Standing up in front of the four speechless, western, blue-eyed blondes from Billericay,
Watford, Bounds Green and Tunbridge Wells, Wah’led removed his clothing, one piece at a
time, until naked and lay down on the sand dune.
“Even though you are all very skinny and not at all attractive, I have graciously
accepted you into my harem. You are my property. I own you. I have decided to take you in
to my home, teach you the law’s of Al’lah and keep you from ignoring your purpose. You
will obey me. You will pleasure me now. When I am satisfied, you can thank me for saving
you from yourselves, for each of you are a slut and a whore!”
Sally, suddenly wishing she were on the 06:48 to Cockfosters and complaining about the,
by comparison, harmless perverts on the train, reacted instantly. She leaped to her feet
and thrusting out the middle finger of her right hand, screamed.
“I have a better idea! Fuck this!”
With a sudden, unexpected leap, Wah’led knocked Sally to the ground, his long knife,
glinting in the early morning sunlight, held firmly to her throat.
“Daughter of Sa’tan!”
Wah’led’s face contorted with rage. He clearly was not used to disobedience.
“I shall cut off your clitoris and feed it to the ants!”
Three shaking hands, pulled at their only clothing. Their other hand pushed tightly
between their legs, subconsciously shielding themselves.
Spinning Sally onto her front, he pushed her face into the sand and easily held her
hands behind her back. Although she fought and struggled, she was no match for the lean,
muscle bound Bedouin. Pulling at thin rope, he tied her wrists together tightly, before
calmly sitting back on the red sand dune.
..........
Sharon’s eyes shut tight. Her labia parted. His bell-end, shiny from Nicola’s endless
rush of sticky, excited juices, easily separated her vagina. He toyed with her. Rubbing
his fat helmet against soft yielding folds of skin, he penetrated only his helmet, before
pulling out and pushing back. Sharon’s fists closed, grabbing at the thick grains of sand.
Her eyes shot open wide. The intensity fired bursting tingles through her belly. She
couldn’t stop her pelvis from jerking.
“Please!” She gasped. “Fuck me hard!”
..........
“Beg!”
Nicola pushed her hips upward to get more of him inside her.
“Beg! Only a man can take care of you!”
She tried to wrap her legs around him, to pull him closer, to make him enter her
vagina.
“Beg and I will give you what you want!”
Pushing her hands deeply into the hot sand, Nicola screamed out, tugging at his ass with
her feet, wriggling and gyrating her hips up and down, forcing that fat bulbous end to
generate more, to do more, to just take her again and make her cum - again!
“Please Wah’led! Please! I’m begging you! Fuck me!”
..........
Working quickly, Noor raised her free hand high above her head and smashed her camel whip
down hard against Sally’s fleshy, unguarded backside.
Sally, abruptly woken from her dream, howled in pain. The whip lashed again. Two
reddened lines formed on Sally’s skin. They stung like hell. She didn’t know what was
happening, or for that matter, why. Again, the whip struck, this time, her shoulder, her
waist, the back of her leg and the souls of her feet. Each caning brought a torrent of
abuse from Noor’s embittered mouth.
“Whore!”
“Slut!”
“Ghaba!”
“Raflah!”
Sally writhed in pain, but apart from the use of one foot was unable to protect herself.
She still had no control. Noor certainly didn’t and bursting into a fit of tears, screamed
hysterically.
“Why? Why did you do that to me? I was just a little girl!”
Wiping away her tears, she threw the lifeless body over onto her back. Terrified, Sally
tried to plead. A threatening stick waived an inch from her nose. Noor screamed.
“Don’t speak! Don’t even look at me!
Trembling, Sally closed her eyes and felt her legs viciously hauled apart. The cane
slashed into tender soft skin on the inside of her thigh, not an inch from her pussy.
Another two short whacks and three on the other leg brought six whelps, bruised and
bloodied to the surface. The stick smashed into the softest, most tender skin of all.
Sally’s vagina buzzed, stinging, abused in a wild, uncontrollable fit of jealousy.
“Please!” Sally begged. Lost as to why her apparent saviour had turned in such a way.
“I said don’t speak!”
Noor lost control completely. The camel cane smashed down repeatedly across every part
of Sally’s body. Saliva erupted, pouring from Noor’s mouth. Nostrils flared and eyes
widened as her orgy of administered revenge crashed down on Sally’s defenceless soft skin.
She could do nothing to prevent it. Red whelps crisscrossed Sally’s breasts and stomach.
Arms and legs bruised red and black. Where flesh was at its thinnest, blood trickled as
skin opened, crushed against her own bones.
Sally felt finished. Resistance, her normal response to most situations was not an
option. She murmured to herself, she should have taken the money. She could take no more.
She just wanted to surrender.
“No more! Please!”
..........
Wah’led saw only two things.
First, he saw his wife, who was his property and must only ever satisfy him, whenever he
chooses, clearly was a whore, fallen prey by the western slut with a clitoris. The other
thing was that his latest slave was damaged. How would he get a good price for her now?
She was worthless and would have to stay longer than he planned in order for the marks and
bruises to heal.
He tore Noor away from Sally’s clutches. Sally leapt from the bed, cowering in a corner.
She had never seen anyone beaten in such a sadistic, inhuman way. Noor’s face, repeatedly
targeted, quickly turned into a bloodied pulp as she passively whimpered, begging
forgiveness.
None came.
Al’lah’s law, administered by man was clear and not for the first time, would Noor
remember it well. The Abaya, the black garment used by women to cover their faces, only
showing their eyes, is meant to prevent men from facing their weakness, their inability to
not react to desire. Sally now realised it had another, more sinister purpose, to hide the
evidence of their men’s evil temper.
When the beating finally stopped, Noor’s tiny body lay in a bloodied, crumpled heap on
the floor. She would remain there, unconscious for hours, before waking and wishing she
were still unconscious. In the meantime, he had another lesson for Sally Fielding from
Bounds Green. Wah’led, feeling incredibly aroused by his dominance and authority, tore at
his Dishdasha until naked. His erection jutted from his body as he yanked Sally by the
hair, lifted her from the floor and threw her onto the bed.
Still unable to defend herself with hands that stubbornly refused to come back to life,
Sally found herself upturned, her head forced into the bed, suffocating, her ass pulled
into the air.
Penetrating Sally’s unguarded vagina was easy, swift and brutal.
..........
She should have screamed.
No one saw Ragib’s large frame easily overpower the small western girl, nor did anyone
see him steal her off into the dark shadows, one hand clasped tightly around her mouth,
the other around her slim waist, carrying her kicking body effortlessly.
In an instant, Natasha was gone.
..........
The message was clear, scream and I will snap you in two.
Frustrated that her dry vagina refused all of his attempts at penetration, he released
his grip, spat saliva on his hand and rubbed it against his bell-end. It worked, Natasha’s
labia finally surrendered, opening, agonisingly swallowing and enveloping her attackers
erection. The combination of her suspended weight pushing down and his oversized, powerful
hips pushing up, ensured that penetration was absolute. Natasha lunged at his unguarded
face. Teeth clenched firmly around a smelly, unwashed cheek. She bit with all the fury and
determination she could muster and held on, refusing, even though she tasted blood, to
release her grip. She was no match for his physical power. With his king-sized hand
wrapped tightly around her neck again, she was forced to comply and could do no other than
choke, her face turning red and then blue as he fucked her dry vagina standing up.
It took less than a minute, although it felt much longer, for his engorged erection to
erupt inside her. Natasha felt sick, humiliated and beaten. At least it was over.
She was wrong.
..........
All inner fight evaporated, giving in to the inevitable, unable to change anything,
simply allowing this hideous monster to do as he wished.
The thing that will stay with her forever, the thing that she will never allow herself
to forgive or forget, is when he lay on his back and with hand still clenched around her
neck, he made her fuck him. He made her straddle her legs each side of his hips and guide
his erection into her vagina, pushing down, sitting on him until he was fully inside her.
Then he made her move her hips back and fore, riding his penis, fucking the bastard that
violated her. Even that humiliation will eventually fade in comparison to what he made her
do next. It was so degrading, so mortifying that she will never speak of it.
He made her kiss him.
His breath stank of the most hideous odour. His exploring tongue inside her mouth made
her feel sick, but a tightened grip on her neck made her respond. It made her give-in to
his whim, convinced that this was her last day on earth. She kissed him while her hips
rose and fell, her vagina swollen, pulled wide apart by a massive prick that far from
creating any tingling response, made her numb and sore, but she kissed him anyway,
desperate to make him cum, desperate for no more violence, desperate to make it over
with.
It wasn’t over.
Pulling Natasha off him, he forced her head to his chest, shaking her forcefully until
her tongue ran over his foul tasting skin. He pushed her down to his belly, gasping at the
feel of her delicate touch. She felt his erection twitching against the side of her face,
and squirmed when he pushed again. Natasha’s mouth opened and opened wider. Only at full
stretch could her jaws open wide enough to take the end of his prick into her mouth. Her
head bobbed back and fore, pushed down by a hand that grabbed tightly at her hair. Chapped
lips split, rubbing open cuts against fleshy skin. The odour of three-month-old cheese and
cats piss filled her flared nostrils, desperate to breath. Natasha’s vomit erupted,
bursting from her throat, into her nose and splattered across his testicles. He made her
continue, tasting her own vomit. The smell of her own bile was not as bad as the smell
that erupted from his groin. He made her give him his manly right to dominate the Sebayah,
for this is the way.
..........
Rashid liked to spear his Sebayah with hooks, pushing the pointed edge into their skin
and then hoop it back out again. With his victims incapable of movement, trust up in
complete bondage, he loves to watch their agony as he pulls on ropes or steel chains
attached to the hooks. His torture, while another Sebayah or two pleasure him, can last
for hours. Wah’led considered how his own Harem must think themselves fortunate to have
such a loving and lenient master. His begging ring without doubt was a much more humane
way of training them.
..........
Made to face a palm tree, Ragib’s hands and arms were quickly bound at waist height
tightly around its prickly, uneven surface, the side of his face chaffing. They pulled him
tighter. His neck wrenched painfully at an angle, sharp edges cut into his cheek. Ragib
fell to his knees, still pleading. Off white, filthy rags were shredded, torn from his
body until naked, his bare back lay defenceless against the scorching sun and his hairy
arse, pushed out, open to abuse. He would stay there, heart beating, sun burning, thoughts
of despair crushing his brain and tears running down his dust covered face until Wah’led,
his master, was ready. Ragib urinated.
Inside the solarium, Wah’led face turned purple with rage. He called his harem to watch,
waving his camel cane inches from Rosa’s face. He was so angry his hand shook.
She knew what to do.
Without any exchange of words, Rosa, with all the dignity she could muster, removed her
clothes, all of them, allowing the meagre material to fall to an expensive white tiled
floor that had seen it all before. No amount of blood could stain its extra-hardened
surface.
The newer girls covered their faces. Even the older ones who had seen Rosa’s body before
lowered eyes that instantly watered, a feeling of worthlessness and hopelessness hit
everyone’s stomach. Without exception, every girl thanked God that it wasn’t them.
Against the light, the only way to describe Rosa’s silhouette, was perfect. Flawlessly
proportioned in every sense, this tiny Philippino body, with long, jet-black shiny hair
reaching passed her firm and rounded backside, slim thighs, flat, taught belly and
delicate, upturned breasts was enough to drive any woman insane with jealousy and every
man crazy with want. Little wonder she was once Wah’led’s favourite. In the light, away
from the shadows, Rosa’s soft delicate skin criss-crossed with scars, some old and healed,
some more fresh, still red and puffy. There wasn’t an inch of flesh that wasn’t damaged.
This once beautiful girl, now looked like a butchers experiment, awkwardly stitched
together in a series of lumps and bumps. No one could begin to comprehend the pain this
girl had endured.
Rosa, in full and absolute compliance lowered her head and turned. Raising an arm, she
pulled her hair over her shoulder, giving unshielded access to her back and to Wah’led’s
impending fury. It came instantly, in a flurry of barbaric and savage beatings with the
cane, so severe, Rosa’s flesh split, cutting long lines of open wounds. Wah’led’s eyes
blazed at the glory of his power.
“God is great!” He repeated with every crippling blow.
..........
Once in the corridor, Rosa dropped the clothes, she already had what she needed and made
her way up the grand staircase leading to Noor’s bedroom. She didn’t knock. Noor,
shielding her face, called Rosa a ghaba, a whore who had no right to be here. Rosa made no
apologies and for the first time ever, didn’t lower her eyes to the floor in absolute
subservience. Instead, she leapt at the shocked local woman and grabbing her long hair
jerked her head back. Rosa’s arm swung, swiftly, determined. She knew exactly what she was
doing.
She had thought about this moment a thousand times and never could decide just how
satisfying it would feel. There was no satisfaction at all, but she was surprised at how
easily the razor sharp dagger, with its gem incrusted ivory handle, sliced, cutting into
open and unguarded flesh. It took just one cut. One cut to avenge the hundreds she had
received at the hands of this sick woman. Revenge is always better served cold. Rosa felt
nothing as Noor clutched at her throat and terrible garbled bubbling noises hissed through
her severed windpipe. A look of terror spread across Noor’s beaten black and blue face.
Eyes bulged from their sockets as nostrils flared; obeying her brains instructions to
breathe. All she needed to do was breathe. Noor’s final moment was pathetic, as she
slumped to the bedroom floor an arm stretched out, begging for mercy.
None came.
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