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Lost in Arabia

By: MzDeviancy



My stories tend toward the nonconsent/taboo side, but I want to be clear that I'm in no way suggesting that the acts in my stories are okay. Forced sex is a fantasy I enjoy and I write for other similarly minded people. Real rape is ugly and sad, and if it's something you're considering acting out you should seek help.

*

Well, here is my first story that has absolutely no incest. 

A warning: There are strong elements of nonconsent in this story, so if that offends you, please move on. This is also going to be a series, and the subsequent chapters are liable to offend even more of the average reader's sensibilities (based on what I observed in a thread about what most BDSM lovers find extreme)

Thanks to FurryFury for the pre-post screening ;o)

All characters are 18+ 

***

Lana Mitchell stepped off the private jet and surveyed her surroundings from behind chic sunglasses. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled for the cameras that lined up to take pictures of her. She shook hands with the fellow who informed her that he was to escort her out to the car that had been sent for her.

She had never been in an Arabic country before, but the UAE looked marvelous so far. Certainly nothing like the barren, uncivilised land she'd pictured in her mind.

As she strolled through the Abu Dhabi airport, Lana couldn't help noticing that not only was it just as modern as the Heathrow Airport, it was also much cleaner.

It didn't take long before the whispering started. Hushed cries of, "Oh my God! Is that her? It is!" arose from amongst the expatriates in the airport as Lana strolled along with her bodyguards. Some excited chattering also came in Indian and Arabic tongues, accompanied by pointing and gesturing. 

Still, it was actually much better than in the UK, where she couldn't walk down the bloody street without being swarmed.

When she finally made it out into the sultry Abu Dhabi outdoors, a man in full chauffeur outfit came up to greet her.

"Hello, Madame Mitchell. My name is Raja. I am sent to pick you up from airport," the man said, his voice heavily laden with an Indian accent. "If I may say, I am also big fan of your movies. My family and I, we watch them all the time before I left for here to work."

Lana smiled at him from behind her darkly-tinted shades. "Thanks very much, dear. You're taking me directly to the Sheikh's place, I take it?"

"Yes, Madame," he said, wobbling his head in that disconcerting fashion that indicates agreement in India.

Lana was shown to a tasteful black Mercedes, where she slid into the back. No gaudy stretch limos for Sheikh Abdul-Wahid. She heartily approved.

Once Raja had closed the door, she chewed her lip. What in the world was she going to say to a sheikh? She should have followed her instincts and found an essay or something on proper comportment for diplomats to the Middle East.

Not that she was a diplomat. Good Lord. She was the furthest thing from it; an opinionated actress who constantly advocated this cause or that, making it her hobby to be a pain in the ass for politicians everywhere. She was still not precisely certain as to why she'd been invited to meet the ruler of a country she'd openly called hypocritical and abusive to other cultures.

Surely he wouldn't have her harmed when so many people knew she was here...

And surely people shouldn't be driving quite so madly! 'Good grief!' Lana thought as she looked out her window. The driving here made the Autobaun look like a seniors-only road!

Although Raja drove more slowly than the lunatics who seemed to rule the Abu Dhabi highways, he still drove faster than she would have liked and they arrived at their destination all too soon. 

Lana hid her trepidation behind her shades as the door opened, and stepping out, donned her confident actress persona like a favourite coat. She smiled at Raja and thanked him as he held the door for her.

Her attention refocused on a man in a white candora and ghotra, the national dress of the Emiratis, who was gingerly trotting down the stairs of the palace. 

He smiled as he reached her, but did not extend his hand in greeting. "Hello, Miss Mitchell. We are very pleased to have you here. My name is Sayed, and I will be at your service during your stay." His accent was light and he stumbled not at all over the English words.

Lana smiled despite the nervous cramping of her stomach. "Pleasure to meet you, Sayed."

He motioned to Raja to bring Lana's bags, and he turned, indicating she should follow him to the palace. "His Eminence is most excited to make your acquaintance. He wishes to discuss your interesting opinions on his governance of the Emirates." His tone implied that by 'interesting,' he meant asinine.

Sayed turned and pierced her with obsidian eyes. "The Sheikh is a very intelligent man. God has blessed him with the ability to hear many sides of a matter, and distinguish what is valid from what is not. He wishes to hear your thoughts during your stay." 

"I see," Lana said, although she really didn't. "I had no idea my opinions reached so far."

Sayed didn't turn to her this time as he strode through the door, which was being held open by another man in full Emirati garb. "He will explain his interest tonight. You will be dining with him and his family at eight."

As they entered the foyer, Lana nearly swallowed her tongue. She thought she'd seen opulence before: clearly, she'd been mistaken. She wasn't given time to enjoy the sights, however, as her guide walked at a brisk pace that bordered on impatient.

Sayed led her through one hall after another, up a large staircase, and through more hallways. Raja had somehow managed to catch up with them, despite their almost jogging to the door to what she guessed was her room.

Sayed opened the door and extended a hand, motioning to the interior. "This is your room, Miss Mitchell. Raja will deposit your bags, then leave so you may refresh yourself. If you would like a tour later, you may pick up the phone and press zero; that will connect you to the palace switchboard, and they will connect you to me. Otherwise, dinner will be served promptly at eight. Please attempt to be punctual," he said crisply.

With that, he turned and walked away, back into the labyrinth these people called home. Lana stood dumbfounded for a second watching after him before turning and entering her room.

"Where would you like your bags, Madame?" Raja asked, startling her out of her study of the room.

"Oh. Over there please, Raja," she said, gesturing toward a large closet.

Raja wobbled his head and deposited her bags neatly in front of the closet.

"You need to go anywhere, you call me, Madame Mitchell," he said, smiling at her as he headed for the door.

She pasted on a smile. "Thank you, I will."

As the door shut behind him, Lana returned to marvelling at her room; it was insane. It made her own not-so-cheap dwelling back home look like a bloody shack!

'Well, first things first,' Lana thought to herself, heading toward the bathroom. A bath was definitely in order.

Upon opening the bathroom door, her jaw went slack; it looked like the bathroom was paved in marble shot through with solid gold. 

A huge jacuzzi sat in the middle of the room, while a plain shower stall graced a corner of the room. Another corner boasted a toilet, a bassinet, and what she assumed was an Arabic toilet. The sink and vanity were large and ornate enough to grace the washroom of the best restaurants of London. She didn't know whether to be appalled or impressed...

She found a shelf on the side of the tub with bath oils and bubble bath, so she dumped in heaping amounts of those which caught her fancy. After soaking in the tub for a good hour, she finally stood and drained the tub, going to the shower to rinse off.

As she emerged from the bathroom, Lana glanced at the clock, which indicated it was quarter to five. May as well wait a bit before getting ready for dinner. She decided to throw on some clothes and go exploring. Not flippin' likely she was calling Mr. Over-starched-knickers-or-whatever-the-bloody-hell-men-here-wore-under-their-dresses. She wondered if it was like kilts...

She exited her room and decided to go left, seeing as how she'd come from the right. As Lana passed painting after painting, antique after antique, she began to feel underdressed in her capris and cotton knit top.

After walking several minutes, going down a flight of stairs and taking several turns, passing people who glanced at her curiously, Lana came to a large and elegant doorway. Intricate patterns surrounded a double-door, seeming to beckon her to open the doors and discover what lay beyond. A small part of her wondered if this might not be excessively rude, but then, she thought, she wasn't exactly known for tact and decorum; they should know what they were getting.

She pushed one door open and gasped at what lay inside. Or rather, outside; it was a garden. Not even a greenhouse, but an actual garden, with grass and all manner of flowers and palm trees everywhere. 

In an abstract way, it reminded her of The Secret Garden, one of her favourite books in her youth. The only thing marring the garden's beauty were the hoses wrapped around every tree trunk; probably providing the constantly needed hydration to plants living unnaturally close together in the competitive desert climate.

Lana had unconsciously began to step forward, and was several steps inside before she even noticed. Shrugging and deciding she may as well go the rest of the way, she turned and mostly closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar.

It was strange, she realized after a moment, but the garden had very little smell. A hot, humid day like this in Britain (not that there were many,) would make the smell of grass and blossoms almost overpowering. Here, the only thing she smelled was heat, if heat could be thought of as having a smell.

Despite the stifling air, Lana continued on, passing by sculptures and fountains, marveling at the beauty and the indulgence of this scentless garden. She probably shouldn't get too high up on her high horse; there were those in Britain who thought she was a shameless materialist...

She reached a small clearing of only grass, bordered by a stone wall. She spied two Arab men, wearing (surprise, surprise...) candoras and ghotras, and conversing intently. 

One had a leather glove and a hooded falcon on one arm, and he looked to be animatedly explaining something to the other fellow. They had their ghotras tied back casually.

The man listening to the bird trainer was not repugnant, but his nose was too large for his face and it set his features off kilter. The other man however was not only handsome, but possessed an air of raw mascunility that made her want to go find out what men here did in fact wear under their candoras. She felt slightly flustered at the thoughts that were so unlike her.

Lana abruptly noticed the three gentlemen in their nondescript white garb, standing at intervals along the wall. They had certainly noticed her; all three stared at her with narrowed eyes, and one spoke into a mouthpiece, cupping a hand over his ear.

Her gaze flitted back to the men with the falcon, and she discovered they too had noticed her. Both of them wore grins and ran their eyes up and down her body. The man on whose arm the falcon perched laughed at something the other man said, all the while staring at her intently.

O-o-o-kay, time to go. Lana turned to make her way back inside, only to run smack dab into a less-than-pleased looking Sayed. He grabbed her by the arms to steady her, then set her away from himself, staring at her with displeasure. His dark eyes flashed at her as a patently polite smile curved his lips.

"I apologise if I perhaps did not clarify that you should contact me if you wanted a tour," he said, his genial tone contrasting with the menacing glint in his eye. "We do not allow visitors to wander around unescorted."

She, too, could wear a false smile, and so she pasted on her patently confident-starlet smile. "That's no problem, dear. It's a bit difficult with the language barrier and all."

Sayed's eyes bulged and he opened his mouth, as if to bellow at her that he probably spoke better English than her, but he snapped it shut. His polite smile returned and he gestured toward the door. "Please, allow me to escort you to your room, Miss Mitchell." He nodded to one of the security team, then turned on his heel, clearly expecting her to follow.

Lana glanced toward the men in the clearing again; both of their faces were cracked wide with amused smiles, and the man with the falcon winked at her. She flushed and hurriedly turned to follow her grumpy guide.

***

At five minutes to eight, Lana rang for Sayed, not because she wanted to, but because she had images of her losing her way trying to find the dining room and ending up shot for going somewhere she wasn't supposed to.

A knock sounded at her door, and she crossed the room to open it. Sayed's eyes took in her appearance, inscrutable as they ran up and down her body.

Out of deference for the Muslim household she was staying in, Lana had decided on an ivory silk long-sleeved blouse and some fairly loose-fitting dress pants for dinner. White-gold dangly earrings hung from her ears. She looked classy, but definitely hot.

She thought for sure even the Grump would have to give her an appreciative once-over, but she was mistaken. She frowned when Sayed said nothing other than, "Please follow me," before turning to head toward the dining room. 

'Not even a hello!' Lana thought to herself. 'Why, hello, Miss Mitchell! How do you find your room, Miss Mitchell? Who do you like for this year's cricket championships, Miss Mitchell?' So progressed her conversation with herself in her head as she trotted along after a silent Sayed.

She had to hand it to him: he managed to be spectacularly polite while being shockingly rude. She'd never met anyone from the Royal Family of Britain, but she imagined they'd probably adopt Sayed if they ever met him.

The first thing Lana noticed upon entering the dining room was its sheer magnificence, much like the rest of the palace. The second thing was that there was not a single woman other than her in the room. Quite a few men though...

Lana blinked at the sea of strikingly similar male faces. 

"Presenting Miss Lana Mitchell of Great Britain," Sayed announced, as if she were being presented at a ball or something. "Miss Mitchell has not yet had the good fortune to learn any Arabic, so we should refrain from lapsing into our native tongue for the sake of politeness."

"Miss Mitchell, may I present to you," Sayed motioned, beginning at the head of the long table and continuing clockwise, "Sheikh Abdul-Wahid Ibn Al-Sheikh Fouad, Ahmed Ibn Al-Sheikh Abdul-Wahid, Rajid Ibn Al-Sheikh Abdul-Wahid..." On and on this continued, introducing five more in this style before he came to a face that caught Lana's attention; it was the man with the falcon, smiling politely but with a twinkle in his eye.

"Khalid Ibn Al-Sheikh Abdul-Wahid." Sayed said. From her closer vantage point in the dining room, Lana saw that he was indeed even more handsome than she had first thought. His rugged face reminded her of the American 'Marlboro Man'.

'Khalid,' Lana thought, 'what a lovely name.' 

His lips were neither too full nor too thin, his skin was a dark tan that was set off by the blue silk robe of Emirati royalty, and his eyes were capable of causing heart palpitations from across the room. Milk-chocolate brown, with thick black lashes, they devoured her, just as she devoured him. 

Sayed continued to the man sitting across from Khalid, the man who'd been with him in the garden, "Samir Ibn Abdul-Wahid." She wondered at the 'Al-Sheikh' that had been left out.

He continued up the other side of the table, in reality only wasting time as the only two introductions Lana had managed to hang onto were Khalid's and Samir's.

They were finally allowed to be seated and Lana was given the remarkable, if highly suspicious, honour of sitting at the right hand of the Sheikh.

He beamed at her. "My British wife and I, we love your movies."

Lana blinked, but responded automatically. "Well, thank you very much, Your Eminence." Funny, she'd thought she wouldn't feel intimidated simply because he wasn't the ruler of her country; apparently, it didn't work that way.

His gaze sobered. "On the other hand, I very much dislike your opinions of me. The chef has said there will be a short delay - he is preparing a special dish from your country - so we will discuss this now and get it out of the way. 

"I watch the British television, and I was most upset to hear your remarks about me. Then I thought to myself, she does not know how things are here; bring her here, let her to see the life here, and then see what she has to say. So, let us to hear what you have to say now, and then we will see at the end of your stay if you feel the same."

Her gaze flicked to Khalid, who was staring at her with undisguised amusement. 

She didn't bother beating around the bush. "Alright, I think you enforce a much narrower interpretation of Islam on your country than you yourself are capable of living within the boundaries of. I also think your government's treatment of immigrants is deplorable."

Shock reverberated around the room. 

The Sheikh threw his head back and guffawed. "You remind me very much of my Sarah," he said with a grin, referring to his half-Arab wife who'd been born and raised in Britain. "She, too, always has opinions and no problems expressing them. She is unfortunately visiting family in the UK, but she will be back before you leave. You may have noticed that there are no women in here. That is for my Sarah; she would be very jealous if my other wives got to meet you before she did."

The tension relaxed noticeably, and the Sheikh continued, "I will address your first comment, to begin with. To those not from our culture, Islam seems very strict and our ways can seem strange, but this is simply a cultural difference. There are special allowances made for the rulers of nations, because the burdens on our shoulders are so heavy. Heavier burden, lesser restrictions, no?"

Lana couldn't help leaning forward as her temper sparked. "No. First of all, I didn't say anything about Islam being too strict. Personally, praying five times a day and giving up my wine aren't really my thing, but I would never presume to criticise someone else's religion. I was remarking solely about your inability to stick to your own ideals. 

"Secondly - and I have no interest in being drawn into a theological argument here; I endured more than enough religious debates when I took theology in college - the hadiths that make such allowances for rulers seem just a tad too convenient to me. As if, perhaps, someone with enough money and power could have hired a scribe to pen them..."

Stunned silence greeted this insinuation. Her anger had faded with her tirade, and Lana was left wondering at the fact that she'd just mouthed off a Sheikh. 

It was the mysterious Khalid whose voice cut across the room, loud and clear despite his being at the end of the table. "Surely you don't mean to suggest there has been alteration of any of our sacred texts. Such a thing would be considered heresy..." His eyes glinted at her.

Lana glared back at him, deciding that since she'd been called here to express her opinions, she'd bloody well express them.

"I can and do mean to suggest just that. I might remind you that a couple hundred years ago, people felt the same way about the Bible, but they finally realized you couldn't go around punishing anyone who didn't believe in it as the verbatim word of God. I'm not going on a campaign to smear the Qur'an or to dissolve society into anarchy and debauchery, nor even to change your minds; I'm expressing my opinion."


Lost in Arabia: Appeasing Merva



My stories tend toward the nonconsent/taboo side, but I want to be clear that I'm in no way suggesting that the acts in my stories are okay. Forced sex is a fantasy I enjoy and I write for other similarly minded people. Real rape is ugly and sad, and if it's something you're considering acting out you should seek help.

*

Second installment, dedicated to ria0262. Sorry it took so long. I'm lazy. 

***

Lana stared up at the ceiling through the darkness, wondering what was becoming of her. She was losing more of herself with each encounter she had with Khalid, but she didn't know how to stop it. His arm tightened around her, as if knowing, even when he was sleeping, when she was having rebellious thoughts.

It seemed like he could read her mind. He knew when she was resisting him, and he knew when she was giving in, without words. He'd invaded her mind along with her body.

She must have used up her well of tears and distress, because she felt very little as these thoughts floated through her mind. Escape had ceased to be a probability, which made it easier for her to think in practical, almost detached terms of what to do. It also helped that she now knew they weren't going to kill her. Just use her for a sex slave until the Prince tired of her. Lana's lips twisted in the darkness.

She didn't have high hopes, but she decided she may as well try escaping. 

She made a conscious effort to relax her body; she felt Khalid's arm loosen. She breathed shallowly but kept her body relaxed as she slithered out from beneath his arm. Finally her feet hit the floor, and she let out a long breath.

Almost immediately, she was was up and dashing toward the phone. She crossed her fingers as she dialed out. 

"Allo?" a distinctively Arabic voice answered. The switchboard.

Lana slammed the phone down reflexively.

"Did you really think I would let you have access to a working phone?"

She gritted her teeth as she turned to find Khalid propped up on one elbow, sheet pooled around his waist.

"I figured it was worth a try."

He grinned. "Let's see if you still think it was worth it after you have your punishment."

Her bottom throbbed in protest; she'd never thought spanking could hurt so much. She remained frozen to the spot.

The teasing light began to fade from his eyes. "Come here, Lana."

"No." Her eyes widened. Where had that come from? She was supposed to be letting him think she was giving in.

"No?" A feral smile played about his lips as he rose and started toward her.

She quickly abandoned the plan and gave in to panic at the predatory gleam in his eye.

Her eyes flitted from side to side, looking for an escape route, but by the time she moved, he was there. Her back hit the wall and she shivered as his hands planted themselves on either side of her. He leaned in, nuzzling her neck.

"You forget your last lesson so soon?" He drew back, smiling down at her with a cold glint in his eye. "Obviously, we need to make it stick better this time."

His hand came up and gripped her hair, yanking her head down and forcing her toward the cupboard when he kept all of his sick toys. She wrenched her head up, despite the burning pain in the roots of her hair, to see him pulling out some chain with leather cuffs on the end. He put that coil of chain to the side on a table, then pulled out two smaller coils of chain with cuffs, and dropped them on the floor. He grabbed the first chain and took it with him as he hauled her to the corner. She kicked and screamed, but he just yanked her along until he reached his destination, throwing the chain up to catch it on a big hook in the ceiling, then took the dangling end and hooked it on a waist-level hook in the wall.

Once it was up, you could see that the chain was made up of three parts; one length attaching to each cuff, and one length joining the two together then running down to the waist-level hook. Khalid manacled her as she tried to shove him away, then disappeared behind her. The sound of chain scraping against metal was accompanied by her arms being wrenched higher and higher, until they were pulled high above her head, straining just enough to cause discomfort. 

He grabbed the other two chains that he'd dropped before. He clipped them to bolts in the floor that she hadn't noticed. A leather manacle now secured each of her feet.

"Please..."

He ignored her and strode back to the cupboard. Her eyes widened as he took out what looked to be a leather paddle studded with metal. Next came something that vaguely resembled a jellyfish; it had a black, slightly rounded handle, with long strings of metal beads dangling from it. Dear Lord. He brought out a long, thin switch and placed it beside the other instruments. Her stomach roiled when he took out a ball with a strap on each side and duct tape; she had an ugly feeling she knew was those were for.

He put the duct-tape down on a table near her. He pinched her nose until her mouth opened, then the ball was shoved in. The straps came around the back of her head and were joined with a buckle. Her heart was pounding frenetically already, but when he picked up the duct tape, it started beating so hard it felt like she was having a heart attack. No one would hear her scream, no matter what he did to her.

She cried out behind the gag, but the strangled sounds were muted when he slapped a piece of duct-tape over her mouth.

"I always find the gags allow too much noise. But the gag and a little tape: perfect."

He turned and brought his instruments over to he table, keeping only the switch and smacking it lightly into his other palm.

His lips brushed her ear as he moved around behind her, and said, "This is going to sting quite badly." 

The switch ripped into the already tender skin of her ass, and she screamed in pain. A muted sound from the back of her throat was all that emerged.

It whistled as it bit into her flesh, over and over, finding new places to land one time, biting into a spot it had just hit another. 

Her head felt light from screaming, and tears ran down her face. As she sobbed, her nose had started to run, and it occurred to her that if she didn't get a hold of herself, her nose would soon be too clogged to breathe through. She tried to take herself out of her body, ignoring the sharp, stinging pain of the switch as it slapped against her buttocks and thighs. Breathing deeply, she managed to bring herself down from hysteria. It was only a little pain. She flinched as a particularly vicious blow stung the back of her thigh.

Suddenly there were no more blows. Her body still tensed, as if thinking he was waiting for her to relax so he could catch her off guard. She felt air flow against her skin as he walked out from behind her; it had to be the merest stirrings of air, but it shocked her stinging skin. She squeezed her eyes shut when she saw him trade the switch for the studded paddle.

She waited, but didn't sense his presence near her. She opened her eyes to find him at the cupboard pulling out a thin chain with metal clips on the end. Lana watched apprehensively as he strode toward her with a grin splitting his face.

"I suddenly imagined you wearing these while I paddled you," he said, clipping the clamps to her nipples. Pain exploded in the sensitive nerve endings there.

"Hurts?" he asked softly. Her anguished expression must have been answer enough, because he continued, "You'll become used to it. Be good, and I will reward your suffering with pleasure."

She shook her head, but he just smiled and retrieved the leather paddle.

When he came behind her again, he rubbed a hand over her aching behind, kneading the skin with fingers that felt hot as a branding iron. Suddenly, she felt his erection pressing between her legs, sliding along her cleft without penetrating. He was turned on by this, the sick bastard...

"You're so beautiful like this. I know it hurts, but feel what you do to me..." he whispered, and to her horror, she felt herself moisten, lubricating his sliding cock. She shuddered. 

As suddenly as it had been pushed between her legs, his cock was pulled away. Then he was bringing the studded paddle down hard, the little studs digging in like vicious teeth. Her head started feeling light, but for some unknown reason, she struggled not to faint. Some insane part of her refused to slip into oblivion where she could escape Prince Khalid's sadism. The blows rocked her, delivered each time with brutal force, each one seeming harder than the last.

She broke out into a light sweat as she swayed on her feet. She couldn't stand anymore. 

"Wake up, habibte..." A hand stroked her cheek gently, and she opened her eyes to find Khalid in front of her. His hand trailed down to a clamped nipple, which still throbbed in protest. His other hand came up and he gripped the clamps and twisted. Lana's knees buckled, and she hung from her suspended arms.

"You're fine." He grinned at her, then traded in the paddle for the strange beaded metal thing.

Her legs wobbled, but she managed to support herself as she stared at him in desperate plea, finally realizing what the thing was; the round part was the handle, and the strings of metal beads were the lashes. he was going to whip her with that thing. She shook her head wildly, but he only laughed.

"So dramatic. You'll be fine."

Her eyes flitted down and widened at the sight of his erection. It was bloody huge!

He laughed again. "I told you this is what you do to me."

More like what being a sick bastard does to you, Lana thought furiously.

Her fury gave way to fear as he took up his position behind her. She tensed, tears in her eyes as her stinging buttocks awaited this new instrument's bite. 

She jolted as the beads tore into her back instead of her ass. It hurt, but it was also a relief to have pain in a new location. 

The strands criss-crossed over her back, coming perilously close to her tailbone, raising the fine hairs on her sweat-soaked skin. Each lash of the beaded flogger left what felt like hundreds of burning imprints in her flesh. Tiny ball-shaped stings all over.

Her body was on fire, her muscles screaming from how tensely she'd been holding herself, her back and bottom burning in pain. It was like she'd run a marathon; her muscles falling into exhaustion and her temperature at boiling point. Wetness dribbled from between her legs down her slick thighs.

When the metal lashes ripped into her ass, she screamed behind her gag, her body arching forward against her restraints. 

"Three, for disobeying me," Khalid said, his breathing slightly accelerated, betraying his excitement.

"One!"

The beads lashed into her, ripping a soundless scream from her throat.

"Two!" 

He came from another angle, slicing them into a spot that had already stung badly before. Her sweat poured off her now, but she was trembling from the pain.

"THREE!"

The last lash was colossal, and her head seemed to float from her shoulders as her body sagged. But she was yanked from unconsciousness by the hand that wrapped itself in her hair.

"I drew blood," he said on a shuddered breath, arousal evident in his voice.

Another hand gripped her hip bruisingly, and then Khalid thrust into her violently from behind. She shuddered around him, tears rolling from her eyes as he furiously whispered in her ear. Her soaked pussy squelched around him and she felt the beginning tremors come on without warning.

The pleasure was as intense as the pain, the juxtaposition intensifying both, and it took her over, ripping an orgasm from her. Her shuddering cunt shoved Khalid over the edge into his own orgasm, and he slammed into Lana frenziedly as his seed erupted inside her.

His arms came around her and she realized he was trembling too. Tears streamed down her face and she couldn't seem to stop them. Khalid just held her tenderly, whispering to her in his language, comforting words that she had no hope of understanding.

***

"Wake up, ya heluwa," a voice rumbled against her ear, lips brushing her neck.

Lana groaned and rolled to escape the voice trying to pierce her sleep, and, in doing so, rolled onto her aching flesh. The pain had her wide awake and on her feet in an instant.

"Jesus-fucking-Christ!" she screeched.

Khalid gave her a dark look. "Don't use the prophet Isa's name that way."

Her eyebrows slammed together. "What?"

"Prophet Isa. Jesus. Don't speak of him that way. You believe - or at least if you're Christian, you believe - he's God; we believe he's a prophet. Whatever you believe, don't speak of him that way." 

Lana reared back. In an instant, her eyes were ablaze with fury. Her voice was flinty: "I will blaspheme when and how I choose! You may be able to kidnap me and rape me, but you are not going to talk to me about RELIGION!" she finished on a scream. 

"A self-righteous rapist, for Christ's sake! And you know something else? I never spoke so foully before I met you! Only since I've been here am I swearing all the time!" she snapped.

After a moment, a twinge of fear appeared and she rethought the course of getting stroppy with her captor. Possibly not the best course of action...Particularly not when that captor had whipped her to bleeding the night before.

She looked back to him, notching her chin up in spite of her uncertainty. He glared at her for a moment, then his lips twitched. The corners of her lips turned down.

"What?" she demanded.

"I would punish you for that now, but you're going to be getting all the punishment you can handle later." 

The notch went out of Lana's chin, but - as much as she wanted to - she wouldn't let herself stoop to asking what her 'punishment' was going to be.

Khalid must have seen the question in her face, for he said, "It's a surprise." He glanced at the clock. "We need to get ready."

Lana bit her tongue to keep from asking, 'For what?' He wouldn't tell her, and she supposed she didn't need to know anyway. He would undoubtedly bathe her, tell her what she could or couldn't wear, then take her where he'd decided they were going; her knowing where that was wouldn't mean she had a say in it.

And it did progress exactly as she'd predicted. He followed her into the shower despite her surly glares at him, then proceeded to wash her like she was a child incapable of properly cleaning herself. He chose her outfit for her, then instructed her to put on makeup, which he also had strong opinions on, because he sat there observing her, pointing out which colours she should use. She would have snapped at him, but she'd decided not to push her luck any further.

Then he called a driver, and they were off. Almost as soon as they were inside the car, he opened a leatherbound portfolio and became absorbed in it. Lana's curiosity ate away at her, but she kept silent as they left the tall buildings of Abu Dhabi behind.

She tried to block it out, but her mind relentlessly returned to the events of the night before. He'd beat her. To the point of fainting. And she'd still orgasmed...

She'd had trouble coming with men who worshipped both her and her body – not that there'd been very many men, mind you. She just hadn't quite been able to give herself up to the moment even when she'd been totally in charge. Yet, last night, she'd been completely helpless and in pain, and he'd still been able to force her to come. Just like he forced her in everything else. 

The worst of it was, she didn't feel as violated as she had the first time. Instead, she just felt confused.

A sight outside the window suddenly caught her attention. 

"Camels!" she cried with delight before she could stop herself.

Khalid glanced up, saw the camel farm she was looking at and grinned. "You weren't expecting camels? In the Middle East?"

She glanced churlishly at him. "Well, no, actually. So many images I'd always had about the Middle East turned out to be wrong, I suppose I was starting to wonder if you even had sand here."

"Ah. Surprised when you found out we weren't all Bedouins who wandered around with our many wives, hmm?" 

"Well, at least my image of Arabian royalty was on the mark," she muttered.

He arched an eyebrow. "And what was that?"

"That you're all morally deficient pigs who think women are possessions."

To her surprise, he laughed and said teasingly, "Not all. Just me."

A surprised bubble of laughter nearly escaped her at the unexpected self-deprecation, but she smothered it, pinching her lips together in a tight line. She was not going to banter with her kidnapper. 

Time drifted by, and the scenery changed from desert to city, then desert again. Finally, she spied tall buildings and other signs of modernity.

She caught view of a sign. "Sharjah? Isn't that a whole other Emirate?"

"Yes."

"What are we doing here?"

"You'll find out."

Lana huffed a sigh out her nostrils. 

It would have to have been about twenty minutes later that they finally pulled inside the gates of a large house complete with a courtyard with palm trees. The architecture was distinctly Middle Eastern and the tall trees gave it a very private, haven sort of feel. 

They pulled inside a garage, and moments later the door was opened by their driver. Lana absently wondered where Raja was, but then chided herself for the stupidity of her thoughts; royals undoubtedly had more than one driver.

"Follow," Khalid said, without further detail.

Lana's teeth ground together as she followed, entertaining fantasies about smacking him in the head.

A door opened up into the house from inside the garage, and she followed him inside. He wove around a few hallways until he spotted an Asian woman wearing the Muslim hejab. He spoke to her in Arabic - obviously instructing her to do something, judging by the tone of his voice - then grabbed Lana by the arm and guided her on down another hallway. They went up a flight of stairs and finally arrived at a door, which opened up to a beautiful bedroom.

A canopy bed draped artfully with sheer white fabric stood in the middle of the room. Underneath it was a large, beautifully woven rug. There was a window seat along the wall with a settee angled on each side of it, all upholstered with pale pink and white striped material and covered with matching throw pillows. 

An Oriental fan painted with pinks, reds and gold hung on another wall, giving an exotic feel to the room. The exotic feel was enhanced by the dark wood carvings of scantily clad women and men in opulent dress engaged in tantric positions. The room was at once both girly and erotic.

"Whose room is this?" Lana asked, wide-eyed.

Khalid's hands came up to rest on her shoulders, massaging gently. "This house belongs to the woman who has been my submissive for the last year. She is with the Turkish government in a sort of diplomatic capacity, dealing mostly with the Emirate of Al Sharjah."

Lana's eyebrow rose skeptically as she turned to face him. "This woman is a diplomat and she engages in depravity with you? Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe."

He cocked his head and stared down at her with amused eyes. "Position has nothing to do with it. Whatever women do by day, they can always be something different by night. You, for instance, are a rich actress who can walk all over men by day. And yet, last night, I chained you, beat you, then fucked you, and you still came."

Lana's face burned up at the reminder of her shame. 

Her head snapped to the side when she heard the door open. Her mouth unconsciously fell open a little as possibly the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen in her life walked into the room.

"Merva," Khalid inclined his head, "meet Lana. Lana, this is Merva."

Merva's eyes narrowed on Lana. 

Lana couldn't help but gawk. As an actress, she wasn't chopped liver, and she'd been around some of the world's most beautiful people, but this woman was stunning even with her eyes narrowed in what appeared to be instant dislike.




Lost in Arabia: Appeasing Merva



Her hair was black and sleek, twisted back from her face elegantly. Her face was completely bare of makeup, which was actually for the best - makeup would have disguised her natural beauty. Her skin was perfect, her eyes big and gray and fringed with long, thick black lashes, and her lips were full and perfectly shaped. Her patrician nose was straight but slightly rounded at the end, managing to be both aristocratic and cute. Wearing a tailored suit, she was slender, but her curvaceousness was also evident. She was also fairly tall for a Turkish girl at what appeared to be five-foot-eight, and seemed to have both long legs and a long torso. She was absolutely perfect; a freak of nature.

She was also currently hissing at Prince Khalid in Arabic.

One barked word from Khalid shut her up though, and her eyes quickly filled with tears. She started pleading with him, her hysteria evident even without an understanding of the language.

And Khalid stood there totally unmoved by her tears and pleas. He wrapped an arm around her in a comforting gesture, but his face and tone were resolute, clearly not giving Merva whatever she was begging for.

Lana, for her part, was stunned. This beautiful and successful woman was unraveling at Khalid's feet. 

Her tears finally quieted into shuddering breaths, then faded into steady breathing. But when she righted herself and looked at Lana, her face was filled with loathing.

***

Khalid concealed his alarm at Merva's obvious hatred toward Lana. 

No woman was ever happy when he let them go, but Merva's level of rage would be dangerous for Lana if he didn't step in. He'd been right to end things with her. Her obsession with him had grown to an unhealthy level, and it was time to cut the ties. 

"Merva," he said sharply, turning her attention back to him, "you know the rules. You will do nothing to damage her permanently. No breaking the skin - and be especially careful with her ass; the skin there will break easily - nothing that could damage internal organs, no defecation, no suffocation." He frowned at her mutinous glare. "If you can't handle that, then I'll break with tradition and just say goodbye."

Her eyes widened. "No! It's fine! I'll be gentle with her." Her lips curled seductively. "Well, not too gentle..."

He nodded, then glanced back at Lana. She stood there watching intently, but unable to know what they were saying. He grinned wickedly. She was not going to be happy when she found out.

"Lana, I know you're wondering why you're here."

Her head seemed to start to nod, then stop as if refusing to admit he was right. So stubborn.

"As I told you, Merva has been my submissive for the last year. She has been wonderful, but, as I told her from the start, I cannot stay with one woman for too long. However, I have a tradition. When I find a new submissive, I take her to see the woman I am leaving for her. Then I give the woman who has served me faithfully the chance to both say goodbye to me, and to punish the woman who has taken my interest, within, of course, the limits of safety. You will be serving Merva today." He didn't miss the cruel upward tilt of Merva's lips.

Lana appeared to be speechless. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide with shock. He knew that wouldn't last long.

He was right.

"Of all the egotistical, pompous-!" she cut off abruptly. He was fairly certain that was more from not having any invectives foul enough to describe him rather than being finished. 

"Are you mad? Wait, what am I asking? Of course you're bloody mad! But you!" she said accusingly, swinging to Merva, "You're not actually okay with this, are you? This man is a bloody lunatic! Tell me you're not willing to participate in this!" 

Merva shrugged one shoulder in a careless gesture. "If I must lose him, then I will say my goodbyes. And I will see if you are capable of replacing me. Which I doubt." Her eyes glinted with malice.

Lana gaped at her. "This pig is degrading both of us. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Khalid chuckled. She was a very fiery thing, his new sub.

Merva spun back to him. "She doesn't even want to serve you! She disrespects you!" she said desperately, "I love you! I love serving you! Don't throw me away for this English bitch!"

Khalid shook his head. "You and I are finished. And she is a more willing submissive than her words imply. She is simply saying the words she thinks she ought to feel. She is a submissive, and she will serve me," he said firmly. Really, Merva was starting to get annoying.

He turned back to Lana, who was trying to inch her way back to the door. "You will serve Merva, or I will give you to some of the rougher Palace security for a night. I should warn you though, the last sub who forced me to do that said they were animals with her, and I will not be there to make sure you are safe. But, your choice..." he said, in a tone that made it clear there was really no choice at all. 

He could see Lana weighing her options in her head. Submit to a woman who obviously violently detested her, or be given to a group of men who would rape her, uncaring of her body's response. Her resignation was clear on her face.

He smiled. "Merva, do as you like, within the rules."

Merva grinned maliciously. He had no doubt she was going to give Lana a good working over.

Merva strode over to the beautifully carved chest she kept his supplies in for him. She began withdrawing devices of every conceivable shape and function. She was going to make this last.

She stripped off her suit jacket, then undid the side of her wrap silk shirt. She unzipped her pants and stepped out of those too, turning to him and posing, knowing he couldn't help but admire her body. Her black lace underwear stood out against her olive skin, and the high cut of her panties served to emphasise the length of her legs. When she undid the front clasp of her bra, spilling her breasts free, he saw Lana swallow.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" he murmured to Lana.

Merva smirked and kicked off her panties. Her pussy had bare lips topped with a neat patch of curls. She began donning a vinyl corset, and Lana and Khalid simply stood and watched. Her breasts were pushed together and up, practically spilling out of the corset by the time it was laced up. Next, she tugged on a short vinyl skirt which barely covered her behind. She shamelessly bent over, displaying her pussy to them as she tugged on first one vinyl boot then the other, zipping them up to her thighs. The pointed toes and spiked heels seemed to compound her overall air of mercilessness.

A pair of elbow length gloves completed the picture. Merva was the picture of an unkind mistress, ready to discipline her little subling and enjoy herself immensely. 

"Strip," she ordered Lana.

Lana's mouth opened to form a refusal, but she seemed to catch herself and content herself with merely glaring at both of them while she complied.

Khalid's lips twitched. "I am going to sit. Stay in my view," he told Merva.

Merva, already lost in mistress mode, merely nodded curtly at him. She stared dispassionately at Lana who was now nude. 

Lana's skin was peach to Merva's olive. Light pink nipples tipped her perfectly formed breasts, which were neither big nor small. The curve of her hips was perfect as well; neither too wide nor too narrow, but rather a slight flaring from her small waist. Her lips weren't full like Merva's nor were her eyes as wide and heavily fringed, but her mouth was sweet, particularly when she smiled, and her eyes were sloe-shaped and had an almost misty quality to them. Where Merva was like a thoroughbred, Lana was an Arabian; delicately built with exquisite curves that begged to be traced.

Khalid shifted to adjust his thickening cock.

"Get on your knees." 

The two women locked in a staring contest, battling in a contest of wills until Lana broke, slipping down to her knees ungraciously. An almost genuine smile touched Merva's lips for the first time.

***

Lana seethed as she stared up at the bitch in vinyl. She hated this woman more than she'd ever hated anyone in her life. This was unnatural. Having Khalid do this with her was bad enough, but a woman? 

The bitch had better not be thinking I'm going near her minge, Lana thought to herself. She wasn't a goddamn lesbian. As she thought that though, the image flickered in her mind of the alternative. Khalid's particular brand of rape might be somewhat pleasurable, but that was not the norm for rapists. She had no doubt that these men he'd promised to give her to would conform with the usual type; brutal and completely uninterested in making it anything but painful and humiliating for her. One Merva was better than multiple men using her. Her eyes stung as she prayed that this Merva didn't have any lesbian urges, because she realised she'd do whatever she had to in order to avoid becoming the palace guards' plaything for the evening. 

Merva's hand came up to her cheek, the vinyl warm and smooth against her skin. The room's air conditioner blasted frigid air, and Lana's nipples had already hardened into almost painfully tight little buds and her skin had drawn into gooseflesh. Because of the coldness of her body, the warm hand stroking her face felt almost pleasant.

Without warning, she slapped Lana, snapping her head to the side with the force of the blow. Lana was still reeling when Merva caught her up by the hair and wrenched her head back. 

Merva said nothing, simply drilled into Lana with her stare for a stretched out moment. Her eyes were dark and turbulent, and had an almost crazed sheen to them. Lana barely refrained from cringing away. 

When Merva finally spoke, her tone was strangely empty, almost as if only a part of her were doing the speaking. The rest of her, Lana decided, was undoubtedly off in space-cadet land. This woman was a complete and total nutjob.

"You know he whipped me once until it felt like my skin would fall off, and I didn't make a sound. One hundred lashes. I don't think you could handle that. You are the kind who equates submission with weakness."

No argument there - she did equate submission with weakness, and she definitely couldn't handle one hundred lashes!

"Lean forward and place your hands on the ground," Merva said. A corner of her mouth kicked up. "Like a dog."

Lana bit the insides of her cheeks. The position was degrading enough with a man, but to be ordered into it by this bitch was insufferable. A warning glance from Khalid though reminded her of her other 'option'. She gritted her teeth and assumed the position. 

Her breathing was nervous, like the quivering pants of a racehorse waiting for the gate to fling open. She stared willfully straight ahead, trying to force deep breaths through her nostrils. She would endure this. A fragment of some Buddhist or Taoist saying floated through her head, something about bending to accept a situation rather than break. That's what she'd do. She'd bend. She would take whatever this psycho had to give her, and she wouldn't break.

Bit by bit, she forced her muscles to loosen. She focused on breathing and untensing her body, and they gradually became relaxed. 

Until the first lash of the many-tongued whip. 

It cracked into the flesh of her back, and all the muscles she'd unwound clenched back into knots of tension. Merva wielded the flogger mercilessly, criss-crossing the lashes, ripping the tongues into her sensitive sides and the tender skin along the back of her arms when she vainly tried to protect herself.

It went on and on. Lana praying that each blow would be the last, easing a fraction every time there was a second of relief, only to despair when the lashes came down again. Merva was relentless, and her strokes were efficient, calculated flicks of the arm and wrist designed to inflict maximum pain. With every stroke, Lana felt the pleasure Merva was taking in watching her suffer.

She couldn't take anymore. Her head was filled with her own cries of agony, and she was just about to get up and walk away. To hell with the both of them. But suddenly, she had an epiphany; that was what Merva was hoping for - no, aiming for: her giving up. Lana breaking and begging for mercy.

'Fat bloody chance of that,' Lana thought to herself, gritting her teeth as a vicious blow caught an inch of her soft side. She would now rather die than give this bitch the satisfaction of hearing her beg for mercy.

It seemed like hours - although it was probably twenty minutes at most - before Merva finally stilled behind her. Lana tried not to hope, but her back sang with the optimistic belief that there would be no more pain. 

The pointed toes of Merva's vinyl boots appeared in Lana's line of vision, and she looked up. The slap Merva laid across her face resounded throughout the room. Her vision swam for a moment.

"You don't look at me unless I give you permission!" Merva screeched. "You are not my equal to look me in the face! You are dirt beneath my feet!"

Lana's jaw clenched as she struggled to keep her eyes trained on the floor and not to scream back at the bitch. Only the fear of another slap held her tongue.

A vinyl covered toe appeared in front of her.

"Kiss it."

Lana's head jerked up, and "Fuck you!" escaped her mouth before she even had time to think about it. 

Merva's slap snapped her head sideways.

"Eyes down!" The boot disappeared, and Lana heard the clicking heels of Merva's stilettoes behind her. 

The smack of a vinyl-covered hand against her still sore ass was explosive pain across her nerve-endings. Lana jerked forward and cried out before she could stop herself. She had no time to recover as the hand came down again and again, each time seeming harder than before. She bit hard into her lower lip, trying to keep from giving Merva the satisfaction of hearing her pain.

With one last smack, Merva halted. She trailed her fingertips over the burning skin of Lana's behind, the gentle raking feeling both soothing and agonizing.

"Are you ready to be good?" Merva asked silkily.

"Yes!" Where the hell had that come from? But even though a part of her struggled against giving in to Merva, she knew she couldn't take anymore. She'd just do what the woman wanted, whatever would spare her flaming ass more punishment.

The pointed toe was back.

Lana clenched her eyes, and dove down, kissing it quickly while she tried to blot out all thought.

"More."

She almost looked up, but caught herself just in time. Her back teeth ground as she went in for another kiss.

"More."

Christ! Lana planted kisses on all over the skin-warmed vinyl. Tears pricked her eyes, but she forced herself to swallow her pride.

"Lick it. Like it's a yummy candy." Merva's voice was low and seductive, her pleasure at Lana's humiliation evident.

She almost refused. Her whole body tensed as she battled with herself, whether to give in, or simply get up and walk out, telling Khalid he could give her to anyone he liked. The black-covered foot stared her in the face. And, at that moment, her mind seemed to rise to a higher plane of consciousness. What was pride? She could bend, give Merva her enjoyment, and she would still be herself when it was all over. Her feelings still roiled, but her thoughts became muted. 

In the end, it wasn't even a conscious decision; with no direction from her brain, her tongue snaked out and trailed from the pointy toe of Merva's boot to her slender ankle. And then she dropped a kiss. Without being asked.

The room was quiet except for the sound of shallow panting. With a start, Lana realized that it was Merva who was panting. 

"Kiss higher," Merva ordered, her voice breathy.

Lana kissed up to her vinyl-encased knee. Her mind was in neutral. She had no thoughts either way about what she was doing, only a mix of feelings that blended together to become indistinguishable from each other.

"Higher!" Merva's voice was raspy.

It suddenly clicked in: Merva was aroused. She, who was supposedly dirt beneath Merva's feet, had her panting with desire. A thrill shot through her.

Lana teasingly kissed up to the front of Merva's thigh, feeling Merva's breath hitch when her lips finally reached bare skin. But it wasn't enough. Lana knew where Merva wanted her to kiss, but she continued to coyly press soft kisses well away from that region.

Giving up on subtlety, Merva hooked her knee over Lana's shoulder. Lana obligingly gave her a soft kiss on her inner thigh, just above the line of her thigh-high boot.

Merva's hands dove into her hair, and her face was hauled up to Merva's musky, neatly trimmed patch. Without being told, Lana pressed a kiss to Merva's mound. Suddenly, the reality of what was happening tried to break through the daze of her mind.

"Lick!" Merva cried, pressing Lana's face where she wanted it.

She wasn't a lesbian...but this wouldn't make her one would it? She had to do it. Merva's scent teased her nostrils. 

Lana groaned. She wanted to do it.

Letting go of her resistance, her tongue slid out to delicately touch Merva's swollen clit. One of Merva's hands left her hair to go to her clit, pulling the hood back, making her angry red clit protrude. 

"Lick!"

Lana's tongue started lapping, like a kitten at a dish of cream. Her tongue swiped over the swollen little button over and over, and soon Merva's moans were filling the room. 

Her low, honeyed voice broke, rasping sexily. Everything about the woman was sensual. She was the kind of woman that every girl had hated, been jealous of, but - at least on some subconscious level - been fascinated by. Wanted to touch.

Lana pressed her lips around Merva's clit, and, without knowing where she got the inspiration from, sucked her clit into her mouth. She accidentally grazed it with her teeth, but, when Merva half-gasped, half-moaned, she did it again. Somewhere along the way, this had ceased to be something she just had to get through.

Hot juices poured from between Merva's swollen labia now, and she shoved her cunt into Lana's face while pushing her head forward into it. 

"Finger me!" she moaned brokenly.

Lana obliged her, violently shoving two fingers in without preamble. That was all it took; Merva's hips bucked against Lana's head, and her head was pulled forward with such strength that her nose buried in Merva's mound and she couldn't breathe. She sucked her clit harder, scraping it with her teeth, pulsing her mouth around it. Merva's head rolled back and she screamed, all her pain and ecstasy going out the sound, loud enough to make the walls tremble.

Her thigh shook against Lana's head, her entire body shuddering as she came down from her peak. She finally unhooked her leg from Lana's shoulder, leaving it feeling strangely cold and bereft. Lana just stared up at her. The hate she felt for this woman had been forced down by desire. Everything had. Her own fear of being labeled a lesbian included. Merva smiled, and she thought it must be the same for her.

Merva leaned down and pressed her perfect lips to Lana's. She kissed her so softly, so sweetly. Her lips tried to cling as Merva lifted away.

The slap was completely unexpected. 

"Did you think just because you ate my pussy you can ignore the rule about looking at my face?" she said harshly.

Lana felt an almost childlike state of confusion. She continued to stare, flabbergasted, until Merva's glare registered and she dropped her eyes obediently.

She was in a dazed state, her thoughts and emotions fogged, but regular, independent Lana tried to break through, screaming that she should not be feeling upset by this switch in this mad woman's behaviour. But she was. She actually felt sad. And the conflicting feelings just upset her more.

She kept her eyes pinned to the carpet even though her neck ached to turn and see what Merva was doing when she walked away. She heard the sound of something being shaken out, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Merva laying a white sheet down.




Lost in Arabia: Appeasing Merva



"Come, lay down on your back."

Lana started to get up.

"No! You crawl!"

Where had the soft, sensuous Merva gone? Lana wondered as she crawled over to the sheet. It was a rubber sheet. Like one of the ones you'd put on a baby's bed, except bigger. Lana puzzled over it, but couldn't figure out why Merva would want her to lay on one of those. She lay on her back anyway, waiting to follow Merva's lead. Her eyes caught Merva's and she hurriedly snapped them shut, fearing another reprisal.

Merva chuckled.

Lana heard rustling, then felt the warmth of a presence near her, just a second before cold metal bit into her nipple. Her eyes flew open and she looked down. Merva was fastening the second clamp to her other nipple. These ones looked different than the ones Khalid had used, and after a moment she found out why.

They looked very intimidating, like cigar clippers. Apparently, that was because they were designed to work like them. 

Merva yanked the chain that joined them, and the clamps bit down on Lana's nipples, the blunted edges squeezing, rather than cutting, until she cried out in pain. She saw Merva's smile of satisfaction in her peripheral vision.

The next item Merva fetched was a vibrator that looked like it was from outer space. It had pearls inside it and some weird attachment that vaguely resembled the scope of a sniper rifle. Lana's face got hot with embarrassment and arousal when Merva spread her lips and dipped a finger inside her.

"Very wet," she murmured, rubbing the pad of her finger against the roof of Lana's pussy. She removed her finger and, before Lana's pussy could even clench in protest, shoved in the futuristic vibe. 

An elastic harness with button snaps appeared and was soon fastened around Lana's thighs, holding the vibrator inside her. Merva turned its black handle and Lana's body jolted. 

The vibrator's attachment was pressed right up against her clit, and it rotated around, brushing against her swollen nub. Her cunt was filled to capacity with the rubbery vibrator, and she discovered what the pearls were for as they rubbed against her sensitised, quivering pussy walls.

She tried to push the vibrator out, but the elastic harness just pulled it back in the second she stopped pushing. The feeling of it sliding back in caused her hips to buck up. 

"Does that feel good?" Merva whispered.

Lana wanted to shake her head, but they were beyond lies. She opted for simply not answering instead.

Merva gripped the end of the vibrator and rammed it in. The vibrating clit attachment smashed into her clit, and her cunt felt like it would rip open. "I asked you a question, bitch! Does it feel good?"

Lana chewed her lip, wondering why she was hesitating over such a small thing. "Yes," she finally admitted.

Merva's lips curled. "You don't like admitting that, do you?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Lana said truthfully, trying to maintain her focus with Merva lazily thrusting the vibrator in and out. The clit stimulator gently bumped up against her clit with each push. 

"Is it because you don't like me?"

"I don't know." Merva jammed the vibrator in again, banging into her clit and cervix. "Partly!"

"And the other part?" Merva asked silkily.

"I'm not a lesbian!" Lana shouted. The thrusting stopped abruptly, and Lana blinked. She'd completely forgotten how great of an issue that had been for her. Funny. It seemed so much less important now. 

She'd eaten minge. She had a woman fucking her with a vibrator. Some part of her enjoyed both. Whether it made her a lesbian or not, it was done.

"Neither am I, but I guarantee you, you can never go back from this. As exciting as men like Prince Khalid are, there is something incomparable about being with a woman." She traced her fingertips along the curve of Lana's breast. "The beauty of a woman's body, the intimate knowledge she has of what feels perfect, the softness...some part of you will need a woman again."

Lana, the moderately conservative Lana of the past, untouched by Khalid and his debauchery, wanted to deny it, but the new Lana, the Lana who'd been forced to face stark reality knew it was true. She could picture herself back in England, clutching a pillow between her legs at night while trying to push away unwanted fantasies of soft female bodies.

The vibrator's thrusting began again, teasing; enough to arouse but not enough to satisfy. Lana's hips rose involuntarily, greedily trying to get more.

"You don't get to come until I tell you to," Merva warned.

Without further ado, she turned so that she was facing Lana's toes, then swung her leg over Lana's head so she was sitting astride her face. When Lana immediately moved to give her pleasure, undoubtedly hoping to get some in return, she yanked on the chain linking the nipple clamps. Her pussy spasmed at her subjugate's yelp of pain.

"You wait for instructions," she admonished, hauling on the chain. "I tell you what to do. You don't just do whatever you feel like." 

"Sorry!" Lana said on a gasp as Merva thrust the vibrator in.

Beneath Merva's straddling thighs, Lana was losing her mind. The aroma of drenched pussy was strong in her nostrils, the vibrator had her stuffed and was teasing both her clit and her g-spot, even the nipple clamps were starting to feel gratifying. She was on sensory overload.

Merva's fattened clit brushed over her nose and lips before rubbing back and forth, teasing her, taunting her for an eternity. Her hand slid down Lana's stomach, which sucked in automatically on a hopeful breath. But she simply spanked her mound and chuckled huskily at her.

"Do you want to eat my pussy again?"

Lana nodded fervently, "Yes!" 

"Ask me nicely."

"Can I lick you again?" Lana gasped pleadingly as Merva toyed with her breasts.

"Not nice enough. I think I want you to beg me now." She paused, pretending to mull it over. "Yes, you'll have to beg me."

Without hesitation, Lana started pleading, "Please let me eat you again. I'll make it even better than last time." She gasped as Merva gave another tug on her nipple clamps. "Please!"

"Alright. Eat." Merva tilted so that her hole was directly over Lana's mouth.

Lana dove in, running her tongue back and forth and all around Merva's cunt. Merva's juices poured onto her tongue now, and she went straight to the source, shoveling her tongue inside her and lapping up juice by the tongueful. Merva's lips were swollen to the point of hardness, and they clasped tightly around Lana's tongue as she thrust in to the spasming channel.

The whole while, Merva pushed the vibrator slowly in and out, uncaring of Lana's frustration.

With the possibility in mind that Merva just wanted to come first before she'd let her, Lana felt for the walnut-like surface of Merva's g-spot, then began dragging her tongue along it. She went faster and faster, and Merva's hips were soon gyrating over her face, her moans increasing in volume. Her voice broke on a moan and her pussy clamped down on Lana's tongue as she came, shuddering with the intensity of it.

The after-shudders stopped, and Merva lifted slightly off her face.

"Do you want to come now?"

"Yes!"

" Yes, what?"

"Yes, please! Please!" Lana sobbed mindlessly.

"Are you ready for whatever I give you, as long as you get to come?"

Lana wailed her assent.

Fluid started trickling over her lips, bitter-tasting and hot. What started as a drip soon turned into a flood, but Lana was too lost in the increasing pace of the thrusting vibrator to care, even when she realised it was urine. The back of her mind registered her disgust, but the rest was too preoccupied with hurtling toward her orgasm.

"Open your mouth!" 

When Lana hesitated, the rythm of the vibrator immediately faltered. She hurriedly complied. 

"Come!" Merva shouted.

A torrent of fluid rained into her mouth just as she came, swallowing and gasping and nearly crying from the force of it.

Merva slowly turned off the vibrator and undid the straps. She released Lana's nipples from the clamps and watched the blood flood them again.

Lana sat up, her chin, neck and chest wet with urine, eyes wide and legs shaking, and Merva saw what Khalid had been talking about. Sadness washed over her. She kissed Lana on the forehead, wordlessly giving her blessing.

She then turned to Khalid with acceptance weighing on her.

"One last time?" she asked.

"Most definitely," he murmured, hot eyes raking over her.

He was in front of her instantly, picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. She kissed him, clinging lips-to-lips and trying to savour her goodbye. She slid down and let her swollen folds wrap around him, sliding along his length teasingly.

He lifted aside the sheer draping of her bed and tossed her down roughly. When he came down, hard and ready after watching her length performance with Lana, she scooted away, taunting him. He simply grabbed her by the ankle and hauled her back, thrusting into her before she had a chance to resist.

Her breasts heaved against the corset, jiggling back and forth as Khalid fucked her. He reached up and hauled down her corset, managing to dislodge it enough to free her breasts. He leaned down to taste them, sucking and biting them roughly, showing just how aroused he was. 

Although she'd just come twice, she came again. When Khalid tossed her legs up over his shoulders a few minutes later, turning his head to bite her ankle, she came a fourth time. Finally, he allowed himself to cum.

His fingers bit into her hips hard enough to leave bruises, and - while she was still riding the high of her orgasm - he erupted inside her. An animalistic growl tore from his throat and he pounded into her until she'd milked him for every last drop.

***

In the car, Lana struggled with her feelings about everything that had occurred back at Merva's house. 

She'd had a lesbian encounter, she'd been urinated on, but most disturbing of all was her reaction to Khalid fucking Merva. She'd felt...perturbed by it. Somehow, she'd been jealous of both of them at the same time. She'd been upset to see Merva crying out for someone else so soon after she'd just been moaning her head off for her, and she'd been even more upset to watch Khalid slamming into Merva with as much enthusiasm as he'd had with her in any of their encounters.

It was too confusing. She hated them, and yet she'd come for both of them. She'd been forced into all this, and yet when it was happening she'd start to do things of her own free will. 

She stared out the window, lost in thought.

"Are you okay, habibi?" Khalid asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

She nodded, continuing to stare aimlessly out the window.

A strong arm wrapped around her, tugging her over to him. She tensed, waiting for him to force more of his unique brand of pleasurable pain and humiliation on her, but he simply tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder and held her.

His hand stroked up and down her back soothingly until she fell asleep. Nothing resolved, only more barriers broken down.



Lost in Arabia



Lana drew in a breath and turned to look at the Sheikh, who was grinning at her, finding her very amusing, apparently. "I knew you would be much fun to have for dinner. My wife, Khalid's mother, she also thinks like this, but she says it in a more...diplomatic way." 

Khalid still glared at her, smouldering eyes attempting to incinerate her. She felt sorely tempted to stick her tongue out at him, or do something else equally immature.

"Now, what, exactly, is your difficulty with our policy toward foreigners? Many expatriates enjoy living here because we do not tax their life-blood like their own governments do. Many people from poorer countries come here because there is so much opportunity here for work and money, where there is none back in their home countries."

"Opportunity for work and money, yes. Opportunity for advancement, for ever being able to live under the same roof as their families again, no. Please understand, I'm not claiming Britain's much better on the exploitation score, but if you were to ask me whether I thought you could do better, I would say yes."

The dinner progressed, the starting topics being segways into greater issues, leading to spirited, occasionally border-line hostile, debating. However, Lana discovered that the Sheikh was every bit as intelligent as Sayed had said. If they hadn't changed each other's minds on the issues, they had certainly each gained a new perspective.

The one damper on Lana's mood were the constant glares she was receiving from a few of the men around the table; more particularly, from Khalid. It was non-stop. He skewered her with his eyes while they debated, while they chatted about the weather, while they dined on the much-anticipated Bubbles and Squeak that the cook had prepared...

Finally, she could take it no longer. Lana glanced around; seeing everyone was digging into their desserts and not paying attention to her, she crossed her eyes at the still-glaring Khalid. The look on his face was truly priceless. His jaw dropped and he stared at her as if she'd just ripped off her top and put her plate on her head. The man really took himself a little too seriously. 

His jaw snapped shut and clenched. Then, for the first time since the conversation had turned political, he smiled at her. This smile held no trace of amusement or friendliness; it was pure malice.

"You are sure you can only stay the two weeks? My wife is most excited to meet you, and I am very much enjoying talking to you," the Sheikh said.

"Oh, yes, Your Eminence. Unfortunately, my schedule just won't allow for more time away."

"This is too bad, but we will make sure you see everything my country has to offer. It is beautiful country," he said, his chest puffing out with pride.

"It certainly seems so, based on what I've seen so far." Lana smothered a yawn, wondering if it was okay to even need to yawn in the presence of royalty.

His gaze narrowed. "You are tired? Why do you not tell us? We will let you to sleep. Tomorrow, you will begin your real visit here."

Lana made her bows, and exited, noting some less than friendly looks directed her way as she left. Sayed, of course, was a silent, gloomy shadow at her side, escorting her to her room. Upon reaching her door, he flicked his gaze over her, murmured a good night, and left.

She was very surprised to note upon entering her room that it was eleven o'clock. The conversation had flowed and the food had simply kept coming; she hadn't realized that it had been three hours.

She had barely slept the night before due to both excitement and anxiety, and that had caught up with her now. All Lana could do was quickly perform her toilette, change into her silk jammies, and crawl under the covers of the behemoth bed.

***



She was in the Sheikh's throne room, which was teeming with Arab somebodies, and she was wearing an Indian dress complete with sari. She knew this was wrong, but a haze blanketed her mind and she could not quite figure out why.

The crowd parted and she saw the Sheikh smiling at her. Feeling drawn to him as if by a magnet, she glided toward him. He motioned with his hands and she climbed onto his lap, pulling her skirts up around her waist.

She was wearing silk panties. It felt good to rock back and forth, rubbing herself on the smiling Sheikh's hard cock. His hands ran over her back, cupping and kneading her buttocks.

Her clit was swelling and peeking out from its hood, demanding more stimulation than it was getting. She reached down to rub it, and heard excited chatter in Arabic.

Suddenly, she was on the floor. Someone was pressing a cloth over her mouth and nose, a sickeningly sweet stench filling her nostrils. The throneroom and people faded, and all that was left was blackness.



***

She awoke with a pounding headache, coming slowly to the surface of consciousness as if reticent to fully experience the throbbing of her head. She blinked against the onslaught of candlelight, its muted flicker seeming harsh and abusive to her sensitive eyes.

"Good morning," Khalid said in a singsongy voice as he plopped down next to her.

Lana tried to jerk upright, only to realise her wrists were tied to the wooden bars of her canopy bed. Her legs had been spread apart and tied with long ropes to the bedposts at the foot of the bed.

She looked at the prince, who was wearing what appeared to be a short-sleeved candora. His handsome face and mischievous grin completely at odds with the fact that he'd apparently drugged and tied her up.

"What are you doing?" she tried to croak, but her voice was so hoarse as to be indecipherable.

Khalid apparently understood her though, or at least caught the gist of it, for he replied, "Teaching you a lesson."

Lana's mouth went dry and all thoughts of her aching head vanished as he picked up a hunting knife off her night table.

"Lovely as it was feeling you through silk, let's get rid of these, hmm?" 

She tried to scream, but all that came out was a crackling wail that wasn't even loud enough to echo in her room.

"Don't bother. You'll only hurt your throat more," he said.

She held absolutely still as he pulled her pajama top away from her body and began slicing off the buttons. Soon her top gaped open, completely exposing her breasts. He set to work on her bottoms, slicing upward along the seams with the wicked-looking and very sharp blade.

"You are probably wondering why I didn't undress you while you were drugged," he said absently, continuing his work on her pajama pants.

She hadn't been, actually. She'd only focused on two things since she'd woken up: her pounding head, and her absolute terror.

"I like my women to be awake when I undress them," Khalid said, smiling in triumph as her pants finally split into two separate panels. He whisked the top one away, baring her to his gaze.

"Are you going to kill me?" Lana forced out.

Khalid laughed. "No."

"Rape me?" she asked, her throat feeling as if she'd been swallowing shards of glass.

Khalid placed a hand on her smooth thigh, his dark skin contrasting sharply with her paleness. "I don't like the word rape. Rape implies that you won't enjoy it. I assure you, you most definitely will." His fingers trailed lightly up to the apex of her thighs.

He stood and slipped his candora over his head. He folded it neatly and put it on the night table. All he had left on was a white wrap-around thing that looked like a sheet, which he quickly removed, folded, and placed on top of his candora. His cock hung between his legs, thickened but not yet fully aroused.

Lana bit back tears. She'd thought this wouldn't happen again. She'd become a statistic once before: one of the many women to be raped by the age of twenty-five, but after counseling and time to heal she'd finally come to believe she was safe.

She closed her eyes and tried to detach her mind as she had so long ago, to ignore the slobbering kisses and the harsh pounding into her dry hole that were sure to come. She jerked against her cords as she felt a warm mouth envelope her nipple.

"Just get it over with," she pleaded in a crackly voice.

Khalid released her nipple and looked up with a grin. "I am not an animal to mount you without foreplay." He returned to her nipple, drawing it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

Lana went numb, simply withdrew from herself and watched what was happening as if from a distance. She knew this was about power, perhaps about the rapist's own self-esteem issues, but it didn't make it any less unbearable.

Suddenly she was brought back to the moment by her nipple being bitten.

"Ah!" she shrieked hoarsely, quieting herself quickly. She looked down to find him grinning up at her.

"Just getting your attention," Khalid said with a smirk. 

He swirled his tongue around her nipple and blew against it, causing it to harden traitorously. Lana closed her eyes again, trying to retreat back into her other world, but the suckling of her breasts kept drawing her back. With his mouth, his palms and his fingers, her rapist worshipped her breasts, seeming for all the world more like a tender lover than what he really was.

Her body was betraying her and her mind abandoning her. She bit her lip to keep from moaning as he drew on the tip of one breast while rolling the other between thumb and forefinger.

Her eyes snapped open as she felt his head moving downward, placing kisses on her stomach as he approached her neatly trimmed patch. She raised her head to look at him incredulously; rapists were not supposed to engage in cunnilingus.

He smiled up at her just before he opened his mouth and engulfed her clit, sucking hood and all into his mouth. Lana's legs tried to clamp closed, but the cords were pulled taut and wouldn't allow her that much movement. She couldn't contain her moan when he skimmed back her hood with his fingers and began lashing her clit with his tongue.

It was so surreal. It had to be a dream, Lana thought to herself as she strained against the ropes. She didn't know whether she was trying to get away from him or get closer to him. Her mind had been her refuge when she'd been raped before, but it was just as far gone as her body, randomly attaching to the sensations Khalid was exposing her to.

A finger slid inside her, and she was unable to stop the answering spasm of her pussy. Why was she enjoying this? Tears welled in her eyes even as moisture pooled in her cunt. A second finger slid in to join the first and they began pumping in and out of her. Lana gripped the bars of the headboard, trying with all her might to not show him how much her body was liking the things he did.

Lana had been without sex for too long, and her unused pussy welcomed the fingers sliding in and out of her. Wetness seeped out of her and dribbled down into her crack. She squirmed uncomfortably at the moisture pooling there, and felt her pussy clasp in response to her inadvertent thrusting of herself onto the prince's fingers.

She bit her lips and forced her hips to stay still, wanting as they were now to buck against the plunging fingers and lapping tongue.

Khalid tore himself away from her clit. "Just let go and enjoy it. You cannot stop it, so you may as well take full pleasure in it," he said enticingly. He dipped his head back down to join his fingers, drawing circles around her clit with his tongue.  

It was true, but she couldn't help but feel that it was wrong to enjoy it. Like she was supposed to withhold the one thing that she could from him...

At the precise moment she thought that to herself, he drew hard on her clit and slammed his fingers into her. Her hips jerked up of their own will.

It was then that her resolve cracked. Lana gave herself over to sensations of her clit being licked and suck, of the fingers stroking in and out of her pussy, of her pussy lips swelling and moistening. She moaned brokenly.

Suddenly, the tongue and fingers were lifted away. Just as Lana opened her eyes to find out why, she felt the thick head of a cock nudging her pussy lips. Khalid stared down at her, all trace of teasing gone from his face.

She turned her face away, closing her eyes as he began to push into her. Her clit was swollen and standing proudly erect from her hood, and her pussy tightened welcomingly as he inched his way forward.

"Now you are being a very good girl. Look at me, though," Khalid said tightly.

Lana clenched her eyes even more tightly and kept her face turned away.

Khalid reached down and wrenched her face up. "Look at me!"

She opened her eyes, blinking rapidly to hold back her tears.

Khalid's teeth clenched as he hit her cervix, his cock completely sunk into her. He began slow thrusting movements, rasping along every nerve ending in her cunt as he stroked in and out.

It felt so good. Shameful in its goodness. Lana began to cry while her labia plumped even more around his cock.

Khalid said nothing, just leaned down and kissed her. His lips were warm and gentle, moving against hers coaxingly. As she opened her mouth on a gasp, his tongue slipped in to find hers. His hips picked up in pace, slapping harder against hers as their tongues tangled and slid against each other.

He broke away from her lips and dropped his head to her neck as he began pounding into her in earnest. Lana's pussy clasped while her mind railed against what was happening, desire warring with conscience. She was suspended in a state of aroused guilt: unable to enjoy it enough to orgasm, unable to feel bad enough to not enjoy it at all.

"Ya Allah!" Khalid shouted before biting down on her neck and shoving himself deep inside her.

He jerked hard once, twice, three times, emptying himself inside her. He collapsed on top of her, placing a kiss on her wet shoulder.

Lana's legs trembled from the stress of being held so wide apart. Her arousal faded, leaving her absolutely numb. Her mind couldn't form one coherent thought.

Finally Khalid pushed himself up on his hands, staring down at her. "Here is what's going to happen: I am going to come to you whenever I want you, you will stay until I am tired of you, and if you try to leave before then you'll be arrested at the airport," he said, his tone so genial that it seemed impossible that he could be issuing such a statement in so friendly a voice.

"I have to go home," Lana croaked.

Khalid smiled at her patronisingly. "This is your home until I let you go. The good news is that I don't usually take very long to tire of women, so you should probably be here no more than a week or two longer than you planned."

Lana shook her head vehemently.

He picked up the knife again, and Lana cringed away. He leaned over her and began cutting the cords binding her wrists.

"The sooner you accept this, the easier it will be," he said, pulling her wrists down after he'd cut through the cords. He turned and began working on the cord holding her left ankle.

Lana rubbed her wrists, her mind working frantically to process everything being thrown at it. He was basically saying she was his slave - no, his sex slave - until further notice. 

Her ankles were soon freed and she reached down to rub circulation back into them. She became suddenly aware of her nudity and tried to pull the duvet over herself only to have him yank it away from her.

"I will tell you when you can cover and when you cannot, hmm?" Khalid said affably.

Lana lay there dazedly, fully exposed to this man who'd just told her that he owned her until he tired of her. Her mind couldn't handle everything being thrown at it, and she just stared at him without a single thing to think or say. She couldn't even cry. 

"Were you a virgin?" Khalid asked, his tone laced with delight.

Lana looked up at him in confusion.

"You have blood." Khalid gestured to her thighs which were smeared with a small amount of blood.

Lana shook her head. He must've reopened the tear she'd gotten from her first rape. 

"Too bad," he said, looking dejected. "It is always lovely to be the first, hmm?"

She just stared at him incredulously. He thought this was no big deal at all...He'd drugged her, tied her up and raped her, and he was upset because he wasn't her first?

"Let's have a bath," he said, tugging her to her feet.

She followed him mutely to the bathroom.

After the tub had been filled with steaming scented water, Khalid stepped in and pulled Lana to sit in front of him. He took a washcloth and began washing her tenderly.

"I am going to show you many things, Lana," he said, lifting her arm to run the washcloth along the underside of it. "Have you ever tried anything in domination and submission?"

Lana tried to crane her neck around to see him, shaking her head.

"I didn't think so. It radiates from you, you know. Your submissive side is a raw resource just waiting to be tapped, and it calls to me." Khalid ran the washcloth over her back, the nubbly sensation of the cloth and the heat of the water causing her nipples to pucker. "All submissives need a dominant, just as all dominants need their submissives. Two halves to make the same whole, hmm?"

Lana remained silent, both conserving her voice and waiting until she had something intelligent to ask.

Khalid put the washcloth on the side of the tub and brought his hands around to cup her breasts, stroking his thumbs over her nipples. He brought his mouth to her ear, "I will make you feel complete in a way you never have," he whispered, twisting sharply on her nipples.

Lana cried out against the pain, even as a part of her wanted to arch into it.

He stood, hauling her up with him. Thigh-deep in the water, he nudged her legs apart. His hand traveled down her flat stomach to her pussy, which was literally steaming from the hot bath.

His fingers parted her dripping curls, and one finger slid inside. He stirred the finger inside her, lazily thrusting in and out, bringing her to wetness.

When she was flowing juices, he pushed her head down until she had to reach out and brace herself against the edge of the tub. She felt the smooth head of his cock sliding along her slit, finally aligning itself with her cunt and then plunging inside.  

***

Lana awoke to harsh sunlight streaming in through the unshaded windows. She flung her arm over her eyes and groaned. When she groaned, she became aware that the inside of her throat felt like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper.

Memories came back in a rush. The dinner, waking up tied up, Khalid fucking her once against her will and once with so much cooperation on her part it could only be called consensual, if a bit coerced.

The second time...she'd came. It had been a weak orgasm, an orgasm where the mind is too scattered to really focus and heighten the pleasure, but an orgasm nonetheless. And in that position...like a fucking dog. Afterward, he'd dried her off and put her to bed with a gentle kiss as if she were a child.

Lana didn't know what the hell was going on, or what to think of it, but she did know she wasn't sticking around for any more of this shit. She flung her stuff back into her suitcases which had been neatly stored on top of the huge armoire on the broad side of her room. She picked up the phone and when she reached the palace switchboard she asked to be connected to Sayed.

"Allo?" 

"Sayed, this is Lana Mitchell. Something's come up and I need to get back to England right now. Can you please send someone to help me get my bags out to the car?"

"Certainly, but you will of course have breakfast with the Sheikh before you go," he said smoothly.

"I know it's terrible of me, but I really can't. I have to go now," Lana said emphatically.

Sayed's voice picked up a trace of irritation, smooth as he was. "I'll pass your regrets on to His Eminence. I'm sure he will understand."




Lost in Arabia



"Thanks." Lana hung up.

Lana didn't relax when Sayed got to her door, nor when they took her things down to the waiting car, nor even when the car pulled out the palace gates. She didn't start relaxing until they were halfway across Abu Dhabi from the palace. She let out a breath with a hiss, feeling as if she'd been holding it since she woke up.

Sayed phoned in the order for her ticket, charging it to his own credit card despite her protests. When they got to the airport, Sayed had the driver bring in her bags, passing them off to a porter. He also insisted on procuring her ticket for her, shushing her rather effectively at the ticket counter. He was efficiency personified.

She still felt like she was in Wonderland, but at least she knew she was leaving now. She turned and smiled weakly at Sayed.

"Well, dear, it's been a slice. Do call if you're ever in Britain."

He blinked. "I'll do that." He looked beyond her. "Ah, this man will escort you to the plane so you are not detained by fans."

Lana turned and looked at a tall man with a rugged-looking growth of beard. She wiggled her fingers and gave him a nervous smile; he did not smile back.

"Have a safe flight, Miss Mitchell," Sayed said. With that, he turned and walked away.

"Please follow me," the man said in heavily accented English.

Lana struggled to keep up with him and the porter, both of whom zipped along. She was taken through something called the 'Express Security' which was apparently a separate gate for VIP passengers who didn't want to wait in line.

Just on the other side of the security gate, however, they were stopped by a group of three men, all of whom wore earpieces and had small radios attached to their candoras. They commenced an animated conversation in Arabic with her escort, and they all kept looking at her. Finally her escort shrugged.

"Go with these men, please," he said, not waiting for her affirmation before turning and leaving her.

"Please follow us," the shortest of the men said, gesturing with his hand.

Lana felt nervous, not understanding what was going on. Perhaps the airport had decided she needed three escorts? She grew really worried when they approached a door marked 'SECURITY' and she was motioned inside.

The room they entered was dark the only light being the glow of the security monitors which were being avidly watched. She was led down a corridor to a small room with a round table.

"Please, have a seat," the short man said again.

He turned and conferred with the other two in Arabic. The taller men left, and Lana was alone with the short fellow, who seated himself across the table from her.

He smiled pleasantly at her.

She smiled waveringly back.

"I'm afraid you cannot leave the country, Miss Mitchell."

Her smile vanished. "Pardon me?"

His smile grew even more pleasant, and his tone placating. "We have orders not to let you leave. We are supposed to escort you back to the Sheikh's home, which we will do as soon as we retrieve your baggage from check."

"You don't understand," Lana's mind worked frantically, "There's been a horrible accident! My mother's lying in the hospital and the doctors aren't sure whether she'll live. I have to go now!"

His gnome-like face softened with sympathy. "I'm very sorry, but our orders come from high," he said, lifting a hand to demonstrate. "You can discuss this with the Sheikh or whoever you are there visiting." His eyes flitted away, and Lana realized with shocked horror that this man probably had some idea that she was fucking someone in the palace.

"I WAS visiting the Sheikh, who is a very kind man and would not want me detained here while my mother dies!" she screamed.

The gnome winced, leaning back as if those few extra inches of distance could protect him from her shrillness.

His radio started chattering, and he turned his head to reply into the mouthpiece.

"All right, we must go. Please follow me," he said, rising and striding to the door.

"No."

He turned and looked at her tiredly. "Miss Mitchell, we have orders."

"Well, they're not my bloody orders!" she said petulantly.

His eyes narrowed. "We are taking you out the back way, so if we have to carry you, no one will be there to see."

Lana's jaw dropped. "Are you fucking joking? I'm a British bloody citizen! You're talking about kidnapping!"

His placating tone returned. "No, I am just following my orders. Once you are there, you may tell the Sheikh," he said in a studiedly neutral tone, clearly leaving off the 'or whoever you're fucking,' "That you wish to leave. Then you may come back to the airport and leave without any problems."

"I want to talk to the Sheikh now. Call him."

He sighed. He opened the door and called out something in Arabic. Another man came a couple of minutes later and handed him a piece of paper, which Lana gathered was a phone number as he took out a cell phone and punched it in.

"Allo? Salaam alaikum," he said into the phone. He looked at Lana and switched to English. "This is Talal Mubaraq from the Abu Dhabi International Security. We received orders from the Sheikh's palace that we were supposed to stop someone here, but she says that if we talk to him, he will say differently. Is he available to speak to?" 

Lana waited impatiently.

"I see. What is that number, please? Okay, thank you. Masalaama." He hung up, then began dialing another number. 

He flitted through the introductions in Arabic, and Lana caught enough words to know he was talking to royalty. He kept looking at her, making Lana increasingly nervous. 

"I see," he said in English, his tone pleasant. He said his goodbyes, then extended the phone to her. "He wishes to speak with you."

"Hello?" Lana said tentatively.

"I told you not to bother," Khalid said by way of greeting, his tone amiable.

"Listen to me, you son of a bitch," Lana said, ignoring the gnome's jaw dropping as she addressed a prince of his country in such a manner, "I need to go home. I am not staying here!"

There was a pause on the other end. "You have made a very big mistake, Lana. And you are going to be severely punished."

Lana was too far gone to stop. "No, you are going to be severely punished when I get a hold of the British Embassy. We crushed your little country before, and they'll bloody well do it again when they find out how you're treating one of their citizens."

Khalid laughed. "We'll see. Goodbye, Lana. I'll see you when I get home."

The line went dead, and Lana vibrated with rage. "Get me the number for the British Embassy here, please," she said to Talal.

He shook his head and snatched his phone out of her hand. "I'm sorry, the..." Talal paused, searching for the right word, "The Prince says we must take you back." He opened the door, motioning for her to go out.

Lana's last remaining pretense of calm evaporated, and she went into hysterics, running out the door and screaming at the security people who were manning the phones and TV monitors, "Somebody call the British Embassy! Please! Call the British Embassy!"

She was hauled backward roughly by a surprisingly strong Talal. He shoved her in front of him, walking along and pushing her through a doorway that led to a cement corridor. The two other gentlemen from earlier materialized as if from nowhere, walking alongside her stoically, ensuring her of no escape in any direction. 

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally reached a door with a glowing 'EXIT' sign above it. Lana was escorted outside and roughly shoved into the back of a white Landcruiser, the two giant, silent security officers sitting one on each side of her. Talal moved to sit up front beside the driver.

Tears filled her eyes, and though Lana tried, she couldn't keep them from spilling over. She wept silently, wondering what had become of her life. She wept all the way back to the palace.

When they arrived, Lana was shocked to see a stone-faced Sayed standing there awaiting them. She glanced around; they'd apparently pulled up to a back entrance.

She was hauled out of the back, and they approached Sayed, who conferred with the men in their tongue.

"Sayed!" He ignored her.

He turned and walked into the palace, and Lana was pulled after him. They took her upstairs, and she noticed she was in a different wing of the house than she'd been before. They finally came to a room that Sayed went into, and gestured at a chair. 

Lana was forced into the chair, while Sayed sat across from her. It was an enormous bedroom, even larger than the one she'd been in before, with three plush chairs nestled in corner of the room.

Sayed nodded at Talal and his men as they left. He turned to her. "I'm going to be frank, Miss Mitchell. My job is to look after the Sheikh's family, and sometimes that entails handling things which I find distasteful."

Lana stared at him blankly.

"Khalid's whores, for instance, I do not like taking care of, but I have to because it is my duty," Sayed continued in a tight voice.

Lana sat up straight, both in anger at being called whore and in fear at what was meant by 'taking care of'.

Sayed dark eyes drilled into hers. "You are Khalid's whore now, please make no mistake about that. You belong to him until he says otherwise, and you will not leave here."

Lana stood, walked over, and slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

In an instant, she was bent backward over the chair, her hand wrenched up and pinned against the wall. Sayed's face was just inches from her own, a mask of fury, stained red where she'd slapped him.

"Try that again, and I will beat you like the whore you are," he spat at her.

Lana's breath came in shallow pants. She was terrified. Terrified of the Prince, terrified of what was going to happen to her, and definitely terrified of Sayed.

His eyes trailed from her face to the curve of her neck, to her panting chest, of which a good portion was revealed by her low-cut tank top. He suddenly released her and turned to sit back down.

Lana slowly slid back down into the chair.

Sayed seemed to compose himself. "Please attempt to look at this positively: you will be staying in a palace, you will have the attentions of a prince, and you will be free to go in no more than two or three weeks. It will not be a terrible imposition on you, I'm sure," Sayed continued in a conversational tone, as if he were talking about something as simple and pesky as her flight being delayed.

"Sayed," she said carefully, "Do you understand that you're aiding a kidnapping?"

Sayed stared at her blankly. "Miss Mitchell, do you understand that royalty is above the law? I was educated in your country, so I happen to know it's the same way there. It's a fact. The rich and powerful do what they like. You can either go along with it, or be left in the wake of it." He leaned forward, his voice dropping, "I suggest you go along with it."

He straightened, and his voice returned to normal, "Are you hungry?"

Lana was stunned. How could someone be so matter of fact about something so sinister? Well, we're going to kidnap you and use you for a sex-slave, but would you like a snack?

She shook her head dazedly.

Sayed looked at her pointedly. "You didn't have breakfast this morning. I think you'd better eat. I will order some food for you, and we'll see if that rouses your appetite."

He picked up the phone, and Lana tuned out, lost in her own little world of thought. No matter which direction her thoughts started in, they always ended up in the same place: this couldn't be happening. 

Sayed hung up the phone and looked at her. "They will bring some eggs and toast for you," he said.

"Don't you feel bad?" Lana asked bluntly.

He blinked. "Pardon me?"

"Don't you feel bad, helping your boss to kidnap women?"

"May I be blunt?"

"Well, you've already kidnapped me, may as well say what's on your mind..."

Sayed looked at her dryly. "Right. I used to feel badly. I used to think, 'What am I doing? These women are innocent, and I am helping to do this to them?' But do you know what? Not a single woman wanted to leave when the time came." His black eyes raked over her.

"Not one. These women, whom I'd felt so bad for aiding in the corruption of, did not want to go. They ended up loving it. Whether it was more the grandeur of the palace, or being the focus of a prince, or whether they simply enjoyed the sinfulness of the things they were doing, none of them wanted to go. So I stopped feeling badly. I also came to a conclusion; would you like to hear it?"

Lana nodded dazedly.

"I decided that Christian fanatics had it right to begin with: women are sinful. Each and every woman, regardless of culture or religion, you all seem to have the capacity to sink into depravity with the slightest push. Why should I feel bad for helping you to do what you secretly want to?" Sayed asked in a superior tone.

All she could do was gape at him. Finally she stood, deciding on a shower. 

"Misogynistic asshole," she muttered as she walked away.

Sayed shrugged as she walked away. The truth hurt, he supposed.

***

Lana took her time in the shower, leisurely soaking away the stiffness that had invaded her body. 

She would get through this. She would keep cool, and she would get through this.

She stepped out and toweled off, then slipped into the outfit she'd brought in the bathroom. It comprised of a more conservative cotton blouse and a plain pair of jeans. While she was figuring out her course of action, she planned to look as unalluring as possible.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Sayed was still sitting there, but her tray of food had arrived. Her stomach rumbled hollowly in response to the breakfast laid out before her.

Lana walked over and sat, digging into her food while ignoring Sayed. For his part, Sayed didn't seem to give a shit whether she talked to him or not. He simply perused the paper and paid her as little mind as she paid him, although with seemingly much less effort than it was taking her.

Lana bit back every snide remark and ignominious plea that came to her tongue. He wouldn't care. It was a waste of effort and a pointless strain on her still sore vocal cords.

His cell phone rang, breaking the silence. A rapid-fire conversation in his tongue followed, of which Lana could only catch a few pronouns. Her travel guide to Arabic had apparently been a complete waste of money. Although, in their defense, there probably wasn't too much demand for more phrases relating to being kidnapped by princes.

Sayed hung up and turned to her just as she finished her last hard-boiled egg. "Finished?"

She nodded.

"I trust the meal was to your satisfaction?"

She nodded again.

"Good. Please take off your clothes and lie on the bed."

Her jaw dropped. "Pardon me?"

Sayed's face remained impassive. "Please take off your clothes and lie on the bed. That was Khalid and he wants you tied up and awaiting punishment."

"Well, there's no fucking chance of that happening so you can just call him right back and tell him to go fuck himself."

Sayed grimaced. "You're going to make this difficult, aren't you?"

In response, Lana stood and headed toward the door. She was yanked backward by her hair, and when she spun around to confront him, she was shocked to be picked up and slung over Sayed's shoulder.

This was not a tall man. Lana stood five-eight, and best as she could make out, Sayed was either the same height as her or maybe even an inch shorter. Fairly tall for an Arab, fairly small to be picking up a woman her height so effortlessly.

He dumped her on the bed, and quickly dropped down on her, trying to pin her with his weight. Lana swung and connected with his jaw, only to have her hands yanked above her head and forced to the bed. Left with no other option, she resorted to struggling with her body, trying to kick him off of her. Sayed deftly slipped between her legs, and pinned her whole body to the bed.

Lana screamed her rage, tears pooling in her eyes.

"Miss Mitchell, the more you cooperate, the sooner this whole ordeal will be over," Sayed said, his tone completely neutral as he reached down one hand and ripped her shirt open.

"I am going to give you a piece of advice that I have not yet seen put to use. Perhaps you will be the first to actually want to use it. Khalid enjoys breaking women, bending them to his will. It is a challenge for him. Accede to everything from the start and he will have no challenge and grow quickly tired of you." Sayed was working the fastenings of her jeans now, dexterous fingers releasing the button and sliding the zipper down.

Lana's hysteria calmed. Her analytical mind began rapidly dissecting all the information it had yet to process. Sayed was right. Take away the challenge and Khalid would have no use for her. Then she could go. If she was left by herself for two seconds though, she was calling the British Embassy and getting the hell out of there.

As her mind relaxed, so did her body.

Sayed sensed this. "I can release you now?"

She nodded.

"Please finish taking off your clothes," Sayed said, rising from the bed.

Lana sat up, feeling a tumult of emotions wash through her. Though somewhat calmed, she was still angry and scared, nervous at taking off her clothes in front of this man and being tied up, and a small, obviously insane part of her even felt a little offended that he didn't want to do it himself. Sayed released her at the first sign that she would cooperate, as if touching her was somehow distasteful.

Oh, that's right. He thought she was a whore.

She slid her jeans down over her hips, then kicked them onto the floor. Feeling both ashamed and curious as to what Sayed was thinking, she glanced up and found him watching her, his face was expressionless, but his eyes seemed alight with a banked fire, as if trying to conceal his interest.

"Everything," he said dispassionately.

Lana reached her trembling hands behind her back to unclasp her bra, noting with mixed nervousness and satisfaction that Sayed's eyes tracked her movements. She undid the clasp, then allowed her bra to slide down her arms. She flung it on the floor as well, then turned back to look at Sayed.

She felt oddly removed from the situation, feeling her emotions, but as if through a filter. Her body was racing with adrenaline, her breath coming in shallow pants, her nipples hardened into tight little peaks. 

"Well?" she asked as Sayed continued to stare at her panting chest.

"Well, what? Take off everything." Sayed seemed to snap back to his autocratic, dispassionate self.

Lana lay back and wiggled the panties down her hips, kicking them onto the floor as well. This time Sayed did not look at her, simply went over to a night table and rummaged in the drawer until he found what he was looking for: a pair of handcuffs. 

He grabbed one of Lana's wrists and brought it up to the headboard, which was white-painted metal with a design of curling vines. She obligingly brought up her other hand, and Sayed snapped on a cuff, looped the short chain around a metal vine, and brought the other cuff to her free hand. As the metal clicked shut around her wrist, Lana wondered just what the hell she was doing. Shouldn't she fight or scream or something?

"I would really prefer not to have to gag you, so please remain quiet, and neither of us will have to experience that unpleasantness," Sayed said, turning and rising from the bed.

Lana was absolutely stunned when he simply walked back over his chair, sat down and picked up his newspaper again.

Tears sprang to her eyes. She didn't know what the hell was wrong with her...she didn't want Sayed to rape her, but she also didn't want him to sit down and read the bloody paper! She sniffled. She was clearly losing her mind.




Lost in Arabia



Sayed tried to focus on the paper, but the woman's sniffles turned to sobs and he looked up at her in irritation.

"What is wrong now?"

She very obviously tried to quiet her sobs, but broke with a sort of snorting, gasping sound when she couldn't hold them back.

He sighed. "There is an Arabic proverb that basically translates into, 'When what you want doesn't happen, learn to want what does.'"

Through sobbing gasps, Lana asked him incredulously, "Are you seriously telling me to lay back and relax? Enjoy my fucking rape?" Anger slowly began to replace the more introspective feelings she'd been crying over.

"Do you know how unattractive it is when women use foul language?"

"Bet you think it's unattractive when women don't walk ten paces behind their husbands with their fucking heads bowed, too! Fucking Arab pig!"

"Have you seen any women here walking ten paces behind their husbands with their heads bowed?" Sayed asked dryly.

On the contrary, she'd seen many women walking side by side with their husbands, holding their hands, but Lana was too pissed off to concede that. "No, I've seen men here who think it's okay to kidnap women and turn them into sex-slaves! That's really so much bloody better, isn't it?"

"A privilege of a member of the Royal Family with eccentric tastes."

"You're an asshole."

"You're a whore."

With that, they lapsed into silence. Sayed reading his paper and later typing on the laptop he'd pulled out, and Lana fuming until the sun began to dim through the windows. Lana craned her head and glanced at the clock: seven PM! She'd been lying like this for six hours. 

She started at the sound of the door opening, and craned her head up to see Khalid entering the room. He bit off a few sharp words to Sayed, and Sayed quickly packed up his laptop and departed.

Khalid strode over to the bed and sat, his face tight with displeasure. "I am very unhappy with you, Lana."

"I'm sorry, was I supposed to stick around to be raped again?"

Khalid's lips flattened. "You know that was not rape. Don't piss me off any more than you already have." He stood.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Lana asked frantically. She was losing feeling in her arms.

"Relax. I am just going to grab some things I'll need for your punishment." 

Lana craned her neck up and saw him open a large cupboard - she froze. Inside the cupboard was an assortment of whips, paddles, leather cuffs, and - oh, Good Lord – something that looked like a horse's bit!

She watched in horror as Khalid took a black paddle from its hook, then pulled off two pairs of leather cuffs.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Lana asked in terror. "You're not seriously using that stuff on me?"

Khalid fingered the bit. Lana shut her mouth.

He grinned at her. "No more complaining. And no more swearing also, hmm?"

Lana nodded mutely.

He dumped the stuff on the bed beside her, then fished around in the night table drawer before pulling out a set of keys. He unlocked the handcuffs, gently bringing down Lana's arms in front of her.

Lana stared at him as she rubbed her wrists and arms. "Are you going to hurt me?"

Khalid smiled. "Yes."

Lana tried to shoot off the bed, but Khalid had her pinned in an instant. Before she knew it, her wrists had been buckled into leather cuffs and joined together, and Khalid had spun around on her stomach and buckled her ankles into the same contraptions.

Unlike Sayed, Khalid was about six feet tall, so it was no surprise when he effortlessly swung Lana up into his arms and plopped down with her on the side of the bed. Lana's heart pounded, threatening to burst with fear as Khalid turned her and place her over his lap. She couldn't see, but she knew the moment he'd picked up the paddle.

"Now, let's discuss the first reason you're being punished. What did I tell you would happen if you tried to leave?"

Lana remained silent.

Smack! Pain warmed her buttock as Khalid brought the paddle down on it hard.

"What did I tell you would happen?"

Lana glared at the floor through blurring eyes. "You said I'd be arrested at the airport."

"And why would you be arrested?"

"Because you didn't want me to leave?"

Smack! The paddle landed on her other buttock, leaving her with throbbing pain there to match that in the other. "Correct. And did I, or did I not, make it clear to you that you were not to leave?"

The skin of her ass pulsed warmly. "You didn't really expect me not to try and leave, did you?"

SMACK! Tears stung Lana's eyes as Khalid brought down the paddle viciously.

"Of course I did. I expect all my orders to be obeyed. Now answer the question: did I make it clear, or not?"

"You did." Lana blinked back her tears, refusing to show weakness to this despicable man.

Smack! "So, you knowingly disobeyed me?" Smack! 

"Yes!" Lana groaned. She shifted to try and force the blows to a different part of her ass, but Khalid followed, delivering another stinging blow to the exact spot he'd hit the last time.

"All right, Lana. Let me tell you how this will work: every time you displease me, I will tell you what you did that was wrong, and we will decide a punishment for that particular infraction, and then that punishment will be carried out. Once a punishment has been decided for a particular wrongdoing, if you commit it again, there will be no discussion, only punishment. And if I so choose, I will make the punishment worse.

"Now, considering this is your first time disobeying me, we'll make it...oh, thirty blows, hmm?"

Lana's buttocks flinched at those words; she'd barely been able to stand the six smacks he'd given her so far. How the hell was she going to stand thirty?

Smack! "One..." Smack! "Two..." Smack! "Three..."

Lana squeezed her eyes shut. Her buttocks were clenched so tightly it seemed likely they'd be knotted up after this. 

Smack! "Ten..." Smack! "Eleven..." Smack! "Twelve..."

Then the tension started to hurt, and suddenly Lana couldn't hold herself taut any longer. She gradually went limp over Khalid's lap, offering no resistance with her body nor her mind to the vicious blows to her ass.

Smack! "Twenty-one..." Smack! "Twenty-two..." Smack! "Twenty-three..."

Lana floated on a cloud in her mind, feeling the blows but knowing that resistance would only make it worse. She felt an odd sort of peace as she surrendered to the pain.

Smack! "Twenty-nine..." SMACK! Lana barely even flinched at the doubly hard blow. "Thirty."

A warm hand cupped her burning flesh, and Lana cringed. Khalid began stroking her buttocks, running his smooth palm over them in soothing motions. He caught the scent of female honey, and he dipped his hand between her legs, pressing his palm to her dripping hole.

"Do you see now, habibi, why I punished you?" he said thickly, fingers toying in her wetness. 

A strangled noise in her throat was her only response. Her mind felt hazy. The abstract thought occurred to her that she shouldn't be wet, but she couldn't think why. All she could think of was that she wanted those fingers inside her.

"Now you are soft...ready to be touched and do what I say."

It took a moment before those words pierced the fog surrounding her brain. Her spine stiffened.

"Ah. I see you are not quite ready. You are going to learn not to stiffen when I tell you to obey me. You are going to learn to love obeying me," he purred, slipping a digit inside her to the knuckle.

Lana dropped her face to hide her shame. Her pussy was still sore, but regardless of that absolutely welcoming to Khalid's finger - hell, to anything he wanted to put inside her.

He stirred the finger inside her lazily, enjoying the show as she struggled to hide the fact that was so obvious: she wanted him, and - despite her assertions to the contrary - she loved the way he took her over. Or rather, her body loved it. But he would make her mind love it too, in time. He would make her addicted to him, to pleasing him, to being his.

He smiled as he slipped in a second finger to join the first. Her pussy clasped around his fingers, juices squelching wetly between them. He had large hands, the rough, unrefined hands of a labourer; unbefitting of his station, but perfect for pleasing reluctant women. He pressed down on her swollen G-spot, stroking slowly in and out of her.

Lana battled with shame and pleasure, unsure which she should let take the lead. Out of nowhere, Sayed's words came back to her. She would take away this spoilt prince's challenge, and hopefully, he would tire and let her go. She went limp.

Khalid's smile widened as Lana suddenly relaxed. Clearly she had given herself over to pleasure, and now she would be rewarded. He pulled out his fingers and gathered her up from his lap, placing her face-first on the bed.

"Up on your knees, habibi," he ordered, rising to tug off his blue silk robe and candora. He tugged off his wazar and dropped it on the floor beside them.

Lana shook from her position on her knees. She tried to tell herself it was from the effort of remaining steady with her wrists and ankles bound together, but she knew that wasn't true. Khalid climbed on the bed, coming up on his knees behind her.

She had always hated doggie-style: it was completely undignified for the woman. Mounted like a bitch. Bound and trussed like a slave now on top of the degrading ass-up position, she had no dignity left. Somehow though, this position that she'd abhorred to the point that she'd walked out on guys for even suggesting it suddenly didn't seem so bad. At least, it didn't seem quite as degrading as being held against one's will and spanked.

Lana jerked as she felt wetness trickle down from her slit, dribbling into her pubic hairs. She hadn't really known just how aroused she was, but now she knew. And she wondered at it. Confused as her mind was, her womb clenched, singly focused on obtaining pleasure and seed.

She expected Khalid to enter her without prelude as he had the second time the night before, but again he surprised her. Large workman's hands stroked over back and sides, raising goosebumps in the slightly sweat-damp flesh. Lana groaned in shame as her back arched at the feeling of his fingertips dancing over the sensitive skin just above her hips.

One hand trailed down to the dip between her smooth white cheeks, fingers trailing down her crack possessively. A rough fingertip circled her tight bud, and Lana gasped. She started started to scoot forward, only to be pulled back by a firm hand at her hip, short, clipped nails digging into her roughly.

She resolved to stop resisting. Even as she jumped as the thumb circling and lightly pressing against her rosebud, she detached herself from her chaotic thoughts, allowing herself to free-float. She felt as if through a screen the probing fingers now at her pussy, gently separating her folds and teasingly penetrating her to shallow depth; feeling them, and knowing what was happening, but not quite in control enough to do anything about it.

Having felt assured of Khalid's impatience, she began to feel very frustrated as he simply kept toying with her. But she wouldn't beg. She wasn't one of his whores, no matter what that asshole Sayed thought, and she wouldn't ask for this. Her hips twitched from the effort of not slamming back, forcing those thick fingers inside her.

"All you have to do is ask," Khalid said in an enticing voice, stroking her gently along her slit, simultaneously teasing her tightly puckered anus.

'Not bloody likely,' Lana thought to herself, but refrained from saying aloud out of fear for her still throbbing buttocks.

Khalid glided a long finger inside her. But just one, and they both knew that wasn't enough to satisfy her. He smiled a little at his slave's attempt at defiance. He applied pressure with his thumb, and soon felt it sinking into the hot, tight channel of her ass.

Lana cried out, and clamped down with her sphincter. But it didn't stop his penetration, it just made it hurt more. With effort, she managed to relax, but it was a superficial relaxation, going only as deep as her body, touching nothing of her mind or soul. She hated this. And she hated him.

Even as she thought this, the thumb pushed fully inside her. Lana had never experienced anything like it. It was painful, uncomfortable, and arousing all at once. Then another finger slid into her eager pussy, and the thumb lodged in her ass became more arousing than unpleasant. As the fingers began sliding in and out of her, Lana began to have difficulty not rocking her hips back to force the fingers further inside her. 

"You are making this so difficult, Lana. Just ask, and I will give you something much better than fingers," Khalid said, his voice thick and laced with an accent that was usually so faint as to be undetectable.

She couldn't help it: the image he conjured in his low, rumbling voice caused her pussy to spasm and her hips to jerk back. His fingers thrust into her equally vehemently. She felt her swollen lips part as his fingers pushed in, her labia soaking wet and electrified with sensation. A dribble of wetness trickled down to her clit, setting off jolting tingles in the hypersensitive nub. She moaned.

"Say it."

"Please put it in," she groaned, feeling disconnected from the voice pleading for his cock.

He chuckled. "That will do for now, but you will get very good at asking me in explicit detail for what you want."

The satiny smooth tip of his cock was placed at her suddenly vacated pussy channel, and he pushed inward in time with the thumb he was still lazily thrusting into her ass. Her puffed up lips grasped at his cock eagerly, welcoming him inside. 

He groaned as he sank into her; the hot, wet folds that belonged to him. Even if she didn't know it yet, she was his.