Emily Pt. 07

In bed that night I thought I'd never sleep. Thoughts of what had happened to me that day, our agreement and what might happen the next day kept all other thoughts at bay. But, eventually, I did sleep and when the alarm sounded the next morning I was amazed at how well rested I felt. Was it possible this sort of life-style suited me? Despite my ongoing feelings of guilt and shame was my unconscious mind actually satisfied?

I mulled it all over while I showered and dressed but at breakfast my thoughts were interrupted by my annoying younger sister.

"Off to work again tonight, then?" She said, in her best innocent voice. My mother, standing at the sink, didn't seem to notice.

"Yes." I replied, tentatively.

"Another nice pay day, eh?" She said in an urgent whisper, a knowing smile on her lips.

"What? It's just what I get paid for working hard." I said, my heart suddenly beating more quickly.

"Yeah." She said, "I bet you work hard." Her smug smile growing wider.

"I do work hard." I said defensively. "You should try it some time."

"Maybe I will!" She said, then under her breath. "Wonder how much I'd get paid if I flashed a bit of this?" She squashed her breasts together lewdly, her school blouse crumpling up.

"It's not like that." I said angrily and, grabbing my cereal, I walked out. The sound of her laughing making my face turn crimson.

God, she was such a little brat. Why couldn't she just keep her nose out of my business?

I walked down the hall. At the end was our little office that my Dad used for his paperwork. At least I'd be alone there. I pushed the door open and was surprised to see my Dad at the desk working at the computer. Hearing me enter he suddenly tried to turn off the browser he had open, he furiously clicked away, without actually closing it. I couldn't help but look at the screen and, in the few seconds before he finally managed to close it, I could see a strange thing.

"What are you doing in here?" He said angrily.

"Nothing." I replied, "Just trying to get away from that brat, Rachel."

"Well go away." He said in a flustered way, "I'm busy."

"Alright, alright." I said and backed out of the room.

In the living room I stood confused - the website he'd been on looked a bit like eBay but somehow different - less professionally. It had definitely had a 'bid now' button, I'd seen that for sure, and it had a picture too. But that really confused me, I'd only seen it for a split second but I could have sworn that it was a picture of a school girl's back. There was more to it but that was all I was sure I'd seen. Was it something to do with the school my sister and I attended? If it was why was it such a strange picture of the girl and why was my Dad so desperate for me not to see what he was doing?

I didn't have long to think about it though as, glancing at my watch, I realised I needed to get to school. Grabbing my things I left without saying goodbye - there was no way I wanted my little sister walking with me and asking more awkward questions!

At school I did my best to concentrate but once again thoughts of what had happened yesterday and what might happen tonight kept intruding. Could I go through with it all again? A strong spasm from between my legs told me at least part of me wanted to. And what about Abdullah's promise to introduce me to his friends? Could I allow myself to be used like that, like I was a cheap whore and then discarded? Another hot spasm confirmed what I was beginning to accept - I did want it and wanted it very much.

Time seemed to pass both slowly and too quickly - I alternated between just wanting to get on with it and then feeling so guilty. Every horrible way people can label a girl - dirty, easy, cheap, a slag - they all seemed to apply to me. The thought of Craig, my friends or my family finding out what I had done was terrifying but, at the same time, that risk and the dirtiness of it all made my pussy hot with anticipation.

After school I stopped by the shops to buy the mask. It turned out to be more difficult to find than I thought - I went from shop to shop until, finally, I found one - it was plane and black and was part of a kid's super hero costume. It was much smaller than I had hoped - looking in the mirror I could see that it barely covered my eyes. Surely anyone who knew me would recognize me immediately. I almost didn't buy it but I was running out of time. I ignored the shop assistant's raised eyebrow and bought it.

On the walk home I imagined all the things I might experience whilst wearing it - by the time I finally arrived home I was in a bit of a daze and just mindlessly ate and showered. In fact it was quite a surprise when I got out of the shower and saw myself in the mirror - a skinny young girl with pert breasts and no pubic hair.

I wrapped a towel around myself and went into my room to change. I pulled on the tee-shirt and short skirt which now seemed like my work clothes. My Dad was waiting for me when I got downstairs.

"Ready?" He said in a tone I knew meant he'd rather be doing just about anything else than being my taxi.

"Yes." I replied.

We got into the car and were just about to leave when my sister came running out of the house and jumped in the back. My Dad looked at her curiously.

"Just fancied a ride." She said innocently.

Dad just shrugged and started the engine. My sister gave me a mischievous grin and poked her tongue out at me. I couldn't really complain and just turned around and ignored her.

When we arrived I could see through the well-lit windows that both Mustafa and Abdullah were there. I jumped out of the car but before I went very far I heard my Dad calling.

"Same time for the pick up?" He asked.

"Yes, just after eleven." I said. Next to him I could see Rachel looking intently into the kebab shop.

There was nothing else to do so I said goodbye and walked to the shop. To my dismay both men displayed lecherous grins the moment they saw me. I turned my head and could see Dad and Rachel were still there, my Dad looked as if he were checking his phone and my sister was peering nosily into the shop. At last Dad finished what he was doing and I saw them pull away, I turned to Mustafa.

"Shall, I set up the salad?" I asked, that being the first thing he normally wanted me to do.

"Not tonight, girlie." He said, licking his fat lips. "We got other plans tonight." My heart pounded suddenly.

Abdullah then came over to me and took my hand. Before I knew what was happening he was leading me into the back store-room, through a little door which exited into the alley and then up the metal stairs to the flat.

Once inside the kitchen of the dingy little flat the reality of what I was doing hit me. Here I was, a lone, teenaged girl, about to let who knew what happen to me. Was this going to be the biggest regret of my life?

Both Mustafa and Abdullah seemed excited and nervous. They were out of breath and sweaty. Abdullah looked at his watch.

"Nearly time." He said to Mustafa.

"Time for what?" I asked, a feeling of dread and a tingle of excited running through me.

"For our friend." Said Mustafa with an evil little grin.

My heart was suddenly pounding again. Had they arranged for someone to come around so quickly? Of course, I thought then, all it would take would be a phone call and they'd have an eager participant. I felt a knot of fear twist in my stomach but also a familiar heat blossom in my pussy.

It was then I heard footsteps on the metal stairs and I heard myself gulp. Abdullah looked down at me and gave a little laugh whilst Mustafa hurried to the front door.

Those seconds before the door opened seemed to slow down and take forever. Behind that door was a strange man that I would be expected to allow to do to me the most intimate thing two people could do together. Something I had always been taught was sacred and should only be between two people who loved each other. Something, I had also been taught, that if you did it too often or with people you didn't love, made you cheap, a slut even. God, I thought, am I cheap slut? The only answer I could find was yes.

The door slowly opened and it was only at the last moment I remembered my mask. I made a mad grab for it in my pocket and only just got it over my face in time. When I could eventually see again I saw Mustafa coming back down the hall followed by another man. He was a bit shorter than Mustafa and so I couldn't see him properly until they reached the kitchen and he moved out from behind him.

He was older than the either Mustafa or Abdullah, probably in his late sixties. He was also Asian and quite over-weight. His fat stomach stuck out like he was pregnant. Despite him being short he was still taller than me by quite a bit and I had to look up to see his face. It was fixed into a sort of unkind sneer. His black eyes were cold and moved up and down my body taking in my slim figure, my short skirt and my tight top. Suddenly I felt vulnerable and on display. His face twisted until he managed to look both disapproving and knowing.

I felt my face blush and I couldn't help but look down in shame. I felt like a little girl discovered doing something naughty. He had taken just seconds to judge me, to label me and, judging by his expression, to dismiss me as worthless. Above me I heard him say something to the others in a language I couldn't understand. All three laughed and my shame became almost unbearable.

I felt a hand roughly grab my chin then and force my face up - I found myself looking into those cruel black eyes again. His other hand came up and moved towards my mask - I shied back and he barked out something angrily.

Mustafa spoke quickly then, also in that language I could not understand. He sounded pleading and apologetic. I looked at the man, he seemed angry I had defied him but slowly, as Mustafa continued, I saw him relax. Whatever Mustafa was saying must have placated him. Abdullah then said something and gestured at me and shrugged dismissively - they all laughed again.

The man looked down at me, that same look on his face, it left me in no doubt he thought I was so far beneath him to be worthless. He moved away from me and sat down at one of the kitchen chairs - the tension seemed to dissipate.

It was only then, while I was still catching my breath that I realised I recognized him. I had seen him before - at school! I remembered he had given a talk to us once. I racked my brains and then it suddenly came to me - he was the Inman at the local mosque. He had come to the school during one of our multi-cultural days. He had been invited to talk about life for a western Muslim women.

I could have laughed out loud. I remembered the teachers all pandering to him, going out of their way to show how diverse and inclusive they all were. How he had stood on the stage and told the entire school that Muslims were chaste and pure and that they resisted the evil influences of the west. He had gone on to say that any girl who went out unchaperoned, wore a skirt in public, who liked pop-music or, god-forbid, talked to a boy, had loose morals. I remembered how the teachers had all looked at each other uncertain of what to do.

Emboldened by their inaction he gone on to blame white girls for tempting Muslim men with their bodies but said that it didn't matter because having sex with a white girl was not a sin as white girls did not count. Count as what he never managed to say as our head of year finally got up enough courage to interrupt him. I remember how we girls had all laughed about it afterwards - there was nothing better than seeing the teachers embarrassed!

And now here he was in front of me - looking at me as if I were a thing and not a person - reducing me to an object. I felt a shiver run through me but couldn't decide if it was shame or excitement.

He barked out another sentence that could only be a command. Abdullah smiled obsequiously at him and then said.

"Girlie take off tee-shirt now."

I looked at him and then at the Inman. I knew he spoke English - was he choosing not to speak to me directly? Was I too far beneath him to even address? I felt anger rise in me but it was quickly swamped by shame - how could I be indignant when I was willingly being the exact thing he said all white women were - a slut.

He barked his order again, this time more forcefully, and I didn't need Abdullah to translate that he was getting impatient. I could have run out of there then, it was certainly a hard urge to ignore - so far all I'd felt was shame. I looked at the three of them and took in the situation - here I was, an eighteen year old girl, in a dirty back street flat, standing in front of three men much older than my father and about to do who knew what. I should have got the hell out of there but instead, without any real conscious thought, I slowly took hold of the bottom of my tee-shirt and pulled it slowly up and over my head.

A moment of silence followed as I let my arms fall to my sides and the three men stared appraisingly at me. Wearing just my bra my top half felt so exposed. The Inman looked at my breasts and I felt an unexpected thrill as I saw his eyes widen. It was gone as soon as it came, however, as another order followed and Abdullah directed me take my bra off. I had another moment of indecision before realising my hands were already undoing the clasp behind my back. I lowered my arms and let the bra fall away to expose my breasts. This time I saw the Inman's eyebrows rise despite his best efforts to appear unimpressed. My teenaged breasts stood out firm and pert above my flat stomach, my small nipples were erect.

The Inman said something to the others then that made them laugh.

"He say you not make Muslim women." Abdullah translated for me. "Your titties are too small and your hips too narrow to have strong Muslim baby."

I couldn't help but cover my naked breasts in shame. I was on display and they were judging me. A flash of anger passed over the Inman's face and I knew I had done something wrong. The translation of his words followed quickly.

"Take arms away, girlie." Said Abdullah. "You only do what he say you do. Ok?"

I felt myself nod compliantly.

That seemed to satisfy the Inman and everyone relaxed again. He stared at my breasts for a minute longer whilst I tried my best not to cover them again. I felt so exposed - naked from the waist up and on display for this man who clearly thought I was so far beneath him as to be nothing. His face was as expressionless as if he were looking at a piece of meat.

I stood like that for a couple of minutes, his eyes taking in every bit of my exposed breasts, not daring to move. Until a few days ago no one had seen my breasts except my friends in the changing room. Now they seemed public property and whether someone saw them or not was no longer up to me. That thought left me cold and suddenly any sexiness I had felt evaporated.

The next order was not unexpected.

"He say take off rest of clothes now." Said Abdullah.

I took a breath and took hold of the waist band of my skirt. Slowly I pushed it down over my slim hips - not because I was trying to be sexy but because I was reluctant. This wasn't turning out to be the lustful, sexy fun I had thought it would be. In my secret thoughts I had hoped for a repeat of the previous day's dirty sex but this was nothing but crushing humiliation and I wasn't remotely turned on.

I pushed the skirt and my knickers to my ankles and slowly straightened up. I was now completely naked in front of these three men and I saw their eyes, and his eyes in particular, look me up and down. I had never felt more humiliated. The Inman's face portrayed exactly what he thought - I was nothing more than an animal to him, like a sheep he might appraise at market. I was not only not a Muslim but, being a white girl, I was less than human.

I wanted to cry then, to cover my naked body and run - to get anywhere but there. But my courage failed me and a second later the Inman spoke again and snapped me out of my thoughts.

Abdullah, a smirk on his face, translated.

"He say you skinny and pale but he will allow the men to have you."

My mind was a blur as his words slowly sunk in - he would allow them to have me! I should have said something - shouted at him how dare he? My body wasn't something he could give away as he saw fit without my consent. I was furious at his utter disregard for me but despite all of that, in my humiliated and scared state, I just nodded and gave a girlie little smile. As if I was somehow grateful to him! Amazingly, in his self-righteous arrogance, that was exactly the response he expected of me and gave a little satisfied nod. He then barked another order at Mustafa and gestured towards the table.

I can remember them all standing up then and I think Abdullah started using his mobile phone, but it was all a blur. I was naked, humiliated, scared and angry - I didn't know what to do. But it was a decision soon taken out of my hands.

Mustafa came around the table and gently took hold of my arms and guided me towards the kitchen table. I remember he looked at me apologetically - almost with pity. I heard a zip being undone as, with Abdullah in the far corner of the room talking excitedly on his mobile, Mustafa lightly pushed me up against the table and, with gently pressure on my back, made me bend forward. I was too scared and dazed to put up any resistance and soon felt my breasts touch the dirty, cold surface of the table.

Before I knew what was happening I felt the Inman come to stand behind me and then take hold of my narrow hips with a strong grip. Despite my fog addled brain the realisation of what he wanted soon dawned on me. However, I just couldn't do anything about it - I had no fight in me.

The absolute last thing I wanted at that moment was to have sex, let alone with the most arrogant and unkind man I had ever met. But, despite that, I could not make myself protest. I stayed there, immobile and uncomplaining, as I felt his foot move between my naked feet and try to move them apart. I remained frozen.

The Inman said something to Mustafa then and it was obvious he was angry again. Mustafa leaned over so his face was close to mine.

"He says for you to move your legs out, girlie." He said in a kindly way.

I could see his flabby face just inches from mine, his pock marked skin, his yellow teeth and his bulbous nose. I could see his lips moving but his words just didn't sink in.

The Inman gave another angry bark from behind me.

"Please girlie." Pleaded Mustafa. "Be good girl and then we have fun, no?"

I looked into his brown eyes and somehow found comfort in them - at least he was being kind to me. I came back to myself then and remember stealing myself and then saying in my mind that I was going to get through this, that this was just sex, something I'd done before and it didn't mean anything.

Slowly I shuffled my feet along the dirty floor until my legs were wide apart. I could feel my unaroused pussy lips slowly part - I'd never felt less horny in my life. I felt a fresh wave of shame - I had given in to this horrible old man, I had submitted and was about to allow him to use me.

Relieved, Mustafa stood up as I felt the Inman move closer to me. Seconds later I felt something hot and hard poke at my exposed pussy. He fumbled around for a second lining his cock up with my pussy's entrance and then, when he'd nestled his cock's head between my pussy lips, I felt him grasp my hips and push.

Unaroused as I was my pussy was not ready for his cock but he managed to force it a couple of inches inside me before my dryness stopped him going any further. Beneath him I couldn't help but let out a little whimper as my delicate little pussy was invaded. I heard the Inman laugh and say something to Mustafa. I didn't need a translation to know he was enjoying my discomfort.