Chapter One
“It’s amazing how closely you resemble each other,” said Achim with an admiring
smile.
Keri shrugged. She was well used to it. “We’re only two years apart,” she said.
“But people have often thought we were twins, despite having different fathers.”
“That’s why I dyed my hair red,” said Rory.
“She’s an inch shorter, too.”
Rory stuck her tongue out at her older step-sister.
“So what do you think of Cairo?” he asked.
“It’s amazing,” Rory said enthusiastically. “It’s so ancient and fascinating!”
“We thought Europe was different when we got there,” her step-sister said in
amusement. “But your country is so incredible, and beautiful.”
“I was the one that wanted to see the pyramids,” said Rory.
“She’s a history major,” Keri said. “I’m not as into old stuff as her.”
“I’m surprised your parents let you both go to Europe to study,” Achim said. “Two
lovely young girls…”
“Women please,” said Keri pertly. “And why shouldn’t we? It’s not like Oxford is
terribly dangerous.”
“Well, Arab families think differently on such things. Young marriageable girls
would never be permitted to live away from their families like that.”
“We’re grown-ups,” Rory said with a shrug.
“You’re only a grown-up as of two months ago,” Keri said.
Rory stuck her tongue out at her again.
“And maybe not entirely grown-up at that.”
Rory sighed and shrugged. She looked up and around at the café, then out the window
at the busy street-scene below. “Aside from the cars and buses there are parts of the city
that look like they haven’t changed in a century,” she said dreamily.
“Oh that’s nothing,” Achim said. “Cairo is probably the most modern city in Egypt.
You should have a look at some of the smaller cities and towns to the southwest. The
further south you go the further back in time you are. There are places out there which
haven’t changed since Christ was born.”
“Wow!” Rory said, eyes wide.
“We were told to stick to the tourist areas,” Keri said. “It can be dangerous in
other parts of Egypt.”
“Oh no!” Achim said. “They’re talking about those crazy terrorists! But they only
operate in Cairo and a few other really large cities. You don’t see terrorists setting off
bombs in small villages,” he said with a dismissive laugh.
“I suppose that makes sense,” Rory said.
“In fact, my father is the deputy minister of agriculture, and has to make an
inspection of the repairs made to an ancient dyke system near the town of El Amara
tomorrow. I’m going with him, and we’ll be taking a government boat along the Nile. It’s a
quite trip there and back, but it’s away from the regular tourist routes. They have some
very ancient buildings there, and the town is like it was a thousand years ago.”
Rory’s eyes shone, while Keri was more reluctant. Still, the sound of a boat ride
along the Nile wasn’t unattractive – and neither was Achim, and it certainly sounded
perfectly safe. So they agreed to meet him the next morning.
* * * * *
The boat was not exactly what they’d imagined. The girls stood at dock-side,
frowning uncertainly. It was ancient and rickety, with paint peeling everywhere it hadn’t
simply fallen off. It was perhaps a hundred feet long, and a horde of people were already
crowding aboard, some of them bringing crates of chickens or leading goats on tethers.
“Do you suppose it’s safe?” Keri asked dubiously.
“Probably not,” Rory said, “These people don’t have the same safety standards we do
in the west. That thing would never be allowed to carry passengers in any European
country. Still, it’s probably been going up and down the Nile for longer than we’ve been
alive. What are the odds it sinks this time?”
They were wearing long skirts and long-sleeved blouses in deference to the locals,
and had cute, wide brimmed hats on to protect their skin from the sun. But both had their
waist-length hair free, and so they drew numerous double takes from the close-packed
humanity surging around them. Keri’s golden hair was thick and radiant, a full, rich,
luxurious waterfall of silk spilling down her back. Her little step-sister’s glorious
shining red glistened like fire in the sun, thick and lustrous as it swung from side to
side as she looked around.
“Ladies!” Achim said, hurrying up to them. “We’re just in time. The ship will be
leaving any moment.”
“Ship?” Keri said doubtfully.
“Don’t worry. It is perfectly safe,” he said. “And we have special accommodations.
We won’t be packed in with the crowd.”
He led them down to the dock, though both were reluctant, taking their backpacks in
a gentlemanly manner, yet pushing aside people as if he owned the place. He led them
through the staring crowd onto the boat, pushed aside more people, and then opened a hatch
and ushered them inside.
It was dark inside, compared to the blinding sunlight, and stifling. Keri was
beginning to think this had been a bad idea, though Rory was clearly fascinated by
everything. Inside, they had a small, dank cabin, but it had air-conditioning, and a
porthole looking out onto the river. Keri began to think of it as an adventure again, and
the presence of Achim, his tall, lean body pressed against hers, gave her other ideas, as
well.
They were in Egypt for an adventure, after all. And what better adventure than a
romance with a gorgeous Arab man. A man, who, granted, could be dabbled with safely and
then left behind as a learning experience, perhaps spoken about to wide-eyed girlfriends
around at a coffee shop in London next semester.
The boat cast off, and with it their chance of changing their minds. Achim led them
up onto a higher deck, which was cleared of the teaming humanity on the main deck, and
they got to look out over the Nile as the boat chugged downstream. Rory was thrilled, and
could hardly keep still, moving from side to side, staring down at the people below, or
out at the Nile or shoreline beyond.
“Your sister is very excitable,” Achim said, coming to rest against the rail beside
Keri.
“She’s a history nut,” Keri said, aware of how close he was.
“And you?” he asked, his hand sliding along the rail until his arm was behind her.
“I get excited about other things,” she said, turning her head, looking up, and
giving him a slightly flirty look.
“Is that a fact?” he said solemnly. “And what kind of things excite you?”
“Oh, there’s no telling. I know it when I see it,” she said.
“Well, in that case, let me show you the rest of the boat.”
She smiled and let him lead her back down the ladder, and into the hatch. He led
her to the bridge, which seemed awfully untechnical compared to any other boat she’d seen,
then further back and down deeper into the boat.
“Perhaps you’ll find this interesting,” he said, unlocking a door and ushering her
inside.
It was a storage room, with a pair of port holes, and sacks of grain.
“Not terribly,” she said, turning as he closed the door and came up behind her.
“But it’s American grain,” he said solemnly. “A gift from the people of the United
States.”
“Well, that sure is nice of us,” she said as he stepped closer.
She backed up against a tall wooden beam, and looked flirtily up at him as he moved
closer. His hands slid around her and she giggled as he bent to kiss her. But then she
turned her head up and her hands rose and slid over his shoulders. His tongue pushed into
her mouth, and his hands slid in to cup her bottom and squeeze lightly.
She pressed her body against him, heart pounding, mind swirling with indecision
about how far she should let him go, about what he might think of her if she gave in too
quickly, about whether they were safe from discovery, about whether Rory would miss her
and wonder and what she would think.
Her fingers squeezed more tightly, and his tongue pushed into her mouth again,
deeper, fighting her own as he pulled her body against his and her breasts pillowed out
against his chest. Then one of his hands slid up her side and in front to cup her full
breast and she shuddered. Her breasts had always been too sensitive, and her nipples were
already hard and hot. The feel of his hands against them made her groin throb and pulse
with hunger and she knew the decision was soon going to be made for her if she didn’t push
him away.
His hand slid down her side, and his fingers deftly undid the buttons to her skirt,
then slid the zipper down. She shuddered with excitement as her skirt slipped slowly down
over her hips, then down her legs to pool at her ankles. Her blouse still covered her
groin, but even now he was undoing it, and she didn’t have the inner strength to stop
him.
“God!’ she gasped as he bit into the nape of her neck.
It was hot in the storage room, and she was already sweating. A part of her said
she should get her clothes off quickly before they were soaked, and get this done before
Rory came looking for them. She helped undo the buttons of the blouse and yanked it off,
tossing it on the floor, her lips never leaving his as their tongues danced together.
He yanked down her bra and turned her around, half lifting her up onto the bales of
grain, pushing between her legs. His lips finally left her mouth, only to move down onto
her left breast, sucking heavily at the nipple and surrounding flesh as she shuddered and
arched back.
“Oh! Yeah! Yeah! Lick it!” she groaned. “Suck on my nipple! Bite me! OooO!”
He tore off her thong and pushed her back, then his strong hands yanked her legs
up and apart, so she fell back onto the sacks of grain. She groaned, chest heaving,
thinking of what a wild story this would make for the girls come next semester.
Then he was in her, and she moaned in pleasure. She was wet and ready, so his hard
thrust hurt only a little, and some part of her welcomed the pain, feeling it right and
proper for a wild coupling. He grunted as he thrust in deeper, his hands jerking on her
thighs, fingers digging in with bruising force as he began to ride her, pumping in and
out.
Keri drew her legs up and back, keeping them wide, gasping, reaching for him as he
leaned into her. He kneaded her breasts hard as their mouths met again, and his hips began
to pump wildly in and out as he thrust his cock deep into her with every stroke.
The sweat was pouring down her now, but she didn’t care. This was incredibly
exciting and passionate, and she wrapped her legs around him as she pulled him closer, her
tongue thrusting up at his, her hips bucking against his pumping cock as spasms of
pleasure rolled through her at every thrust.
“God! Yes! Yes! Oh! Fuck Me! Fuck me harder! Ohhhhh!” she groaned, his hips
hammering faster and harder against her thighs.
He reached down, pulling himself away from her mouth, grasping her legs again
behind the knees, squeezing painfully tight as he rammed them up and back. His hips
slapped against her upraised ass now, and Keri was so open, so vulnerable, so hot, that
she just lay back and stared at the roof, gasping and grunting with every thrust.
The orgasm rolled over her, and her back arched as she clawed at the air.
“Yes! Oh! Oh! Oh! Ungh! Ungh! Ungh! Ungh”
He growled and forced her legs even tighter back, slamming his cock into her with
hard, desperate thrusts as she twisted and writhed in passion.
Keri’s body was pulsing with sexual pleasure, each pulse more powerful than the one
which preceded it. Her eyes were wide, then rolled back in her head, eyes slitted as she
arched, arched, arched again, shuddering, gasping as the powerful climax tore through her,
as his thick cock kept ramming up into her body with almost painful force.
And then she sagged, went limp, gasping, moaning languorously as his hips slowed
and his cock pulled free.
“Oh man,” she groaned dazedly.
He chuckled.
“Let me show you something very old about this boat,” he said, “It’s very old, and
has been carrying more than grain into Upper Egypt.”
“I can’t move,” she groaned.
He slid his hands under her and scooped her up in his arms. Keri blinked in
surprise, then giggled a little as he turned and led her across the room. He knelt in
front of one of the ceiling posts and set her down on the floor. She gasped, scrambling to
get up, for the floor was dirty.
“Here,” he said, grasping her arm too hard, showing her the post.
“What?”
The post was square, about six inches to a side. So what?
No, there was something. She watched him reach out and dig into a crack in the
centre of the post, then pry out what looked like a hand lever of some kind. It tilted out
and up, but she couldn’t guess what purpose it could serve. She noticed two more cracks in
the deep brown, aged wood, however, lower down, and as she watched he dug a knife into
one, and pried up a triangular shaped wedge about an inch thick and eight inches long and
then pulled out a little metal brace from inside to prop it horizontally.
“I don’t get it,” she said, more than slightly impatient.
She should have been lying back on the sacks relaxing, idly running her fingers
through his hair as he gently stroked her body. Or something.
“This boat used to carry slaves,” he said. “Female slaves.”
“Really?”
Well, that was kind of cool, and she looked at the things with renewed interest,
trying to understand how they figured into female slave carrying.
“Look.”
He turned her around, too roughly, too suddenly, and pushed her back against the
post.
“Hey! Not so roug – .”
She didn’t know where he got the leather laces, but he swept them around the
pillar, then around her throat, before she had a clue what he was up to. He pulled them
tight, so suddenly the back of her head slammed against the pillar. She gurgled
helplessly, eyes bulging, hands instinctively shooting up, grasping at the thick leather
laces digging into her throat, trying to force their way between laces and flesh.
But Achim had already tied them off, and now he easily gripped her wrists and
jerked them up and back behind the post, where, despite her shocked struggles they were
easily crossed together at the wrists, and wrapped tightly in another leather lace.
Keri could not breathe. She was twisting and writhing, red faced, her lithe body
sheeted in sweat as she tried frantically to breath. She had no other goal, no other
thoughts, no fears, nothing. Breathing was her only goal. And she wasn’t making it.
Then the lace around her throat was loosened, and she gasped deeply, the moist air
inflating her lungs again, her throbbing, pounding head and burning chest beginning to
relax as she gulped in air.
“Now slut, do you want to breathe? Move. Move!” he snarled, tightening the lace
around her throat, pulling on her hair, forcing her up and then around to the side of the
pillar, the one with the lever and the horizontal wedge of wood. Gasping, gurgling, she
squatted, back and head against the post as he turned her, and then pushed down.
“Down, slut! Down now!”
He tightened the leather lace until her eyes bulged again and she gurgled, sinking
down along the post. She felt the round wooden thing, what she had thought of as a lever,
against her rosebud, and struggled instinctively to twist away. But a hand shot between
her legs, squeezing her pussy, guiding her onto it, and again her goal became simple:
breath.
It hurt.
Her insides felt like fire as the fat round plug pushed up into her anus. It was
narrow enough at the top, but widened considerably, then narrowed again, a little, then
widened even more, and she sobbed in misery and confusion as she sank further and further
down its length, impaling herself on the fat wooden cock.
He tied off the lace, and she could barely get a breath through, trying
frantically, gurgling helplessly as the air slowly, slowly hissed into her burning lungs
past the tight leather lace. She felt him reach for her ankles, steel hard fingers closing
around them. Then they were yanked back on either side of the post.
The movement forced her down hard on the wooden lever and she screamed as agony
tore at her insides. The sound was little more than a gurgle, however, and no one would
have heard it over the nearby engine noises.
Agony tore at her insides and she screamed again, but he ignored her. She was
impaled on the thing, twisting and thrashing in agony as almost all her weight came down
on it. Cursing, he did something, adjusted something, and the fat plug slid down an inch.
Agony became merely throbbing pain.
Easing her down, however, brought her bare sex into contact with the triangular
shaped wedge of wood which was pushing out horizontally from the centre of the post. The
narrow wedge split her still-moist lips apart, and they slid down on either side as the
point of the wedge pushed upwards against her body.
She felt something against the backs of her legs, something wooden lying across
them. Then Achim was tying leather laces to her ankles, binding them together. A leather
lace was bound around each big toe, now, but Keri was seeing black dots by then, the world
swirling around her, and she hardly cared.
He yanked up on her ankles, pulling them up high behind the post, then tied off the
laces around her toes and hung them across a hook. He undid the lace around her throat and
Keri gulped in air, sweat trickling down her forehead and chest now, her eyes glassy as
she gasped for breath.
Strong fingers gripped her jaw, pinching in painfully as he forced something into
her wide open mouth. It was a fat round ring made of iron and leather, and was jammed in
between her jaws, in between her teeth, forcing them painfully wide. It was attached to a
leather cord, and when it was in position he fed the cord behind her head and tied it
off.
Keri only cared that she could breath, though her toes were aching now, though her
insides were throbbing with pain, though her pussy was starting to hurt and – .
He had a cruel smile on his face as he reached down and combed her long blonde hair
out form under the leather cord around her face. She stared up at him, eyes filled with
tears, not understanding.
“Whore,” he said in contempt, slapping her face cruelly.
He was hard, and he tilted her head back and thrust his thick cock through the ring
holding her lips parted.
Keri gurgled as it filled her mouth, but worse was to come, for he thrust straight
through, forcing his cock into her throat. She gagged and thrashed and tried to scream as,
laughing, he pulled on her head, on her hair, and forced his thick shaft all the way down
her throat. She choked and her throat ached and she pulled frantically, desperately
against the bonds as he jammed her nose in against his groin.
He held her there for a long minute, then began to pump hard, fast, cruel, jamming
her nose against his groin again and again as he fucked her mouth and throat.
Dark spots danced before her eyes again as she began to grow faint, but he pulled
back suddenly, making her gag once more, then laughed, slapping her face.
“Do you like the taste of Arab cock, slut?” he demanded with a sneer. “You had
better get used to it from now on!”
He slapped her face again, then jerked back on her hair and forced his cock into
her open, defenceless mouth, and held the head at the entrance to her throat, staring down
at her gleefully, his hands clamped around her turned up head as she met her wide,
pleading eyes.
“You’re going to be swallowing a lot of Arab cock from now on, infidel whore!” he
spat.
Then he punched his cock through into her throat, cruelly ramming himself down her
gullet until her nose was grinding against his pubic bone.
“Ahh, yesss! Scream, bitch! Scream into my cock!” he groaned, grinding her face
into his groin.
He twisted her face against him, then, his fingers holding her hair tightly, jerked
her back, pulled his hips back, and thrust in hard once more. Again, he pulled back,
pulled her head back, and thrust in, then began to pump in just that way, pumping,
thrusting, raping her throat as she gagged and choked and sobbed in misery, pain and
despair.
He pulled back suddenly, his cock tearing free of her throat so he could fist it,
pumping his fist along his spit-wet shaft as he held her by the hair. He came, and his
semen spurted through the open ring into her mouth, thick silvery wad after wad.
“Swallow it, slut! Swallow my seed, you blonde American whore!” he sneered.
Coughing, terrified, she did, and he laughed and slapped her again. He moved back
finally, doing up his trousers, then produced what looked like a thick cork for a fat
nosed bottle. He shoved the cork into the opening in her mouth, and pushed it hard. He
slapped at the base so that her teeth ached, filling her mouth and wedging it in the iron
and leather ring.
“Not that anyone would hear you anyway, or care,” he said. “Fucking American bitch.
Do you have any idea how much the Arab people despise you? Do you!? You will find out,
slut! You want to get away from the tourist areas and see the real Arabia! I will bring
you there, and you can see the rage of the people who hate your filthy, godless ways!”
He moved around the room, gathering up her clothes and tossing them together into a
corner.
Keri sobbed miserably, dazed, shocked by the sudden, unforeseen violence, her body
throbbing with pain.
“Do you see this, bitch? Do you?”
Keri didn’t care to look, and he gripped her hair, yanking her head up and back,
glowering at her. “Are you looking, white bitch? Are you? Do you see?”
He released her head and moved across to another post directly in front of her. He
made sure she was looking, then pulled out a fat, ridged plug.
“This is for your little sister,” he said with a sneer. “This is going to go up her
tight little ass.”
Keri tried to beg him, tried to plead with him, but could only sob as, laughing, he
went to the metal hatch, opened it, and slammed it behind him.
She sobbed brokenly, wrists above her, head hanging low, body soaked in sweat as
she feebly tried to ease her own discomfort. The plug was deep in her ass, aching,
bruising her. But much of her weight was on the thin wedge of wood between her legs, and
that was starting to really smart. It was jammed up against her soft flesh in front, and
against her unprotected tailbone in back. Letting her weight go forward or back produced
different types of pain, but both hurt.
Some of her weight was on her knees, and they ached too, but she could only imagine
how much they would already be hurting if all her weight was on them. Her legs were
burning, as well, with the effort of holding her ankles up behind her. That had been
relatively easy, at first, but it was now almost impossible, and more and more of their
weight was coming down on the two leather cords Achim had tied to her big toes. Soon all
their weight would be pulling at her big toes, and she could already guess how much that
was going to hurt.
Why? Why oh why had they come here!? Why had they gone outside the tourist areas!
Who would know where they were! And who was Achim really? Would anyone come looking for
them? Their parents, eventually, but not for weeks, and they would have no way of knowing
the girls had taken a boat up the Nile. What was going to become of them, she thought with
growing horror.
They were two white girls lost in Arabia, and while she didn’t have Rory’s
knowledge of history, she knew enough to be terrified about the possibilities.
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