We only went a couple of doors down and then into another room. There was a man
there, tall, slender, middle aged, wearing a beard and dark suit, and my hands instantly
jerked up to cover myself as my face turned red.
He gave me an amused look, and, slowly, I let my arms fall, blushing furiously.
He examined everything in my bags, and shook his head at the laptop. “You may not
have this, nor the tape recorder. You may have the notebooks and pencils by special
dispensation of the Prince. Nothing else.”
“But!”
“Nothing else,” he said firmly.
The robed woman had picked up a camera and the man motioned me to stand against the
wall.
“Wh-what's this?” I gulped.
“For our files, to ascertain what shape your body is in now. If there are scars,
they will be noted in the medical report. You will be in the same condition when you
leave.”
Well that was... reassuring... kind of.
But I had to pose for several pictures – naked – for the robed woman, including
with my hands behind my neck, back arched. Front and back, bent over and everything.
Then, finally, she left, and I was alone with the man in the beard, whose name had
not been given me.
He produced a contract and had me sit down at a wooden table and read it.
“Pay very close attention to it. Much effort was made to keep it as simple and
clear as possible. The words are concise and obvious, and if you have any questions, ask
them now. Once you agree to abide by this contract you will be held to it for the stated
period of time. Punishments can range from deprivation of lunch or dinner to corporal
punishment. You will note this is for a three month term. The rate of payment is one
hundred thousand American dollars.”
I blinked in surprise. “Uhm, we hadn't discussed payment.”
“It is a standard fee. If you had wished more you would have to discuss that before
your arrival.”
“No, it's not that! I mean, it's like, uhm, you understand I'm here
as a journalist? I'm going to write a story.”
Somehow, it was important to me to differentiate myself from the, well, the
prostitutes, who were selling their bodies for money. I realized it was a fine distinction
between me and then, especially if I was going to have to be uhm, well, “servicing” some
guys sometimes, but still, it was vital to me.
He nodded. “Yes, but as was explained to you, I believe, in order to be in the
harem you must be IN the harem. That means the same conditions which bind the other girls
bind you. You will be given time to do your … your interviews, your story, your writing.
Still, your behaviour must conform to that required of every female in the harem.
Disobedience will not be tolerated.”
“I understand, but I don't want the money.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You cannot be forced to take money, of course. Or if you
do you can always give it to a charity.”
He was right, I supposed. I read through the contract. It was indeed quite simple,
without the complex legalisms you usually found in such things. But it was basically
ceding control of my body, selling myself as a whore, and I agonized over that. But there
was no turning back now, so in the end, I signed it.
“Is Faris here?” I asked uncomfortably.
“You will likely see him at some point, if he sends for you.”
I blinked at him.
“Only women, and certain trusted men such as myself are permitted into the harem
itself,” he said. “And harem females are not permitted to leave unless they are sent
for.”
He opened the door, and the black robed woman returned, with another – or maybe
they were both new. Who could tell?
“Now, your introduction to the life here will be somewhat harsh compared to what
you can expect once you have settled in. It is so deliberately. We find it puts arriving
females in the proper frame of mind and settles many issues in their minds. Until your
medical tests are confirmed, you will not be permitted into the Harem proper.”
The two women gripped my upper arms and turned me around, then pulled my wrists
back behind me. I wasn't really even thinking of resisting, not knowing what they
intended until I felt metal closing around my bare wrists. Instinctively, I jerked my
wrist free of one, long enough to see that it had on it a kind of shiny, stainless steel
shackle, a good four inches long, though it seemed to have a soft leather interior.
Nevertheless, it was tight around my wrist, and its only feature was a keyhole, and a ring
in the side.
My wrist was jerked back behind me, and then I felt the two shackles locked
together. That made my fear rise rapidly, but also roused that dark, masochistic,
submissive side which I hadn't really understood I possessed before Faris. I felt my
nipples stiffening, my pussy pulsing, as I felt my helplessness. They produced a collar
which was similar, and fit it around my throat. Its only adornment was a very large ring
dangling from the front.
Ankle shackles followed, then one of the women attached – I am not fucking kidding
– a leash to the ring of my collar. The man spoke to them in Arabic, and one of the women
left, then the one woman pulled on my leash.
“This woman will take you to your cell,” he said.
I swallowed. Cell? Holy shit!
She pulled on the leash and I followed her out of the room and up the hall. I felt
a sense of numbness settle around my mind, disbelief at what I had gotten myself into. I
was fucking insane! I was fucking crazy! I was a fucking idiot! I felt near panic as the
woman led me – leashed and shackled – down the corridor, my bare feet padding on the
tiles, my eyes wide as I stared helplessly around me.
The thought occurred to me that women had suffered this sort of fate for eons, and
yet, I had put myself into it deliberately. What kind of perverted sicko was I!?
She opened a heavy, unadorned wooden door and led me through, then closed it
behind. The floor now was bare concrete, and the lighting bare bulbs. I felt my
nervousness grow. Yet that dark sexual submissiveness was also producing a churning heat
in my lower belly, and I knew I was wet.
We turned a corner and went through another heavy wooden door, and then down a
flight of stairs and through another. I felt the world, the bright sun getting further and
further away. We reached another door, and I blushed furiously, for there was a robed man
standing before it. He looked me up and down and I dropped my eyes as he and the woman
spoke. Then the door opened and we passed through and down another flight of stairs.
Jesus! How deep was this place!?
And then we turned into a wider area. It was every cliché of a dungeon you
could imagine except the flaming torches on the walls. Instead there were bare electric
bulbs.
There was a desk there, and two men in uniforms sat behind it. I blushed furiously
as the woman spoke to them, and they spoke back. Then the woman removed the leash, turned,
and walked out. I felt my heart pounding in my ear now as the two rose. I was naked and
shackled and helpless!
One of them smirked at me and said something, but I didn't understand it. He
was middle aged, and a bit pudgy in the belly. The other was younger, both with beards.
One said something, and the other chuckled. The older man reached out and cupped my left
breast, and I felt wild surges of embarrassment and a kind of terrified excitement within
me.
I knew that whatever was going to happen, I had no say in it, and the realization
was both deeply arousing for some reason, and scary as hell.
Abruptly, he gripped one of my arms, and jerked me forward, turned me, and then I
felt his hand behind my neck, shoving hard. I grunted as my chest hit the surface of the
desk. Then I felt his booted feet kicking my ankles apart.
Oh my God!
I heard him laugh, and he said something to the younger one, who laughed too. I
felt his hand on my bottom, squeezing and kneading my buttocks, then he slapped it so I
flinched. A moment later I felt what had to be his cock rubbing up and down the narrow
slit of my opening.
I think what got me is how fucking casual he was!
I gasped as he penetrated me. I felt his hands on my hips then, jerking them up. He
barked what sounded like a command, and slapped my bottom sharply, and his hands
positioned me as I guess he wanted me. My legs were spread but straight, my bottom high,
and I was bent over at more than a ninety degree angle as his cock pushed deeper.
Oh my God!
I gasped helplessly, my eyes darting about as if I could find an escape, yet I
didn't really want one for my inner heat was surging stronger with every second.
His cock drove deep, and a whimper escaped me, for despite my heat I wasn't
quite ready. But he forced himself into me to the balls and ground himself into me,
chatting again with the other guard.
What was he saying? She's tight, this slut?
He ground himself against my upraised, out-thrust bottom, his cock turning and
shifting within me. Then he started to pump. It hurt, at first, but not a lot, and my
pussy was getting wetter as he stroked in and out. Soon the pain was essentially gone, and
I gasped as his hips began to strike me with more authority. My wrists pulled helplessly,
instinctively, against the shackles, but of course, could do nothing, and my upper thighs
began to jerk and grind against the edge of the desk as my captor thrust in and out with
deep, hard strokes.
Every deep thrust made me gasp as a wave of heat and sensations washed over me, and
I thought, Oh God, I'm going to come like a whore!
My cheek was on the desk, rubbing back and forth as he thrust against me. But then my
hair was grabbed and I cried out in some pain as my head was jerked up and then to the
side. They shifted me a little over, and then my mouth was pulled onto the other
man's cock. Dazed, shocked, numbed by the sexual wildness, the raw, carnal heat which
had taken hold, I could only gurgle and moan around it as he slapped my face lightly
and barked a command.
I didn't understand but I knew what he wanted. I started sucking, not bobbing
my lips because I couldn't with his tight hold on my hair. But I didn't need to
for he did the job, thrusting in and out of my mouth while his partner fucked me.
Someone's hand groped one of my breasts, and I mewled in protest against the rush of
sensations whipping and whirling through my mind and body as the two men used me.
The man behind thrust hard and then kind of ground himself up and down with a groan
of satisfaction. Then he eased slowly back, pulling his softening cock from me. The two
men exchanged words, amused, chuckling, and the younger one pulled out of my mouth and
moved around behind me. I yelped as he slapped my bottom, then his hands gripped my hips,
jerking my bottom high once more. He said something, and slapped my butt again, and I knew
he meant “Don't move”.
Then he pushed into me. He was bigger than the older guard and thrust faster,
jerking on my hips at first to pull me back onto his cock. I felt myself surging up
towards orgasm again, and some part of me, some repressed part, some part which clung to
my pride, tried to fight it off.
I cried out as he gripped my thick brown hair and yanked it up and back. Keeping my
chest on the desk, he forced my head up and back and thrust his hand under my chest to
grope one of my breasts. Then he jerked back on my hair with every stroke, forcing me back
onto his cock, hard.
I gasped and grunted explosively with every thrust, my voice losing control, and
then, as he sped up, I felt my voice dissolving into an animal gurgle and broken cries of
orgasmic pleasure as the climax hammered down upon me. I came – came like a whore, my
pussy spasming wildly, my blood racing, my nervous system overwhelmed with sensations as
my body jerked and twisted and my hips bucked back frantically onto his rooting cock.
They chuckled as he pulled out, drained, I guess, and I knelt, lay, whatever you
call it, panting weakly, chest heaving, sweating, for it was quite warm. Then a hand
gripped my hair and I cried out in pain as I was forced up and back. The older man said
something, something nasty, I guess, and then forced me down the corridor behind him,
gripping my hair tightly, painfully, forcing my head back as he marched me along.
The cell doors were of heavy banded wood with small windows with bars. He opened
one and shoved me into it.
The cell was spartan, to say the least. The floor was stone, except for one corner,
where there was a porcelain hole – the kind of toilets they had out here. There was a
narrow metal bed with a thin mattress next the toilet, and he shoved me onto it, then
reached up to the wall behind, took down a chain which was bolted to the wall, and locked
it to the back of my collar.
Then he smirked at me, turned and walked out. The heavy door shut with a metallic
clank, then the heavy bolt was thrown, and the only light in the room was a small bulb
overhead.
I heard the next door slammed and bolted, and I thought about how many bolted doors
were between me and the surface and felt so... helpless, so out of control. Fear surged,
and I stared around the small, bare, stone walled cell with a sense of disbelief.
And yet... and yet I had come when the... jailors had ...raped me. Was that word
proper? If I were a real prisoner that was what it would have been, but I rejected it.
They had... used me, and used me so casually, without any concern for whether I wanted
them or not that it was still shocking.
And if I had said no, if I had struggled, they'd have done it anyway.
I was no longer in control of my body, of anything. I was a prisoner, a virtual sex
slave.
Again, fear and heat rose in tandem, and I cursed myself for the latter, even as I
felt a part of myself revel in my helpless, submissive status.
Sex slave! Wow!
Of course, I would be free to go – in a few months.
Right?
Of course I would! My mind avoided even thinking about it.
They were just - putting me in the proper frame of mind as the man had said.
I was naked, in a dungeon, shackled, chained, having recently been raped by
jailors.
Oh my God!
I lay on my back for a time, waiting, but nothing happened. And lying on my arms
was not very comfortable. I twisted and sat up, back against the cold stone, and shivered
as I looked down at myself. The silvery metal of my pussy ring glinted, and I stared at
it. It didn't look like most rings I had seen. Most of them were a lot thinner, for
one thing, and they had little barbells which allowed it to be screwed open and closed.
This had nothing, was entirely smooth, and I wondered with some nervousness, if it was
ever meant to be removed.
My pussy had been aching dully since the piercing, even during the sex, and it
ached now, so that I kept my legs spread wide and slouched to put as little pressure on it
as possible.
What on earth was going to happen now?!
As it turned out, nothing. I lay there, shifting positions several times, and
started, after a while, to get bored. Hours passed, and I napped intermittently, perhaps
suffering from jet lag.
When I heard the distant sound of a door closing, of bolts shooting, I opened my
eyes. Was something going to happen? Was I going to be taken upstairs to the fabulous
harem now that I was in a proper frame of mind?
Then the bolt was shot on my cell door, and it opened. A man walked in, a new one, and I
blushed. Like the others, he had on a khaki uniform, and like the others, he leered at me.
I blushed more deeply, sitting up, and he walked up to the edge of the little cot and
unzipped his uniform trousers. He pulled out his cock, gripped my hair, and pulled me
forward over him.
It was just so fucking casual! That was what kept hitting my mind, even as I
started sucking, even as I started bobbing up and down on his stiffening cock. I was
helpless to say no, and these men were going to use me any time they felt like it.
He grunted as his hips began to work, and then he shuffled back a bit, pulling me
forward so I slid off the cot and had to kneel on the cold floor. He spoke, saying a few
things, but clearly knowing I didn't understand. He pulled me in tight against him,
then jerked back on my head to force my head back and pushed down.
I gurgled a little and choked slightly as his cockhead pushed into my throat. He
chuckled as he pulled me up the length of his shaft, pushing down until my nose was jammed
into his belly and my lips were wrapped tightly around the base of his cock.
He held me there, looking down at me with a kind of fierce conquering look in his
eyes, a sneering look that said “I can do anything I fucking well want to you, slut!”
Then he pulled back a little, only to thrust in deep again. He started to pump in
and out, jerking on my hair as he did, fucking my throat, my mouth, ignoring my need to
breathe as he used me and cursed softly – I presumed. I knew how to deep throat, and even
how to breath, after a fashion, while deep throating. But I wasn't deep throating. He
was fucking my throat, and that lost me the control I needed.
I felt my chest starting to burn, my head pounding as he fucked my throat, both
hands tightly controlling my head and hair.
Then he gasped, his grip tightening, and I actually felt his cock starting to
soften as he sprayed the back of my throat with his semen. He groaned and pulled out and I
gulped in air, panting and gasping weakly as he laughed softly, zipped up, and left.
Jesus!
| 
