The Kidnapping and Sale of Anom

For anyone seeking their darkest fantasies, you must only look into the light. Old Cairo City is awash with this kind of glow. Neon and commercial projectors line the sky like spirits standing guard along the streets. The throngs of thousands walk the ashy motorways that carry only poison in the air. A city once known as a religious dome in North Africa is now the pit of the darkest dealers.

And it's here that Anom seeks one of its shrouded dealers.

Anom is no stranger to the toxic ash as she walks through the streets of Zamalek. As a contracted security detail for mid level clients, she's used to walking through scrub neighborhoods like this one. She includes the direction on her HUD to help her keep her on track, but she's familiar with doing security escorts for scared Europeans in these places. Although she'd heard rumors that finding this dealer was not easy, Anom is no stranger to searching the underbelly of Cairo.

She finds her way down a quiet alley next to a bionics shop with red neon lining the window. There's an abandoned jewelers store next to it. And in between both of the shops is an indistinct door with a code pad. Her retinal HUD shows the code for her and she plugs it in. She makes her way up the stairs without being bothered by the drab and dark inside.

Such seedy dark places are familiar to her, and the reason for the fantasy that she holds in her head.

---

The mediator named Omar offers her shisha and she accepts. They sit in an office littered with 20th century typewriters, old cell phones, and stacks of papers. The large waisted Egyptian with the silver hair adjusts himself in his old wooden chair then pushes a stack of electronic boards aside to give him room on the desk. He produces a notebook and a pen. Anom blows heavy smoke into the room. It smells of sour apples.

"My friends say that you're one to trust," she says.

"Yes," begins the mediator, "I deal in trust. Especially with these kinds of things. Safety and trust are rare and expensive commodities these days, as you are very aware."

Anom reaches into her black coat pocket and produces something semi expensive and rare to find; A piece of paper in an envelope.

"They also said that doing this analog was the safest," she extends the letter to him. "Do you have any idea how expensive paper and a pen are nowadays? They don't sell this crap anywhere anymore."

"Which is why it is the safest," he says. He takes the envelope and opens it and begins to read.

Anom starts to twist in her seat. Nervousness is not an emotion she wears often. Not when she has to protect from gangs of thugs and street thieves on a daily basis. She has to look hard for her clients, offer them protection, and keep them safe.

But she's not used to putting her safety into someone else's hands. Especially for the dark fantasy written on the paper. But Anom's pleasure toys ran out of batteries weeks ago and Egyptian men are not her type. The hunger and craving for the kind of twisted sex she wants isn't easy to find.

And after searching, she twists in her seat more hoping that she finally found it.

As Omar gets to the end of reading her requested fantasy, he curls up a smile and huffs the shisha, sending smoke into the paper and letting it curl around him. He sets the paper down and opens his notebook, paging through.

"Ah," he says finally after some study, "You are in luck, slightly. We have several people who want to experience this exact same thing," he says.

Anom, usually stoic in her chiseled face, lets out a surprised look and sits up.

"You mean... You mean that's not too dark? And other people in this city want to play this kind of fantasy out?"

"This is correct. As I have said to many clients before, living under such pressures of oppression for so long twists the mind and its desires. The fantasies become extreme. And we see tastes in things that we would have never otherwise wanted if not starved for the normal. Funny enough, we all twist the same way for similar things."

Amon swallows this fact and lets it sit in her brain. She crosses her arms.

"How many people?" she asks.

Omar checks his notebook.

"Right now, it seems that three other women and seven to eight men have put down payments for this experience that you are describing."

"What's the catch," she asks.

"No catch, other than the price of course. Coordinating such a thing and making it safe for all involved, along with avoiding the visibility of the authorities, does take cash."

Amon has loads of credit she never spends. It isn't an issue. Omar continues.

"And it will be a wait. Probably three weeks, maybe more, before we notify you with the directions."

Amon feels the tension of waiting for a fantasy she's been wanting to play out for a year start to itch her. Waiting three more weeks knowing that it will happen will make every minute before then drag by.

"How do I know I'll be safe?" she asks.

Omar gets up and goes to the electric kettle on the right side of the office under a large painting. He pours tea.

"I will give you a set of very detailed instructions in the same way you gave your fantasy to me," he says. He sets a crystal glass of red tea with a mint leaf in front of her. She drinks it. It's incredibly hot and sweet.

"And after it is done," he says, "I have high hopes that you will return. Many clients do."

"They do?" asks Amon.

"Oh yes. Every single one in fact."

Amon remembers the stories that Thea and Jezebel told and couldn't keep herself from becoming excited. She sips the tea to burn her tongue to keep her calm. No point in getting wound up now.

---

The wait feels longer than it is. But she comes home after a long day, almost forgetting about the event coordinated with the Mediator, and goes straight to the fridge instead of her mailbox. Nursing a frozen bag of peas over her sore face from the brawl earlier in her shift, she sits on the couch and laments her sex life.

Oddly, the hit across the face from the set of teens trying to rob her French clients in the Khan el Khalili market was the closest to any form of touch she's received in a month.

Tenderness in bed won't do for her. She smiles as she feels her face pulse from the hit, feeling the heat fight with the cold. She finds herself wishing the fight was rougher.

And then the itch for her encounter returns, reminding her of the mailbox.

She heads downstairs to the box and finds the letter with the instructions from Omar.

When she opens the letter, a silver ring comes out of it. She regards it for a second, then reads the letter. She records the information with her rental hud then feels the heat in her face mixing with the wetness and head in her pussy.

This is exactly what I've always want, she thinks.

---

## The Kidnapping

'Walk south on Al Ghayth street starting at 11pm. The safety ring will act as your locator. Feel free to wear anything you feel is comfortable for your walk but expendable to be torn up. You will not be wearing it very long..'

Anom reads the orange letters flashed on her rental hud in the dark. Looking over the Nile as she passes to get to Al Ghayth street, she feels the adrenaline start to peak. The nervousness she never feels gets into her skin. Instinctively, she goes to reach for her weapons and touch them. Her nervousness rises when she feels their absence. She reorganizes her long coat against the clod and presses on, turning left onto the street and walking on the right side, as instructed.

There are very few cars on the road. Only drab short apartment buildings guide her way. The street lights don't work and she steps gingerly on the sidewalk, avoiding potholes. She doesn't walk very long before she hears the engine of an old van.

'The men will be my workers. All of them have your safety in mind. However, be prepared for a tough capture. You may resist if you wish, however I understand your abilities in self defense are part of your job. I ask that you please do not permanently harm my staff.'

Anom's trained senses feel the danger coming, but she decides to ignore it and allow the van to approach. It's white and dirty and the breaks squeak as they stop next to her. The side of the van is thrown open and three men in black masks launch from it.

Anom is surprised at the nervousness in her body as they come out. Part of her wants to laugh, but the other part of her feels the fantasy overtake her. She becomes docile and the automatic reaction to fight is gone. The men are on her before she can have another thought.

She goes to run for a moment, but one man gives her a bear hug and locks her up immediately. She tries to squirm, but another man grabs her by the legs as the other pulls her off the ground. Anom considers screaming, but the black bag that is thrown over her head muffles what she can muster. She feels herself dragged into the van and then thrown on the floor. There's the sound of duct tape as two of the men hold her down and bind her hands and feet together. One goes around her mouth. She's then dragged to the back of the van as it starts moving. She's pushed into what feels like a cage, then it's quickly closed and locked.

"She's going to fetch a great price tonight," says a deep male voice.

"I'm sure that we'll get a great tip for getting this bitch" says another voice.

They all laugh as the car weaves through the streets.

Anom is panting hard, feeling the adrenaline fill her body at the experience. Just the fact that she is locked in the cage makes her labia pulse with anticipation.

God, I can't wait for this to happen, she finds herself thinking.

The van drives off into the night of the dusty Cairo night.

---

## The Auction House

'The men will prepare you by shearing off your clothes. As requested, you will be left in the cage with the others before the auction starts.'

Anom feels the van come to a stop and hears only darkness and stillness as the men open the van door. They carry her out in her cage and set her on a dolly. It bumps and rolls for some time. The sound of the mens boots turns from stepping on rough sand to an echo of a warehouse floor. Things become more dark as she's led into a room. The cage opens.

She tries to wiggle and fight as they pull her out, but several hands hold her down as a set of safety sheares starts ripping into her clothes. Anom feels herself becoming wet again as the warm air in the warehouse hits her skin. She hears the sound of her clothes being ripped off of her and thrown onto the floor. The shroud is taken off for a moment, but not long enough for Anom to see anything. It's replaced by a blindfold, and a ball gag is attached to her mouth. Naked, bound, and gagged, she lays on the ground feeling the presence of her captors above her.

"She's so beautiful," says one.

"Told you we're going to get tipped for this one," says another.

"I can't wait to watch our clients use this one. I'm definitely getting in line for when they use her," says another.

The talk makes Anom both turned on and frightened. Her mind turns over her worst fears as they combine with the ultimate fantasy she's always wanted. But her mind begins to question the reality of her situation. She lets her retinal hud flash the orange letters against her own closed eyes.

'The safety ring you wear is your consent. So long as you have it on, you are in the game. As soon as it comes off, the game is over and my staff will ensure that you are taken care of.'

She feels the ring on her finger against her gripped hands. It brings her comfort as the men walk out of the room, laughing and talking, as they close the door. She twirls the ring but keeps it on.

The only remaining sound is the muffled cries of other women in cages around her.

## The Sale of Anom

The anticipation building in Anom brings her senses to their full height. She can hear more men in the other room. At first it's conversation. Then silence as there is one man briefing. Then cheers and clinking of glasses. Full roars of conversation begin. At this, the door opens and all of the whimpering of the captured women around her falls silent. She goes still, listening to the steps of two men walking by the cages.

Me first, she hopes.

And her hopes are confirmed as she hears the boots of the men surrounding her cage. She feels herself being lifted and carried towards the sound of the conversing men in the room where she is about to be sold.

Anom can barely contain her excitement.

'The bidding is real, as it will be part of the income that our company will make and part of their payment for participation. As you have given consent, you are happy with as many men that will bid on you.'

As she's brought into the room, the men in the audience cheer. She feels her cage being tipped up as she's put on the stage. She hears the cage open, and a hand grabs her by the top of her hair. She wiggles out on her knees. The man pulls hard on her hair, making her slightly scream as she is then helped by her hands by other men around her. That's when they take the blindfold off.

At first the lights blind her and she closes them. But as she adjusts, she sees a set of comfortable chairs in the dark around her. Various bearded and jockish men hold beers and look upon her naked body. The comment to each other over the arms of the chairs, pointing and smiling at their first bid of the evening.

Anom is very aware that the only thing she wears is the ball gag and the duct tape around her ankles and her hands. The tape on her ankles is cut away, and she gets her balance as her eyes continue to adjust. A firm man with purple and blue implants in his neck still holds onto her hair. A man off to the side is standing behind a podium looking at a piece of paper.

"Gentlemen, may I present our first slave for the evening: Lot number 23. Amir, go ahead and present 23 three for the audience to inspect," he says.

Amir, the man grabbing her hair, pushes her forward further into the light. He pinches her ass hard and it makes Anom squirm and squeal. The men chuckle and laugh.

Her handler then pulls her head back and makes her arch her back, presenting her tits to the audience. He plays with her tits, making the bounce and presenting how firm they are. Her nipples are hard against the cold. Anom breathes heavily.

The handler turns her around and makes her bend over, forcing her head down.

"Spread your ass number 23," he says.

She obeys, spreading her feet apart to show her ass and pussy.

All of the men in the audience hum and have low discussions. A little laughter and joking come out as they inspect her wide open orifices. Anom feels a thrill of being put on display for the auction and being looked over, ready to be used. Her wetness makes her drip, and she watches herself as the strings of her femininity come out and glisten in the light.

The men hoot and holler at the display.

She's turned back around and stammers on her feet as the handler holds on to her hair tight.

"The bidding for first fucking will begin at 10,000 Egyptian Pounds," says the presenter.

The men start hollering and raising their hands. Anom tries to make out their faces in the audience as the price continues to rise. With every bid, she looks at each man, wondering who is going to take her pussy first.

A man in the back makes a bid for 25,000 Egyptian Pounds, outbidding the last bidder by 2,500. The bidding stops.

"Going once," says the presenter.

Anom meets eyes with the dark man in the back. His frame is wide and carries a clean cut chin. He smiles at her.

"Going twice?" the presenter says.

Anom can see the man lick his lips and shift his weight. She feels her knees buckling as she begins to imagine him going inside her.

"Sold! First fuck going to the distinguished man in the coat in the back," says the presenter. He bangs a small gavel on his podium.

"We will now start the bidding for the second fuck. We will begin at 7,500 Egyptian Pounds."

With every bid, Anom gets more and more wet. She moans more in desperation, playing the victim, and barely able to contain her excitement as the bidding goes on.

The fifth fuck...

The sixth...

The price drops lower and lower until there are no more bidders.

Six men in all have paid to fuck her. And by the end of it, her head is spinning at the coming pleasure she will feel.

"We thank you for your bidding this evening gentleman. We shall let you enjoy number 26 before we bid on the next lot. Please make your way into the enjoyment room to your left.

Her handler grabs her by the hair and leads her off the stage to a bricked room in the warehouse. The rest of her bidders follow her.

## The Enjoyment Room

Anom feels her body at the height of her horniness as she is walked into the room. It's slightly dark with folded chairs about. And in the middle of the room is a breeding bench. It's a low cross beam with two steel rings on each side. A plank comes out in the center. Her handler undoes her duct tape hands and puts on a set of steel cuffs. She's laid over the plank, resting her chest on it. Her hands are bound to the steel rings, making her arms completely spread out.

Steel cuffs are put around her ankles and adhered to rings on the floor. She is completely bound, spread open, and feels herself ready to be fucked.

Anom listens to the rest of the men walk into the room and take their seats. But one unbuckles a belt.

The door closes and only a dim light above her turns on.

Anom's never felt more ready to be fucked in her life.

---

The first man comes up to her and slaps her on her ass. It makes her jump. He grabs a fist full of her hair and makes her arch her back.

"You're going to be my fresh cum dum aren't you, you little whore," he says.

All Anom can do is give a muffled response.

She feels the man taking off his pants, letting it come down around his ankles. She breathes hard with anticipation, waiting to be filled.

The surprise that tries to leave her mouth is so loud it echoes against the brick around her. His giant cock slams right into her super wet pussy and goes all the way to the back of her, hitting her cervix. He holds her by the hair with both hands, fucking her as hard as he can right away.

The feeling of being ravaged while the other men watch makes Anom tighten her pussy. With every thrust, she feels herself coming closer and closer to climax already in the very short time that he has her. The steel chains of her cuffs jingle as she's fucked harder and harder. Her moans become louder as his pace quickens and hardens.

"That's a good fucking cum slut. Keep squeezing my cock. I'm going to cum in you first and mark you as mine," he says behind her. He slaps her ass hard as he pulls out, making Anom jump.

He slams himself in again and she feels his girth fill him immediately. He takes his hands off of her hair and places them on her hips, now driving hard into her wet pussy.

"Cum as much as you want slut. Might as well enjoy being bred by everyone tonight," he says.

With that permission, she feels herself let go. The orgasm pulses through her body hard, releasing all of the tension for years that she's been holding back. The satisfaction makes her entire body tense. She screams as loud as she can as the pleasure hits her, but still muffled by the ball gag.

And then she feels the warmth of his cum start to fill her. It extends her orgasm even longer, wanting more and more cum to fill her as he thrusts and grunts. Finally, he gives his last big thrust into her and pulls out.

"What a ride," he says panting. He turns to the rest of the men in the room. "You're going to enjoy this cum dumpster. She's tight as fuck."

The first man comes around to her front as she hears the second man rise to come behind her. She looks up at the sweating man with the clean cut chin. He takes off her gag and spit rains down.