This is the complete works relating to Anguine's Desert Camp writings. All parts have been on sale separately before but we now, at the end of 2005, bring this combined volume as a tribute to the memory of a dear departed friend.
Desert Camp is the story of white women who are captured, abused and then trained as sex slaves in a most brutal manner by their Arab Captors,led by the redoubtable Sheik Al'almeira.
This combined volume contains extremely graphic scenes of sexual torture, rape and enforced obedience, with the Arabs always the powerful masters be they Sheiks or guards.
EXTRACT
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.”
