Prisoner in his Harem Ch. 01

Sheik Fouad was looking down at the parade for the 10th Emirate Day celebrations. Although it was still before noon the sun was blasting down on the assembled crowd. From the shaded balcony of the governmental building he scanned the stand on the other side of the street.

When would the messenger come and bring the would-be assassin his bomb? His secret police had found out that the owner of the catering company hired for the big Emirate Day Festival for his royal children and those of his government and other high ranked families was planning to smuggle a bomb into that party and kill the future of their houses.

The man was now sitting almost opposite of the Sheik on the stand on the other side of the street. Mahmoud, the head of security, had said that the murderer would receive his bomb from some foreigner here at the parade, but that as of now they had no idea who that person would be. So they posted plain-cloth secret police all around him and were waiting to see the trap spring shut.

The new recruits for the Desert Police marching down the street on their camels and in their 4wheel drives looked smart in their white robes and red/white headscarfs. He could see the young men glowing. It was an honour to march and cheered by your fellow countrymen and women and have the ruler waving to you.

The Sheik did not see any movement on the stand in front of him. The bastard was still sitting there with the only empty chair next to him with a small suitcase he had put on it. Apparently he had said to everyone asking if the seat was taken that he was waiting for someone to go and sit there.

The Sheik felt a rolling thunder building up in him. Who was such a bad one as to try and disrupt the country after he had managed to bring peace to it again after many years of civil war and religious disputes? Who was behind this plot?

More then ten years ago he had come to this place as a young man with his fighters. The young descendant from the Caliphs from the old days who had combined the oil money of his family and religious standing into a fighting force that had cleaned the country of the violence and bloodshed. Now this land between sea and the big desert was what the Wall Street Journal had described in yesterdays paper 'the combination between 1001 nights and silicon valley'. For Westerners maybe an odd combination with people who had to wear traditional clothing, where he had reimposed polygamy again and even harems after so many boys and men had died in the civil wars but were also boys and girls could go and study and get themselves a career in science, engineering or commerce although they looked like people from the glory-days of the past.

Suddenly his eyes detected movement. He saw a woman walk down on the steps of the stand towards the suspect. She was clad in the obligatory long wide black abbaya and headscarf. But even dressed like this he suddenly realised he knew who she was. Her fair skin stood out in the crowd and she was taller then most.

She was that blasted English woman who taught law at the American University here in the capital and who had had the nerve to write him a letter more or less demanding him to exempt her as a foreigner and a non-believer from covering up. He had written her back that if her human rights were violated by it and her feminism could not stand it the best solution was to find employment elsewhere but if she liked her teaching position she best just dressed up for the occasion. The nerve. Not even his own subjects would have written him a letter like that.

After a few weeks he had been invited at embassy for the birthday celebrations for their own king and had suddenly seen her as one of the people there he was formally introduced to. He had gotten a glimpse of long copper red curly hair, big very light blue eyes and huge creamy breasts spilling out of a very formal evening-dress of layers of cobalt blue thin fabric that would have been the fashion hit around the time the Titanic sunk.

He had given her a nod and turned to the next in line but had caught himself thinking "Your tongue is way too sharp and you do not know your place, but I would not mind sinking myself between your thighs Miss Roses and Whip-cream." How good it would be to kiss those breasts and have her probably likewise white legs around his hips bucking in pleasure.

Now that blasted woman was about to ruin the meeting of the bomb-plotters. That would be so her!

He watched her walk toward the suspect. Her breasts pushing against the fabric of her coat same as her round ass. Probably for her own country's fashion clique too much flesh, but those gay designers did not know the pleasure a softer woman's body would yield to a man in the bedchamber.

Now the street was filled with young people in graduation gowns. Every young man or woman who had managed to get a university degree was proudly walking and waving to family and friends and the crowds cheered and people laughed and all around him the world seemed to explode in joy.

His heart seemed to miss a beat when the guy lifted his suitcase from the seat and that blasted woman sat down. That could not be possible! Now she had indeed ruined the exchange.

But then to his utter surprise she opened her big handbag and handed the man a small package wrapped in brown paper. All of a sudden around them the secret policemen dived on the couple. The man however managed to run for a few meters and then a single shot rang and he dropped dead. The woman was dragged away. It all went so fast that only the people directly around them - and most of them had been police - had been aware.

His phone rang. Mahmoud, his head of security, said "My lord we got the bomb. The kids are safe. The guy tried to run and was shot but we have the woman. She..."

"I know who she is," he said. "Interrogate her severely."

"Shall I report to you, my Lord, after the ceremonies late in the evening?" asked Mahmoud.

"Yes come to the palace," the Sheik answered. "We have to find out who is behind all this. She has to tell." And then as a kind of afterthought while the vision of cream-white breasts came back to him "but do not destroy her. No raping. No scars."

After attending a few celebrations for Emirates Day, pardoning some prisoners and seeing his boys and other children beam at the garden party that had otherwise have ended in death and destruction, the Sheikh retreated to his palace on the coast just out of town.

He delivered his boys to their mother, his only wife and queen, and went to the roof to rest and think about today's event. The air was nice and cooling and the sounds of the surf was heard in the dark. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes for a moment. Then one of his guards announced Mahmoud had arrived.

"Look my Lord," said Mahmoud and switched on a laptop. "This is the passport of the woman and her mugshots." Well those copper curls were a mess now and her eyes looked at the lens like that of a deer in headlights.

"She keeps saying that she was only doing Harrison of the embassy a favour by handling over the package as he had to take a plane home due to some family problem and she was going to attend the ceremonies anyway to cheer for her students. We checked and that guy did indeed take a plane and left the country. But she can have known that and used that as an excuse. Or she is speaking the truth. It seems clear to me she has no idea about how the bombs was supposed to work but that proves nothing. I sent people to check out that Harrison and put my belt to her behind but she sticks to her story that bloody whore."

Mahmoud clicked a few times on the laptop and showed a black and white security video of the woman naked and bend over a table with her legs spread and him trashing her behind with a leather belt while she was screaming and sobbing.

"People who want to kill innocent children so they can bring chaos again to a country and its people deserve the worst," said the Sheikh who thought about how different it would have been if he had gotten home today to tell his wife their children were dead.

"Yes" said Mahmoud "this is the gallows as an example to all what we do with people like them."

"I will join you in the interrogation centre in the morning," said the Sheikh. "Maybe a night with a burning ass in an Arabic prison will loosen her tongue."

They said goodbye and he walked downstairs and into his harem and summoned Idriss the head of the Eunuchs. Idriss was told to send for his favourite concubine Jameela and he went to the baths to have himself bathed and washed and pampered by some of the bathing women. But although Jameela did perform well in his bed and arched her hips begging for his member afterwards sleep did not come. His mind drifted to that spirited woman in her old fashioned ball gown with her copper curls dancing on her back and her flesh like milk asking to get touched. He decided that there was a worse way of getting revenge then sending her to her death.

In the morning he walked into her cell and said "So you thought to use a bomb to harm us?" and looked down on a woman clad in a sleeveless dirty rag that just reached to her thighs. He could see the blood on her legs what must have been the result of the whipping. And indeed those legs were white as cream under the dirt and blood.

Her eyes spit fire and she hissed "Why would I? Do you think it matters to me if you live or die and if you rule this country?"

He slapped her in the face and she quieted down sinking to the floor.

He said to her "I am going to do you an offer and that is only valid until I come back from talking to the head of security who your behind already met yesterday. Either you go to the gallows for plotting to murder a lot of people from this country or you agree to become my slave of the bedchamber. That will mean that you will be a prisoner in my palace and will have to come every time I summon you to my bed to pleasure me. What might even result in you having to do the opposite as what you plotted for namely swell up and give me sons. You will have to live in my harem and for this world you will be death. You will repay me for what you did the rest of your life but you will live and be clad in jewels and satin. Think about that and I will hear your answer when I come back." Inwardly he grinned registering the range of emotions that were seen on her face and stepped out of the cell. It would be fun to break her into submission.

Upstairs he had a talk with Mahmoud who had to admit the trail seemed to end with Harrison getting off his plane and then disappearing.

He told Mahmoud about the offer he had just made. "Maybe that will get her to talk," said Mahmoud, "But if it is just her cunt you would like to sample you can do that before hanging her as well."

"Nah" he had growled to his old and trusted friend. "There is no fun in raping a woman but the more in owning one who came willingly. And it will hopefully cool my need for revenge."

After what seemed just a short while he pulled open the door to the cell and held out a hand to her and said "You want me to tour you around my harem?" and she reached out her hand to grab it.