Chapter 1

 

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.