Becoming Ghaniyah- A Tale of Bondage and Submission Page 3

Leslie began to cry. It was so unfair. It hadn’t been her idea to strip like that. Afraid of further reprimand, Leslie quickly pulled down her bra to cover her breasts. She leaned over and pulled up her panties. The underling had her skirt and blouse and she quickly donned them.

  The officer watched her disdainfully the whole time. When she was done, he spoke to her again, his voice rude and cold.

  “And I understand that you enticed one of my guards into fucking you! Is this true?”

  “No, I didn’t, I, I, I couldn’t help it,” she whined meekly.

  The man lashed out, his hand slapping her face harshly. Leslie screamed and fell backwards. “Liar!” he roared. “You are a whore! A slut! Do you think you can come to our country and poison us with your foul Western ways!”

  Leslie was too scared to respond. She rubbed her face where he had struck her and cried. It was too unreal. She was being blamed for the men stripping and fucking her? She had nothing to say about it! What was happening here?

  “Your attempt at bribing my guards with your body will be added to your charges. Tell me, where are you staying? Where are your papers? What is your name?”

  “I’m personal assistant to Mr. Hassan Ben Moussa,” she whined. “My name is Leslie Harrington. I left my papers at his house. I was only going for a walk…”

  The hand lashed out at her again. She screeched as he struck her cheek. She backed up and bent over, holding her hand to her face, tears of fear and pain flowing from her eyes.

  “Did I ask you what you were doing?” the man screamed. “I know what you were doing! You were parading your lustful body for all the men to see! You’re disgusting! And you work for Hassan Ben Moussa? I don’t believe it! He would never hire a lascivious slut like you! We will see! If you are lying, I will add that to your charges! Now follow me!”

  The underling snapped to attention and opened the cell door. The officer walked briskly out. Leslie was afraid to follow him, not knowing where they were going. The underling took hold of her arm just above the elbow, squeezing it hard, and marched her along after him. They went back along the row of cells and exited into another corridor. They walked along its length. When they came to another large, locked steel door, the officer rapped on it loudly with his fist. The door opened and a tall, heavyset woman dressed in a blue ayala appeared. Her face was covered by a veil. The officer spoke to her in Arabic. She nodded and replied to him in kind. The officer took Leslie by the arm and forced her through the doorway. It slammed shut.

  Leslie was on the verge of hysteria. She couldn’t believe how much trouble she was in. Being underdressed was one thing, not that she thought she had been, but she knew that bribery was a serious charge wherever you went. She could go to prison! She was in prison! They could keep her here a long, long time! She started to cry all over again.

  The ayala clad woman lowered her veil. She had a stern, homely face. She looked to be in her late forties or early fifties. She had dark eyes and a dark brown complexion. Her eyebrows grew across her forehead, connecting with each other. Her nose was long and hooked. Her lips were thick. She said something to Leslie in Arabic.

  They were standing in what seemed to Leslie to be some kind of an anteroom. There was a steel door just like the one she had just come through on the other side. There was a small, ancient looking, battered, wooden desk by the wall and next to it a thick, wooden chair. The walls were stone block and covered with a faded and peeling whitewash. The floor was stone too, slate. Its coolness reminded Leslie that they had not returned her shoes to her.

  She had no idea what the Arabic woman had said or what she wanted her to do. She stood there dumbly, her eyes watering with tears, her lips trembling. She had her hands clasped together before her and she writhed them together frantically. The woman stood about half a foot taller than her and was broad shouldered. She had an 18 inch long, thick club in her left hand. Her face wrinkled up in an impatient grimace and she repeated the Arabic words to her.

  “I don’t under….” was all Leslie got out.

  The hand with the club in it moved like lightning. It struck Leslie on her right arm between her shoulder and her elbow. It made a dull thud when it landed.

  “Ooooooowwwwwwww!” Leslie yelled. She stepped back and bent over, clutching her left hand to her arm. There was a painful, dull throbbing in her arm where she had been struck. “Ohhhhhhhhhh, god!” she exclaimed. “Ohhhhhhhhhh, please don’t hit me! Pleeeeeease!” she cried desperately.

  The woman raised the club again. Leslie backed away from her until her back was against the wall. The woman screamed the Arabic command for a third time.

  There was only one thing Leslie could think of. She began immediately to strip off her clothes. The Arab woman lowered the club and smiled.

  Leslie sobbed while she once again discarded her clothes. When she had her blouse and skirt off, she paused and looked at the woman to see if that was enough. The club came flying again, striking her on the right thigh.

  “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Leslie moaned again. She fell to the floor. The woman raised the club and gave her order for the fourth time. Sobbing heavily, Leslie rose to her knees. Frantic to avoid another blow from the club, she put her hands behind her back and unclasped her bra. She lowered it off of her arms and tossed it onto the floor. She reached into the gusset of her lacey, pink silk panties and pulled them to her knees. Keeping her eyes glued to the Arab woman, she sat back and brought her legs in front of her. She slid her panties down her shins and over her feet. They joined her matching bra on the floor.

  The Arab woman screamed another command. This time, she waved her hands upwards and Leslie understood that she was being ordered to stand. She scrambled to her feet. The woman’s free hand made a turning motion and Leslie obediently turned and faced the wall. She felt the club jammed against her back, pushing her closer. Defensively, she put her hands up against it. Issuing what sounded like a curse, the woman took hold of her hands, one by one, and spread them further apart. She tapped the club on the inside of her thighs, forcing them wider and wider until they were stretched to their limit and then on the fronts, until Leslie edged her feet back.

  Leslie was leaning over, her legs spread wide with her hands against the wall. If she pulled her hands from the wall, she would fall on her face. Her feet were arched and she was standing on her toes. They began to cramp almost immediately. She turned to look behind her to see what the Arabic woman was going to do next. The club flashed out, this time catching her on the ribs on her right side.

  “Auuuuuuuugh!” Leslie moaned. The force of the blow forced her off of her toes. The pain flowed through her, giving her a sickening feeling. The woman screamed the curse word again and Leslie, crying and moaning resumed her position immediately. The woman stepped forward and, grabbing her by the hair in the back of her head, pressed her face towards the wall, holding it firmly so that her gaze was fixed on a spot on the wall before her. She uttered a sharp, acerbic sounding word for emphasis. Leslie got the picture. She was to look straight ahead and nowhere else.

  The woman seemed temporarily satisfied. Leslie heard her step away and heard the sound of the club being placed down on the desk. A drawer opened and she heard the sound of elastic snapping. Then there was the sound of a jar opening. The lid and then, a moment later, the jar, were placed on the desk. The woman stepped back to her.

  Her hand reached between Leslie’s naked thighs and Leslie felt a gooey substance being applied to her pussy. Rough, thick fingers insinuated themselves onto her love lips and then into the gash between them. Leslie gritted her teeth and whined as she felt the fingers prying their way into her canal. Despite the lubricant, it hurt as her pussy’s walls were forcibly widened. The fingers delved around inside her as if they were searching for something. Her stomach went queasy and she began to break out into a sweat. Besides being ass fucked, it was the most humiliating thing that had ever been done to her.

  The fingers slid all the way in. Finding no barrier, the woman l
aughed and said something caustic sounding in Arabic. Leslie knew that the woman was commenting on her lack of virginity, something quite common for a 22 year old woman back in the States. Here, she knew, it was a sign of what would be considered extreme licentiousness for an unmarried woman.

  Satisfied that she was hiding no contraband in her vagina, the fingers withdrew. They immediately began to probe at the delicate, irritated ring of flesh between her rear cheeks. Leslie issued a groan of unhappiness as she felt the fingers slide right in. She knew that she was hiding nothing there, but also knew that the spume of the man who had raped her had been slowly leaking out of her rear ever since he had withdrawn his softened prick from it. The woman discovered it right away.

  She gave out a shriek of disgust and gave Leslie a fierce slap on her buttocks. She slapped her two, three, four, five times. Leslie wailed and cried as she hit her. She yearned to pull her hands from the wall to defend herself, but knew that the only result would be another blow from the woman’s club. Leslie screamed and cried in pain. When the slaps ceased, the woman roughly thrust her fingers back into Leslie’s rear hole and twisted them brutally around and around. Leslie’s knees went weak. “Auuuuuuuuuuuwwwwww! Auuuuuuuuuuuuuwwwwwwww!” she screamed. “Please stop! Please!” she yelled.

  The woman pulled her fingers abruptly from Leslie’s ass and then struck her three more times on her buttocks, issuing a harsh command, which Leslie understood as an order to keep quiet. She closed her mouth, sniffling and sobbing. The fingers thrust themselves back inside her, circled around the area nearest her anus and then withdrew.

  Leslie was sickened with shame and humiliation. Her face was awash with tears. Her toes and feet ached and her shoulders had begun to hurt. She issued a little prayer of thanks that her ordeal was done, but she was wrong. The Arab woman stepped up next to her. One hand grabbed her cheeks firmly, squeezing her mouth opened and the slime covered, gloved hand was thrust into her mouth.

  Leslie groaned with misery as the fouled fingers explored her oral cavity. They passed over her teeth, between her gums and her lips and then all the way to the back of her mouth to the edge of her throat. Her mind reeled with the thought of the filth laden fingers in her mouth. It seemed to take forever, but only lasted a few seconds. It was an experience she knew that she would never forget as long as she lived. When the fingers withdrew, it was all she could do to prevent herself from vomiting. Her sobs of misery echoed off of the stone walls.

  Her examination complete, the woman withdrew to the desk again. Leslie heard the sound of the jar being capped and put back in the drawer. She heard the snap of the glove being removed. She heard a faint sound as it was tossed into the garbage.

  There was silence behind her. She got the feeling that the woman was scouring her naked body with her eyes. She had never felt so vulnerable in her life. She just wanted her ordeal to end. She knew that there was a prison cell waiting for her and she yearned for its relative safety.

  She heard the woman stepping up closer to her. Her rough hand slid up and over her right buttock. The sensation made Leslie’s body run cold. The hand slid over her other rear cheek as if appreciating its softness and roundness.

  The woman said something. While her voice up to now had been stern and demanding, this time it was soft and warm sounding, like you might talk to a favorite pet. The woman brought her body closer to Leslie. The rough fabric of her ayala rubbed against Leslie’s hip. The hand kept running over her rear mounds again and again, caressing them while the warm, singsong voice continued. Leslie was keeping her eyes pinned to the wall in front of her. She could feel the sweat running off her underarms. Her skin was prickly. She tried not to know what was happening, to pretend that it couldn’t be happening. But when the woman’s hands slid between her thighs and trickled across her outer labia, she could pretend no more.

  The woman had a soft, tender touch, which was surprising given her previous coarseness. The fingers gently caressed Leslie’s sex while the warm, insinuating voice continued. The woman’s body was closer to her now, right up against her. Her face was only a few inches from Leslie’s ear. She was whispering, a whisper of encouragement, of enticement. Leslie could feel her hot breath. She was holding her air in tightly. It was as if any movement she made would serve as further encouragement to her assailant. When the woman’s finger began a soft, circular motion on her bud of pleasure, Leslie felt a tingle flow through her body and her breath hissed out of her like a long, prolonged, lover’s sigh.

  This seemed to amuse the woman. Her singsong voice became lighter and rose higher. The finger, clearly expert at its task, slid off of her now stiffened clit and slipped along the crevasse below it, gently pushing her love lips aside, delving inside, covering itself with her incipient moisture. When the slickened finger returned to Leslie’s pleasure button and resumed its tantalizing motion, Leslie moaned.

  It was, seemingly, the signal the woman was looking for. As her finger continued its torment of her clit, her other hand slid over her hip, then across her belly. The hand was hot and seemed to melt something inside her. When it seized one of her breasts, gently cupping it and then giving it a loving, soft squeeze, Leslie moaned again.

  Propped up against the wall, naked and defenseless, her toes digging into the stone floor, Leslie’s mind screamed at her helplessness. All of being wanted to move away from the woman, to close her distended thighs, to pull her full, throbbing breast away from the hand that had captured it, to move her body away from the ominous presence of her assailant, but she was locked in place, bound in position, no less than is she had been placed in implacable, steel chains.

  The woman began to slide two thick fingers in and out of Leslie’s distended, moisture laden crevasse. The hand on her breast tightened its grip, its fingers closing in on her rigid nipple, pinching and teasing it. The voice went on and on. Its tenor had become passionate, loving. The hand switched breasts, caressing and squeezing the mate while the fingers probed deep within her churning tunnel, in and out, in and out, faster and faster.

  Leslie’s moans became steady and louder. Her hips began an involuntary movement, encouraging the assault on her sex. The fingers slipped up over her clit again, pressing down on it firmly, massaging it. Leslie’s lust grew higher and higher. She felt her orgasm building. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, trying to fight it off, but the hand between her thighs was incessant, insistent. All of her weight was on her hands, pinned to the wall, her breasts were tight and hot and the woman continued her assault on them, squeezing them tighter and tighter, giving her nipples sharp, harsh tugs. Leslie tilted her neck back, groaning as her climax marched closer and closer to completion.

  And then it struck. Leslie gave out a long, wailing moan. Her hips shuddered, her thighs trembled, her body shook. The woman’s voice was excited, egging her on. It felt to Leslie like it was coming from inside her, her own, personal demon drawing out her baser lusts. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Leslie moaned. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  When her orgasm had crested, the fingers in her coosh slowed their motions, but did not stop. The aftershocks of her climax caused her pussy to clench and her body to shake. Tears of shame filled her eyes. She had lowered her head back into position, but kept her eyes clenched closed, too humiliated to absorb the reality they would perceive.

  The woman did not withdraw her hand until she was satisfied that Leslie’s tremors had finished. She gave each of her plump breasts one last squeeze and then, leaning forward slipped her tongue in her ear, causing a wave of revulsion to flow through the young girl. After a few moments, the woman withdrew, said something and then laughed.

  A feeling of complete powerlessness flowed through the unhappy Bryn Mawr graduate. In the last few hours, there had been a complete paradigm shift in her life. She had gone from a. happy, independent, self assured, confident young woman to a miserable, forlorn, humiliated prisoner. She wondered dismally what other unpleasant and distasteful things would happen to her.
She had been swept up into a world that she had hardly known existed. These people had no respect for her rights. And what was worse, they were perfectly satisfied that she could devise no remedy for their abuse of her. No court would ever hold them to account. They would suffer no consequence for the things that they did. It was their world she was in now and it had a whole new set of rules.

  Leslie vowed to obey whatever commands she received to the letter. She would do nothing to incur the wrath of the people who had control of her. The problem was, though, that she did not understand the rules. When the fierce woman in the anteroom with her had given her orders, she had not understood them and suffered immediate, painful violence when she did not obey. What was she going to do? How could she avoid more punishment? Her arm, her thigh and her ribs ached awfully where she had been struck. She was sure that there would be deep purple bruises there before long. She had to face the facts. She was in the midst of a terrible nightmare from which there would be no deliverance until either these people were finished having heir way with her or Mr. Moussa came to her rescue.

  The woman stepped up behind Leslie and took hold of her hair at the back of her head. She pulled on it harshly, forcing Leslie to lean back and withdraw her hands from the wall. The young girl sighed as the strain on her thighs and toes was finally relieved. The woman took hold of her arms from behind and brought them behind her back, crossing them at the wrists. She said something imperative which Leslie interpreted as meaning that she should keep her arms that way until further notice. The woman took hold of her hair again, grabbing it so tightly that Leslie whined from the pain. She forced her head down until she was almost bent over double and then brought her to the steel door on the other side of the small room.

  She knocked on it three times. A panel opened in it and a pair of female eyes looked out. The woman said something to the eyes and the panel shut. Leslie heard the sound of a heavy steel bolt being opened on the other side of the door. The woman holding Leslie’s hair opened one on her side. The door swung open.