6 comments/ 120528 views/ 39 favorites 21st Century Slave Ch. 01 By: Ciceri Three years ago I was to join my wife, Mari for a week on her business trip to Yemen. She owns an antique store here in Portland and often travels in order to procure items of antiquity from afar. My work prevents me from being gone for weeks at a time but I agreed to fly to Yemen once Mari was done visiting Turkey. After several transfers and many hours in the air I was looking forward to seeing Mari at the hotel in Sana'a. We had spoken the day before and agreed we would call and leave a message at the hotel if any delays occurred. Everything on my end went fine but Mari hadn't arrived at the hotel and there were no messages from her. I wasn't overly concerned since that part of the world is a bit primitive and was sure to see her at any moment. My jet lag prevented me from sleeping so when the sun rose the next morning, I started to make some phone calls. A faint tapping noise made me notice an envelope beneath my door. No one was behind the door so I proceeded to read the message. I was aghast to read Mari had been jailed shortly after arriving the night before. I frantically left the hotel and summoned a cab where I was brought to the city hall/jail. A lousy feeling came over me as I made my way through crowds of people - mostly Arab men. For years I'd watched news segments of similar looking unreasonable men amidst social unrest. Now I was going to expect reason from the same people in order to free my wife - from whatever caused her to end up in jail in the first place. I tried to find Mari but was met with resistance. At the very least I sensed the demeanor of the officials seemed unwilling to help. It would be two days before I could actually see Mari and that would be the day of her trial. I knew nothing about law or even if there was a constitution in place. I hardly slept as the trial grew closer and I hastily made my way to the courthouse. There was hardly any order and most anyone could attend the hearing. There was a hapless lawyer standing in the room in front of a judge but I did not see Mari until a door on the side opened and she was brought in by two guards. Her prison attire was dirty-looking linen and it appeared she hadn't slept in days, either. I turned around and asked anyone for help in translation. A young man offered to help and I soon discovered custom officials had found marijuana in Mari's possession. A sinking feeling told me this, of all possible offenses, was probably true. She and I habitually smoke but I was amazed to hear she had a half kilo in her luggage. The prosecutor made an argument that she was going to trade the contraband for antiques. I needed to know the penalty for such a crime. The courtroom was a joke and so was the attorney's attempt to defend my wife. Within minutes the judge finished up and began to move on to the next case. The guards stood up and escorted Mari out the same door. The attorney remained to defend the next person brought in. I turned to the young man and asked him what had happened. He did not answer. Another man nearby told me the judge sentenced Mari to twenty lashes and six months in jail. I stood agape before quickly running down to the main entrance of the jail. Once again I was not allowed to speak to her but was pointed in the direction of the courtyard where criminals were punished. Already a large crowd had gathered but no officials were present. The area looked as though executions had taken place there. My imagination had done me no favors and I ran back into the jail. I was irate as I demanded to see the judge, lawyer, Mari.. anyone. I shouted in defiance and was met with brute strength as guards threw me into an empty room. I should have called the embassy but it was too late. Suddenly a murmur swept over the crowd outside and I stood on a chair to look out the window. Mari had been brought out and tied arms stretched. She struggled in vain but the men holding her were too much. Her linen gown was opened from the back and folded in front of her as an attempt at modesty. Two hundred or more men stood facing her as she closed her eyes. A burly man in a khaki short sleeve shirt approached with a single-tail whip. I turned around in sat down in the chair. I could not watch. There was complete silence for half a minute and then I heard it: POP! It was a strange sound. There was no wind whistling from the whip or any recognizable lash sound. Just a POP! I put my hands over my ears but could still hear it. There were no sounds other than the POP and now the crowd began to whisper. After the tenth or so lashing I returned to standing on the chair and peering out the window. Fifty meters away, Mari appeared to be looking directly at me. Her face and body were completely covered in perspiration. The man holding the whip wound up and delivered an unrelenting blow to her backside. POP! She was stoic. She was obviously in unbearable pain but refused to scream. She tremor wildly and her damp, black hair shook in front of her face. I was sure the lashes were almost over. POP! I stared at the man administering the punishment. He was expressionless. POP! Then it happened. A shriek like I'd never heard before. Mari couldn't take it any longer. The crowd shifted with collective satisfaction. Three more lashes with the resulting shrieks and the ordeal was over. Mari was untied and carried away - her legs unable to hold her weight. I sat for an hour or more and was released to see my wife. I was led down a hall and was allowed to see her through an opened small metal door. I explained and apologized for not being able to help. She seemed sedated and understanding. I was surprised she was not frantic. I surely would have been anxious to get out of there. Mari seemed resigned to her sentence. She told me her bad judgement led her to bring the marijuana into the country. Her buyer had a cache of antiques he was willing to sell as long as Mari was willing to sweeten the deal. I told Mari we would have a real lawyer and help from the embassy and we would be heading home within a couple days. Mari nodded but I could tell she wasn't optimistic. A hand on my shoulder let me know it was time to leave. I assured Mari I'd return the following day and then was led out of the room and out of the building. My mind had been in high gear for three days and finally I could rest awhile before my return to the jail. The next day I made several phone calls but no one seemed to care after I explained the nature of Mari's conviction. One person at the consulate even advised I fly home and return in six months. I did manage to hire a local attorney. Tariq was young and had no courtroom experience but said help me at least as a translator. I returned to the jail to tell Mari what little good news I had. However, the clerk informed me she was not there. I did not understand what was being told to me so I called Tariq and handed over to the clerk. The two seemed to argue and then the clerk handed me the phone. "Tariq, what is going on?" I begged. There was a brief pause and an audible sigh. "My friend, your wife has is working for someone. The jail does not have money to house criminals so the prisoners are sent elsewhere to work." I could not believe my ears. "What are you saying? She's on a work farm or something?" "Yes, yes. Sort of," replied Tariq. "A business- sometimes a wealthy person- will bid on the work a prisoner can do for them. The prisoner does their time and the jail is paid." I was beginning to understand but I was unclear about where exactly the prisoners stay if they don't return to the jail at night. "Some prisoners return to the jail, I suppose, but most stay where they are sentenced to work." I asked Tariq to talk to the clerk in order to get more detail. After a few minutes of talking and being handed to another official, the phone was returned to me. "Hello, again, sir. They said your wife has been sent to Amran - about 70 kilometers from here and will not be returning until the end of her sentence." I asked Tariq the name of the company for which she's working but he interrupted me. "Sir, your wife is working for a wealthy individual." "Well, can I visit or call her or send a fucking letter to her?" Tariq could sense my frustration but then spoke frankly about the predicament. "You cannot contact your wife. I will do all I can to help with her release but you must understand she is a slave sentenced to hard labor. This individual is entitled to punish her just as the jail would. She could be whipped just as she was the other day - as often as he chooses." I said nothing as the truth sank in. "I am sorry, sir. I will help you no matter what it takes." I opened my mouth to speak but the call was dropped. To be continued... 21st Century Slave Ch. 02 Tariq knew exactly where Mari would serve out her sentence and assured Carl she would be safe. By some strange coincidence Mari would be sent to the residence of a college roommate, Jabreen. Actually the sprawling home belonged to Jabreen's father but it seemed the entire family still resided there. Tariq worried to himself because Jabreen the elder was a ruthless businessman and the son was equally bold if not more so. As long as Tariq could contact Jabreen and request special care, Mari would be given preferential treatment. After much discussion, Carl agreed to return to the states and await the end of Mari's sentence. Tariq was busier than ever with more lucrative cases and was not able to travel the hour drive to Amran for ten days following Mari's departure. The daily phone calls from Carl forced Tariq to lie about following up. He did not enjoy being dishonest and set a date to visit Jabreen. The phone rang moments before Tariq walked out the door. It was Carl and he was quite upbeat after having received a letter from Mari letting him know she was okay and doing well. Upon hearing this news, Tariq was very relieved but did not let on his surprise. Mari was basically a slave and anything could happen to her. He did not even know letter writing was possible. But Carl thanked him and said he'd call in a week. The bus ride to Amran was long and Tariq worried for Mari's safety despite this bit of good news. As soon as the bus pulled into the station, Tariq saw Jabreen waiting next to his Porsche. In true form, Jabreen threw his long arms open for an embrace. At six-three, Jabreen was a large presence. "How are you, my long-lost friend?" he asked. Tariq had not mentioned anything about Mari. He wanted to see how she was being treated ordinarily. But mostly he was too reluctant to tell Jabreen of his business. The two men never asked anything of each other and a request for Mari's safety might not be granted. Tariq was afraid of this potential conflict. The two drove into the gated compound and parked between expensive toys. Tariq had grown up poor and disliked how Jabreen never knew anything but affluence. The two were different in this regard but had a deep respect for each other which transcended money. Tariq walked into the palace and within thirty seconds saw a woman he immediately knew was an American. She was on her knees and appeared to be cleaning one of countless surfaces with a damp cloth. She wore something similar to a hospital robe with buttons in the back. Tariq tried not to notice as he listened to Jabreen talk of his latest adventure. Jabreen was self-centered but stopped mid-speech when his eyes spied his house slave. "Hey, Tariq. See that slave? She's an American. Sentenced for narcotic smuggling." Tariq could now get a closer look at Mari. Her dirty blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Even wearing the gown, her beautiful figure was obvious. "Really?" Tariq responded. "How long is her sentence?" Jabreen crossed his arms. "Five months. But she's not going anywhere. She's mine, my friend." Tariq's stomach churned as he sensed the immediate dread. Now was the time to tell Jabreen why he was really there. "Yes, about this woman..." Tariq began to say. Jabreen interrupted him. "Slave. She is not a woman. A slave" Once again, Tariq blew his chance to come clean. He turned his head back to the slave as she steadily worked. Jabreen adjusted his crotch and stared at Mari until she looked up. She could almost sense the gaze and quickly looked back down. "This slave is fucking amazing, Tariq. She has satisfied all my brothers and me. She gladly fucks anyone my father brings into the home. Twenty or more men so far." Tariq scratched his head. How could she be a sex slave and still assure her husband everything was fine? Perhaps she only wanted his peace of mind. "Come with me, Tariq. Now is a good time." Both men began a slow pace toward Mari and she looked up once again. Jabreen gestured for her to stand and she did without hesitation. Tariq had not previously noticed the dog collar she wore. Jabreen flipped his hand with a quick gesture to follow and the three of them walked down a sunny corridor to a darkened room. Jabreen unbuttoned Mari's gown and she removed it from her arms. Tariq had no idea how beautiful Carl's wife would be. Her hourglass figure was striped with lash marks and even a few fresh cuts. Both her front and back had been whipped. Her long nipples stood erect from her obviously augmented breasts. Not overly big but gravity defying nonetheless. She knew the drill as she stood with legs apart and her hands clasped behind her neck - holding her gathered ponytail. Tariq's eyes widened as his friend opened a drawer and removed a single-tail whip. Mari did not flinch as he stood in front of her and placed a blindfold over her eyes. Instead, her breathing became heavy and her muscles tightened. Jabreen smiled and gestured for Tariq to sit in a chair and watch. Tariq sat and slowly removed a small cam from his pocket and began recording the ordeal. His whip-wielding friend took great delight in caressing Mari's curves with the leather snake before laying into her. *whap!* Mari arched her back and gasped as the first lash crossed her back. Her reaction was the same with each lash. Tariq looked up from the cam in disbelief. Surely any normal person would have screamed at those painful blows. But Mari lustfully bit her lip in anticipation of the next strike. She stood remarkably stoic even after the tenth whipping. The tip of the whip marked the sides of her breasts and one even crossed her nipple - leaving immediate marks. Tariq noticed stretched holes in the sides of her nipples where she'd once had piercings. Jabreen was right: This was no ordinary slave. Mari was breathing hard and groaning as though enjoying a sex act. Knowing she could see nothing, Tariq moved in a bit closer to examine Mari's genitals. A steady drip of a clear, lustful liquid slowly fell to the floor. He'd never seen such an erotic moment in his life. He reached down to dab his fingertips in the little puddle. Another drip formed and began to fall from Mari's labia but was bumped her inner thigh after another strike of the whip. Tariq startled and sat back in his chair after Jabreen's hand cupped Mari's crotch from behind. "Oh," is all Mari whispered as she gently rode his hand. The soaked hand caressed Mari's left breast as Jabreen's other hand gripped her throat. She could feel his breath and turned to offer her lips to him but Jabreen backed away from her. He pulled her hands down to where they held behind her lower back. Jabreen turned her and forced her to bend over the table. Tariq was impressed by the lengthy member Jabreen pulled from his slacks. The liquid between Tariq's fingers glistened as he brought them toward his nose and lips. Both slave and master got great arousal from this and now Tariq was able to witness exactly why Mari felt her experience was going well. Mari was clearly a masochist. The harder she was whipped, the deeper into the zone of ecstasy she fell. Jabreen probably was not sadistic but he always had a way of giving his women exactly what they needed. Mari was no exception. He winked as he began to penetrate Mari. This little show made Tariq smile for the first time but he stood and began to leave the room. His friend beckoned him to return. "Where are you going?" Jabreen asked. "You're next." Tariq laughed at the sight of Jabreen's cock halfway out of Mari's asshole. Then Jabreen laughed at his own comment. "No, she's all yours, I meant." Tariq walked out of the room and lit a cigarette. He still had a major conundrum. How was he going to proceed? In some ways this situation was out of his hands. Mari was not being truthful to Carl but this would be a non-issue if she returned home after six months. At first it seemed Jabreen would prevent her return but Mari appeared to be somewhat content in her role. Perhaps sexualizing the experience was self-preservation on her part. Perhaps not. Tariq opened the door and waltzed out as though nothing had happened. He did not bother holding the door for Mari as she came out carrying her gown. Being stark naked did not bother her - nor was she bothered by her whip marked body being completely visible. Her tan body had no bikini lines making it obvious she was often naked outdoors there. "Look at that body," said an insatiable Jabreen. "She wears anything I give her to wear until I tear it off!" The slave sort of swaggered away from us and returned to her cloth and bucket. Before she continued cleaning, another man - presumably one of Jabreen's brothers- intervened and escorted her out of the room. "It looks like she's not entirely yours," Tariq said half-jokingly. Jabreen nodded with a smile. "She's wild about me. I think I'm in love." Tariq shook his head thinking the same thought. Mari was the sexiest creature he'd ever seen undressed. "Why don't you stay over tonight? I will drive you back to town in the morning?" In spite of his workload, Tariq agreed. Tariq realized the sentence of hard labor was really about keeping a living sex toy handy and Mari was surely a willing participant. 21st Century Slave Ch. 03 Nearly six months had passed since Mari's sentence began. Life back in the United States had almost returned to normal for Carl save for the frequent realizations she was still in an oppressive, developing country doing hard time. He had received six letters from her in nearly as many months and each letter assured him everything was fine and her spirits were strong. However, Carl noticed an unsettling pattern in her letters becoming more and more formal and devoid of any sort of endearments. Her last letter was signed but minus salutations or loving regards. The content of her letters was nonspecific as to the nature of her service. He still had no idea of whether or not her labor was intense or relaxed and easy. None of the questions he asked of her were ever addressed. He wasn't even sure she'd received the two dozen or so letters he'd sent her. Carl's longing for Mari was beginning to change. He'd been given a lot of time to think about her conviction and the evidence against her. His suspicion of her intent had taken over his rational thought at times and some sleepless nights did not help his sanity. The airline tickets sat on the kitchen counter for weeks until finally the time had arrived. Carl was packed and had his passport and visa neatly ready for the next day's flight. He was restless but a sleeping pill helped his racing mind rest enough to fall asleep. The grandfather clock in Carl's hallway chimed at 2:30 AM and moments later he was on his feet. A lucid and unsettling dream caused him to turn on the lights and rummage through Mari's office. After hours of trying different passwords to sign on to her laptop, Carl was finally able to access her files in an uncertain attempt to unlock some mysteries. Very few of the files had even a hint of something wrong. Once Carl opened the cryptic-sounding file he saw business or home-related pictures and descriptions - completely innocuous. Carl had reached a dead end. He shut down the laptop and closed it as the morning sun shone through the window. He spun around in the chair and noticed light shining on a stack of shoe boxes in the closet. He also noticed the shoes hanging on racks nearby. He decided to investigate. Each box contained a pair of dress shoes except one bound with packaging tape. This one was heavier than the others and was quickly cut open. A bundle of dated letters wrapped like a wad of money filled the entire box. Carl did not know where to start reading but soon discovered most were written by a man and a few were from a woman. The man had written love letters sometime while Mari was in college - based on the dates. Carl spent the next several hours in disbelief as he made sense of what had happened. A friend of Mari's father had an affair with her years ago. He was a doctor and paid for her apartment in downtown Portland. He lived out in the country with his wife and would stay in town when emergencies arose. The letters also made clear the fact he was giving her an allowance and dictating how she dressed and how she spent her time outside of school. The man was a control freak. His demands got stranger and stranger according to the letters. He was heavily into bondage and discipline and ultimately convinced Mari to quit school, become an exotic dancer and even an escort. The letters made it clear she worked nearly every night for at least a year as a call girl. There was even her clipped out escort ad from the back of a local magazine. Carl's head spun as he tried to make sense of what he thought he knew versus what he was reading. He could hardly reconcile the two. He only knew she'd dropped out of college. The doctor's wife eventually found out and filed for divorce. Both families were dragged into the drama and Mari's parents disowned their daughter. Two letters in the box were written by the doctor's ex-wife and were filled with anger and vitriol. The doctor's letters seemed to stop around the time he moved into the apartment with her. Only sexualized little notes told the tale of what life was like for Mari and the doctor after he moved in. Carl sat and stared at the last note in the box. Then it occurred to him to do an internet search for the doctor with the familiar sounding name. Right away a search produced several pages about a disgraced doctor convicted of sexually assaulting patients and hiring prostitutes. It was the same guy. According to more than one article, the doctor had been arrested in his home while his live-in girlfriend was found nude chained to a bolt in the floor. Further reading indicated Mari had defended the doctor claiming to be in a loving albeit unconventional relationship with him. The doctor was sentenced 18 years in prison. Once again Carl slowly closed the laptop. There was no way of trying to catch a couple hours of sleep now. Carl went through the motions of getting dressed and loading his car and driving to the airport. He did not know whether to scream or cry or turn around and drive home. But he stayed the course and was on the plane for an entire day's travel. After several stopovers Carl had cleared customs in Yemen and was at the curb waiting for a taxi. He wasn't in the mood to give Tariq the courtesy of a phone call. Instead, he was simply going to drop in. The aged, wooden stairway gave Tariq advanced notice of a visitor's arrival. The blood rushed from his face at the sight of Carl. "How are you doing, Tariq? I hope you have nothing planned today because you and I are going to Amran to visit Mari." Tariq did not even protest. He could see the ire in Carl's eyes and, besides, not much was planned anyway. The taxi was still waiting at the curb and both men got in. "Please tell the driver where we're going, Tariq." The driver's eyes were fixed on the mirror waiting for Tariq's response. "Amran." Carl handed the driver a wad of bills and without hesitation, the taxi pulled away from the curb. Tariq looked at Carl with a hint of desperation. "I don't think this is a good idea, my friend. What are your intentions?" Carl said nothing but stared ahead while slowly shaking his head. Tariq could tell everything had changed and Carl was in no condition to negotiate. "I think I will stay in the cab, if that's okay with you. I don't think showing up and taking Mari is a good idea, Carl. I don't think they'll let you just walk out with her." Carl turned and stared at Tariq for a moment. "That's okay, Tariq. You can do whatever you want once I know where she's at." Carl then handed the lawyer $500 dollars. The wind blew through the window but could not dry the sweat from Carl's brow. The heat did nothing to remedy the anger and anxiety or the lack of sleep Carl was enduring. After an hour of driving the men pulled up the long driveway until they could go no further. There was no guard to summon so Carl got out and started walking down the perimeter of the compound wall. Tariq got out and watched in disbelief as Carl disappeared around a corner. Within a minute, a Ferrari zoomed up behind the taxi and then passed by. Tariq saw Jabreen's eyes moments before the car screeched to a stop. The door flew open and Tariq was met with the toothy smile of his friend. "Tariq! What brings you to my home?" Now it was Tariq who was sweating profusely. He had no choice but to tell Jabreen the real reason why he was there. As the two men hugged, Tariq's panicked eyes scanned the area for Carl. "Jabreen, I must tell you something. Your servant has completed her sentence and I am here..." "Yes, yes, my friend," interrupted Jabreen. "We have some good news to share." Tariq was completely puzzled and relieved at the same time. He was relieved to hear she was still alive but could only guess what Jabreen's good news was. "Come, come inside," said Jabreen as he beckoned the taxi to follow. Tariq watched as his friend hopped in the Ferrari and sped through the opened gate. The taxi lurched forward and Tariq got in just before the gate began to close. Once the cars were parked, Tariq asked the cabbie to wait. He was unsure of how long this meeting would take but sensed the wait would be short. Jabreen showed Tariq to the same room where Mari had been violated the time before. This time, Tariq would wait alone for ten minutes or longer. Suddenly, the door flew open and a battered and gagged Carl was shoved into the room. The burly guards had discovered and accosted him not long after he got out of the taxi. The guards remained in the corners as Jabreen walked in with a hijab-cloaked figure following behind. Tariq could only see her eyes but knew this woman was Mari. Her eyes did not even seem to acknowledge Carl. Jabreen set down some documents and right away Tariq knew what was happening. Jabreen spoke in plain English so Mari and Carl could understand what was being said. "This woman is turning in these documents. She has decided to stay." Tariq had heard of this before. A person serving a sentence of hard labor could remain employed after the sentence had been served. Sometimes a prisoner has nowhere to go or is a pariah in their community. The certainty of food and shelter offsets the hard labor and is better than the uncertainties of being destitute. The documents Jabreen has produced are recognized by the courts. Mari nodded with approval her decision to continue as a servant and signed the documents without any sign of duress. She stood straight after signing the last page and a smile was apparent in her eyes. Just then Carl lunged toward Mari and coldcocked her. Jabreen quickly approached Carl but was punched in the face twice before anyone could react. The tall figure collapsed to the floor as the guards pounced on Carl and immobilized him with a stun gun. Another guard straddled Carl's chest and delivered several blows to his face before Jabreen intervened and stopped the beatings. Tariq couldn't help but notice the lack of concern in Mari's expression. "Do not beat this man anymore. I will fire you both. Take this man to the cooler." The cooler was basically a jail cell. Tariq assured Jabreen the taxi was waiting and could take Carl back to town immediately. However, Jabreen smiled beneath a bloody nose and said, "That man is no longer Carl. He is now himself a slave." A silence that filled the room begged for an explanation. "That slave will be stripped and sold before tomorrow! He will serve a male Master completely. I will make certain he will." declared Jabreen as he dabbed a cloth to his nose. Again, Mari showed no concern or care for her husband's predicament. She was either brainwashed or had a complete lack of empathy. Tariq was beginning to care less. "I am sorry for bringing that man here, Jabreen. He just showed up and..." Once again, Jabreen interrupted Tariq. "Shhhh...No apologies, my friend. It was predestined that slave should serve. I am very glad you made the trip." Tariq knew his old friend was true to his word. Carl would never know freedom again; only a life of hard labor and humiliation. But that was the risk of returning. Tariq had given fair warning which Carl ignored. Jabreen gripped Mari's robe and lifted it over her head. Tariq gazed in disbelief as the last piece of fabric lifted off and fell to the floor. Mari's tan body was completely naked except this time her belly showed at least three months pregnant. Her face had a hint of self-satisfaction as she winked at Tariq. He turned toward Jabreen with a look of curiosity and was met with shrugged shoulders. Any one of the men who had violated Mari could be the sire. "Two hundred.. maybe more," whispered Jabreen in their native tongue. Still, Mari had yet to speak. "She will soon be a wife of mine. Now is your chance," joked Jabreen. Her smooth skin showed no signs of punishment. It was clear to Tariq his friend had likely fallen for this American and eased up on her. In truth, Jabreen was most likely the one to have impregnated Mari. Tariq studied her body and then looked down to the floor out of respect. But then he looked up at Mari and stared into her hazel eyes. Now it was Mari's turn to show deference as she stared at the floor. Tariq was becoming aroused at this odd scenario and this seemed to be what Jabreen wanted. His hands grabbed and grappled Mari's boobs and pulled her long nipples. Mari brought her hands up and behind her neck. Tariq hurried and unzipped his trousers. His erection wasted no time in finding Mari's shaved pussy. An awkward moment of uncertainty was resolved as Mari stepped forward and forced Tariq to recline on a table. She crawled up and eased her glistening pussy over the top of Tariq's cock and then dropped her weight. The heat of her insides felt better than expected as Tariq held her close to him. They slowly began to fuck as Mari soon gasped. Jabreen removed his belt and tightened it around Mari's neck. He pulled it tight as he jockeyed himself into position and eased his cock into her ass. At times Tariq could feel testicles bouncing off his but the ache that caused turned into ecstasy. Mari truly enjoyed this as her eyes repeatedly rolled back. Finally she spoke as she rocked in cadence with the men. Jabreen came first and dismounted Mari's backside. Tariq himself came and pulled Mari close. Her hot breath filled his ears beneath her dirty blond hair. She smelled like citrus and sex. Tariq was very pleased she decided to remain in his country. Carl did not deserve such a beautiful fucking machine. Soon, Tariq returned to the waiting taxi and drove away from the compound. He picked up the coat Carl had left on the seat. Inside a pocket was a passport which Tariq tossed out into bramble bushes. Upon returning to the city, the cab driver popped the trunk lid and handed Tariq two suitcases. No questions were asked and neither man acknowledged the American passenger. Tariq ascended the stairs to his office and once inside examined the contents of both cases. One contained at least $5000 US Dollars and a change of clothes. The other case was a change of clothes intended for Mari. Tariq examined a brassiere. Then he picked up a pair of nylon panties which he quickly brought to his nose and recognized the citrus fragrance. He casually tucked the blue treasure in his pocket. Moments before he was about to lock up and go home the telephone rang. A desperate sounding British tourist in need of a defense attorney for his wife had called. Tariq smiled and reached for a pen and paper.