by Tessa Valmur
Zoe thought about what the man was saying. The butt plug was still vibrating deep inside her anus and along with the constant pull being exerted on her labia, it was enough for Zoe to find that she was being brought to another orgasm even as the one she'd just had was subsiding. What would it be like to be like this everyday, she wondered, then she shook her head in alarm at the prospect. How could she even contemplate being a sex slave! She had to escape! God, she'd been a prisoner for only a day or two and she was already beginning to resign herself to the existence! Swearing through the gag she stared angrily at the leather cuffs that bound her wrists. If she could only manage to twist her hands out from under the leather...
'Struggle all you want Miss Farquerson, you can't escape what's happening to you,' Stonefield laughed derisively and Zoe wondered whether he had guessed what was going through her mind. The man gave a low laugh of satisfaction as he stroked one finger deeply along the entrance of her pussy. She writhed under the sensation and with shame that flushed her cheeks scarlet, she knew she was going to come again. The realisation that she was actually getting off on being treated as a sex slave made her furiously ashamed and she cursed her wanton response to the torment she was being subjected to.
'I think you're ready to come again, aren't you, my dear?'
She shook her head in denial, then in protest as she saw the man pick up the pump that dangled between her spread legs and was connected to the butt plug. She watched in fascination and alarm as he squeezed the pump and she felt the soft rubber device in her anus expand even more. Sweat beaded her brow and she shook her head vigorously as he gave the pump another squeeze. She could feel the butt plug widening her channel, forcing the walls of her rectum to part to accommodate it. She watched in disbelief as the man squeezed the pump again. He had to stop... stop... please...no more...
'Time, I think, for you to come again,' Stonefield announced dryly, smiling with satisfaction as he watched her writhing become more and more frantic. Zoe felt the vibrations from the butt plug slow then increase as Stonefield toyed with the dial. The pressure from the little weights dangling from her swollen labia increased and Zoe gave an agonised groan as a violent orgasm whipped through her body, leaving her gasping for breath.
She was still struggling to recover as the man removed the clamps and weights from her labia. She felt his fingers stroke her sex and then he showed his hand to her, his fingers shiny and dripping with the juices from her pussy.
'It looks like you're enjoying all this attention, doesn't it?'
Zoe shamefully closed her eyes, sighing as his hands stroked over her rump. She felt the vibrations from the butt plug stop but the device remained inside her expanded so much she felt she was in danger of being split to accommodate it. She was just thinking that if it got any bigger she would faint from the excruciating feeling when she realised that the man had moved to directly behind her and was standing where her legs were spread by the two lengths of the cross shaped bench.
'You'll have to forgive me my dear, but the sight of you enjoying yourself so much is too much...'
She craned her head back to see the man unzip his trousers and allow his cock to spring into view. She remembered how she had bound her hair ribbon around his scrotum, how he had struggled against the ties she'd spread-eagled him with. Now she was bound spread-eagled and he was taking his revenge upon her.
'We are very tight aren't we?'
Zoe grunted in discomfort as she felt the man's cock trying to force its way into her pussy. Of course with the butt plug expanded in her anus, her sex was now being pressed from two directions. Tears of anguish pricked her eyes and she jerked her arms and legs in protest as the cock was relentlessly driven into her.
'Very tight...' the man gave an appreciative gasp.
She grunted through the gag as she felt the cock push deeper into her and she was certain she was going to faint, so intense was the sensation. The man drew back; all she could do was whimper, tensing herself for his next thrust.
'Feels so good doesn't it...'
The man rammed his cock back into her, Zoe jerked against the leather that held her limbs outstretched, tears blurring her vision.
'Struggle all you want Zoe, it just gives me more satisfaction to know how this makes you feel!'
The man pulled his cock almost out of her and again he drove it back into her. She writhed helplessly.
'Don't tell me you've had enough sex for one day already?' the man asked, his tone of voice mocking her distress. Zoe looked back over her shoulder at him, begging him with her wide eyes to stop.
'Well that's such a pity you want to stop, because you see, I've hardly begun...'
Smiling sadistically the man rammed his engorged cock back into her body. Zoe gave a howl of gag-muted protest as she grimly remembered the man who had suffered the catheter. Silenced just like she was now, he had implored her with his eyes but she'd ignored him, intent on her own pleasure taken at his expense. Now it was her turn... she was completely at this man's mercy and he was showing her none.
Chapter Five
Vanessa lifted her head weakly and looked at the man sitting in the front of the RangeRover. She was desperate for a drink and felt giddily weak, not having eaten since the in-flight meal which seemed ages ago now. She gave a groan to attract the man's attention and when he swung around she looked beseechingly at him.
Having spent a summer as a submissive model being passed from one master to another, Vanessa had quickly learnt that anger and a bad temper got her nowhere. She'd been attracted to the idea of modelling nude and when she'd seen an advert for a model to work for a painter who specialised in submissive females she'd jumped at the chance. But what had started as modelling bound and gagged had quickly developed into something far beyond what her imagination had prepared her for. At first she'd rebelled, trying to convince herself that she hated being treated in such a way. Soon enough though she became a willing victim and she'd quickly learnt how to behave to ensure that she pleased her masters. Vanessa now looked hopefully at the man and moaned faintly through the gag.
'Shut up and lie still!'
She let her head slump back down. The man was gazing at her now, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. She twisted her wrists experimentally against the rope. It had been tied in a figure of eight around her wrists, which she knew was the most effective way to prevent escape. She had lost track of how many times she'd been tied up but the truth was that wriggling against her bonds had become a curious comfort for her. After all, once she was bound and helpless there was nothing she could do to protect herself. She was effectively absolved from any responsibility for what happened to her from then on.
Once, after flirting at a party, she had allowed herself to be coaxed into a car full of young men. They'd taken her back to a flat and no sooner was the door locked behind them than Vanessa found herself dragged across a bed and forcibly stripped. They had taken turns to screw her and since she'd been gagged and held down, she couldn't stop them. She'd struggled obligingly but the truth was that she'd loved it and ever since then, the feel of being forcefully restrained had made her pussy wet with eager anticipation.
She heard another vehicle approaching and lifted her head so she could glance out of the window. A Mercedes saloon drew up in a cloud of dust and two young Arabs sprang from the car brandishing the type of machine guns that every terrorist and freedom fighter around the world seems to wave. The man in the front seat glanced back at her. She looked sorrowfully at him. Since he was obviously responsible for her abduction she had to somehow ingratiate herself with him. Whilst she was bound and gagged that was a bit difficult but at least she could look pathetically vulnerable and dutifully docile. She hoped that sooner or later he'd give her the chance to suck him off. She'd become accomplished at that and all men seemed to respond favourably to a girl who gave them a good blowjob. However the man left her in the car and she settled back down to wait the next turn of events.
She had b
een bought her return flight to El-Saram by Sheikh Auda bin Yasel, who had invited her to spend some time with him. He had told her he owned a villa and a yacht and that in El-Saram at this time of year she could be assured of beautifully hot days. Vanessa had jumped at the chance of a free holiday, the opportunity to top up the tan she'd acquired in southern Italy as well as the chance of some more sex with the Sheikh. She had a naturally slightly olive complexion, her mother being French. Her father though was Swedish and she had his blonde hair and blue eyes. With her slim waist and generous breasts she knew and loved the fact that she drew lascivious gazes from men wherever she went. She gazed down at her body stretched the length of the back seat of the vehicle. The white rope wrapped tightly around her ankles and wrists contrasted pleasingly with her deeply tanned skin. She could see the faint gleam of metal through the soft thatch of her pussy hair. She had suffered having her clit pierced against her will. How she had howled when she'd been subjected to that! The pain was short lived though, then she'd been forced to watch, with a curious sort of detached feeling as the young women who were tormenting her had slid a fine silver ring through her clit and fastened it. It wasn't long before she'd become attached to her new piece of body jewellery and the feeling of it being pulled or weighted made her feel deliciously vulnerable.
Craning her head she glanced up to satisfy her curiosity as she felt the vehicle move. They were changing the tyre; he must have had a puncture, which was why they'd stopped in the middle of nowhere. It was quickly growing dark now but it took only ten minutes before they were ready to drive off again. The man climbed back in, seeming more at ease now, Vanessa thought. A moment later and they were driving quickly down the desert track, the Mercedes following behind them. Vanessa laid back and pondered this latest turn of events in her life. Modelling had led her into the world of bondage and submission. She'd been taken to Italy and now here she was in the desert somewhere in the Middle East. She assumed she was still in El-Saram, but of course she couldn't be certain. How long had she been drugged, she wondered, surely only for a few hours? At last civilisation and help couldn't be too far away? She twisted her body, lifting herself up as the RangeRover drew to a halt. It was dark outside, but she could see the faint yellow gleam of lights from one lone building. When the man opened the door the cool air against her bare skin made her shiver.
The two Arab youths appeared and dragged her legs first out of the vehicle. A pole was slid under the rope binding her ankles and wrists and they lifted her easily, taking the weight from the pole across their shoulders. Hanging upside down she could see that she was being carried to a narrow tower of stone and somewhere in the distance she could hear the sound of the sea, waves breaking on rocks, a distant but relentless pounding noise.
The heavy door to the tower, framed by an archway of flaking stone was opened as they approached, light flooding out. Vanessa was gazing down at the sand and saw a scorpion suddenly caught by the light freeze for a second before it scuttled away into the shadows. The two young men carried her quickly over the threshold, the man who had abducted her following close at heel. The door was swung to and closed with a resounding thud.
'So what have we here?'
Vanessa looked up to see a slim, late middle aged man in creased beige, white shirt and coloured silk cravat looking down curiously at her.
'She's called Vanessa. She's English. Nineteen. An interesting acquisition,' said the Arab as he gestured for the two young men to take her down a narrow flight of twisting stone steps.
'So what do you make of this mystery phone call?' asked the Englishman.
'I've no idea, but it spells trouble, I'm certain,' the Arab answered with a dismissive shrug.
'Raoul,' he called down the stairs, 'give her a wash in the well then bring her up and put her in my bed. Give her a drink and some food but keep her tied.'
The youth leading Vanessa called back up the stairs.
'Yes Major. We take good care of her. Food and water and wash, yes, very good.'
Vanessa was carried down into a cool and sand floored basement. Removed from the pole she gave a sigh of relief. The pain of being hung upside down by the arms and legs was something she could only suffer for so long... She glanced around her at the room, shuddering as she took in the chains dangling from the walls and the stomach churning equipment scattered across one table. Then she saw the second table. Through the adhesive tape that was secured across her mouth she gave a gasp of surprise. Strapped down over a cross-shaped bench was a naked young woman.
Vanessa sat obediently still as a rope was tied around the one that already bound her ankles.
'Time for your wash.'
'You enjoy.'
'You ready for wash, yes?'
Vanessa looked at the two youths questioning her. Suddenly the gleam in their eyes made her deeply unsettled. She glanced back at the other girl. There was something protruding from her backside and Vanessa could guess what it was. The poor bitch had been left with a butt plug in her. She was wondering for how long she'd been strapped down over the bench like that when the girl lifted her head and looked at them.
She had long dark hair and a beautiful olive complexion but her mouth was forced cruelly wide and filled by a ball gag. Her eyes were moist with tears and her hair was tousled over her perspiration soaked features. Vanessa could see faint marks across her exposed rump where she must have been whipped. Her thighs were spread wide and strapped with broad belts that were tight around her legs. Poor thing, Vanessa thought, wondering to herself how long the girl had been a prisoner here.
'Time for your wash,' one of the youths announced cheerfully.
Vanessa gave a grunt of discomfort as she was dragged by her legs across the sand to one corner of the basement. There was a circular low wall of stones and before Vanessa knew what was happening she was being lowered head first down the well shaft by the rope tied to her ankles. She felt cold water soaking her hair and she lifted her head up in alarm. She felt herself revolving slowly, and then her shoulders went under the water. A second later and the water came over her head and a few seconds after that she was completely submerged. Almost immediately though she felt herself being lifted up again. Shaking with cold and fear she was hauled right up out of the well and into the waiting hands of the two youths who were laughing at her discomfort. With a bar of soap the younger of the two lads quickly washed her from head to toe whilst the other unfastened and discarded her bra then stroked her breasts appreciatively. Once covered in lather from her hair to her feet she was then lowered back into the icy well water. Having been rinsed she was hauled up again and she was then carried back up the narrow stairs. Vanessa saw the other girl was watching her and they exchanged sympathetic glances.
* * *
Auda moved stealthily around the wall, brushing the flaking old masonry with his left shoulder. There was no way in except for the one door. Solid heavy wood, studded and recessed into the stone arch it would not be easier to force an entry that way. He circled the tower once more, surveying the windows. There were none on the ground floor, only slim arrow slits, too narrow to admit a person. On the first and second floors the windows were larger but they were all shuttered except for two which were barred with iron rods. Auda stepped back and looked up at the battlements of the roof. Perhaps that was the best way?
Drawing his long cloak around him he retreated back the way he had come, trudging slowly up the sand dune to where Basil sat waiting.
'What's the verdict chief?'
'Difficult,' Auda slumped down and accepted a tin mug of steaming coffee from his servant.
Basil had appeared at the airport a quarter of an hour after he'd summoned him. He had an old, open top jeep, the back of which was piled with supplies. The young man was flustered and out of breath and spent the next ten minutes explaining how hard it was to do what had been expected of him in so short a space of time. Auda had not seen the Major leave the airport and was beginning to think he had somehow slipped past
him when he saw a RangeRover come speeding around the corner of a distant storage building and race across the deserted tarmac. As the vehicle paused at the security gate he recognised Mosafa at the wheel, seemingly alone. Guessing he probably had the girl stashed in the boot, Auda waited until the RangeRover was a good distance down the road before he gestured for Basil to follow.
Since it was late in the afternoon and the roads were busy with people heading home from their work it wasn't too hard to follow the Major's vehicle without becoming obtrusive. As usual the few traffic lights in the city weren't working and the police performing traffic duty, in their starched white uniforms and peaked caps, looked the part but were actually creating more confusion with their meaningless arm waving. Auda smiled to himself. Despite the modern high-rise buildings and the newly constructed roads of the capital, El-Saram was still medieval at heart. The King, a despot and a fool in Auda's opinion, had imported from the western world what he imagined his country needed but generally it was useless and served only as window dressing to give the right image for tourists, whose presence and money he welcomed. The police, for example, looked good in their immaculate white uniforms and smiled at every tourist or businessman but they served only to distract the critical eye from the real police of El-Saram: the secret police, who wore no uniform but wielded all the power.
Auda had settled back, allowing Basil to drive. Following the Major's RangeRover they had weaved their way around cyclists, camels and clapped out old buses until they left the city behind them. Auda unfolded and surveyed an old map of the area from when it had been a British colonial province. The King had banned all maps and map-making except for ones that he authorised, maps that carefully omitted his military bases; the inland oases and old towns of the hinterland that the King wanted to become forgotten. These places were still controlled by local Sheikhs and if he could reduce their trade he would reduce their wealth. Turn his opponents into beggars and how could they stop him, was his reasoning.
