Molly's Story Ch. 05: Guest Worker

Molly's Stories 5. Guest Worker

Molly and Stephen and their story-telling were introduced in "The Professor series," but they continued to write stories and share them with one another. Molly's stories will appear in the BDSM category, while Stephen's better fit under Romance.

"Well, Professor, While you've been working on your presentation about illegal immigrants, I've written a story about that."

"Great," Stephen replied. "I could use some inspiration."

"Everyone seems so upset about illegal migrants stealing our jobs, they don't appreciate the essential role they play in our economy."

"Absolutely."

"So I have titled this one 'Guest Worker'."

Guest Worker

It began as a lark. Melanie was studying abroad in India and decided to make a summer trip to the beaches of the Comoros. It was there she met Haji, one of the lesser nobility from Saudi Arabia. He appreciated her good looks and free spirit - and the status of having a Canadian girlfriend - and invited her to sail on the Indian Ocean in his family yacht. A month later, Melanie headed north to meet with him. She did not expect this relationship to last the summer, but she might as well enjoy it. She brought two Belgian friends, Annette and Georges. She didn't really know what to expect from Haji's yacht, but it was simple and cozy. It slept six, which was plenty for the four of them. The packed it with food, alcohol, and a few recreational additives for two weeks and set out along the coast line west from the Persian Gulf.

All went well for the first three days, but then a storm came up. The small boat struggled against a strong south wind and surging seas. There was no port near enough to shelter in and it became apparent that Haji was in over his head. When lightning struck the mast, it took out the radio and instruments. Haji was afraid to turn south, away from land, because he had no navigation. As the storm increased in strength, it overwhelmed the small engine and he had to take in the sail. As the darkness of night fell, he lost all bearings and the boat smashed onto coastal rocks. The hull stove in and the boat began break up. Melanie watched as Haji and Annette were swept overboard. She and Georges would have to swim for it before the remains of the yacht sank.

Melanie wore a life jacket and could only drift on the waves. She lost sight of Georges, the rocks, and everything else in the darkness and concentrated only on staying afloat. Eventually in the darkness she felt the waves push her onto land. She crawled until she was beyond the reach of the tide and collapsed, exhausted.

She was awakened by Anette, who was bruised by collisions with rocks but on her feet. It was daylight. Although still cloudy, the storm had passed and the sea was less ferocious. Together they walked along the shore looking for some sign of the others. Soon they came on Haji's body. He had a deep gash in his head and they understood quickly that he was gone. Stunned, they sat to take in their situation. Neither girl had any sense of where they were. Aside from a few pieces of the boat that lay on the sand, they had only the wet clothes they wore - jeans and Tee shirts and barefoot.

Two men were standing among the rocks several hundred meters away. Assuming they were fishermen, Helen and Annette started towards them. The men appeared to be scavenging from the wreck.

"Can you help us?" Helen asked.

They could not find a mutually intelligible language, but the men encouraged the girls to follow. Ten minutes later they caught up with a group of four men standing and talking. Two of them carried assault rifles. As they approached, they saw that Georges was lying at their feet. Annette ran to him and knelt beside him.

One of the men with a full beard spoke to her in a thick accent. "American?"

"Belgian," she replied.

He seemed disappointed. "You?" He pointed at Helen.

"Canadian."

He shrugged.

"Can you help us?"

He said something in Arabic and evidently did not understand her English.

Annette looked up. "I think he has broken his arm." She mimed a broken arm to make him understand. Two of the men picked Georges up and carried him to a nearby pair of jeeps. The rest followed.

They drove to a camp a few miles away. It consisted of a couple of rudely constructed buildings and three tents. Georges was taken into one of the buildings and laid on a table. One of the men splinted his arm. Clearly, he was not a trained doctor. Annette stood by her friend.

The bearded man whom Helen christened Ali1 in her mind, asked her questions she did not understand. She and Ellen were fed and were shown by gestures to a part of a tent where they could sleep. Otherwise they were left alone the rest of the day and the next. Annette spent as much time as she could by Georges, who was regaining his strength. Helen tried to get some information from their hosts, but had little success communicating. When she wasn't sitting with Annette and Georges, she walked the perimeter of the camp. As far as she could see, it was all desert. They had no choice but to wait until the men determined they would leave.

On the third day, Ali1 and three other men with rifles led the Westerners to the jeeps and set out. Clearly the driver knew where they were headed, but Helen could not even make out a road. Gradually the terrain shifted from rocky to sandy. The small shrubs grew more and more scarce. At last they stopped at a rocky outcrop. Water bottles were shared and they waited in the shade of the rock.

After a couple of hours, a jeep and truck arrived. Five men dismounted, also armed. They greeted Ali1 and prepared tea and fruit. When the niceties of the meal were over, Ali1 and the obvious leader of the other sat down to begin negotiating. It began as a calm discussion that occasionally became excited. Now and then one of them would gesture toward Georges or the girls. The other men sat quietly listening. Helen assumed they were arguing about the cost of transporting the three of them to a hospital.

After an hour of haggling, the newcomers carried Georges to the truck. Their leader gave money to Ali1 but did not looked satisfied. Nonetheless, they drove away.

As Ali1 led his group back to camp, Annette and Helen tried to understand what had happened. They assumed Georges was being taken for treatment, but why had they not gone along? They tried again to get information out of the other men, but it was useless.

That evening when they were alone in their tent, one of the men slipped in and spoke very quietly. "I know English." He had not spoken anything to them before, but seemed to hang back.

Annette became excited. "So you can tell us what is going on? Where is Georges? Where are we? When . . ."

He shushed her and whispered, "Quiet. It dangerous I speak English. Where are we? We are nowhere." He gestured out to the desert.

"What will happen to us? What does your boss want?"

The man rubbed his fingers together. "Dollars."

"He wants a ransom? We can arrange that," Helen interjected.

"No. Too hard. Too dangerous."

"Where is Georges?"

"He sell."

"He sold Georges?"

"To ISIS. They want Americans."

"But he is not an American. What for?" Annette spoke more loudly.

"Shhh. For, how you say, hostage."

Images flashed through the girls' minds of public beheadings. "Then we have to get back and tell someone."

"You not leave."

"But . . ."

"You lucky. Isis not buy you. He want too much money for women."

"Then what . . .?"

Another man entered the tent and their informer fell silent. He left at the first opportunity. The newcomer looked at the girls suspiciously and then also left. They saw him walking toward the building where Ali1 stayed. A while later he returned with two sets of shackles in his hand. He locked one set onto Helen and the other onto Annette. He spoke a few words in Arabic and left.

"Shit," was the only work Helen could say.

Annette spoke, "But Isis takes women and forces them to be wives for their soldiers."

"Apparently we are worth more than that to somebody."

The girls were fed in the morning, but not released from their chains. The entire group loaded onto the two vehicles and drove into the desert. This trip was much farther and ended hours later at a small encampment of tents clustered around a water hole. A small herd of camels and goats were corralled nearby. The girls were left to sit on the ground in the shade of the vehicle while an armed guard watched them from a distance. During the next couple of hours, Helen pictured the men drinking tea inside the tents before bargaining over their fate.

Eventually Ali1 and a grey-bearded Bedouin in black robes emerged from the tent and approached them. Ali1 took Annette's arm and gestured for them to stand up. The Bedouin examined them silently. Then they returned to the tent. Another half hour went by. Ali1 came out of the tent and spoke to his men. One of them unlocked the shackles and they all drove away.

The Bedouin watched from the entrance to the tent and went back in.

A woman approached them and spoke impatiently. They understood they were to follow her into another tent where three women and a girl sat on the edge of a carpet. Annette and Helen sat on the other edge. The Arab women simply stared at them.

"I think we have been sold," Helen said quietly.

For four days, the girls were made to do household chores, including watering the animals and assisting in preparing meals. They had a sense that this was only a prelude, but for what, they could not guess. Then one morning everyone in the group - eight in all - began striking camp. The carpets were rolled up and tents taken down. Everything was loaded onto the camels. With hardly a word, the household began walking. Annette and Helen had no choice but to follow along. With the girl and a boy, they were told through gestures to watch the goats and keep them from straying. The children had the additional charge of watching the girls.

They walked for three days, sleeping on the sand at night before they pitched another camp. One of the men left, riding a camel. When he returned, he was accompanied by two men with a truck. The women retired to their tent and the men apparently met in another for another tedious ritual of drinking tea. Eventually the girls were summoned and became the center of discussion. The visitors examined them closely and haggled excitedly. Eventually they made a payment and settled down for more tea. They knew they had been sold again.

The next leg of their journey was in the back of the truck. Although there was no chance of escaping on foot across the desert, each was attached by a chain to the bed of the truck. This gave them hope that they might be returning toward civilization again. When the truck stopped, Helen could glimpse a city in the distance. It had high-rise buildings that seemed completely out of place in this desert.

They were taken out of the truck and into a shack by the side of the road. Three women quickly stood and donned veils as the men entered. The men set about making it impossible for the girls to communicate with anyone else. Annette's arms were bound tightly behind her back and a gag placed in her mouth and tied behind her head. Then she was handed to the women. They laughed and prodded her before covering her in a black burqa. It covered every inch of her body and face. She could see only dimly through a small screen. Helen was prepared the same way.

As the truck entered the town, it went through winding streets, finally stopping near a nondescript building. The girls were unchained from the truck and led one by one inside. In a darkened upper room, the burqas were removed. Again, chains were attached their ankles to the wall and they were left alone.

Two days later, Helen was sold again. She and Annette were placed in loose chains attached to ankles and wrists and kept in an apartment. This time the buyer was a man in a business suit, in his 50s with graying hair. He examined each girl naked and then selected Helen. Her chains were shortened. She was gagged and once again hidden under a burqa. As she was led off to a waiting car late in the afternoon, she looked back at Annette for the last time.

Ahmed was the head of an upper middle-class family living on oil revenues. His wife was a jealous 40-something woman who looked Helen over with a disapproving eye. They had a 12-year old daughter Lilleth and a son Omar currently studying business in France. They owned an expansive condo that took an entire fifth floor of the apartment building. Mostly through sign language and having tools thrust into her hands, Helen was made to understand that she was to keep it clean and do whatever else was required.

A small room at the back of the apartment, scarcely bigger than a closet, was to be hers. It was minimally furnished with a single bed, a wardrobe and a small bath. In the corner was a pet cage the size of a trunk. After the family had eaten, she was allowed to feed on the leftovers and then expected to clean the kitchen before going to her room for the night. Only then did she fully appreciate her situation.

He room had one doorway but two doors. The outer one was a standard wooden door with a window in it - she would never have complete privacy. The inner door was barred like the door of a jail cell, with a slot in it to pass meals through. It did not need to be closed, but it was clear that her status was part servant, part prisoner. Her chains were finally removed just before she was locked in for the night. After the first two days she did not have to wear chains, but a collar was locked around her neck. It was decorated with an Arabic inscription she assumed was a quote from the Koran.

Life quickly became routine. She was expected to be ready to prepare breakfast as soon as her door was opened. The apartment needed to be vacuumed, the windows cleaned, the kitchen and baths scrubbed, the beds made, clothes put away, meals done, laundry cleaned, every day. Mrs. Ahmed kept her constantly on her feet and frequently criticized her in words she did not understand and for no apparent reason. Helen suspected she was jealous of her husband. She was never expected to initiate an exchange with her owners, but simply to obey. They understood little of one another's speech anyway. Lilleth enjoyed tormenting her and creating unnecessary work and Helen could do nothing about it. Ahmed stayed away as much as he could. In his absence and in only the presence of other women, they could dress comfortably.

One afternoon, Mrs. Ahmed was napping and Lilleth was on the phone with a friend. Helen realized the door was unlocked and seized the opportunity to flee. The city was quiet. She made it down the stairs and onto the street without meeting anyone. Not knowing where to go, she began to wander and within two blocks encountered a policeman. She approached him. "English? Francais?"

The policeman held up a hand while he made a phone call and stepped so that she was trapped between him and a wall. Within a few minutes a police woman drove up. They conferred and she looked closely at Helen's collar. The woman handcuffed Helen, placed her in the car and drove her to a police station.

As she was marched into the station, Helen called out, "Does anyone speak English? I am a Canadian citizen." Her shouts were ignored and she was led to a cell and locked in.

A half hour later, while she still sat in handcuffs the policewoman returned with another woman, who spoke in English. "You have been charged with being in public undressed and without a chaperone."

"But I am . . ."

The woman held up her hand for silence. As the policewoman freed her, the other continued. "Fortunately, your family has agreed that if you go quietly, the charges will be dropped." With that she turned and left. The policewoman escorted her back to the squad car. Helen was too stunned to resist.

Mrs. Ahmed punished Helen by locking her in the cage in her room. She was forced to kneel, hardly able to move anything but her hands. Helen spend the night in that position. In the morning she was too stiff to stand up until Mrs. Ahmed began to beat her. Wearing chains once again, Helen resumed her duties. Lilleth resentfully kept an eye on her.

Things did not change until the son Omar came home a week later. At first he ignored Helen; then he seemed always to be present. One day when the women were out, Helen tried to explain her plight to Omar in French. "I'm being kept here as a slave. I demand to call my consulate. When I escaped, the police wouldn't listen to me. They brought me back here."

Omar laughed. "That's because you belong to us."

"I don't belong to anyone." But his expression was serious. "Are telling me slavery is legal in Saudi Arabia?"

"This is not Saudi Arabia. It is the autonomous emirate of Barzan. Most households have servants."

"Slaves?"

"Not much difference. They are guest workers. We pay the servant's family or broker and the worker is bound to us for so many years, depending on the contract. It is legally binding. The police saw you belong to us, so they brought you back."

He gestured toward her collar and Helen realized what the inscription must say. "But I didn't contract with anyone. I am here against my will."

"Father contracted legally with your broker. Your relationship with the broker is not our business."

"Please let me call my embassy."

"There is no embassy in Barzan."

"No embassy? Is this a real country?"

"You would have to go to Riyadh or Yemen. Haven't you got chores to do?"

Helen felt like Alice through the looking glass. The rules seemed to be changing by the day, and her situation was getting more and more hopeless. "How long is my contract?"

"I have no idea."

While she was happy to have someone with whom she could converse, the situation became complicated. Helen had learned she need fear no advances from Ahmed, but Omar was a different matter. His attentions gradually turned physical as he tried to fondle her whenever they were alone. She sensed he was an over-sexed but naïve virgin. She wanted to stay in his good graces, so she tolerated him up to a point, all the while hinting that things might be different if he allowed her to contact the outside world.

Omar had his own ideas. One morning he placed her back in her chains and enjoyed watching her as she cleaned the kitchen and prepared for the evening meal. He was amused by her struggles to work, but let her go when he was expecting his mother to return.

A few days later, he ordered her to remove her clothes, then to prepare him a lunch before she cleaned. Helen finished in mid-afternoon but before she could escape to her room, he ordered her into the living room. He wanted to take a selfie with her. "Just a souvenir," he commented.

At random times when they were alone, he would insist the she pose for pictures for him, either nude or wearing very little. She sensed he was trying to get up the courage for something more aggressive.

One afternoon he cornered her when she was naked and in chains. He looked at her, seemingly unsure what to do next. Omar's culture taught odd and contradictory views toward woman that were inhibiting him. A lifelong separation from them led him to view women with a mix of fear, curiosity, respect, and disdain. How long would that hold him back from raping her?

Helen figured her only chance was to take charge of the situation. "Kiss me."

Omar approached haltingly.

"Press your lips against mine." She taught him how to kiss her and tried to ignore the groping of his hands. Thus, she stalled until they heard the elevator chime. Omar quickly released her so that she could dress as Mrs. Ahmed returned.

That evening, she found an opportunity to whisper quickly in his ear. "I will teach you to make love if you allow me my phone call." She walked away before he could respond.