Arabian Nightmare Ch. 02

WARNING: This series depicts acts of cruelty and non-consensual sex.

"GUARD-GUARD-PLEASE-PLEEEEEEEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ...."

Oka pulled me onto his cot. I tried to fight but he was too strong. He pushed me on my back then knelt between my legs. His powerful hands grabbed my ankles and pulled them apart and pushed them over my head. I felt cool air on my exposed anus then I felt his monster cockhead press against my opening.

"OKA NO—NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO...."

Suddenly I heard the cell door open. The guard tasered Oka and he collapsed on the floor beside the bed.

I lay on the cot naked and trembling with mind-numbing fear. The guard had saved me from what would have been a horrifically painful ass-raping by Oka's horse-cock.

"Are you ready to submit to the Emir?" asked the guard.

I blinked away the tears in my eyes and said, "Yes, sir."

"Do you understand what you must do to make amends with the Emir?" the guard gloated at me.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

The guard produced what appeared to be a dog collar.

"Put this around your neck—pull it tight then latch it shut," he ordered.

I did as I was told. Then he attached a leash to one of the rings on the collar.

The guard stood close behind me. He ordered me to spread my legs wide apart. I did as I was told. I felt his finger on my anus. He massaged my anus and perineum until I achieved an erection.

"Get on your hands and knees and follow me, and keep your knees well apart" he ordered.

Still naked, I hung my head in shame as the guard pulled on the leash and I followed behind him on all fours. I heard Oka moaning on the floor behind me—I felt sorry to have caused him pain.

Now everything seemed in slow-motion. I was acutely aware of my totally exposed erect penis and balls dangling between my legs. Prisoners on both sides of the cell block stood at the bars in their cells and shouted at me: "Khaneeth (Faggot)—Knaneeth (Faggot)—Khaneeth (Faggot)—Khaneeth (Faggot)...."

It was a slow and tortuous crawl to the Emir's office. I was paraded down the long hallway like a prized show dog; totally naked before dozens of crazed, hollering men. A trail of my tears covered the hard prison floor behind me.

Once inside the Emir's office I was instructed to assume the 'proper position'—on my knees with my hands clasped behind my back and my head bowed staring at the floor.

The guard leaned over and stroked my still-erect cock. I was scared to death but my body betrayed my feelings. His hand felt wonderful on my cock.

When we heard another door open the guard released my now throbbing cock and stepped well behind me. I saw the polished black shoes of the Emir directly in front of me.

"Why are you here, boy?" the Emir asked.

My voice caught in my throat. What I was about to say went against everything I had been taught and believed, but I had no choice.

I bent over and kissed his shoe and said, "I am your white slave boy—you are my Arab Master." Then I kissed his other shoe and repeated those awful words.

He caressed my face and hair and spoke softly. "You disrespected me several days ago when I made you that offer. Do you deserve punishment for that insolence?"

A shiver of abject fear shot up my spine. "Y-Yes, my Arab Master—I deserve to be punished."

"Stand and bend over that table by the wall," he ordered.

"Yes, my Arab Master."

I did as I was told. My bottom was raised in the air; the guard fastened my wrists to ringlets in the wall; my ankles were secured in similar fashion to the floor. I couldn't move my arms and legs.

I felt the guard pour oil on my bottom-cheeks. His hand massaged my cheeks until they were glistening from the oil.

The Emir spoke from behind me. "My pretty white slave boy, you are very fortunate I am your first Arab Master—I will train you properly and thoroughly in the honor and privilege of servicing beautiful, brown Arab cocks."

OH MY GOD! Did he say my FIRST Arab Master? How long was I going to be in this God-forsaken country?

I heard a whooshing sound then the whip landed squarely on my ass-cheeks. I cried out in protest and pain. The Emir wasted no time. I never had a chance to catch my breath—he whipped me continually for a very long time.

SMACK—SMACK—SMACK—SMACK—SMACK—SMACK—SMACK....

I was sobbing hard and on the verge of passing out from the pain when he finally stopped. My bottom was on fire. I'd never know this much agony in my life. There was no doubt in my mind that I would obey his every command.

I was extremely aware that yes indeed—I was now a white slave boy to this cruel and brutal Arab man.

When I was released I sunk to my knees on the floor. The Emir stood before me.

"Open my pants and take out my beautiful, brown Arab cock—you worthless white slave," he hissed at me.

"Y-Yes, my Arab Master," I said through my tears.

I stared at the bulge in the front of his slacks as I fumbled with his belt and zipper. He had gotten an erection from whipping me.

When I pulled down his slacks and shorts I was somewhat relieved when his cock sprang into view. It was nowhere as big as Oka's cock. It was probably six-inches long and two-inches around.

"My little white slave boy—drink in the beauty of my brown Arab cock—take a deep breath and savor the aroma—you will hold my balls in your right hand—take hold of the base of my cock with your left—now kiss my cock—I want to feel your tongue on my cock—cover my beautiful brown cock with kisses, you worthless white slave."

"Yes, my Arab Master," I said and immediately obeyed his command.

I was grateful for the training Oka had given me. The last thing I wanted to do was displease my Arab Master and have to face the whip again.

When he was satisfied I'd kissed and licked every inch of his cock he told me to take it in my mouth and suck. I immediately obeyed him. I discovered it wasn't entirely unpleasant to have his cock in my mouth. I'd never been able to get my lips around Oka's cock so this was actually the first one I tasted.

I worked furiously to please him. I massaged his heavy balls while I stroked his shaft and sucked at his cockhead. I fell into a rhythm and I heard him moaning above me. He began to push his cock deeper and deeper into my sucking mouth. When his cockhead struck the entrance to my throat I gagged. I heard him laugh above me.

Suddenly his hips began staccato-like movements—I felt his balls contract in my small hand. I rapidly pumped his cock shaft.

"EAT MY PRECIOUS ARAB SPUNK YOU WORTHLESS WHITE SLUT---SWALLOW MY CUM--SWALLOW IT ALL, MY PRETTY LITTLE WHITE SLAVE BOY...."

Once again, Oka's training proved invaluable. I was able to catch his jism on my tongue and swallowed every drop. He didn't shoot nearly the load as Oka, and to my surprise it was rather pleasant tasting.

He made me lick his cock clean then he pulled up his shorts and slacks.

He patted me on the head and said, "Not bad for your first time and you will only get better with experience—now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

I was confused—I didn't know what he wanted me to say so I said, "Thank you, my Arab Master for allowing me to suck your beautiful brown Arab cock—thank you my Arab Master for allowing me to swallow your precious Arab spunk."

He laughed and patted me on the head again. "Very good, slave boy, you learn quickly—I like that!"

He barked instructions to the guard. Soon two small brown-skinned boys appeared in the room. They were naked except for diaphanous white 'harem pants' from waist-to-ankles; their smooth and shiny private parts were clearly visible through the sheer material. At first I thought they were girls but noticed they didn't have breasts. They were very pretty boys and appeared to be wearing makeup. They had long, black hair that hung to the middle of their backs.

I wondered if I was going to be made to look like them, too.

"Follow Aleem and Jameel—they will prepare you for tonight," the guard instructed me.

My nudity didn't faze them in the least. I followed them through a door and found myself in what appeared to be living quarters; one big room with sofa and comfortable chairs on one end of the room and a king-sized bed on the other side. We walked straight through to another door that led to a very large bathroom.

There was a bathtub, a separate shower, a toilet and another fixture I didn't recognize.

"That is a bidet," said Jameel. I was startled by his accent; I guessed him to be from Pakistan or India. He continued explaining, "That is where you will wash your Masters semen from your bottom-hole when he is finished using you—we will show you how to use it."

Wash my Masters semen from my bottom-hole? He made it sound so casual—like eating or breathing. My heart sank as the finality of my situation suddenly hit me. I am a sex slave to a man, and he was going to use my mouth and rectum for his pleasure. The thought if it made me cringe with disgust.

Aleem coated his hands with some sort of liquid and rubbed it into my flesh. He covered my chest, underarms, legs and crotch with the gel; there was a slight stinging sensation.

Next, they had me stand underneath a shower spray and they washed the gel off my skin; I watched all of my body hair disappear down the drain. I was now as hairless as them.

Jameel was filling the bathtub with steaming hot water and another liquid, but before he guided me into the tub Aleem produced an enema tube and had me bend over for him. He inserted the nozzle in my anus and filled me with soapy water. Only after standing for an excruciating several minutes was I allowed to sit on the toilet and expel my bowels.

Next I was guided into the tub. They helped me ease my whipped bottom into the soapy, scented bubble bath. I sat back and enjoyed the luxurious sensations of the water and their hands washing every inch of my flesh.

My penis became erect and Jameel smiled at me; he was a very pretty boy; I smiled back at him.

"How long have you both been here?" I asked him.

He whispered, "Talking is forbidden—we will all taste the whip if they hear us."

I cringed at the mention of 'the whip'—I had already been conditioned to fear it. It was a powerful force to ensure obedience to our Masters.

They dried me with thick towels and when they handed me pink harem pants my worst fears were realized: I was going to be made to look and feel like a girl. I was overcome with shame and helplessness.

Jameel caressed my prick through the sheer material until I was totally erect. I couldn't help myself; the feel of the fabric on my naked flesh was very erotic.

They stood me before a full-length mirror and I saw what I had become—I saw what the Emir intended me to be: an effeminate, pretty white slave boy---a slave boy good for one thing only; to give pleasure and satisfy my Arab Masters basest and most depraved desires.

The boys led me to another room. It was a small dining hall. There were several guards seated at tables eating and talking. The room fell silent when we entered. All eyes were on me. They smiled and nodded their appreciation of the Emirs newest white slave boy.

Jameel went to one of the guards and spoke with him. I saw the guard nod his approval. We sat at our own table and food was quickly brought to us by smirking prisoners. I guessed they were the most trusted prisoners who had earned, or paid for, inside jobs.

We began eating; the food was very good. During the meal, Jameel explained more of my duties. I guessed he had gotten permission to talk with me from the guard.

"Your only duty and responsibility is to obey and please your Master—nothing else matters...your comfort—your very survival rests solely with your Master...your absolute surrender to him is critical for your well-being."

I felt the fear rise in me again as he spoke.

"You will speak only when words are appropriate—remain silent at all other times...unless your Master is speaking to you—never look at his face—your eyes should always be focused either at the floor, or his crotch...when he is exposed you must always look at his cock—never look anywhere but his cock, after all, your Masters cock is the only reason you are here."

I could feel my hands tremble and the hair on the back of my neck stood straight out.

"When your Master commands you always obey quickly—never hesitate—during lovemaking always appear eager and enthusiastic—refuse him nothing—never give him a reason to use the whip on you...the sooner you accept the fact that you are nothing but a slave boy for your Master—the easier it will be for you...you may even receive pleasure while you are servicing him."

Receive pleasure from being a slave? I doubt it, I thought.

After dinner they walked me down another long hallway. I didn't know what to say but I wanted the comfort of hearing his voice.

"What day is this?" I asked. "I've lost all track of time."

"Time is irrelevant here..." he said. "...for five years I have had no idea what day of the week it is—I don't even know what month we're in...those things are not important—as a matter-of-fact, I highly doubt that you will ever see the outside again—your Master will not want to expose your white flesh to the brutal desert sun."

Wow! That was a chilling thought.

"But what about when I go to court? I'm going to be found innocent of these charges and I will get out of here some day."

I thought I saw a sad smile form on Jameel's face.

There was a small room at the end of the hallway. Aleem fumbled in some boxes and produced leather cuffs. The cuffs had metal rings. They attached the cuffs to my wrists and ankles. Then I saw the heavy metal chains.

Oh my God, I thought--one final indignity to endure.

They attached a three-foot chain to my wrists and a four-foot chain between my ankles. I still had plenty of movement to my arms and legs. I really didn't understand the purpose of the chains other than to heap more humiliation on me.

"If you serve your Master well—he will release you from your chains," said Jameel.

Suddenly Jameel took me in his arms and kissed me. His lips tasted wonderful—I kissed him back. He reached down and caressed me through my harem pants. I responded to his soft hands—my cock became stiff and it throbbed under his touch.

They stood on either side of me. They brought my hands to their crotches and I massaged them until their pricks also strained against the sheer material. I didn't know why we were doing this but I enjoyed it.

Aleem opened another door and I found myself once again in the prison cellblock. My heart caught in my throat—we were standing beside my old cell, Oka's cell, and I was going to have to make the long walk to the Emir's office once again.

"Stand three paces behind us and walk at our speed," Jameel ordered.

The prisoners gathered at their cell doors and began chanting at us as we walked very slowly down the hallway. I caught a glimpse of Oka, he had a smile on his face and lust in his eyes.

"Khaneeth (Faggot)—Qybah (Bitch)—Charmouta (Slut)—Bala'a il aair (Cocksucker)—Bedi nik Kesik (I want to fuck your pussy)-- Khaneeth (Faggot)—Qybah (Bitch)—Charmouta (Slut)—Bala'a il aair (Cocksucker)—Bedi nik Kesik (I want to fuck your pussy)...."

It seemed whenever I thought the humiliation couldn't get worse I was proven wrong.

The heavy chain between my ankles dragged loudly on the floor as we walked. The prisoners hooted and screamed their ugly taunts at us all the way down the hallway; they loved seeing our erect cocks through the diaphanous material of the harem pants. I was visibly shaking when we arrived at the Emir's office. I was very happy when we went inside and shut-off the screaming insults.

We walked through his office to the living quarters. Jameel had me get on my knees beside the big bed.

"Hands clasped together behind your neck and stare at the floor—when he approaches you look directly at his crotch."

I did as I was told. They stood several feet away from me and we waited.

Finally I heard a door open and I had to fight the instinct to look. My gaze remained on the floor ahead of me. I heard his footsteps and when his feet came into view I saw his bare feet. I lifted my eyes and noticed he was wearing a robe. I stared at the bulge that pushed out the front of his robe. He was obviously excited by the thought of his first night together with his new slave boy.

I heard him softly laugh then he said, "Very good, Jameel, you have instructed him well—so far...."

He caressed my face and hair. "You are a very pretty boy—I know I will enjoy our time together...now open my robe and pleasure me with your hands and mouth."

"Yes, my Arab Master."

I opened his robe and gazed at his seven-inch erection. I didn't understand what happened to me but I found myself getting excited and my own cock became hard at his curt command.

As I did earlier, I cradled his ball sac in my right hand and grasped the shaft of his cock with my left hand. I wet my lips and wrapped them around his cockhead and sucked the purple glans into my mouth. Thrilling jolts of electricity shot throughout my body.

It was as though my transformation into becoming his willing slave boy freed me from my own inhibitions—I reveled on the cock in my mouth. My tongue bathed his hot flesh with saliva. I breathed deeply; his manly aroma made my cock swell even larger.

I became lost in the moment—all I could think of was my duty to pleasure my Master and my Arab Master's beautiful, brown, now-throbbing cock. I sighed and moaned as he pushed his hardness deeper into my mouth.

I heard him chuckle of above me. He patted my head and said, "Yes, my pretty white slave—I knew you would come to love your new status in life."

Suddenly he pulled his prick from my mouth and I whimpered with frustration.

"Stand and strip," he ordered.

I stood and pushed the harem pants down to my ankles, the chains prevented me from removing them completely. He sat on the edge of the bed and Jameel brought him a small bowl. I could see four shiny metallic balls swimming in some sort of clear liquid. They appeared to be about two-inches in diameter.

"Stand with your back to me," he ordered. "Spread your legs wide apart and bend over...yes, good...now reach behind you and pull apart your bottom cheeks—we're going to oil your 'pussy'...."

MY PUSSY? Oh my God, he wanted me to assist him in the rape of my bottom and there was nothing I could do about it.

I felt the warm cylinder against my anus and without hesitation he pushed it inside my asshole. Then I felt a second ball against my anus and he pushed that one into my asshole, as well. My rectum felt full—it felt like I needed a bowel movement.

It became very clear that he was going to fill my asshole with all four balls. When I felt the third ball push at my opening, my penis suddenly began to throb and he laughed.

"Yes..." he said. "...a boy like you loves having his pussy used...."

When the fourth ball was inside me the first ball pressed against my prostate. I swooned with delight and nearly fell over. The Emir's strong hands held me upright. My cock throbbed and I moaned with pleasure. The balls in my ass produced the most erotic sensations I'd ever felt.

"Now my little slave boy, I want you to expel them into my hand...pretend you're having a bowel movement and push them out of your pretty white ass."

OH MY GOD—HOW COULD I POSSIBLY DO SUCH A DISTASTEFUL THING AS THAT?

His eyes were focused on my anus. He was staring at the most intimate part of my anatomy and he was ordering me to perform a very private act.

He sensed my rebellion and screamed at me.

"EXPELL THEM INTO MY HAND OR I WILL USE THE WHIP UNTIL YOU PASS OUT FROM THE PAIN!!"

Tears filled my eyes as I began to grunt and force the balls out of my rectum. Very slowly—one-by-one I pushed them out of my asshole and into his hand. I saw Jameel and Aleem watching the spectacle with expressions of satisfaction on their faces. A white boy was suffering the ultimate humiliation before their very eyes.