Submitting to the Enemy: In the Prince's Harem (

by Tucker, Fannie

  It was dreadfully boring, but the life of a spy too often is. Still, I pieced together several useful tidbits, none of which made me feel more at ease. For example, Omar Tarik was feared by most of the women. Through my eavesdropping, I learned that he had taken more than a few women away from the palace, and they were never seen again.

  When the dinner hour approached, I dressed in the ornate gown and went out to await Omar. He arrived in a dark gray suit, and his black eyes bored holes through me as though searching for my deepest secrets.

  "Come, Dollar," Omar said loudly. Some of the women who had acted jealous tittered in amusement at my nickname. "The Prince wishes to see you."

  I meekly followed him out of the harem and through a bewildering maze of corridors and stairwells. After what seemed an eternity, he led me to an elevator with a curved, gold-plated door.

  We rode not upward, but down. Omar stared straight ahead. The seconds seemed to crawl by as the car fell two floors, then three, then four. Just as it glided to a stop and I felt that momentary heaviness as my momentum settled, Omar leaned in and said softly, "After His Majesty is through with you, you are mine, Dollar."

  A chill crawled up my spine at his words, but then a bell chimed, and the doors slid quietly open to reveal an extremely long and narrow corridor. We followed it several hundred feet to a reinforced steel blast door, which Omar opened to reveal a small, square chamber.

  Unlike the opulent and over-decorated palace above, this chamber was stark, with walls and floors of smooth concrete. A single bald light bulb burned overhead, casting sharp shadows across the steel brackets mounted on every wall.

  My heart leapt into my chest, and for a terrifying moment, I was sure that my CIA cover had been blown. I was here to be interrogated.

  But then Prince Nazari stepped out of a side doorway and flashed a warm, confident grin that held no anger or guile. He wore a black silk robe and a pair of soft deerskin moccasins. "Isabel, you've come." Nazari nodded to Omar. "Thank you, my friend. I will call you when we are finished here."

  Omar bowed and returned to the elevator. I stood facing Prince Nazari, my mind at war with itself. Even as I looked for opportunities to use this encounter to accomplish my mission, I eagerly awaited his command.

  "What do you think of my bunker?" Nazari asked.

  I looked around. Above our heads, steel beams reinforced the thick concrete. Long rails ran back and forth across the room, and black nylon ropes dangled to the floor. To my left, the dim glow of computer monitors spilled from the dark doorway of an adjacent chamber. I knew instinctively that the secrets I needed lay in that room, so I forced myself not to stare, pulling my eyes from the doorway and back to Nazari.

  "Are we underground?" I asked.

  "Over one hundred feet!" He said. Your government thinks it can reach anyone anywhere, but here I am safe from their most powerful weapons.

  I kept myself from smiling. The US military had bombs that could easily drill this deep and obliterate him, but we would never use them in the middle of a crowded city. "It's very impressive," I said. "But why? The United States is not your enemy."

  Nazari laughed. "Of course not, but one must be prepared."

  "Why are we down here?"

  The Prince grinned and gave one of the black ropes a tug. "Not all activities are suitable for the harem," he said. "Some things are best done in private so as not to ruin the surprise for others." He beckoned me with his hand. "Come, give me your hands."

  I went to him, and Nazari took my wrists in his powerful hand and raised them over my head. Before I could react, he looped the nylon rope around my wrists several times and tied it off with a tight clove hitch knot.

  My pulse quickened. Every bone in my body screamed at me to trust this man, to let him do as he would, but in the back corner of my mind, I remembered that Nazari funded the Mountain Wolf, the very terrorist I'd sought for so long.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "Shh, Isabel," Nazari said. "It is not for you to question, but to obey."

  "Yes, Your Majesty," I said, filled with uncertainty.

  Nazari pulled on the rope and raised my arms until I was forced to stand on my toes, then tied it off to keep me there. Then he looped a long black scarf around my head and tied it over my eyes, shutting out all but a sliver of light.

  He stepped away, and I sensed him circling me like a wolf stalking a trussed lamb. I tried to turn and follow the his footfalls, but his moccasins made no sound, and the rope twisted as I turned, pulling me upward until it threatened to pull me off my feet. I relented, and Prince Nazari got behind me.

  For several seconds, there was no sound or movement, and I began to tremble with nervousness. Was Nazari still there?

  I heard the rasp of steel, a knife being drawn. I tensed, but Nazari quieted me with a gentle shh.

  I felt the point of his blade slip beneath the beautiful dress's collar, and he slid the razor-sharp blade down my back, cutting through the ornate embroidery. He did the same with the sleeves, and the dress fell away in a whisper of fabric. I felt a pang of loss at its destruction.

  I'd worn no underwear; Nazari's careful cuts left me naked but for my jewelry and the black scarf over my eyes.

  Then his hot breath whispered across my neck, and I jumped in surprise.

  "Isabel, why did you come here?" Nazari said.

  Doubt filled me again. I stood blind, bound and helpless, wearing nothing except damning evidence that I was a spy. Did Nazari already know? Had I hesitated too long or acted too differently from his other girls? If he looked too closely at my earrings or necklace, the truth would be irrefutable.

  I swallowed, and all my careful explanations fled my mind. My mouth worked as I struggled to find words. I came dangerously close to confessing my role as a CIA operative, but Nazari saved me from myself.

  In the darkness, his fingers stroked my cheek. "Come now, Isabel, don't be nervous. We will find your answers together." His hands moved down my naked back. "Do you know why I gave you the dress, Isabel?"

  I shook my head.

  "So that I could take it away," Nazari said. "Tell me, do you miss it?"

  "It was beautiful," I said.

  "In America, you were free to choose your own path," he said. "Like the dress, you will only appreciate your freedom after it is a broken and ruined thing. That, Isabel, is why I've brought you here."

  My breathing quickened, and I felt myself trembling on the razor's edge between fear and anticipation.

  Nazari's hand left my skin abruptly, and I felt the air move as he swung it through the air. It contacted my bare buttock with a loud smack, and I cried out in my bonds, turning slowly on the rope that held me almost suspended over the cold concrete floor.

  "In America, you had choices," Nazari said. "You could walk away from a man who treated you this way." His voice moved around me, but when he went silent, I couldn't tell where he was. "Here, you are mine, and your only choice is to serve me."

  He spanked me again on the other cheek, and I yelped in surprise and pain.

  My heart raced in my chest as I tried to anticipate him, but Nazari was a phantom moving around me. I began to understand that freedom was no longer mine.

  Again and again he slapped my bottom, until a burning sensation like thousands of prickling nettles spread across my bare buttocks. I was breathing hard, and tears dampened the silk scarf over my eyes. With my hands tied above my head, I could do nothing to defend myself, only hang and wait for the next strike. Yet even in my helplessness, another sensation roiled deep in my abdomen: lust.

  I had been in Nazari's power in the Jacuzzi, but there the illusion of freedom had persisted. Now, with that illusion torn away, his control over me felt much greater. It swept away all my doubt and uncertainty, all my worries and fears. If I had no control, why should I be frightened?

  I surrendered to Nazari's wishes, and as he spanked me, I stopped trying to anticipate his strikes. Instead, I arched my back and offere
d myself to him. He spanked me one last time, then made an appreciative noise.

  "Good, Isabel," he said. "You learn to give in to that which you cannot control. When you surrender, you open yourself to a new world of experiences."

  His voice moved around until he was in front of me, and through the tiny slit of light beneath my blindfold, I saw movement.

  Prince Nazari squeezed one of my breasts, then tweaked the nipple casually and moved his hand down my front. He turned his fingers downward and pressed his palm against my lower belly so that their fingertips rested in the triangle of pubic hair between my thighs. I breathed faster and pressed myself against his hand in anticipation.

  "Yesterday, I gave you pleasure like you've never known, did I not?" Nazari asked.

  I nodded eagerly.

  "And now I've shown you the lash. Tell me why, Isabel."

  My mind reeled for a moment, but the answer fell clearly into place. "Because until I know pain, I cannot appreciate pleasure," I said.

  Nazari's hand slid further down my belly, and his fingers brushed across the quivering lips of my pussy. "Are you ready to learn what pleasure really means?" he asked as he curled two fingers up inside my hole.

  I tightened around his fingers, hot and slick as I shuddered with anticipation. "Yes, Your Majesty," I sighed.

  He pushed his fingers deeper, massaging my secret places as I writhed against his hand. Then he slid out and brushed them over my swollen, throbbing clit, light as a feather. I sucked in a deep breath through my clenched teeth and pushed my hips forward, urging him to press harder. He did, rubbing me in slow circles.

  Then he moved closer until I felt his naked body against my own. Hard muscle sheathed his lean frame, and his cock pressed between my thighs, thick and heavy.

  He guided that long rod beneath my pussy, letting it slide along between my wet lips and out between my buttocks. He held my hips and moved my body back and forth, rubbing the top of his cock with my sex, sending electric surges of pleasure through my body.

  "Oh my god," I whispered between quick gasps for air. "Please fuck me."

  "In due time, Isabel," Nazari whispered in my ear as his hands slid down my back. He cupped my buttocks, sending a brief flare of pain through the welts left by his hand, then slipped a finger between my cheeks.

  I wanted to resist him, but the sensation of that fat shaft sliding against my sopping pussy drove out all thought of resistance. When Nazari pulled back, I moved my hips and let my weight hang from my bound hands, and when he pushed forward again, the tip of his cock slid up into me, followed by the rest of him.

  I felt him stiffen against me, surprised by my sudden motion, but pleased by the sensation of sliding into my pussy. He recovered quickly, and his hands tightened on my buttocks. He pulled me close as he rolled his hips forward, thrusting up into my slick hole. He began to move, fucking me with a steady, sweet cadence.

  I wanted to touch him, to urge him on, but with my hands bound, I was completely at his mercy, a puppet on a string. And on a stick.

  It was cool in the underground chamber, but my skin was moist with sweat by the time Nazari pulled out and pushed me away. My body swayed gently on the nylon rope until my feet found purchase on the concrete floor. He moved away, and once again I waited in darkness, wondering which direction he'd gone.

  Another nylon rope wrapped around my left ankle, then a third around my right. They tightened as Nazari pulled the loops taut. I was left to wait in suspense once more, but a few seconds later, the rope around my wrists went slack, and the bonds around my feet jerked them backward. I fell forward suddenly, throwing my tied hands in front of me to catch myself. For a moment, I thought I would crash, but the ropes caught me again before I touched the floor.

  I hung suspended by my arms and legs just a few feet above the hard concrete that I couldn't see, my back bent.

  "Raise your stomach," Prince Nazari commanded. I did, and he pushed something beneath me that felt like a padded sawhorse. I rested my hips on it and sighed with relief, but a moment later the ropes that held my feet pulled my legs apart, spreading me open.

  Nazari stepped between my legs and once again touched his hand to my sex. I moaned as he fingered me from behind, massaging my clit with his fingers while his thumb pressed against my anus. Then his hand was gone, and he guided that massive cock inside my pussy.

  My body rocked back and forth on the sawhorse, suspended in mid-air at the perfect height for Nazari to penetrate me completely. I cried out as he pushed deep inside, forcing my knees down as he pulled my ankles up against his hips. He pushed forward until I felt his hard abdomen press against my bottom.

  And then I learned what pleasure was.

  Prince Nazari began to fuck me, not with the gentle consideration he'd shown before, but with a wild savagery that rocked my weightless body back and forth through the air like a pendulum. My head rolled and thrashed, and my whole body felt so sensitive that I could feel each dark hair on my head as it cascaded over my blindfold, each groove in Nazari's fingerprints where his hands touched me. Every detail of that swollen, hard cock.

  Pleasure mounted with his every thrust, growing until my body roiled with uncontrollable forces that made me beg for release. I screamed to him to fuck me harder, my decorum and meekness forgotten as I cried out shrill commands. Prince Nazari laughed and obeyed, slamming against me harder and harder. His cock was like steel rebar inside me, unyielding in its arousal, swollen until the skin of his shaft felt so tight it must have pained him.

  I came with a sudden rush of ecstasy that ripped through my body like a shockwave. I convulsed against my bonds, thrashing against Nazari as uncontrollable surges of mind-blowing pleasure rocked me.

  As I reached the very pinnacle of my climax, Nazari pulled out. The ropes loosened, and I twisted as he lowered me to the cold floor. With my hands free, I pulled off the blindfold and turned to face him. Nazari stood over me, holding his cock. It throbbed red and angry as he stroked it urgently.

  "You will swallow every drop," he told me, that calm baritone shaking with lust now. I scrambled up to my knees before him, tilting my head back and opening wide.

  Nazari's climax sent thick jets of hot semen spurting from his cock. The first shot filled my mouth with a salty, acrid taste that would forever remind me of power. I gulped it down eagerly even as he spurted another hot dollop into my mouth. I wrapped my lips around him and held his throbbing cock in my mouth, milking it for every last drop, sucking eagerly with each pulse until the tension went out of his body. As he softened in my mouth, I let out a contented sigh and sank to the floor.

  Nazari bent down on one knee and stroked my hair. "Now do you understand, Isabel?"

  I smiled up at him and nodded. I thought of the computers in the next room, no doubt full of Prince Nazari's secrets. But the very idea of betraying him seemed ludicrous now. Why would I hurt him so that I could hunt another man?

  Prince Nazari was unlike any man I'd known. I only wanted to stay with him, to be his. The fawning women of the harem no longer seemed absurd to me. I understood them now.

  "Good," he said. "I must go, my lamb. I will send Omar to collect you. Remain where you are." He rose and donned his robe, then headed for the exit.

  My jaw dropped in shock. Was Prince Nazari so confident in his grip over me that he would leave me alone here in his inner sanctum so close to his secret computer room? Perhaps the computers were passworded. That would be enough to stop almost anyone, but the software in my necklace could overcome even the most secure password in seconds. I stiffened as the door fell shut behind him. Omar could be right outside. Dared I risk everything? Just moments ago, betraying Nazari had been the furthest thing from my mind.

  Still, this might be my only chance. I leapt to my feet and rushed to the dark doorway. I expected to find a powerful workstation inside, with racks of server equipment and powerful monitors. Instead, there was only a single laptop sitting on a small, plain desk. I pushed the office chair
aside and pressed a hidden latch on the back of my necklace. Half of the heavy gem slid apart to reveal a tiny USB drive. Glancing nervously toward the exit, I jammed the drive into one of the laptop's ports, and a tiny green light began to flicker.

  I sighed with relief, but at that moment, the door opened and Omar Tarik strode in. I peered out at him as his sharp black eyes scanned the room. "Dollar?" he called.

  I froze in the darkness, but there was nowhere to hide.

  Chapter Six

  Omar's eyes narrowed as he turned to the side door. He drew a pistol from beneath his suit coat and hurried toward me. With nowhere else to go, I started to walk out, and we bumped into one another. I screamed in feigned surprise, and Omar took a step back, then raised the pistol.

  Its bore looked enormous when pointed at my face. "What are you doing back here?" he demanded.

  "Looking for a bathroom," I said, cowering. "Please don't shoot! I'm sorry."

  Omar lowered the gun only a fraction. "There is nothing here for you. Get out!"

  I started to obey, then hesitated. The other half of my necklace protruded from the laptop's USB port. I hadn't had time to remove it before Omar found me, and if I left it there, I would surely be caught.

  I started to walk past him, my head down, my shoulders hunched together protectively. I willed myself to be nothing but a meek, nude woman. "Please, master," I said, "don't hurt me."

  Omar grinned. "I said that you would be mine, Dollar. I am his favored lieutenant." He relaxed his gun arm for a moment as his other hand fondled my breast.

  It was the moment I'd been waiting for. I pivoted on one heel and wrapped my deceptively slender hand around his wrist, twisting hard.

  Omar's eyes widened in shock, and his finger tightened reflexively on the trigger. The shot was deafening in the tiny concrete cell, but I hoped the thick walls would be enough to muffle the sound.

  My fingertips dug into the tendons of his wrist, and Omar let out a silent cry as I hit a pressure point that made him drop the pistol. I brought my bare heel down on the slender bones of his foot, and he howled in pain. Before Omar could recover, I shoved him back and bent to scoop his pistol off the floor.