Chapter 5

Her body rocked from side to side as she slowly regained consciousness. Someone was shaking her and saying something to her but they seemed so far away. Leisurely her eyes opened and stared into the bearded face of her father.

"Wake up, whore," he ordered for the third time still shifting her body. The room was dimly lit and she knew it was early in the morning. She spread her legs expecting him to fuck her again. Twice last night he came to her bed to use her as a whore. She didn't refuse him or the three times that Hussein came to her and the four times from Ahmeed. The hardest part was seeing Habib and Zafar sitting up, watching what her father and brothers did to her.

"You are truly a whore." he said noticing how she opened her legs for him in anticipation. "I do not want you at this time. Get up. There is much work to be done," he added bending over to pull her up by her skinny arm. She was still sore from what they did but she would not complain. What she did brought shame and dishonor to her family and she deserved whatever treatment she received.

"Why are we awake so early, Father?" she asked feeling the nightly collections seeping from her bruised hole and running down her inner thighs. She had no time to clean up between them and was too tired once they were done to bother. Whatever wasn't absorbed, dripped out once she stood.

"Do not question me, whore," he scolded pulling on his pants. He was still angry and hurt but had to admit fucking her three times last night was the best he'd ever had. After so many children it is very different fucking his wife. Many times he can not even feel himself inside of her. He can most certainly feel himself inside of Samirah and wanted to feel her once again, but there was no time right now as much work must be done.

She could hardly see her brothers in the dim light but knew from the four bodies sprawled out on mats that they were all there.

She slipped on her dress before following Mustafa out into the great room. He had prepared her a small meal and instructed her to eat.

"But, Father, I am not hungry."

"You'll need to keep your strength up, so eat." Sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, she took two bites before putting the bowl down.

"I can not eat, Father, I am sorry."

"Do not worry. We are late anyway. Come. We must go," he added slipping his sandals on. Samirah's sandals were broken and she had to make the journey to the city with bare feet. She struggled to keep up with the fast pace of her father and often found herself trotting behind him. Her privates were still stinging and she was still tired. It was only 6:35 when they left the house and she wondered where they could possibly be going at this hour.

By 7 o'clock they were wandering through the market square heading for someplace she did not know. The first stop was to the garment section where he picked out two silk shirts for himself, one for each of her brothers and a dress for her. There were two men working the booth and speaking to her father but she ignored what they talked about while she looked at all the beautiful dresses they had.

"Samirah, come here, girl," her father barked as she walked around the small shop. Immediately she was at her father's side looking up at him confused. He smiled for the first time since learning about the Americans but it wasn't at her.

"Both of you for these," he said hold up the six shirts and the dress. The men turned their gaze to her and one gave her a yellowed smile through a thick, matted beard. Her eyes widened as she realized what her father was talking about.

"Four shirts, the dress and my nephew also," the younger of the two men said not taking his eyes off of her.

"Five shirts, the dress and your nephew can use the whore as well," her father countered. She glanced up at her father hopeful that he didn't mean what he just said.

"You have a deal," the younger man said extending his arm to welcome her. Mustafa nudged her on the shoulder and she followed the man to the back of the store, looking back toward her father hoping it was just a trick to teach her a lesson. It was not and the man pulled a curtain aside and ushered her into a small room.

He wore a traditional Arab dress and pushed down on her shoulder as soon as they were inside. She went to her knees and lifted the hem, exposing his rapidly growing cock. It was thick, ugly and very hairy. Even from where she knelt she could smell the overpowering scent it had. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and took it inside of her mouth, sucking it to the back of her throat, just as the Americans showed her.

Once fully hard, he pulled her up by the armpits and guided her to a rickety table, pushing her backwards on top it. She had to hop up to get on it and quickly he was between her legs, stroking it along her glistening crack. Lying back, she waited until he entered her, stretching her sore hole once again. Holding her legs to his hairy chest, he plundered her girlhood repeatedly for several agonizing minutes before he suddenly grunted out something about Allah and stopped moving. She felt his cock jerking inside of her, polluting her core with his slime.

"Stay here," he said dropping the hem and disappearing through the veiled curtain. Moments later the old man with the yellow teeth appeared grinning widely. He was also missing a few of his front teeth and as he moved closer to kiss her, she had to turn her head away from his putrid breath. Thankfully he didn't want her to suck him and simply moved between her legs and pushed himself inside of her. He wasn't completely hard and stroked back and forth a while before it hardened enough to fuck her.

The old man lasted nearly 10 minutes before welding his body to hers and discharging his sperm.

She sighed watching as he turned to leave knowing there would be one more before this was over. Pulling aside the cover, she saw a young boy, about Hussein's age enter and stare at her for a while. She could tell he was nervous and probably never saw a naked girl before, let alone have the opportunity to fuck one.