Hidden Passions, Vol 2

by Stephanie Burke

  Hidden Passions

  Vol. 2

  Contents:

  Exotica

  War Love

  Cue Stick

  Biker Broad

  Alphabetical Order

  Cat’s Paw

  Deflowered

  Exotica

  The only sound I could hear was the clang of the metal of the harnesses on the horses of our escorts. I was surrounded by the stifling heat and the irritating grit of sand abrading my skin. It was too dark to see my hand in front of my face, but that didn’t matter. My hands were bound so tightly I couldn’t move them up that far anyway. The other women around me cried softly to themselves or murmured prayers for salvation, but it made no difference in our circumstances. We had started a new journey, one none of us asked for, but we were going on just the same.

  I remember that I was one of the few single women touring this part of the country and thought that the government assured my safety. What a fool I was to trust in the words of a few politically minded men. They would say anything to make their country seem more open to tourism, and like a lamb, I was led to the slaughter. But instead of blessed relief of a quick death, I was now bound and gagged and on my way to my new Master.

  They call it white slavery, but women of any race were taken. One Russian woman was most vocal about her treatment and earned a gag of her very own, a match to mine—loud-mouthed, undisciplined, American that I am. There had been a few Oriental and Asian women with us, but they were quickly sold off at the beginning of our journey. Now there were only three of us, a tall African woman whose once beautiful braids and beadwork were beginning to unravel, the blonde Russian woman, and me.

  “It won’t be long now,” the African woman spoke in her beautiful melodious tones, pitched low, no doubt, to calm all of our fears. “Have heard the guards talking and soon we will reach our final destination.”

  The Russian woman whimpered behind her gag, but I let out a low growl of anger. This seemed to amuse the African woman to no end. “Take what you can get, child, and make it better,” she said to me. “Save your energy for when you really need it.”

  I understood exactly what she meant. I had no idea what awaited me at this final stop, and I needed energy to see what needed to be done. I nodded at her and a look of satisfaction crossed her face.

  Before she had a chance to say more, the truck that we were transported in lurched to a stop. I cringed at the sounds of the screaming horses and shouting men, but managed to hold my place and not start to babble like an idiot. The woman gave me a look of reassurance as the doors swung open and a light and heat so strong it took my very breath away flooded the back of our truck.

  There was a babble of foreign words and she was pulled from the truck. I was not given any amount of time to wonder what would happen, because next the Russian woman and I were yanked, too.

  We were hustled to the rear of a low stone building and into a small room. Again we were given no time to prepare because almost immediately our meager clothes were snatched from our bodies. There we were, naked and huddled together in a dim room surrounded by strange men.

  A sharp command caused our captors to retreat into the background as a tall imposing man stepped forward.

  He pointed to the African woman and after a flurry of incomprehensible words, she was approached by two of his men and escorted from the room. Her gaze met mine one final time and I silently swore to maintain my dignity when it came time for me to be sold off like a hunk of meat.

  I stared at the man again. He was swathed in robes from head to foot; only his gleaming black eyes were exposed, and those were looking me over.

  “American?” he asked in a low gravelly voice.

  I said nothing, but stared at him. When he reached out a hand to touch my bare breasts, I jerked back and growled at him. If my mouth were free, I would tell him off properly, but with the gag in place, all I could do was make threatening sounds. My hands were useless, bound before me, so I couldn’t strike out at him either.

  Immediately one of my captors apparently took exception to my actions because he roughly grabbed my arm and thrust me forward, but a loud staccato command from the robed man made him quickly pull his hands back. He nodded to the man and then took my bound hands and led me from the room.

  I was almost too afraid to move, but I remembered the beauty and grace of my African friend and silently walked out beside the man, only flinching slightly as the other men in the room stared. I never found out what had happened to the Russian woman.

  Once outside, the robed man pulled a long cloak from one of the many servants who awaited his arrival, and swaddled me like a child.

  “I will remove the gag soon, my precious one,” he murmured to me as he ran the back of one hair-dusted hand down my face.

  Uncontrollably, I jerked my head away from him. I resented him because he had just bought me like I was horseflesh at a fair. I resented the power he held over me.

  But I was not given a lot of time to wonder about this strange man. A helicopter awaited him across a barren sand-covered landscape. I had no idea where I was, but it looked to be inhospitable. Even if I escaped, I would probably die of thirst before I ran into another soul.

  Someone hefted me into the helicopter like a bit of luggage while my new Master lounged back on a plush chair. When the copter started up, I jerked, the loud sound frightening me. I have never traveled in such a way before and it was scary. As if understanding my fears, the man pulled me to him and I automatically buried my head in his chest. Like a child seeking comfort from any source of safety, I burrowed into him and clung for dear life.

  He was extremely gentle with me, murmuring reassurance in some foreign language, and offering me comfort.

  As I sat there, my whole situation became too much for me to bear. I gave in to the tears I had fought against since my capture. I would never see my home again, my family…my cat! What would become of them? What would become of me?

  “Being with me will not be so bad, little one,” he murmured as I was pulled deeper into his strong arms. Like a child seeking comfort, I snuggled deeper into his soft robes and cried until I could no longer keep my eyes open. The noise of my own sobs caused my head to hurt.

  I must have slept then, with my face buried in his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around me, for the next thing I remember, I was lying curled into a small warm ball on a massive bed. The once clean white sheet that lay beneath me was dingy with the travel grime from my body and unbelievably, I felt shame I was so dirty. With all that was happening to me, I found myself distressed at the sight of those once pristine sheets.

  Someone must have been watching me at the entrance to the room, because before I knew what was happening, giggling women in all states of undress filled the room.

  “Look at her funny hair!” one of them giggled in broken English as she pointed to my tangled braids. “It is all twisted and knotted up. What did he ever see in her?”

  “And she is so dirty!” another one cried out in apparent shock, pointing to my grimy cheeks, and I felt myself blush. It wasn’t as if I exactly had a choice when it came to travel arrangements anyway.

  “And she is so skinny!” another one cried out, laughter ringing in her voice. “There is nothing for a real man to cling to! My Lord will tire of this skinny puppy soon enough!”

  “That is enough!” a deep, sharp voice commanded from behind, and I recognized the ring of authority in it.

  The women looked guiltily at each other as they scattered like so many colorful butterflies flying high on the perfumed breeze blowing throughout the room.

  “And you, my dear, are in need of a bath.”

  I looked at the man, standing so calmly there,
and for some strange reason, he terrified me. It wasn’t as if he were massive or extremely tall; he was about my height, but it was the authority in his commands which drew my attention, and the stern look in his gaze which frightened me.

  “Stand up, braided one, and let us see what we have here.”

  As if a puppet controlled my strings, I stood up for him, attempting to drag the cotton sheet with me.

  “None of that, now!” he spoke in a low voice as he removed my gag. “I have no personal interest in your…dubious charms…as it were,” he continued while freeing my wrists. “I am here to assess you and see if I can make something of you before the Master arrives.

  “Master?” I croaked through my dry throat.

  “Hush,” he said, not unkindly, as he approached me with graceful steps.

  I fought against an incredible urge to cower backwards even though I was terrified, and I think he nodded in approval. His dark eyes seemed to sparkle as he took in my form. His long dark hair, knotted at his nape, moved in time with his steps and he circled me, examining my body.

  I jumped as a finger prodded my thigh and pinched the skin of my stomach. But then my fear seemed to melt as I tried to figure out what he was doing.

  I gasped as his hands reached down and separated the cheeks of my bottom. Again he nodded his approval.

  “You have never entertained a man here,” he commented as he let me go and walked around to face me.

  “Of course not!” I muttered, ashamed that he made me feel like a horse up for bid on the block.

  “And have you accepted a man here?” He was now pointing to the apex of my thighs and I nodded my head yes.

  “Bother,” he sighed. “Virgins are messy and hard to deal with, but if you are a bit of an American whore, you will be too loose to even bother with!”

  My eyes widened at the implied insult, but I was not given any chance to object. From the moment I open my mouth to deliver a scathing retort to the moment of my next breath, I was tossed upon the bed. Within seconds, one of his hands held both of mine immobile above my head and his thick thighs separated my naked ones.

  I had always held the belief that I am a strong, tough woman, but this man had me pinned as easily as if I was a sleepy baby.

  Before I could figure a way out of this situation, he stuck two fingers into his mouth and thoroughly wet them with his saliva. With a sigh, as if he was the one suffering, he lowered that hand.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped as I felt his hands at the portal to my body.

  “Testing for wear and tear, my dear. Now be a good girl and shut up while I do this.”

  Shocked to be debased in this way, I twisted my body away from his in denial of his actions. I would not be tested like a fruit thumped for ripeness in the market!

  Still, no matter how I struggled, those two large fingers lodged within my resisting body, causing me to cry out in pain.

  “It hurts,” I screeched, too angry to feel fear. “You are hurting me. Take them out.”

  He grunted as he tried to force his fingers deeper, but they wouldn’t budge and my agitated writhing was making it difficult for him to concentrate on his task.

  “You either have very good exercise practices or it has been a long time since you lay with a man,” he stated, looking down at me.

  I felt ravaged as he loomed above me, fully dressed and with his clever fingers within me while I lay naked and trapped beneath him.

  “You are not a lover of women, are you?”

  Before I could control my reaction, a shocked look crossed my face.

  “That is what I thought,” he said as he withdrew his fingers and released me. I felt the need to curl up in the fetal position and wish for death.

  “The Master will have many hours of pleasure with you if I can make you look decent.” He rolled off of me with feline grace and rose to his feet, before turning to me with a considering look. “We won’t even attempt for beautiful.”

  His word sent frissions of anger down my spine. How dare he degrade me in this manner, then imply I was ugly to boot!

  Releasing my temper, I reared off the bed to throw myself at this peacock who had not suffered as I had, yet stood there and cast his judgments upon me.

  “Bastard,” I screamed as I attempted to pummel his head with my bare fists.

  But instead of cowering against my punishing blows or angrily restraining me, he pulled me close to him and let me fight out my rage.

  Slowly, my fists beat slower and softer until they stopped altogether and again I gave myself over to the painful release of tears.

  When the first rush of my grief had passed, he reached down and lifted my chin. I could smell the scent of me on his hand as he forced me to meet his eyes.

  “Now that you have bid a fond farewell to your freedom, we may proceed accordingly. You do understand, small one, that you now belong to him? Your past life is lost to you and you would do well to remember you are now his property to use or discard as he sees fit.”

  The gentle understanding in his eyes was enough to make me want to cry all over again, but instead, pride came to my rescue. I stiffened my shoulders and nodded to him. Whatever I faced, I would face it head-on, without shaming myself.

  *

  The bathing room was large and steamy. I had never thought such places existed other than in the books I defiantly read with the eagerness of a child devouring sweet candy. But this was reality. I was going to be a jewel for some sheik’s crown and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing but become the favored jewel and rule this den of gossipy lazy women.

  But the man led me past that room and into a smaller alcove set off to the side. Inside this room lay a large marble slab on which he motioned for me to sit. Before we left the chamber where I awoke, he offered me a thin silk robe to wear. Now he took that small protective barrier from me and pushed me down onto my back.

  “What are you doing?” I asked cautiously. Cautiously, because I was still not sure of my position compared to his. He seemed more than a servant and I didn’t want to run the risk of alienating him.

  “You may call me Azit, small dirty one. And I am going to remove that offensive body hair from your person. Then hopefully with gallons of soap, I will be able to remove the grime and stench as well.”

  That shut me up but good and I watched as he opened a large jar that sat near the bottom of the marble table.

  “What’s that?” I asked, my curiosity overcoming the verbal punch he delivered to my ego. “Special esoteric herbs and creams from the East?”

  “Something like that,” he drawled. “We call it Nair. It removes hair.”

  Again I shut up as my ignorance embarrassed me. I was really arrogant, I thought as he approached me with the jar. All of those desert romances had fried my brain. Of course these people would have modern conveniences.

  They had helicopters, didn’t they?

  “Can I…?” I began, but Azit waved me into silence.

  “In their ignorance, your parents probably never taught you to prepare your body for a man, so the sorry task is left to me. I will perform these ablutions for now, barbarian. Soon you will learn what to do and hopefully you will be smart enough to do it yourself in the future.”

  Without further ado, he grabbed a leg and began smoothing the warm cream onto my body. He gently coated my leg thoroughly before moving on and giving the other leg the same treatment.

  I started when he spread my legs, but one look from him and I thought it wise to keep my mouth shut.

  He parted my legs wide and began to carefully smear the cream onto the most private part of me. I shuddered, not in desire, but in nervousness. And thorough he was there, too! He spread my nether lips and smoothed the cream there before shaking his head in disgust as he slathered it thickly onto my mound.

  “On you knees,” he commanded, and I gave him the no way look.

  “I must remove the hair from your embarrassingly small bottom, so you will place yourself on
your knees right now!”

  At his annoyed voice, I cast pride aside and clambered to my knees. I could feel myself blush as he again spread my cheeks and I felt the warm cream being rubbed into places where no man had dared to explore under the threat of a black eye.

  “On your back again,” he demanded and, with a sigh, I rolled over and again exposed my front. He grabbed up an arm, smoothed the cream from wrists to arm pits, and repeated this step with the other arm. He replaced the jar and picked up a stiff brush. Without another word, he attacked my braids.

  “These were put in well,” he muttered as he detangled the extensions in my hair and brushed as much dust from them as he could.

  Finally, as if some mnemonic timer had pinged in his head, he put the brush down and motioned for me to rise. I followed him to a corner where I noticed a small drain. A small handheld showerhead exploded to life, drenching me with warm water. I opened my mouth to protest and instantly got a face full of water. Because I was thirsty, I didn’t try to take the hose from him and shove it up his ass. Besides, it refreshed me more than the washing I was finally getting. Well, almost.

  He grabbed a large curved stick and began to scrape the hair from my body. Amazed, I looked down and saw that where there was hair before, I was as bald as an egg. My pouting nether lips were exposed as they had never been since… God knows when.

  Turn,” he ordered. I turned. I felt him again part my cheeks and blushed as I felt the stick go to work. Then, with a final rinse, I was pulled forward only to be attacked by what smelled like vanilla.

  “Oil soap,” he explained as he lathered up a loofa and began scrubbing me, starting with my hands.

  “Why oil soap?” I asked, curious despite myself.

  “The oil will help in the removal of ground-in dirt and grease without over-drying your imperfect and flaky skin.”

  Again, in a few words, he managed to shut me up, but this time, I swore I heard amusement in his voice. In some strange way, I was beginning to like old Azit, even though he was a chrome-plated asshole.

  I was washed thoroughly three times before he was satisfied, and he scrubbed my hair twice. I didn’t complain as his strong massaging fingers felt good on my scalp, but all too soon, he was leading me back to that marble table and motioning for me to lie down.