice soup with greasy meat; she had tried a spoonful and immediately thrown up again. Yet, the honour of being one of the Shardul's favourite whores now was a doubtful honour and just because it was so she decided to make the best of the situation.

"I want to take a bath." She told the eunuchs, since she had seen a tub in one of the niches.

The fat chief shook his head. "The Master has given no order…"

"Ah, and what will Master say if hears you denied his favourite a reasonable request?" She snapped.

The eunuch considered this and a little later Rowan sat up to the neck in a tub filled with warm, almost hot water. First, it wasn't as much pleasure as she had dreamed it would be and she had quickly given up the idea of scrubbing her skin since the contact of her many cuts and bruises with hot water was painful enough, no need to increase that. But after the first wave of stinging pain had ceased she closed her eyes and tried to relax, to forget...

All of a sudden there were hands on her shoulders and her head was pushed under water for a few seconds. A warning, not an attempt to kill her. When she was allowed to submerge again, her soaking wet hair falling in her face, she saw two dark shapes. The Negro twins. One of them leant threateningly at the entry of the bathroom niche.

"Ta, I wanted to wash my hair anyway." Rowan gasped.

"You, red head. Don't dare to contest our position. We're the Master's favourites." With that the Negro turned on her heels and left, her twin sister following in her wake.

"Bloody nymphomaniac fools of masochists ye are!" Rowan shouted after them, then she sat back with a sigh. As if I had chosen to become Shardul's favourite plaything…and I'm definitely not proud of it.

A day or two passed without anything spectacular happening except that Rowan had to admit Catherine was right; her wounds healed indeed and apparently without leaving any scars. She stayed in her chamber most of the time, sleeping, dozing, not interested in any hierarchical struggle and besides, she didn't know what to talk about with the women anyway. The world of the harem was a completely strange one for her since she had never spent much time with other women. She missed her crew, her ship, the feeling of wind on her face. She missed Jack. He was the only straw she could clutch to in these endless hours of dim twilight, he would come and save her.

There was a particular time each day when a wave of terrified restlessness passed through the room until the master's playmate was pronounced, then everybody breathed with relief for not being the chosen one. Rowan too. Here she learned the meaning of fear that made her stomach knot with terror.

Two days after her first encounter with Shardul the chief eunuch came to her and handed her a plain cut garb made of very thin, transparent fabric.

"Put it on. Master wants you to wear it. Master is having a party tonight and you will attend it." He said matter-of-factly and as usual with little sympathy; he simply served and obeyed.

The dress reached scarcely to Rowan's knees and didn't cover much otherwise; she felt naked. But worse was the leather necklace with blunt spikes on both sides, like a dog collar. And like a dog she was led on a leash through the dark corridors of Kalpitiya. The leering glances and lewd remarks of the soldiers didn't improve the situation. It also didn't improve her situation much that they weren't heading for Shardul's private torture chamber today.

He greeted her with a sharp jerk at the leash that brought her to her knees. "That's your place, laJjika. Never forget that." Then he made her crawl the last yards to a large hall, the leash tight in his hands.

The first thing Rowan saw when they entered the hall was a giant statue of Nirrti, horrible to look at. A shiver ran down her spine. Shardul noticed that and laughed. He dragged her towards the statue where on a platform three chairs stood. The men gathered in the hall were cheering, and there were many of them, all rough, rude guys. The air reeked of their unwashed bodies.

Shardul sat down on the middle chair and made Rowan curl at his feet. It was humiliating. She was nearly naked and exposed to a motley gang of rogues that licked their lips at the sight of flesh. It got even more humiliating when Shardul's guests of honour arrived. One was the King of Kandy and the other an Indian Warlord. Shardul forced her to get up so that his dear friends could have a better look at her, all the time praising her merits as a whore.

KingWimeladharmsuriya eyed her up and down, then pinched her nipples fiercely. "Too thin for my taste."

"Ah, but she bears more than others. And she likes it," Shardul pushed a cold hand between her tights, penetrating her with his fingers, "don't you, laJjika?"

Rowan winced with unexpected pain, but then she was tossed back to the floor and the three men attended to other topics. Tears burned in her eyes, bitter tears of shame she just she couldn't shed now, no matter how humiliated she felt. She had to get a grip on herself, forget her misery, the cold creeping through her bones.

Dinner was served. Shardul fed her like he would feed a dog, dropping whatever he thought suitable for her. It wasn't exactly what she would have chosen but she had little choice. She had to eat or she would feel the blunt spikes of the collar pressing into her skin again; he was in control and she was nothing more than his slave, his whore.

After dinner things got worse. 'Dessert' was brought- the three Dutch girls that had been captured the same day as Rowan. The guests of honour were graciously granted the right of deflowering them, so they did, unceremoniously shoving away the plates and raping them on the table, where everyone could see it and praise their potency. Rowan would never forget their screams, their cries, the whimpering sound like a mortally wounded animal. However, the dear guests were mighty pleased and satisfied when they buttoned their pants again so they decided to share their pleasure with their following. The poor girls were raped to death and beyond. They were treated like meat because a human life didn't matter here.

"See, and learn." Shardul told her with a jerk at the leash. "One day you will beg for the pleasure of pain, you will beg me to take you hard and brutally, to rip you apart, and then you will tell me you love me- or I will throw you to the hungry crowd. Not tonight though. Tonight I need a pure virgin, still untouched just to be depraved."

Rowan was still shaking all over when the guards delivered her at the harem.

Every day she feared Shardul would request for her and every day he did, although she wasn't led to his torture chamber again. Instead he stimulated his appetite for perversion by humiliating her in front of his devotees, groping her, threatening her. Then he would send her away and work ravage on one of his other concubines, partly with a devastating result. Apparently he had forgotten not to maim them.

The women blamed Rowan. She had never been liked, she had been mistrusted and disdained but now she was openly hated. Even Catherine avoided her after one girl died of internal injuries and the face of another had been cut beyond recognition. Rumours spread that they couldn't satisfy the master like Rowan did, his red haired whore. It didn't take long and they accused her of sorcery, of bewitching the master.

"Daft brats. If I could practice witchcraft I would make his balls shrink and his cock rot." She hissed but apparently there was no reasoning with the girls. They still believed Rowan came here at her own free will.

Catherine knew the truth or at least she remembered again what Rowan had told her the first night. She didn't believe in all this talk about sorcery but she didn't know either whether she could trust Rowan because there were still many open questions. Besides, trust was an unknown word in the harem anyway.

However, Catherine was a curious woman and she had to find out, so she visited Rowan in her private chamber.

"I was wondering- since you deny you came voluntarily- how did you get here?" She asked bluntly.

"Shardul picked me up in the streets of Colombo and took me to his harem." Rowan replied casually without even looking up, she simply stayed lying on her bed and continued to stare at the ceiling.

"Shardul?"

"Oh, please forgive me, I should have called him Master, of course."

"You know his name?"

"Aye, I know him." Rowan paused before adding cynically. "Now, doesn't that fit perfectly to the idea you have of me already? I know him and yet I went with him without resistance although I'm a pirate. You mean, I should have called for my pirate crew but instead I choose to accompany him because I craved becoming his whore so much." She sat up and faced Catherine. "Think of me what you want, Highness, I don't give a damn. Just leave me alone."

Catherine didn't do that. "Sometimes it is wiser to offer no resistance- especially when it comes up to save lives."

"Aye."

The noblewoman thought about that. Then she overcame her last doubts and stepped closer, sitting down next to Rowan. "You wanted to spare the lives of your crew by offering no resistance? My, what a courageous deed. Courageous, but nevertheless foolish. Or do you still believe in your pirate with the black ship to come and rescue you?"

"No. I don't believe in it. I know it."

"Then you're probably more foolish, or more naïve, than I ever thought. Don't you know that this place is called the Black Citadel of No Return? Guess why? No one has ever returned from here alive. This place is impregnable. Just what makes you believe your pirate could change that?"

"Because he is not just any pirate- he's Captain Jack Sparrow." Rowan said firmly but with a low voice. It was too risky speaking up her mind too loud at a place like this, a place of terror and despair.

A glimpse of hope flashed up in Catherine's blue eyes but faded as quickly. Of course she had heard stories of the infamous, legendary Captain Jack Sparrow, the man who had sacked Nassau port without firing a single shot and who vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Company. On the other hand she had also heard he was a notorious womaniser- so why should he risk challenging the personification of the devil just to get Rowan Scarlett back? Sure, she was quite attractive with her flashy red hair but she wasn't a real beauty and after all, she was just a woman. He could find himself another one with less effort than attacking an impregnable fortress to no avail. Women were replaceable, Catherine had learned that here. Probably she had long been declared dead and replaced too. Even if Edward hadn't done that yet he wouldn't want her back, no after she had spent months in the harem of a depraved man. Edward would accuse her of adultery and file a petition for divorce, and the chances for a divorced woman were few in England. There was no hope.

"How long are you here now? Do you never wonder why your Jack keeps you waiting?"

"'Cause he's waiting for the opportune moment."

"But that may never come. Mayhap you just believe in a dream that will never come true. I hate to destroy your illusions, Rowan, but you must grasp now that there is no love in this world."

"Ah- who broke yer heart, Highness?"

Rowan had guessed right, only a broken heart refused to believe in love and the noblewoman blushed.

"That doesn't matter. I was young and naïve then, I believed that true love will overpower all rules of society and last forever. It was foolish. Of course the rules of society were stronger than our childish oats." She shrugged. "I got married to Edward and did what was expected; I gave birth to his sons, his heir."

Rowan noticed a certain frustration in Catherine's voice. "But he's still in yer heart, aye? Tell me about him. What kind of guy was he?"

Catherine sighed. "He was my childhood friend. He was well-educated, loved books and came from a good family. Unfortunately he was below my rank therefore it was inappropriate to consider marriage, our families saw to that… Actually, I do not wish to speak about him anymore. There simply is no place for love in this world."

Rowan didn't know what time it was when Shardul summoned her again, she only knew it was an unusual time and he had already chosen his playmates for tonight, the twins. She feared that that was not a good sign, that this time she wouldn't get by with just being groped in public. She was right. Her stomach knotted when the soldiers escorted her to his private torture chamber.

She was greeted with raging fury the moment she entered the room. His blow sent her to the floor.

"Who is Jack?"

He hit her again, before she had the chance to realize what was going on. Then he raped her with utmost brutality, yelling, "You're mine, mine, mine...", until he emptied himself inside her with a loud, bestial groan. He reached for her collar, the one she had to wear constantly, and jerked her head around so that she had to face him. She saw hatred, lust and madness mingling in his eyes, and she knew the worst was yet to come.

"Who is Jack?"

Rowan was too shocked to answer. It wasn't his violence that stunned her but his hot-tempered outburst of it. Usually he was much cooler in his cruelty, taking it slow, enjoying the effects of the pain he caused, revelling in fear and terror; he was also more patient. His next stroke split her lip. She was disgusted when he licked the blood off her lip and it was only then she felt the pain rushing in throbbing waves through her body. It was only then she partly came to her senses again, aware of what has happened, what he'd done to her. And she wondered how he had found out about Jack. She had only told Catherine, but Catherine surely hadn't given her away. Someone must have eavesdropped on their conversation…

"You're my whore, laJjika, never forget that. No one can ever take you away from me." His proximity was a threat. He shoved his hand between her tights, rubbing roughly on her sore flesh. He took pride in her painful wincing, the small whimpering sound that escaped her lips. It aroused him. He thought of her mouth and wanted to feel it, so he took a fistful of her hair and forced her head in the desired direction. "Satisfy me. Give it your best."

That moment the loud thunder of a cannon roared, followed by the sound of many cannons that shook the walls of the fortress. Rowan could have wept with relief for she knew these cannons- the Pearl's cannons had their very own, distinctive sound.

With defiance she looked at Shardul. "You wanna know 'bout Jack? Well, here he comes."