My Dream Comes True

1 -- The Introduction

So, there I was. On my knees, naked, hands bound behind my back and the huge cock of my new Arab master in my mouth as he towered over me. In his right hand was the leather strap he had just used to whip me. My back was still stinging from the whipping. His left hand was wrapped around my long blond hair as he bobbed my head back and forth at the rhythm he demanded. I knew that in a few short minutes, he would stream a load of cum into my mouth. And, as he was a true Arabian, he would expect nothing short of my swallowing every bit of it.

That was my secret fantasy.

An astounding sequence of events brought me to where I am today. My name is Ann McDonald. I am a senior in college in the general studies program. Life for me had been 'normal', I guess. I had friends who I hung around with. I did okay in my classes. But this last field trip would be the end of college life for me and a new beginning. It all began several weeks ago as my International Studies class left for the field trip to the Aqobon Oasis in southeastern Saudi Arabia. Eight of us, four male and three female students, and Professor Harkins had been invited to visit the area on a cultural exchange visit. This would be the exercise that would cap our semester and finish the school year. The entire trip had been financed by the father of Kosi Amman, one of the female students. He had set up the trip for us last year as a gift to the department. Kosi came across as hard and, at times, hateful. She did not have much patience for American partiers (like me). I tried to talk to her on several occasions about her home. She said I could not conceive of how life was in her homeland, and then she would change the subject. Now, I will get to find out first hand.

The third female was Joyce Hamilton, my roomie and best friend. She was beautiful; she was well-proportioned physically. She had long black hair, dark brown eyes and seemed to be able to hold a tan year round. On the other hand, I was blond, had blue eyes and skin that was milky white. I was not built quite to her level of dimension, but I could turn an eye. And, we were both in the hunt for 'the right man.' So many of the men we knew were sissies. It was one disappointment after another. Where are the real men, anyway? I knew I would find the one someday. After all, every girl knew that there was a man out there somewhere who is destined for her.

We were excited about the trip. Joyce and I had already travelled together to Europe, to China and Japan, and to the Australian Outback. We had travelled on high-speed trains, on camel's backs, on horse's backs, on our own feet, in desert jeeps and in four-seat planes. We had seen people from just about everywhere in the big cities and in the wilderness. We were looking forward to this trip to this out-of-the-way oasis in the Middle East.

The males on the trip were Howie Morgan, jock and idiot. He had taken me out on a date once. His idea of a good time was crushing beer cans on his forehead. It was probably the most productive thing his skull had ever done. He would be the last man I would want to be hooked up with. Joyce had dated him, too. She told me he wanted to handle her boobs the entire time because he was certain they were fakes and he wanted to find the 'fill plug'. What a jerk. Jim Mitchell, good student and wimp. He was pleasant to talk to, but I could probably go 5 for 10 against him in arm wrestling. He was the most outstanding academic member of our class. Avery Mitchell, Jim's younger brother and more of a wimp and less of a student. He was shy and, I think, he was terrified to even be near a girl. Jim and Avery were nice, but they were not into the dating scene. Finally, Akim Ajwan, the exchange student and another book worm. He had started the term late. I had the hots for him. He was an Arab exchange student like Kosi. I think they were from the same general region in Saudi Arabia. He was a dreamboat. I made sure to wiggle my ass and arch my boobs up and out and smile every time I walked passed him, but he seemed oblivious to me. Kosi told me he was here to learn and would worry with his woman after he got back home at the end of the term. That did not jive with the version of male libido that I knew. It just made me want to try all the harder to seduce him. But I never seemed to find anything that would make an impact! It would have taken a bulldozer to pull his attention away from the books.

2 -- The Journey Begins

Joyce and I were flying to New York to make the international connection on a later flight than everyone else. We had told everyone that we had a prior engagement. We had told Kosi the truth: we were entrants in a wet-t-shirt contest! She was appalled that we would disrupt the trip and disrespect her father in this way. But she arranged for us to catch an alternate plane anyway about four hours after the others left. She promised not to tell anyone. We genuinely thanked her for her help.

We were laughing as we got on the plane. Joyce whispered to me, "Ann, don't you think Kosi will be so proud of me for winning grand prize?"

"Not really. I think she is already jealous of you. This will probably push her over the edge."

"Hey, you got second place, so won't she be mad at you too?"

I acted angry. "Joyce, you know I was the clear winner from a quality standpoint. Apparently, quantity was given more weight than quality. Get it, get it?" I jabbed her side with my elbow.

Joyce replied with a bit of sarcasm, "Oh, Ann, why don't you take a job as a stand-up? You're such a natural. But don't you know? When men fondle their women's boobs, they want some flab to ooze out between every one of their fingers. That's a turn on for men. I've got that one nailed. You're probably about a two or three finger oozer! But that is good. Most girls are zeroes." She laughed and got me giggling, too.

"At least mine won't be hanging to my knees when I turn fifty. Kosi shouldn't be jealous anyway. Anyone who can wiggle an ass the way she can has nothing to complain about. Those four guys now travelling alone with her now will surely be drooling for the entire trip. Well three of them anyway. If I can't get Akim to notice me, he sure isn't going to notice Kosi!"

"I don't know. I think she and Akim are secret lovers!" she sighed with a dainty romantic voice. I knew she was serious. That thought had crossed my mind, too. I did not want to believe it.

"Now who's the comedian?"

"She does walk nice. I would like to have a walk like hers," Joyce replied a bit more seriously. We looked at each other and giggled some more. Then we both settled down and tried to get some sleep on the long flight. It was going to be a long day or two ahead of us.

Once we reached Athens, Kosi's father had arranged for a charter to fly us into the Aqobon region the morning after everyone else arrived. It was a nice touch riding in style. We did not know what Kosi's father did for a living, but he was financially well off whatever it was.

As we flew over the Arabian Peninsula I looked down out of the window. There was not much to see but bleak desert and the occasional mountain. There were a few streaks that were roads connecting the small villages and oases. Deep down inside I thought about my personal fantasy. We were about to land in a somewhat remote region of Arabia. Was there a man down there somewhere who could be a master to me? Was that a silly thought? It is the twenty-first century. I was dreaming of a time long ago and a romantic vision that could not exist in the world as it is today.

Joyce was looking out the other side. I wonder what she was thinking. She had her own fantasy, I am sure. We all do. Did she want to be manhandled by a virile master like I did? Enough. I know I am wasting my time day-dreaming about something that will never happen.

We made it to the regional airport and checked in at the hotel. The desk clerk informed us that the others had decided to continue on before we got there. There was a train ride to our final destination that left at night; it would avoid the desert heat. The next train would be in the morning. The clerk told us that the young lady in the group had already made our reservations for the morning train just before she and the others caught the night train. Kosi was really looking out for the stragglers in the group. We would have to thank her. Of course, without Kosi to aggravate, our day would be a bit more boring than we would have liked.

3 -- Paying the Toll

The train was due to leave at 9am. We checked out of the airport hotel and got into a limousine bound for the train station about ten miles north of the town. The limousine was a convertible. Joyce and I rode in the backseat, and the driver and another man who was travelling to Aqobon rode in the front. We had gone about five miles when we approached a row of craggy rock formations and some woods along the river bed that the road followed. The road led through a pass in the rocks. The driver had to slow down because of the narrowness of the road and the potholes, which were huge.

We stopped about a mile or so into the woods because the male traveler had to take a leak. There was a wooden bridge just ahead of us. He hopped out and ran into the woods about hundred yards or so, and he took care of business. He was walking back to the car when a gun shot rang out, then another shot. Joyce and I sat up and looked around to see what was happening. In hindsight, it was not a particularly intelligent thing to do. But I had never heard a gun-shot in my life.

The driver shouted at us to stay low and to go hide in the woods. He said, "Bandits, I must negotiate with them, they are going to want me to pay a toll to pass over the bridge. Don't let them see you. If they see American passengers the toll will increase by ten times." Joyce and I hopped out of the car. Just ahead of us I saw five men in full Arab dress riding up on horses. It was almost like the scene out of a B-movie. They almost did not look real. Was this some kind of masquerade to fool the tourists? In this run-down area, I had expected to see grungy people trying to lead simple lives. These men were gallant.

We hid behind some brush about fifty yards in the woods. The male traveler was still in the woods on the other side of the road. We heard the riders shouting at the driver and he was shouting back. We couldn't understand what they were saying from where we were, but they all seemed pretty upset. Suddenly, one pointed his gun and shot the driver. Two more shot into the woods the other way and they must have been aiming for the traveler. The other two riders dismounted and started walking into the woods on our side. Joyce and I quickly decided it would be a good idea to split up and hide deeper into the woods. There did not seem to be many good hiding places. Two of us together would make an easy target for someone searching. We quietly took off in different directions.

I heard one of the men shout. I looked back; he had spotted me. He was tall and had a look of power: broad shoulders and hard look on his face. I began running as hard as I could. I do not know how far I had run when I finally stopped well off the trail and sat inside some bushes where I could not be seen. I was breathing so heavily, I could hardly think. What did they want with us? The driver had said they wanted a toll to cross the bridge. But they were coming after us, Joyce and me. My heart was racing. I looked around and saw no one. I rested for a few more minutes, and then quietly walked further into the woods. I thought I had lost them. But where might Joyce be hiding? I was careful not to get back on the trail. It was not that hard to walk even off the trail as there was not that much underbrush to speak of. I crouched as I moved along. I looked all around me on every step. There was no one in sight. But I had that ominous feeling that there were many eyes on me.

4 -- The Hiding Place

I moved around for another hour or so, watching for any signs of the chasers. Up in the distance I saw what looked like a stone tower of some sort. As I carefully approached, I saw that it was an overgrown stone wall that was about ten feet high and looked to be about one hundred feet long. At the angle I approached, it went down the side of an incline and out of sight. It appeared deserted. I looked around and saw or heard nothing. I got up to the wall. It looked ancient. It was overgrown with moss and grass, cracked in some places and crumbling. There was a gravel path at the base of the wall. I did not think anyone had been here in years.

The silence was broken when I heard a metallic sound, a thud. Whatever it was, it seemed to be close and it was not a sound I should be hearing out here in the woods. I was panicked. There was a small opening in the wall a few yards down the incline. I ducked in there and crouched out of sight. I took a quick peek out. I saw no one. I looked behind me down the opening; there was a small window at the end about ten feet away. I heard what sounded like muffled voices. I crawled over toward the window on my hands and knees and peered through. The window looked down over a small courtyard. The area was all cobblestoned. There were two gates or doors in the rear. I could not see very much to the left or right, but the courtyard seemed to be rather larger than the outside walls would have indicated. There was a naked girl standing at a post with her hands tied above her head. A man was standing behind her holding a whip. I looked a little harder to make out what was going on: it was Joyce -- they had captured her! The man took the whip and laid it heavily on her back. She screamed. He struck her again and another scream. I began to watch the ordeal and a strange sensation came over me. She was my roommate and my friend, but I was entranced by watching her struggling helplessly while she was being whipped. The man continued to place the whip across her back and her screaming and sobbing continued. I was mesmerized by it all. How could I be so callous when my friend was being beaten? But I was entranced by the event. For some bizarre reason, I daydreamed that I was the one shackled to that post.

Another man walked up from the right and turned and looked up in my direction. I woke up from my daze and gasped. He pointed directly to me and said something to the man whipping Joyce. I backed away from the window in terror. I had to run. How could I get back into the woods without them seeing where I was going?

In a panic, I franticly backed out of the opening, turned around to stand without looking and ran directly into a tall and muscular man. He grabbed my arms at the shoulders and lifted me off the ground. I looked into his face. He was bearded and well-tanned. He wore a full Arab outfit. He was the man who had spotted me at the ambush. I tried to wriggle out of his hands to make a run for it. He looked at me and said rather disgustedly, "Hold still, slut." Then he shouted out, "I have the other American bitch. Tell the others where we are."

I was flabbergasted. I hung there in his arms and did not move. I heard a couple of men running up the incline behind me. For a moment, I felt a tingling of excitement at being held off the ground like this. The man holding me set me down easily, moved his hands down to my elbows and pushed them back behind my back. He was fully embracing me. I could feel his member -- it was stiff and long. He smiled slightly as he pressed it against me. He looked down at me with sinister eyes. I looked up at him in terror.

"Bind her," he shouted to the men behind me. One of them strapped some leather around my wrists. The man holding me let me go. I was sure he was going to rape me. "Well, American bitch. We have found you. You weren't too difficult to follow. You bitches are so stupid." He was right, we had run right to the place they had wanted us to begin with.

I was shaking but mustered enough courage to say, "You have no right to hold me here. You leave me alone. I am an American."

He laughed, and then he slapped my face with his open right hand. "You are nothing here but a slut." He said something to the man behind me in Arabic. Someone grabbed my arms from behind holding me steady. The man standing before me took ahold of my t-shirt and ripped it in two. He tore it off my shoulders and threw it aside.

"Stop it," I pleaded.

Another man behind me put a strap around my head and placed a wooden dowel into my mouth as a bridle gag. He tied it behind my head. "American bitch, you talk too much. Now hold still." They stripped me and I was standing there bound and naked.

"American bitch, you are going to learn a lot with us. We will start by removing your Western arrogance and replacing it with the type of submissive spirit required of a slave bitch. Prepare yourself; your next stop will be the slave market of Hordron. My name is Molodin, and I will be your guide." I cringed as he chuckled. He grabbed me under my shoulders, lifted me up off the ground and over his right shoulder, and then he held onto the back of my thigh with his right hand -- it tingled there and sent a pleasant shiver throughout my body. I was stunned that that erotic feeling had passed through me. I tried to suppress it the best I could. I had dreamed of a moment similar to this, had I not? These thoughts I was having -- are they not a normal response to what was going on behind me? It could not be. My dream was a fantasy -- it could not happen the way I had envisioned. Nevertheless, he held me as a sack of goods over his shoulder. I was covered by a significant feeling of helplessness. I was being carried to the whipping post.

Molodin walked down the incline. There I was, totally naked with my hands bound behind my back, on the right shoulder of a huge Arab named Molodin, and being carried to who knows where. I looked back; the other men were picking up my clothes looking them over and tucking them into their belts. They were laughing, slapping each other on the back, walked on up and around the wall out of sight. I was just a slab of meat. They divvied up my clothes and paid no attention to me. In the meantime, I was being taken away.

5 -- The Marking

Molodin walked around a corner and through an entry way. I was looking around as best I could. It looked like the courtyard where I had just seen Joyce. She was not there. I had been right, it was quite a bit bigger than I had imagined. There were several more doors and entryways. From the outside, it had been quite an illusion.

Molodin stood me on a round stone next to the post that had held Joyce just minutes before. I looked above me and saw the shackles that Joyce had just hung from. Two men came around behind me, unbound my hands and tied them to the shackles. Molodin watched them do their work. When they were finished, they stepped away. He removed the gag from my mouth. The feeling of helplessness was even stronger now. I was surrounded by men who had captured and stripped me, who had bound me and shackled me to a post. I was in their control. I had watched Joyce before, now it was my turn.

My mouth was grungy from the gag. I spit on the ground and tried to muster whatever level of courage I could find. I demanded, "You can't do this to me. I am an American. Don't you know that we are under the protection of the American consulate?"

"See here, American bitch." He held up my passport. "This document no longer exists because you no longer exist as this person." He ripped pages out one at a time and dropped them on the ground. He took a knife from his belt and sliced out the computer chip from the back cover. He placed it on a metal stand behind him. A man standing there swung a huge metal mallet. It crushed the chip and rang out with a loud metal thud -- the same sound I had heard earlier -- probably Joyce's passport being destroyed.