My Descent into Slavery Ch. 21

For the entree, Ahmed got the oven roasted lamb shank, Inez, the Lobster Poseidon, Zainab, the grilled chicken kebabs, and Sahar and I shared what they called a Butcher Cut, grain fed ribeye, Greek lamb chops, saganaki flaming cheese served on a butcher block with grilled vegetables and fries.

Shortly after our waitress left to turn in our order, a couple assholes came up to our table and said, "Why don't you ragheads go back to where you fucking belong."

Now if Ahmed and Zainab hadn't been listening to the blowhard on their iPads and hadn't heard exactly what they said, maybe it wouldn't have bothered me so much, but they were our guests.

Sahar said, "Beth?"

"Give me a second, then a broken arm for the loudmouth, and anyone else who wants to interfere." She smiled. The loudmouth sneered.

I stood up and got the attention of everyone in the room. I wanted lots of witnesses. "For your information, shit-for-brains, I'm an American. She's an American," pointing to Inez. "She's married to me, and will soon be an American," pointing to Sahar, "but I'm guessing you don't have any respect for dykes either. And the other people with us are honored guests of a US Congresswoman. They should be praised for raising this wonderful woman beside me who is worth of a hundred of you two turds. If you weren't such yellow bellied pussies, too cowardly to go after three women and an old couple, we'd be happy to teach you some manners."

The stupid shit took the bait. When I called him a yellow bellied pussy, he snapped. He attacked, then his arm snapped, heard by everyone in the room, closely followed by him bawling like a baby. His elbow looked kind of mushy. That must hurt.

The other fellow reached for his pocket for something slim, which might have been a knife.

"If you attempt to pull that knife out of your pocket, my wife would be justified in ripping out your throat, but go ahead if you feel lucky." He put his hand down. "Inez, call 911 and report we have a broken arm for which we'd like an ambulance. You, sit down and hold still or you'll end up like your running buddy." He sat down a table away.

Inez made the call. Our waitress came running out to our table. "We're so sorry that happened in our restaurant, we'll be happy to comp the meal."

We'd just ordered about $500 worth of food. "Miss, it's not the restaurants fault unless these two bozos are employed by the restaurant. I won't hold you responsible for the rudeness of some of your guests. What some people fail to recognize, is how much immigrants have added to our culture, for instance, this fine Greek restaurant. I'll be happy to pay, but please keep the recordings of what happened on your security cameras, in case the police are interested to see who attacked who first."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you." She scurried back to the manager with the news, with a scathing glance at the two men, one scowling, the other whimpering.

The room was suddenly buzzing with interrupted speech as the other guests resumed talking. I'm sure much of it about us.

I sat down, disinterested in the other fellow, who I knew Sahar would be watching with care.

"I apologize Ahmed, Zainab, for what happened. Most Americans wouldn't be this rude. As you can see, Sahar is very good at her job of protecting me."

Inez had finished her phone call and said, "That was amazing. One moment Sahar is sitting there; the next she's standing over a guy with a broken arm. No dishes broken, no tables overturned. Nothing. Incredible."

"She is rather amazing," I said.

Sahar smiled at me, then sat down. I gave her a quick kiss. The ambulance arrived before our food did, the arm immobilized, and the guy taken away with his buddy riding with him to the hospital.

"Do you think we should call Edgar? We did let one of them walk out," I said.

"You know you're just making arguments for never letting any of them survive."

"I know, but I hate to assume someone is an asshole just because he's with someone who's an asshole."

"I suppose. It would be nice if someone was looking around. Give Edgar a call."

I dialed him up. "We had a bit of a dust up, one broken arm, on the way to the hospital, but another fellow walked out with him. Any chance someone could keep an eye outside to see if there were or will be others?"

"Greek restaurant named Santorini. Smitty has a couple guys on it. You didn't think Joshua let you two wander around by yourselves, did you? Take care and try not to get into more trouble."

I told Sahar. "That's just insulting, but a little comforting at the same time," she said.

Our food arrived and I enjoyed every bite. We shared our food with Sahar's parents. They'd never had French fries, and they thought they were quite tasty. They also enjoyed the ribeye steak we shared with each of them, so I thought perhaps a steak place tomorrow, perhaps with the rest of the freed slaves so they could meet them all.

I looked up steak restaurants and found a Brazilian steak place called Steak Brasil Churrascaria. I made reservations for twenty-two people. We would be taking up the whole second floor of the place. I texted Hannah and told her to invite all of the freed slaves and their significant others to the place for dinner at 6 PM, including her, Angelique, Delphine, and Jìngyi. She said Björn and Lynn already had plans, but Yasmine could come with her.

The restaurant insisted on giving us free desserts for our troubles, so I got the Yalaktoboureko, Ahmed, the key lime pie, Sahar, the baklava, Zainab, the Greek yogurt with fruits and honey, and Inez got the quatro leche.

Ahmed loved his pie, and I told him it was made from the juice of key limes, grown in the Florida Keys, so fairly common in Florida, but not found frequently outside Florida.

"Could these key limes be grown in Oman?" Ahmed asked.

"I don't know the answer to that question, but we might be able to find out."

"Can other limes be substituted for the key limes?"

"I don't know the answer to that, either. I'm not a cook."

"Who cooks for you?" Zainab asked.

"The ship has a cook. Otherwise we eaten out."

"I thought I taught you better than that, Sahar," Zainab said.

"Slaves didn't cook meals for their owners; we might have poisoned them. I've not cooked normally for over five years. My talents lie elsewhere now."

"Breaking arms?" Zainab said.

"Sometimes. Having sex also comes to mind. It's what I practiced, so I got good at it."

Another reminder, she wasn't the daughter they remembered.

Sahar's parents asked what kinds of things we'd been doing lately. I didn't tell them I'd been fucking the Prime Minister of The Bahamas, but we did tell them about our scuba diving.

"What is it like underwater?" Zainab asked.

"It's beautiful, a completely different world," Sahar said. "I enjoy it. Beth and I would like to keep doing it at least one weekend a month as long as we remain in Florida. If we had more time to visit, you could learn. I'd like to see you some more if you can accept me. Perhaps bring the whole family over to see me."

Sahar was the fifth child of six, so she had five brothers and sisters, all married now.

"We will speak to them of you when we return and see how they respond," Ahmed said.

I could see the pain in Sahar's eyes when he said that.

"They have a pretty nice Aquarium in Miami, if you want to see what it's like to be underwater. That's something we could do tomorrow. I believe they have some interactive exhibits. You can get in the water with the dolphins, right Inez?"

"Yes, the Miami Seaquarium is a big place with lots of exhibits and shows. They recommend you wear swimsuits, as you're almost guaranteed to get wet."

That probably wouldn't go over well with Sahar's parents. What did good Muslims even wear to go swimming. Did you only go with your own gender, so no one of the opposite sex could see what you looked like?

"I would like to go, Ahmed," Zainab said. "I've always wondered what it was like under the sea."

"We can get beach coverups to go with the swimsuits," I said.

"We didn't bring swimsuits," Ahmed said.

"There are stores nearby. We can purchase some for you."

"I would know more about this sea place."

"We'll look it up when we get back to the hotel, They probably have brochures to all the tourist attractions."

I paid the bill and we went back to the hotel. We grabbed a brochure for the Seaquarium in the lobby and looked it up online. After looking at the information, Ahmed agreed that they would go.

They had both a Dolphin Odyssey which allowed you to interact with dolphins for thirty minutes, and a reef encounter which allowed you to go underwater in their 300,000 gallon tropical reef which didn't require certification. It did require you not fly within eighteen hours of going on the tour, so I double checked their flight time and scheduled it earlier in the day, giving them twenty-four hours to be on the safe side. A lot of the pictures showed people in wet suits or dive skins, which would provide more coverage than a swimsuit, so I figured on purchasing both when we went shopping. A quick trip to a swim shop outlet, followed by a trip to the Seaquarium, followed by a meal at the Brazilian steak place. A great day of fun for all of us, I hoped.

When we got back to the hotel, Zainab wanted to know more about our slaveries. Sahar refused to tell them anything about hers. I gave them a carefully edited version of mine, not going into the gory details, except when I mentioned something about having to eat shit and drink piss. Zainab wanted to know how I could ever possibly do something like that. I looked at Sahar. She told me to tell them.

I crouched down showing them how I was fastened down over the grate and then the rape that went on for 72 straight hours.

"They would start paddling my ass hard with a paddle until I begged someone to rape me, in my mouth, my genitals, or my ass. When they finished, I had to suck their cocks clean, no matter where they raped me. If I begged to be raped, and I wasn't, I had to continue begging for them to shit or piss in my mouth. When they were done, they'd start beating me some more until I begged for the next rape.

"It stopped three times per day for fifteen minutes to eat a thin soup, then continued. They didn't stop even if I needed to defecate or relieve my bladder, or to allow me any sleep. They just kept raping me over and over. It got to where I could fall asleep when I was being raped, though never during the beatings. I was almost unconsciously begging, I was so tired.

"Sometimes, they would bring my friends, the ones I was captured with, down and I would have to beg them to shit or piss in my mouth, trying to break the bonds of friendship between us and isolate us. From that time on, if a man even raised his hand against me, I was begging him to be raped, or for his shit or piss, just happy I wasn't beaten again. My captors would shit on most of my food, forcing me to eat it. They threatened to torture my friends if I kept resisting, tried to escape, or tried to kill myself.

"I knew what they were doing to me and how they were doing it. I knew enough psychology to know the reasons behind everything they were doing. I thought it would be enough to allow me to get through it only a little the worse for wear. It didn't make a difference. They broke me. I was totally compliant with anything they wanted for the rest of my time there. Even after I was freed, I was begging everyone to fuck me, or begging to be shit or pissed on. I took no enjoyment in the sex. It was like breathing. I needed to do it."

"They did the same to you, Sahar?"

"My training was slightly easier. I had no friends to use against me. My virginity was saved for my first owner, although I had to learn to suck cocks, lick women, and get fucked in the ass, including cleaning a cock after it fucked me in the ass, although I didn't have to eat shit, like Beth. They pissed in my mouth and I was forced to drink it, like a human toilet, and to lick an ass clean after a man or woman shit. It lasted for six weeks, not four. Then I was sold. What happened after I was sold was worse than anything that happened to Beth. That I will never tell you.

"Do you know, Beth?" Zainab asked.

"Yes. They told me I was going to be used the same way they used Sahar, but I was rescued first. The man who told me, was the first man who owned Sahar. I will never tell anyone what Sahar doesn't want me to tell."

"Was it worse?" Zainab asked.

"Much worse."

"What could be worse?"

"You have trouble imagining worse, because you are a good person, Zainab. When you are an evil person, you can imagine much worse things."

She looked pained to imagine what might have been done to her daughter.

After telling them what I'd gone through and imagining what Sahar had gone through again, I was ready to go to bed. I wanted to fuck my sweetie. If I got a little eager and made her scream a little too loud, I didn't really care that much. I needed this.

******

Sahar and I had sex again in the morning, then put on our suits and covered them up with our clothes. We got up early enough to swing through a drive thru for some quick breakfast before heading to a store. Sahar's parents got pancakes to avoid pork, Sahar and I got breakfast sandwiches with bacon. Inez headed for a swim/dive/surf shop on the way to Key Biscayne Island which was the next island south of Miami Beach. She also pointed out the Brazilian steak place which was in Miami between the bridges to the two islands. It would be conveniently located for our return back to the hotel.

At the store, Sahar helped her mother find a swimsuit and dive skin, and a skin for herself, while I helped Ahmed pick out board shorts and a dive skin because American sizes were different than Omani sizes. I also got some beach type coverups for everyone, because I wasn't going to be putting my clothes on over a wet suit. I hoped the others felt the same.

I asked Inez if she had a suit on and she said she had a bikini on under her uniform. I'm sure she wasn't the only one Sahar's parents would see with a bikini on. I bought her a beach cover up as well.

We put on our new items before we left the store, covering up everything to the best of our ability. I had a knapsack to keep phones, wallets, purses, iPads and the like in, which we could put in a locker while we were in the water.

When Inez parked, we got out of the limousine while she took off her uniform. She climbed out wearing only her bikini, which made both of Sahar's parents goggle eyed until I handed her the coverup. Culture shock was real. She was the only one who didn't have a dive skin either, so when she went in the water, she'd be in her bikini.

The underwater experience was the first thing we did. We locked up our stuff and took off the flowing beach coverups, leaving four of us in the sleek body suits. They did have a briefing beforehand and Sahar explained things to her parents in Arabic as they went over the rules. The dive itself was twenty minutes long, and Zainab loved it. It was the first time I saw her without her hijab, although the head gear we wore covered her hair. I could see where Sahar got her looks from. Her mother was beautiful.

Zainab was so excited when she returned to the surface. I heard her babbling in Arabic and carrying on a rapid conversation with my love. Ahmed had an indulgent smile as she carried on.

"What's the scoop?" I asked when their conversation had died down.

"Mother loved it and would like to do it some more. I told her if she came to visit us, we could give her scuba lessons and let her dive for real."

"Did your father have anything to say about that? He didn't seem to speak much."

"He didn't say no, but didn't really say yes, either. He was non-committal, primarily, saying they would have to see how things worked out."

"His eyes were popping some looking at Inez. She was the only one who didn't have a skin on. Probably like watching women in lingerie for him."

Sahar smiled. We collected our things and continued our tour of Seaquarium. Our dolphin odyssey wasn't until 4:30. There were several other shows we watched as observers, seals, penguins, dolphins, with a lunch stop at the Manatee Bay Cafe for chicken fingers, burgers and salad.

When we did the dolphin odyssey, the last thing scheduled for the day, we locked our things in lockers again, including all of our coverups. Inez looked hot as hell in her sexy bikini, and Ahmed looked at her lush young body with a lot of lust. He just wasn't used to seeing so much delectable flesh on display. Zainab noticed where most of his attention was, the same as the rest of us, and it wasn't totally on the dolphins. She said something to Ahmed and he said something back. Without my translator in hand, I had no clue as to what it was. Whatever it was, made Sahar mad. She said something to both of them, then told me to take off my dive skin, while she peeled hers off.

I did what she wanted, and even though we both had one piece suits, we now didn't look that much different from Inez. My prominent pierced nipples made nice little bumps on the front of my swimsuit.

Sahar said something more to her parents, and they both quit talking. We spent the rest of the Dolphin encounter just wearing our swim suits, which seemed to embarrass her parents no end. Sahar's young, sleek, firm, body looked incredible. Nor did we put on our beach coverups the rest of our stay in the park, which wasn't that long. We didn't stand out that much from most of the rest of the crowd, the vast majority of them in swim suits, though some with shorts on over the suits. Her parents tried to look anywhere but at us. Sahar made a point of holding my hand frequently, and putting her arms around me, kissing me when she wanted to. Not at all trying to be low key around her parents. I didn't bother asking her why now, though I might later if she didn't say something on her own.

When we got back to the car, the three of us got into the back of the limo together and changed out of our wet stuff, and into our regular clothes. When I tried to button my blouse to the top, Sahar unbuttoned the top two buttons, leaving her own undone as well. Then we got out, and let the married couple change out of their wet clothes. When we all got back in the car to depart, Sahar rode with her arm around me, frequently brushing my breast and kissing me.

Finally, her father said something. "You're behaving like a whore." My app was translating for me again since we weren't in the water.

"No, I'm behaving like a typical American, who is sitting in the back of a darkened car with only her loved ones present. You're confusing the customs of this country, with your own. Americans are not afraid to show affection for the ones they love. If I were a whore, I'd be taking money for sex and dressed far more provocatively than this. You're not used to this. To you, everyone is dressed like a whore. Most Americans would think I'm dressed conservatively. They wouldn't even notice how I'm dressed. I dressed to please you, so you wouldn't feel uncomfortable. I'm done making you feel comfortable.

"When you called Inez a slut because she was wearing a bikini," (Ah, their conversation coming out) "I realized I was doing you a disservice. Was anyone but you paying any attention to her or becoming aroused? No. It's because you're not used to seeing how Americans act and dress. You were shocked, but no one else cared because they're used to it. So, I'm determined that you should get used to it. I'm not going to cater to your customs anymore. I love my wife. I love to show her affection, so she knows how much I love and desire her. There will never be a question in her mind of how much I love her. This is how I am. Get used to it."