This is the first episode of Anguine's best selling Desert Camp series.
Starting with the capture of Jodi and her abuse and sexual torture at the hands of her new Arab masters, the story takes Jodi and others to the sex slave training camp of Sheik Al'almira. Here the hapless white women are subjected to sexual degradation and severe punishment and torture when they fail to please their masters.
This story is not for the squeamish, it contains hard bdsm sex scenes which are degrading and humiliating to the victims.
EXTRACT
“You said girls. How many of us are there?”
“Four in a dormitory and there are four huts they use to keep us
locked in, so there are sixteen of us maximum, but I reckon there are
only about ten here at the moment. We come and we go. Once our
training is over we’re moved out of the camp and taken to work in one
of the bigger towns.”
“Doing what?”
“Fulfilling the needs of the rich – prostitution really, except we
don’t get paid for it, other than a bed and food to keep us alive.”
“Christ, so what do we have to do for these rich people?”
“You’re naive, aren’t you?” Chris sounded scornful though she knew
Jodi was just terrified. “We suck, fuck and take it all the way up
wherever they want to put it. We let them treat us like dirt, slaves,
or whatever they want to treat us like. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, and one other thing. Where ever you end up going don’t forget
most of your customers will be military bods, and they are used to
being obeyed. In this country if you question authority you get shot
or have your head cut off. So, I suggest you learn quickly. There,
you’re washed. Now, step out of the tub, I’ll dry you down and then
get you ready for inspection. On the way to inspection we’ll show you
the punishment room and you’d better pray you don’t ever get ordered
there.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s like hell on earth. Now, step out of the tub.”
Jodi did as she was instructed and waited while Chris blotted her dry
with the large, thick towel that was waiting for her. When she was
dry, Chris handed Jodi her new clothes – a thong made out of some
animal’s hide, a simple piece of linen that Chris showed Jodi how to
fasten around her breasts, and a pair of flip-flop slip on shoes. Thus
attired, Chris attracted the attention of the guard standing by the
door. The door was opened and the two women were ushered out. Once in
the compound, the guard led them to one of the huts. He opened the
door with a key and they passed inside.
The inside of the hut reminded Jodi of her school gymnasium. At the
far end was a sort of wooden horse contraption and on one of the walls
was a series of bars. A metal box, the shape of a water cooler
occupied one of the far corners and nearest the door was a table
around which four chairs were arranged.
“Strange room,” said Jodi. “Why is it like hell on earth?”
“That horse over there. They strap you over it when it is time for
punishment. Then, when you are in position they beat you.”
“I see.”
“It gets worse. Once they’ve softened you up they apply the
electrodes and torture you more.”
“Christ.”
“And if your crime is really serious then they take you to the bars
and torture you further. See the fixings on the ceiling?” The young
women looked up and for the first time Jodi saw the pulleys, chains
and the bars that were hanging from the ceiling.
“Yes, what are they for?” Jodi sounded scared.
“They are for the really bad people. You don’t want to go there. If
you do, your cunt will be sore for a month, such is what they do to
you.”
“Oh, shit,” said Jodi, her imagination working overtime.
“Right, you’ve been warned. Oh, sometimes for a punishment session
they bring some of us in here to watch the victim – sort of breeds
some discipline into us. Okay, time to meet the real Sheik then you’ll
be shown the manacles.”
“What?”
“They put rings round your legs and chain them together to stop you
running away.”
“But you aren’t wearing any,” Jodi protested.
“I’m trusted now, but I had to wear them for some time first off when
I came here.”
“Bugger.”
“It’s the rules. You’d best not complain or you could end up in here.
Right – time to go.”
The guard opened the door to the punishment hut and waited while the
two women left before carefully locking the door behind him. Once
outside, the trio marched quickly across the quadrangle to the first
of the larger buildings. Whitewashed on the outside, it was a fairly
unobtrusive and unimpressive affair, but once the young women had
walked through the front door they could see the owner of the desert
camp was indeed wealthy.
“You leave your shoes at the door,” Chris commented as she stepped
out of her regulation flip-flops. “It’s the rules. Something to do
with respect, or so I was told.”
“Yeah, that figures,” replied Jodi as she slipped hers off. The
marble floor was cool despite the hot sun outside.
The guard that had accompanied them pushed past. Jodi noticed he
continued to wear his jack boots. He knocked on a door at the side of
the hallway and was summoned by a deep voice from within. A few words
in some Arabic dialect were exchanged before the guard returned.
“You, white bitch-spy,” he snarled at Jodi, “are to go inside. You,”
he pushed Chris on the shoulder, “are to go back to your hut.”
Chris turned and whispered, “good luck”, to Jodi, before replacing
her flip-flops and following the guard out of the building and back to
her hut. Hut was a euphemistic term for what was really no more than a
prison cell, a cell shared by up to four inmates.
“Come, come on in,” the face that appeared in the doorway was
smiling, a sickly, false smile.
“Why am I here?” Jodi asked as she responded to the invitation.
“You are a spy – we caught you watching one of our special
factories.”
“You mean the chemical plant?”
“Yes, if you say so. We could not risk you telling your government
anything you might have seen.”
“I didn’t see anything. Just a few trucks coming and going.”
“Exactly, but you are still a spy.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a freelance reporter.”
“You were a freelance reporter. You are now a slave in my country.”
“By whose authority?”
“Well, mine actually. I own the factory you were spying on. Anyway,
it is irrelevant. You are now in my custody and your choice is either
to have your head removed as we do to spies in this country or to
comply with what you are instructed to do.”
“Not much of a choice is it?”
“No, but it is a choice.” The elderly Arab had been standing close to
Jodi as he spoke but now he backed away a couple of paces. “So, my son
tells me you have spirit and a supple cunt.”
“Did he? Well, your son is a rapist and a coward. He tied me to a
tree and forced me to take his cock in side me. I call that rape.”
“I call it something you can’t prove and anyway it is something you
will get used to soon enough. Jamal,” he called out slightly louder
than he had been speaking.
The side door to what was evidently the Sheik’s office opened.
“This is Jamal,” the Sheik said unnecessarily. “Jamal is a big man.
He is your first assignment – to let me assess what training you
need.”
“What…no you can’t surely mean…you don’t mean…” Jodi stammered as the
reality dawned.
“Yes, now, in here, in front of me and you would be wise to do your
best.”
“No way.”
“Then you will lose your head this evening at dusk.”
“Well, if you put it like that – what must I do?” Jodi looked fearful
as the Arab called Jamal fully entered the room. He stood fully six
foot four tall and had the physique of an American footballer, except
that he didn’t need to wear any padding.
“Jamal, she is all yours.”
“Yes, Excellence. White woman, come over to this couch. Stand behind
it.”
Jodi did as instructed. She had no choice and somewhere in the
thoughts that were flashing through her mind she remembered Chris’
advice that she should simply comply.
“Good, white woman, now take off your thong and bend over the couch,
grabbing the rail at the front with both your hands.”
Jodi obeyed, lifting her backside right on top of the back of the
couch so she could reach the rail. She grasped it and waited.
