POW Pt. 01

She looked up fearfully; if he held her here long, she'd pass out--conceivably, he could strangle her like this. His eyes were narrowed, not quite hateful so much as in control. He was sending a message. He held her for a few seconds more, then he pulled out. Gasping for breath, Melanie dry-heaved spit onto the floor. "I could have killed you. If you displease me, don't think for a moment that I won't." Melanie didn't doubt it as she fought to catch her breath. He looked down at her, but she didn't look up.

Bending down, he unchained her ankles from her wrists, then her neck from the floor. "Go lay down on the bed," he commanded. Still panting, Melanie stood on shaky feet and walked over to the bed. She sat, and then quickly lay flat on it. She was starting to understand that resistance may not be worth the consequences. Silently he walked up to the head of the bed. He reached for her arm; she did not try to resist as he stretched it over her head. She heard a click but did not bother to look at what happened. He did the same with the other, then went around to the foot of the bed. Then she saw--there were steel cables built into the bedposts. He clicked these onto her ankles, then went over to a control panel set in the wall near the door. He flipped a switch, and the cables started to reel in. She look with concern as they tightened; would they stretch her like a rack? But the bed just pulled until all four cables were taut, and then stopped. Melanie was spread-eagled and neatly centered on the bed, but not painfully overextended.

The Maulana untied the rope around his waist. "You're lucky, you know. You want to see what happened to your friend, who was captured with you?" Melanie's eyes grew wide. She had been too busy focusing on survival to think much about what happened to Michael. It surprised her more how much her "master" seemed to know about her. He saw her expression and said "here... see for yourself." He flicked another switch and the TV on the wall came to life. He pushed something else and a recorded signal began to play. It was from the English-language Jel Azeera news channel. The TV anchor announced that they were playing, unedited, a video they received from an extremist faction. It showed Michael, still tied to his chair. Four men with faces covered stood behind him. One held a paper in front of Michael to read. He read it... it said America had no right to be in Iraq and the Jihadists were righteous in justified defense of land sacred to Islam. Then one of the men produced a large knife, perhaps a machete, and executed poor Michael right on camera. Tears stung Melanie's eyes; she thought not of her own plight, but of Michael. His girlfriend back in Virginia. And... she stopped short. There was no point in even thinking of the desire she had felt for him, herself, once. He was dead. Her blood boiled with anger--and yet she was powerless, firmly bound to the bed.

The Maulana turned off the TV, clucking. "I thought they might spare him because of his African blood, but I guess they thought him too American. Of course, if you were a man, you'd have been right next to him, and you'd be dead, too. So be happy," he concluded, pulling his thawb over his head, "because you are here, alive. Of course, they will never find you--they look for you now, but they are off by a thousand miles!." He quickly lubricated his erection, then climbed onto the bed, and onto Melanie.

Melanie was in such shock, she was only partly aware of this man laying on top of her, penetrating her. She stared at the ceiling, thoughts circling helplessly. He made no effort to look at her either; he was only interested in watching her breasts respond as he thrust into her, biting them for fun. She felt guilty. If she hadn't been teasing Michael so much, maybe they'd have been paying better attention and wouldn't have walked into that ambush. Now dear Michael was dead. She was in a predicament too, with a strange Arab involuntarily having his way with her. Somehow she felt as if she deserved it. She closed her eyes and shed a tear--not for herself, for Michael. She was only dimly aware that his penis grew more rigid, and felt him ejaculate inside her belly. Her only thought was that she'd better get used to it, for more of the same seemed the only certainty for her future.

Without a word, the Maulana got up off of her and put his clothes back on. He didn't even turn around as he left, but turned out the lights when he went. Melanie lay on the bed, unable to move. Her face throbbed, her side and now her crotch hurt too. It was all so hopeless... she started to sob, until her tears cried herself to sleep.

------------------

She was awakened by the door opening. Three women entered. Two were white; one was blonde and well-endowed, the other brown-haired and skinny. The third was some kind of Asian, with fine lustrous black hair. They were all dressed vaguely like medieval harem girls. Their tops consisted only of a kind of half-vest that did not cover the belly and had no enclosures whatsoever. The blonde and the Asian wore semi-sheer harem pants, while the third wore a belly dancer's skirt. Each had the same iron-ring cuffs, anklets and neck restraint that Melanie wore. Each also had some kind of strange ornament hanging from the iron ring on her choker. It consisted of a cylinder about the size of a glue stick, and then a single key attached below it.

"We've been instructed to prepare you to serve the Maulana," said the skinny brown-haired one. As she did, the blonde bent over and with the key around her neck unlocked the fetters holding Melanie to the bed. She had so many questions they all tried to spill out of her mouth at once. "Who.. where..." she sputtered.

"Velcome to hell" the blonde said in a thick European accent. There was an awkward silence. "What's your name," the brown-haired one finally asked. "Melanie," she replied, able to pull her arms and legs in closer to her torso with great relief.

The Asian applied some kind of ointment to swelling side of her face, then placed an ice pack against it as gently as possible. It still hurt.

"What is this place," Melanie finally managed to say.

"This is the cloistered harem of the Maulana."

"Harem? You mean you're married to that man?"

The brunette laughed bitterly. "No. That would mean we chose to be here, and maybe then we would at be respected as human beings. But no, we are merely his sex slaves--living sex toys that he uses however he pleases. The Maulana has a wife, but she went insane and has been locked in a tower for years. So instead he pleases himself with us instead. My name is Heather. I was a runaway, turning tricks on the streets of Los Angeles before I was kidnapped and sold into slavery here. Sasha was from Hungary. She answered an ad looking for household servants overseas, and this is what she got."

"I worked night and day for a year to pay my own way over here," Sasha spat.

"Chin Li doesn't speak much English. She was purchased from a brothel in Bangkok, where she'd been working after being sold by her family." As if on cue, Chin Li disappeared through the door. "Where are we?" "Akbar," Heather answered.Akbar? she thought. That meant she was on the southern coast of the Arabian Peninsula—quite a ways from Iraq. "How did YOU get here?" "I'm a soldier. I was captured while on patrol in Iraq." "Zat vould explain ze butch hair cut," Sasha interjected. "But now jhou are not a zoldier now. Jhou are not in Iraq anymore. Now jhou are jhust vun of us." As she spoke, she unlocked the last shackle holding her down.

"You have the keys to the locks?"

The Master enjoys psychological torture," Heather explained emotionlessly. "All of the locks are keyed to the same key, and each of us wears the key on our necks. Tantalizing present, but completely useless when your hands and feet are restrained. He finds it amusing to tease us by keeping the key to our freedom within sight while we struggle under his punishments. Plus, this way he never has to clean up his own messes. When he's done he just leaves and sends the rest of us in to release and tend to whoever he's just played with."

"Eventually," Sasha added. It was already clear that the others deferred to her.

Heather produced another of the strange ornaments that they wore around their necks. She held the cylinder in her hand and untwisted a hidden cap. She gave it a little squeeze and revealed a small amount of shiny fluid. "This is your best friend. Make sure you get it refilled by the house staff if it ever runs empty. It's KY jelly or something like that. The Maulana will fuck your pussy some, but you'll spend most of your time with his dick either in your ass or your throat. But he will at least give you minute to lube up his dick before he reams you with it. Take advantage, because he'll think nothing of tearing your anus if you don't." "What? This is crazy! You could use the keys to unlock each other, and escape..." "Zey don't open ze door zat locks us into zis little compund," Sasha replied testily. "And it vouldn't do anysing about Abdullah." "Abdullah?" "The master's attendant," Heather explained. "Maulana mostly uses us to pleasure himself. He'll only punish us if it pleasures him. Abdullah is our 'trainer.' If someone needs punishment for a transgression, he'll be the one to administer it." "And Abdullah iz not allow to touch us sexually vizout direct permission. Zo Abdullah punishes us for pleazhure, az he cannot alvays pleazhure himself in ozer vays."

"Unless the Master is away," Heather added. "You can always tell when he's away, because the minute he's out the door Abdullah will be shoving his dick down your throat. You're probably met him already—were you 'inspected' before being brought here?" Melanie nodded. "That would be Abdullah." She didn't relish the thought of running into that man again.

Chin Li returned with towels and a bowl. Heather noted, "ah yes. Master instructed that we must shave your pubes now." "What?" Melanie said, repulsed, instinctively pressing her legs together.

Sasha's eyes narrowed angrily and she bent low, into Melanie's face. "Ze master said to shave you, and ve vill shave you. If ve must chain your legs back to ze bed to do zo, zo be it. I vill not be punished for not vollowing orders because jhou vailed to cooperate. Am I understood?" Melanie shrank back. She was the newbie here, low man on the totem pole--and a totem pole of slaves at that. She had no difficulty imagining Sasha ratting on her to the master, with who knows what kinds of consequences. She had no intention of deferring to Sasha, but she realized she had better get a better understanding of the lay of the land before taking her on. She hoped that Heather might be someone she could ally with. For now, Melanie had little choice but to comply and parted her thighs.

"Good," Sasha said as she straightened up. "Jhust zo ve unnerstand each ozer, no vun hates ze Master more zan I do. I jhust unnerstand the necessity of obeying." Chin Li expressionlessly began to trim the deepest thatches with a scissors. "She was very close to Kianna ," Heather said quietly.

"Kianna?" Melanie asked, not sure if she really wanted to know. "Zhe used to be ze fourth," Sasha answered. "Vas already here ven I got here. Big, dark-skin girl from Norse Afrika. Very smart, but never let on to ze master that zhe vas."

"What happened to her?" Melanie asked hesitantly. "Zhe thought of a plan to ezcape, just as I'm zhure you vill," Sasha answered distantly. "Zhe failed."

Melanie wanted to know what happened to her, but was afraid to ask. Heather answered the unspoken question. "She was caught. We were made to watch as they punished her with unbelievable cruelty. Then we were sent away. Kianna never came back." "They killed her?" Melanie asked in shock. Of course, why should she be shocked? The master could have easily strangled her with his dick last night...

"Vat do you zink?" Sasha answered. Gone were the cold, expressionless eyes. Instead there was that glassy look of shock she had seen in veterans coming back from the front--the early stages of PTSD. No doubt she was remembering horrific visions. Then she closed the lid on those emotions, and the cold, calculating Sasha returned. "Ve vill all die here. It iz jhust a matter of vhen." She muttered in Arabic to Chin Li, who was almost done applying shaving cream to Melanie's pubes. The pretty Asian lifted her chin and Melanie could see a scar running along the side of her cheek. " "Zat vuz an accident. A little too zealous vit ze crop. " Chin Li now held up her left hand to show that her pinky finger had been severed. "Zat vun vas not. Ve are all easily replaced. Ze master owns oil fields and haz more money zan he knows vut to do vit, zo he uses it to buy slaves. If it pleases him to boil vun of us alive, have no doubt--z zat night one of us vould be turned into a human... how you say... french fry." Melanie shut her eyes. This couldn't be happening. First the capture. Then being sold to the sheikh, er, Maulana. His smugness as he showed her the video of her partner's execution. His hitting her so hard she was knocked unconscious, then raping her on the bed. She wanted to break down, but part of her knew she couldn't afford to and didn't let her. I'll have to play along until I figure out how to get out of here. But I don't care, I'm not gonna just sit here. Death... I should already be dead, like Michael. I would be, if I were a man. I'm GONNA get out of here. If I die trying, I won't be any worse off than I already am. She opened her eyes, resolve steeled and face cold as stone.

When the shaving was complete, the girls showed her around her new home. It was a small house, set against the inner wall of a palace-like compound, probably designed as a servant's quarters. The room she was in was her bedroom; each of the girls had one like it. There was a dining room where servants served food, a bathroom, a closet where new "uniforms" could be picked up and old ones sent for cleaning, and a "playroom." This, she was told, was where they would entertain the Maulana most nights. There was a couch and a big-screen TV; virtually everything else in the room was some kind of bondage accoutrement. There was one final door, at the end of the hall, locked--the entrance to Abdullah's quarters. The girls were not usually permitted to touch the TV, which was usually tuned to Jel Azeera--but since both Abdullah and the Maulana were gone that day, the remote control had been left out and the girls could watch whatever they wanted. They sat around watching American soaps, dubbed into Arabic but with English subtitles, waiting for the master to return.

After supper Melanie was introduced to what would be a fairly typical night in captivity. First she was brought in and formally presented to Abdullah—he was indeed the man that had inspected her in the laundry room. For her initiation, she was chained to a heavy butcher-block table, her new harem pants pulled down to her knees, and her butt whipped with a switch until it was solid red welts. But he didn't just whip her--he would beat her, then he would stop and fondle her cheeks. Her butt, burning from the sting, reddened as he stroked it. Then he reached his hand under and stroked her slit. She almost jumped the first time he touched it. Then he whipped her some more, then stopped and fondled her again. She was shocked to discover how good it felt. She started to notice a pattern--the pain she felt while being punished somehow took a backseat to pleasure when he touched her clitoris. The intensity of the pain seemed to transfer, magnifying the intensity of the pleasure. In spite of herself, her vagina grew wetter and wetter. She closed her eyes and thought of her boyfriend back home. She thought of making love to him, of their lying in 69... the fact that she loved him, while she hated the man touching her now with every fiber of her being. But while her brain recoiled, her body simply responded to what it felt, betraying her by responding to the manipulation of her clit.

The Master sat in an easy chair and enjoyed the proceedings, eventually bringing Chin Li over to suck his cock while he watched. Then he raised his hand, and the beating ceased. Knowing her cue, Heather stepped forward and began to dance. The reason for her skirt became clear; she had learned how to be a passable belly dancer, and now it was her turn to entertain. Abdullah stood and watched. Because he was behind her and she remained chained to the block Melanie couldn't see if maybe he was hoping for an order to beat her some more.

She watched the action as best she could without making it obvious she was doing so. Heather danced, Chin Li sucked. He raised his finger, and the rhythm of the dance stopped. She bent over him, proffering her breasts as she held her vest open. He looked up and allowed her to press her nipple against his lips. He kissed and suckled her breasts as she held them out. He must have been getting more aroused, because he grabbed a fistful of Chin Li's hair firmly and pressed her head even further down on his dick, forcing her to swallow more than she wanted. All at once he snapped his fingers. In well-rehearsed fashion, Heather stood up, walked out two steps, and crouched on all fours. The skirt fell away from her, exposing her behind. Melanie could see healing welts from a previous beating. At the same time, Chin Li stopped sucking, opened her tube and squeezed a little lubricant onto Master's dick. He started to stand. She backed away, and followed him. He knelt behind Heather and without further ado plunged his dick into her ass. Chin Li waited until he had penetrated, then walked around, standing over Heather with one leg on either side. She then bent her knees, lowering herself so that she appeared to be sitting on Heather's back while in fact still supporting her own weight. Master impatiently tore her vest open and began to greedily suck her nipples, butt-fucking Heather all the while. He shook a finger towards Melanie without looking up. She heard the lock release before she realized Abdullah was releasing her. He undid the locks, then grabbed her arm and nearly pulled her from the table. "Get in the line," he seethed. He fucked Heather's ass with more intensity. Melanie stood behind Chin Li, then gruffly was pulled over to a spot about two feet to her left, facing the master. Peering sideways, he saw the master start to bite her tender nipples. He seemed to be squeezing harder and harder, watching her face until he saw her unable to keep from wincing. As soon as she did, he pulled out, stood up, and smacked Chin Li's ass. Obediently, she took up a position on all fours next to Heather. He pulled her pants down and forced his erection into her colon. He started thrusting and looked at Melanie expectantly. She decided that she had better do what she had just seen Chin Li do, so she straddled her peer and lowered herself. This was what was wanted, and the Master suckled her nipples. "Good. You learn quickly. That will serve you well," Abdullah commented with satisfaction. Instinctively, she knew she must not respond. She noticed that Sasha had silently come over and now stood two feet to her left... the next in line. Melanie would eventually learn that Sasha was virtually always last whenever they did "the line"--which was almost every night. Master didn't stay in Chin Li for long--he seemed eager to buttfuck his newest acquisition. He didn't spank her, however, he merely pointed at the floor. Strangely, this made her feel the slightest hint of relief. Her buttocks already sore, he could have made it worse by spanking them, or perhaps even rubbed salt on the raised welts she felt. He may not blink at killing them, but his primary interest in his girls was in their genitals, not their suffering. It offered hope that punishments could be cut short if the supplicant managed to arouse the master. He did, however, force his dick up her ass roughly. She had tried this once, a present for her boyfriend's last birthday--it hadn't gone too well. Worse, every time his hips made contact with her tender buttocks pain seared up her back. Combined with her newness to this, she could not bring herself to relax, her anus involuntarily rebelling against the painful intrusion. Apparently this did not please the master. "Abdullah, you must make sure this one is trained." She saw him nod with a cruel grin. He withdrew and re-entered Heather's butt. Heather was caught by surprise by his movement; apparently he did not usually return to an earlier spot in the line. But her anus was a practiced recipient and accepted him easily anyway. Sasha stepped over her and offered her breasts to him as the others had done. It was clear he favored them. They were larger than the other girls, although she was not substantially heavier overall. They were pale, with large and pale pink nipples. He bit the other girls, but not her--he adored, almost worshiped her breasts. She noticed that his stokes into Heather's bottom grew more intense. His thrusts shortened and grew stronger; Melanie expected to see him ejaculate into her rectum. But all of sudden he pointed to open floor next to Heather excitedly. Like a flash Sasha was on all fours, and with great urgency Master pressed his penis into the blonde's ass. He thrust violently for maybe a minute and then froze, obviously in the throes of orgasm.