The
desert had been a hot place to travel through the day. Freelance reporter, Jodi
Carson, had dutifully been following the UN inspectors round the desert for
weeks, looking in vain for the breaking news story that would make her a
fortune. Her jeep was battered, desert weary, and she was tired from the heat.
With increasing tiredness came carelessness and with carelessness, the risk of
discovery.
The UN
team had spent the last hour in the desert factory – a factory surrounded by a
double fence of barbed wire. Jodi had known where the team was headed the
moment they’d taken the dust track off the main road. She had followed at a
respectable distance, together with a small convoy of interested natives. Now,
perched on a sand dune overlooking the factory compound she had the
field-glasses trained on the members of the team as they methodically set about
the task of examining the factory.
She’d
been lying out on the sand for nearly an hour and the sun was beating down on
her body. The field-glasses were still trained on the compound but she was not
really watching any more. It was just another surprise visit and another waste
of time. The factory owners, curiously dressed in fatigues similar to those
worn by the military, had obviously been tipped off about the visit and the
team would find nothing of interest.
The sun
was hot, even for the time of year, and Jodi’s mind began to wander. At some
point she became vaguely aware of a presence. Perhaps it was the smell of
garlic or strong spices that made her mind click back from her reverie. Either
way she was too slow. Even as she rolled over to look up at the sky through her
dark sunglasses, she felt something sharp make contact with her chest. She
opened her eyes to see the three rifles pointing at her. What she could feel
was the barrel of one of the guns as it pushed against her chest, between her
breasts.
“You,
spy!” A face appeared close to hers and though dazzled by the bright afternoon
sun, she could begin to make out the shape of the turbans and flowing robes of
her assailants.
“No, no,
no. I’m a reporter,” she began. As she tried to straighten up, the gun was
shoved back into her breastbone, forcing her back onto the ground.
“We
watching you, you spy!” The voice snarled again.
“No, I’m
a reporter. I can prove it. Let me prove it.” Fear started to enter Jodi’s
thoughts. Shit! She thought to herself. She’d been warned about the sand
people, warned not to even go to the country on her own, but she’d been
headstrong and had been there for over six months now - six months during which
she had survived more than adequately.
“Do not
move, spy!” The voice snarled at her. “We take you as prisoner back to our
boss. He like spies.”
While the
gun was pushed into her breastbone, the two other men, also wearing long, white
flowing robes and turbans, stepped forward and turned Jodi over. Roughly
forcing her hands behind her back they lashed her wrists together with a length
of rope. Once secured, they made her stand up and walked her back up over the
dune to where their camels sat waiting for them.
“Get on
camel – we take ride.” The snarling voice was obviously the leader and though
he spoke with a heavy accent, Jodi could not help but admire the fact he spoke
any English at all. Jodi, her hands still tied behind her back, was helped into
the seat that the camel bore. Her captor climbed aboard behind her and placed a
big, thick, heavy arm around her waist, which was just as well because when the
camel rose gracelessly into the air, the arm stopped her from being thrown onto
the ground.
The ride
itself lasted nearly an hour before Jodi spotted the camp nestled between tow
large dunes. She marvelled that the desert people could find their way so
easily through such hostile territory but in the same instant she became even
more concerned for her own safety. Her bag and glasses had been picked up by
one of her captors and she hoped their boss would be a little more reasonable
than they had been.
The camp
comprised four small tents and a much larger tent that was surrounded by the
others. It was into this tent, or more accurately, marquee, that Jodi was
propelled.
“Sheik
Mahmood Al’almira is waiting for you,” her captor sneered as he untied the rope
around her wrists.
Jodi
stepped forward as the man rose from his chair.
“Ah, the
British spy,” his English was nearly perfect, even though there was a distinct
Arab lilt to it. “We have been watching you for some days as you follow the UN
inspectors around. Tell me, what have you discovered?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing
– but surely that can not be. Your leaders were so sure they would find
something!” His English lapsed into some Arabic dialect as he spoke to her
captor. In turn, her captor bowed his head.
“You have
identification with you?” The Sheik asked her.
“In my
bag. The big guy took it.” Jodi replied.
Al’almira
spoke again in Arabic to her captor who this time shrugged his shoulders.
“Tariq
says you had no bag. Either you are mistaken or he is lying. Which is it?”
“He’s
lying. I had a bag and field-glasses. The big guy took them.” Fear entered her
voice.
“I think
not.” Al’almira smiled at the pale-skinned, blonde-haired woman. “I thing not
only are you a spy but a liar as well. Do you know what we do to spies in this
country?”
“Kill
them?” Jodi tried to sound brave but failed miserably.
“Exactly.
We cut off their head, or shoot them. Is that what we must do with you, spy?”
“N…n…no,
I’m not a spy, I’m a reporter.” Tears sprang to her eyes as the Sheik stepped
forward.
“Tariq,
have you searched the woman?” The Sheik spoke in English, if only so the
captive would begin to understand what was happening.
Tariq,
not so thoughtful replied in Arabic, in the negative.
Al’almira
raised his hands, open as if in despair.
“Then do
it now.”
Tariq
stepped forward and spoke to Jodi.
“His
eminence wishes that I search you. Please, remove your clothes.”
“No way,”
Jodi tried to back away but suddenly realised a third man had entered the room
during the conversation. He placed his big, strong hands on her shoulders.
“Then we
will do it for you.” Tariq smiled, his yellowing teeth still pale against his
tanned flesh.
“No, no,
I’ll do it. Keep your filthy hands off me.” Jodi started unbuttoning her
blouse.
Two
minutes later she was standing there in her bra and knickers while Tariq
pretended to examine each article of clothing she had discarded.
“No identification,”
Tariq finally noted.
“I told
you, it’s in my bag.”
“But you
have no bag,” the Sheik intervened. “Please, spy, remove the rest of your
clothes.” He leered at her and Jodi was sure something had stirred under his
robe just below waist height.
“But I
couldn’t hide anything under what I am wearing,” she protested lamely.
“Nevertheless,
you will now remove the rest of your clothes.” Sheik Mahmood Al’almira was
still smiling benignly though his erection was now showing clearly through the
lump in his robes.
“No, this
can’t be right,” Jodi protested and suddenly felt the strong hands on her
shoulders again.
“Tariq,”
the Sheik uttered with a more severe voice.
Tariq
knew what to do. He didn’t waste time looking for clasps. Instead, with a
dagger he slit the front of the woman’s bra right between her breasts before
similarly cutting the shoulder straps. He barely waited for the torn garment to
hit the floor before he slit up the side of her knickers. On the second cut he
nicked her pale skin with the point of the knife.
“Careful
Tariq, we do not want spoiled goods yet.”
“Yes,
excellence. My humble apologies.” The men were speaking in Arabic, a language
that Jodi knew nothing of.
“Accepted,
but be more careful in the future. You may leave my tent now and prepare.” The
last sentence was spoken in English. The two men bowed in deference to the
Sheik and backed out of the tent.
“Come
here, my little naked spy.”
“I’m not
a spy,” Jodi started as she walked over to the seat offered her by the Sheik.
“But you
an not prove that, and a spy is not a good person to be out in the desert
alone. I am in two minds whether to kill you now or to give you a chance.”
“A
chance?” Jodi queried, “A chance for what?”
“A chance
for freedom, but one so pale – I do not know. I doubt you will survive the
night let alone the training.”
“I don’t
follow.”
“Ah,
well, white women are a delicacy out here. Like a fine wine they carry a high
price – and as they are strictly off-limits, like wine, they are a rare treat
and men will pay a handsome tariff for the pleasures of a white woman.”
“You
don’t mean…”
“Yes, but
I am not sure you would survive even the first test, let alone the full course
before you have earned your freedom. Sit down, naked spy.” The Sheik suddenly
sounded more serious and his final statement was in response to the fact that
Jodi had attempted to stand up.
“You
can’t mean…”
“Oh yes,
I can, and do. Now which is it to be, death this afternoon or your entry into
my training program for white women?”
“I don’t
want to die so I guess I have no choice.”
“No, I
don’t suppose you have. In that case stand up and let me look at you.”
Al’almira sat back and put his first fingers to his lips as he made Jodi stand
and turn slowly for him.
“Very
good. You have very pale natural skin and no doubt when you have been prepared
we will find you are pale between the legs also. You will be a positive feast
for me later on but for now, you must be prepared.” Al’almira clapped his hands
twice, loudly and Tariq and a woman wearing dark clothes and a veil appeared.
“Prepare
her,” Al’almira ordered in Arabic. “Thrash her first so she knows what will
happen if she disobeys me later.”
“Yes,
Excellence. How many strokes?”
“A dozen
should do.” Al’almira continued to speak in his native tongue. “When she has
been thrashed, prepare her for the first test, make sure she is clean-shaven
and that her pussy is softened by the spices.”
“Yes,
Excellence,” Tariq replied. In turn he clapped his hands and the woman in the
black dress walked up to Jodi, grabbed her arm and ushered her out of the tent.
Tariq followed, leaving the Sheik to get on with the business of the day.
Outside
the tent, Jodi was made to lie in the sand between four stakes. Her wrists were
tied to two of the stakes and her legs to the remaining two so that she was
completely spread-eagled. The sand was still hot but the main heat of the day
had passed.
With
horror she saw the flogger that Tariq brought out of what she presumed was his
tent. He knelt beside the naked woman and raised the flogger into the air. The
dozen strands of thin leather crashed into her naked back for the first time,
making her struggle futilely with her bonds in an attempt to escape.
“Yeeooowwww!”
she howled when the second lashing made contact with her flesh. “Yowch!” She
howled even more loudly when Tariq brought the straps down across her back
again.
After the
third stroke he stopped to examine the damage he was inflicting. She was
showing red marks from the strokes but he had not cut her. He raised the
flogger into the air again.
“Yeeeaarrggghh,”
she groaned as the leather straps landed half-way down her back, cutting into
fresh territory. The man inflicting her injuries was being systematic, moving
from her shoulders to her backside. A second stroke cut across her mid-back,
causing her to howl again. The next stroke landed a fraction lower, the ends of
the straps now curling round her side into the soft flesh of her abdomen.
“No,
please stop, it’s killing me,” she pleaded though her cries landed on deaf
ears.
The
seventh stroke of the flogger cut into the tender flesh at the base of her
spine, adding its fiery sting to her growing agony.
“Yearrgghh!”
She cried out loud as the tails of the flogger struck the top of her buttocks
on the eighth stroke. A similar cry followed the ninth stroke and again Tariq
stopped to examine his work. She felt his clammy hand on her buttocks, kneading
her flesh as he looked closely at the red marks that were forming.
“Hey,
what are you doing, you bastard,” Jodi cried out as she felt his hand slip
between the crack in her buttocks. His fingers sought out her pussy, fingering
her indelicately as they did so. Then his fingers felt the flesh between her
cunt and anus before resting on the anus itself. Here, he palpitated the
tightly closed muscle, pushing against the woman’s resolve to keep him from
entering her.
“Silly
fucking bitch whore,” he spat at her after a moment. “You will soon open up for
his Excellence.”
“Don’t
bet on it. Yeearrgghhh!” She howled as the tails of the flogger bit into her
buttocks again. Tears of pain welled up in her eyes as he continued the
punishment. The tenth, eleventh and final strokes were all delivered across the
pale, naked cheeks of her buttocks. Each stroke she screamed at as much in
anger as in pain.
“Wait
until I get out of here. You just caused yourself a major diplomatic incident.”
Jodi sounded a lot more confident than she was feeling.
“I not
understand what you say. His Excellence will answer your questions later. Now,
though, you are to be prepared.”
Tariq stood
back and waited. The woman dressed in the black dress and veil stepped forward.
Without ceremony she knelt down next to Jodi’s waist. In a moment the
spread-eagled Jodi felt the woman’s delicate hands on her buttocks. As Tariq
had done, they kneaded her flesh, teasing the bruised areas. Then the woman
applied a dollop of sweetly aromatic oil to the flesh that had been burned. For
a moment it was cooling and soothing, but as the woman worked the oil into her
flesh, the heat from the flogging seemed to intensify as the oils aggravated
the fiery bruising. Just when Jodi was about to complain about the increasing
heat in her arse, she felt the oil trickle onto her anus. In a moment the woman
had palpitated her sphincter muscle and gained entry to her rectum. The oil was
slippery and her fingers slid easily into the cavern beyond the muscle.
The woman
spoke excitedly in Arabic. Tariq bowed, disappeared into a tent and returned a
moment later. In his hand he held two small, hemp bags of mixed spices and a
cylinder that was about ten inches long and an inch and a half in diameter. The
cylinder was formed from wood, around which had been glued a piece of smooth
leather. In some ways it resembled the handle of a whip, but smooth and without
a grip.
The woman
took one of the small bags of spices and the cylindrical tool, placed the
sachet at the entrance of Jodi’s anus and then used the tool to bury the bag
deep into her body.
Jodi
howled at the rude intrusion of the tool into her rectum as it stretched her
sphincter muscle, ripping it slightly.
When the
woman had withdrawn the tool, she turned her attentions to Jodi’s cunt. More
oil was dripped onto her pussy lips, making it easy for the woman to slide her
fingers deep into Jodi’s vulva.
In Arabic
the woman muttered, “The bitch is tight. She will be a lot of fun for his
Excellence tonight.”
Once the
woman had fully explored the intimate areas inside Jodi’s cunt she took the
second small bag of spices and inserted it into her vulva. With the cylindrical
tool she pushed it high up into Jodi, ensuring it would not pop out again.
“Done,”
the woman said as she pulled the device out of Jodi’s cunt.
As the
spice bags started to react with the natural fluids in both her anus and cunt,
Jodi felt the heat beginning to rise. It was like a burning sensation but not
quite.
Still
staked out on the ground she could not resist what was happening but as her
discomfort grew so she started to writhe on the ground, as if trying to expel
the bags from her body.
The
black-dressed woman left the scene, her dark robe swirling in the sand as she
walked away. Jodi could feel the heat rising and with it a strange desire.
Impossible, she thought, that she could become aroused, but it was happening!
Sure enough there was the first contraction as the pleasure mounted inside her
tight cunt.
“Oh,
shit!” She exclaimed out loud as her abdomen contracted with the first spasm of
orgasm. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”
Tariq
stood there smiling at the hapless woman.
“You are
being prepared for his Excellence.” When the spices have all gone from inside
you, you will be ready, bitch.”
“Oh,
shit, not another one.” This time the orgasm swept through her body with
greater speed.
“How do
you mean – prepared?” She queried when the orgasm subsided.
“When you
can not resist no more you will be ready.” Tariq was picking his teeth with a
small piece of wood. He smiled as he watched the white woman climax again. The
spices were getting to work now.
“Oh,
fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jodi desperately tried to lift her stomach off the ground as
she contracted again and again in the throes of orgasm. “Oh, fuuuuuuccckkkkk!”
The power of her climaxes was increasing with each fresh wave of pleasure.
Ten
minutes later the pleasure, which had been a relief after the brutal flogging
and the rude intrusions into her body, had become more painful than the
injuries previously inflicted. Instead of expressing her pleasure, Jodi was now
pleading for an end to the orgasms.
“Oh no,
oh God, not another one. Please stop, please, I can’t take any more.”
“Nearly
there,” Tariq smiled again. Then he knelt beside the naked, spread-eagled woman
and put his hand between her legs. Her pussy was soft, liquid, supple, and
easily entered. She was hot down there, from the effects of the spices and from
her own arousal.
Tariq
felt the bud of her clitoris, swollen, excited, engorged and stroked it gently
with his finger. “Nearly there, bitch,” he smiled again. Her body convulsed as
a fresh orgasm flowed through her, causing the nerve endings around her clitoris
to tingle and making fresh beads of perspiration appear on her chest, beads
that dripped onto the sandy ground beneath her.
“You
ready now,” said Tariq. He clapped his hands twice and the woman in the dark
dress reappeared. Tariq spoke quickly to her in some Arabic dialect. The woman
knelt down in the sand, prised open Jodi’s buttocks and examined her anus. It
was soft, pliable, ready to be violated. With her left hand she felt between
Jodi’s legs. Her cunt was open, wet, ready to be penetrated.
The woman
made a gesture and spoke quickly to Tariq before returning to her tent.
“I tell
his Excellence you are ready.” Tariq smiled wickedly. “Soon you see what he
does to spies.”
“I…I…I’m
not a spy,” Jodi pleaded with an exhausted sounding voice. “I…I…I’m a reporter.”
“You
captive spy – you learn lesson of all captive spies.”
Tariq
left for the larger tent and reappeared two minutes later, his smile even
wider.
“Excellence
is ready for you, white spy woman.” Tariq set about the task of untying Jodi
from the four stakes in the ground. Even with her bonds gone, she lay still,
afraid and exhausted. “Come, Excellence is ready for you.” Tariq made a motion
as if to get Jodi to stand up.
“I can’t
move,” she complained.
“Excellence
ready - move now, please.”
“I can’t fucking
move, you pig-shit.” Jodi wasn’t kidding. Her body was limp from her exertions.
She also knew Tariq would not understand what she was calling him.
“What is
that – pig-shit?” Tariq’s smile thinned.
“It’s a
term of endearment.” Jodi looked up at her captor.
“What is
endearment?”
“Oh God,
we could do this all day. It’s asking you to help me,” she continued.
Tariq
offered a hand and Jodi took it. Slowly she lifted her bruised and painful body
off of the desert floor. When she stood up she almost collapsed so Tariq
scooped her up in his big, strong arms and carried off to the tent of his
Excellence, Sheik Mahmood Al’almira.
“Excellence,
the white spy is ready and prepared.” Tariq dumped Jodi on the Persian rug that
covered part of the tent floor.
“Good, you
may go.” The Sheik clapped his hands twice and Tariq left the tent.
“Ah, you
have learned not to be a spy. Let us hope you learn your trade just as quickly.
Tonight we will camp here, but tomorrow I will take you back to my desert camp,
where your training will truly begin.”
“Training?”
Jodi queried him.
“Ah yes,
you have much to learn, naked, desert spy. You have many experiences to
discover and then you will be set to work.”
“Work?”
“Yes. Too
many questions now, naked, white, desert spy. All will be clear soon.”
“I’m not
a spy.” Jodi sat up.
“I say
you are and you can not prove otherwise.”
“I could,
if you’d give me my bag.”
“It’s
there, on my little table.”
“Can I
show you?”
“Of
course.” The Sheik helped Jodi to her feet. She stumbled over to the table and
snapped open her bag. Everything was there except her passport and her identity
papers. “Where are my papers?”
“What
papers. Come, did you not think we would check your story. You are a spy, plain
and simple.”
“No, I’m
a reporter.”
“Please,
you must learn not to contradict what I tell you and the sooner you do that the
better. Now, come here, white, naked spy.”
Jodi
looked up and saw the Sheik beckon to her. She took the two steps over to him
and stood there while he examined her body. His hand started on her face. He
caressed her sun-burned skin gently. Then he walked round to look at her back.
He caressed her shoulders and then moved his hand onto the bruised and purple
marks made by the flogging she had received. She winced as he touched the marks.
“These
hurt?” He questioned her.
“Yes.”
“Too bad,
but they are only a trifle compared to what you will feel if you are
disobedient or say you are not a spy again.”
Al’almira
touched her buttocks, her soft, pale flesh, marked by the tails of the flogger
so that her buttocks were criss-crossed by angry red and purple streaks. Again
Jodi winced as he touched her.
In a
moment he was back standing in front of her. He caressed her breasts, admiring
their fullness and the dark areolas that surrounded her pert, pink, erect
nipples. These he caressed between his finger and thumb in turn. Jodi gasped as
he touched her, the burning in her cunt renewed by the attentions of this
strange man.
“You are
a typical white woman, tender and soft.” Al’almira admired the woman’s tight,
flat belly and the crop of short, dark hair that covered her labia.
“Come,
lie on my rug,” he said and guided the woman onto the rug. She lay down and
felt his hand between her legs. His arousal of her body continued as he
examined the puffy lips around her vulva and the stiff bud of her clitoris.
“What…what
are you going to do to me?” Jodi asked as she gasped under his hand.
“Take you
and see if you can be trained. Now, open your legs for me.”
Jodi did
as she was asked and closed her eyes. The next moment she felt something cold
against her naked sex-flesh. It was hard, like steel. A moment later, Jodi felt
the first stroke of the blade as the Sheik used his blade to dry-shave her
pubes. With small strokes he continued to divest her of her pubic hairs until
he was satisfied. She lay there motionless, not daring to move in case he cut
her.
Then she
felt the oil on her stubble. He massaged it into her skin before using the same
sharp blade to scrape the stubble away. Finally, after about five minutes she
was totally bare between her legs, every last hair having been removed.
“Excellent,
you have such a nice, white cunt.” The Sheik was already preparing for the next
part. He reached forward and used one hand to part Jodi’s labia. She lay there,
fearful of what was going to happen, wishing this day had never got started.
She felt the object entering her vulva. It was not particularly large, but it
felt exquisitely sharp. It scraped against her inner walls is he penetrated her
with it.
“What’s
that?” She asked, still unwilling to open her eyes.
“The end
of a quill. It will prepare you fully,” he replied.
“What
for?”
“Me,” he
replied simply. At the same time he twisted the device inside her.
“Ouch,”
Jodi moaned, “that hurt.”
“It
always does, the first piercing.”
“The
first what?”
“Piercing.
I am scratching your inside to make it more of an experience.”
“Ouch,”
she complained again as the tip of the quill ruptured her vaginal wall again.
“That really hurts. Why are you doing it?”
“To teach
you a lesson in obedience. Lie still or it will hurt more.”
For the
next five minutes the Sheik played with the quill, choosing his moments to
drive the tip of the device into her muscle walls, causing her pain. After a
minute a faint trickle of blood appeared on her clean-shaven labia. Throughout,
Jodi tried hard not to move, desperate to avoid further pain.
“Good,
you are nearly ready. Turn over and come up onto your knees with your legs wide
apart.” The Sheik removed the quill to allow Jodi to take up the new position
he demanded. Though very afraid she knew she had no choice in the matter so she
complied.
The quill
was rammed into the flesh between her anus and vulva, causing fresh blood to
appear and making Jodi howl with the pain.
“Yeowch,”
she shrieked as the quill pierced her again, its sharp tip entering her body a
fraction of an inch from her anus. Al’almira pierced her round the anus ten
times, each tiny prick brining a droplet of blood to the surface of her skin.
“Excellent,
now please stay very still.”
“Uh-huh,”
Jodi mumbled. She felt the Sheik change position so he was right behind her.
“Oh God, no, please not that way,” she pleaded as soon as she realised what was
going to happen.
He was
huge. As his cock rubbed against the already sore and bleeding backside of the
woman, the heat of his thick, dark-skinned manhood only made her more afraid.
“It will
hurt only for a minute,” he said quite simply as he placed the tip of his
manhood against the sphincter muscle and rammed it home. He slid his ten inches
into her, her muscle opening easily as he forced himself upon her. He rammed
his cock into her several times, each time causing the woman more pain, both
from the bruising and cuts on her backside and around her anus, and from the
residual effect of the spices in her rectum. Those same spices only served to
heighten the Sheik’s own arousal, making his cock grow even larger while it was
embedded in her body. After ten strokes of his cock inside her, Jodi started
snivelling like a little girl. The pain was excruciating.
Al’almira
withdrew and let her slump onto the rug, tears streaking her sun-tanned face.
“Ow, that
bloody hurt,” she protested.
“It was a
warning for you to do all that you are ordered.
“Some
warning.”
“Turn
over please.” Al’almira had been to wipe the sticky, bloody streaks off his
cock and now he stood once again in front of the woman. “Now, I am going to
take you like a spy should be taken. Lift up your legs and open them wide for
me.”
Jodi knew
better than to argue. She lifted her knees up and opened her legs so that she
was as wide open as she could manage and her upper legs were pointing straight
up to the ceiling of the tent. Al’almira came and knelt behind her and lifted
her feet onto his big, broad shoulders. Then, with a deft movement he lifted
her upwards and impaled her cunt on his cock.
“GGggrrrrrgggg,”
she groaned as her breath was forced out of her by the force of his entry.
“Now I
will ride you like the whore you are.”
“No I’m
not… arrggg!” She howled as he lifted her up, partly withdrawing his cock,
before dropping her back down on his thick shaft.
She cried
aloud as he forced himself ever deeper into her vulva, as his cock rubbed
angrily against the cut muscle walls of her vagina. She felt him as his manhood
pushed those walls to their limits. Then, after ten such deep thrusts he
withdrew.
“It is
time for you to be obedient. Kneel and face me.”
“Christ,
you’re huge,” Jodi exclaimed when she was face to face with his engorged cock.
“Large,
yes, but others are bigger, as you will soon find out.”
“How do
you mean?”
“Well,
this is only your trial. If you pass tonight you will be taken to the camp
tomorrow where you will begin training.”
“And if I
don’t pass?”
“You will
have your head cut off for being a spy.”
“Okay, so
what do I do next?” Jodi took only one second to weigh up her choices and
realised that she had none.
“You will
suck my cock and make me come.”
Jodi took
his manhood in her hand. He was huge and his shaft was streaked with the blood
from her pierced vulva. She kissed the head of his cock and felt his hand on
the back of her head.
“Suck,
little white spy,” he chided her.