Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Coercion, BiSexual, Cuckold, Polygamy/Polyamory, Interracial, Black Male, White Female, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, Double Penetration, .
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Stunning Western wife's inadvertent violation of Muslim dress code while inside West Saharan American Embassy ignites a chain of events ending in a totally unbelievable epiphany.
Posted: Katherine Munson was apprehensive as she boarded the plane. Her husband, Joe, tried to guide her confidently with his hand over her elbow. They had small carry-on bags for their personal papers, cell phones, computers, passports and several USB flash drives with most information they might need.
Katherine was excited because she was able to get away from her job as an assistant museum curator for a short visit with her husband, Joe, who was a security advisor for Homeland Security. They were being sent to Laayoune, West Sahara to review security to the Ambassador's Compound. There had been growing conflict between the Moroccan administration and Sahrawi national liberation movement Polisario Front recently, and several people had been called to review personal security, computer security and internet security.
Katherine was apprehensive about the tense situation in Western Sahara. The United Nations had undertaken a long campaign to force Spain to decolonize. U S Special Envoy James Baker had made two unsuccessful trips to negotiate peace between Morocco and Mauritania and attempts for free elections twice disintegrated.
Her only prior visit to Africa was as a young student just out of college. She fondly remembered going to the July Park on Gamal Abdel Nasser Street and spending time in the Tibesti Hotel that bordered along the waterfront of Benghazi, Libya. While there she participated on a number of digs and was responsible for finding many artifacts in the Northern Benghazi suburb of Sbikhat al-salmani. She remembered that although Benghazi does not have a high percentage of green space, there were some nice public parks and a nice zoological garden where she spent much of her free time. Katherine suspected that surrounded by the vast Sahara Desert Laayoune could never compare to the beautiful view from the surrounding hills of Benghazi looking out over into the Mediterranean Sea.
Although the State Department Website did not give any warnings for dress code for women, Katherine brought a variety of different clothes and scarves. She brought her normal short skirts along with other full length dresses for formal occasions. She brought along a variety of head scarves in case she had to cover her hair.
Since they had not landed yet, Katherine was dressed in her normal museum curator uniform. Her long reddish brown hair had been done in a French braid that started high up on her head and was braided down to just above her waist. She had dark wire frame glasses, a grey silk button-front dress that stopped about mid thigh with one button at the hem loose. It fit like a glove. Her grey suede boots zipped to the top and stopped just below her knees. Her matching dark grey silk stockings had elastic lace tops that stopped just below her crotch. The quarter cups of her bra stopped just below her nipples. The most conservative part of her outfit was her dark lace panties. Her almost transparent lace panties were very high cut on the sides but had a full back panel and went up to just below her belly button. She had a dark silk scarf around her shoulders that could be brought up to cover all of her hair when they arrived. It wasn't just a scarf. A scarf is a flat or triangular piece of fabric. This scarf was more like a square piece of fabric with a hole in the middle. It looked like a scarf, but when pulled up over her hair, the opening was just enough to show her face through it.
There is some general thought that in the Arab countries, the mouth is a sexual opening and that is also expected to be covered as well; that is the reason behind the burqa. A woman with her lips showing is the same as a woman with a crotchless bikini in our society.
The plane flight was uneventful. When they arrived in Western Sahara, the desert made it very hot. The Mercedes cab took them straight to the embassy. The embassy was not so much a building as a compound. The country once owned by Spain, it was built exactly like the official residence of Juan Carlos, the Palacio Real de Madrid.
It was a large granite structure built with an open interior courtyard. The first floor was mainly service areas, with several big wooden gates that horse-drawn carriages could go through. The facilities use for horses were now replaced with Mercedes limousines that were bullet-proof, jeeps, hummers, and an assortment of military vehicles.
The upper rooms were living quarters. There was no enclosed corridor connecting the separate offices or living quarters. The rooms had ceilings of sixteen to twenty feet to go with the large sizes of the rooms. In general they could be cold in the winter; but the big rooms also could be comfortable in the hot summer. Large overhead fans had been installed. They had very wide fabric blades that seemed almost Disney-like.
There were several rooms for guard and other private security covering each corner of the building on the upper and lower floors. Security seemed o.k.
One of the issues that brought Joe to Libya was more of a policy issue on security than a physical issue. Very few people knew that the security guards that openly patrolled the compound did not have bullets. There was ammunition stored on the premises, but they were not allowed to load their weapons. Also, the guns that they had were mostly for show. Posturing with a façade that Western Sahara is normalized, the Moroccan guard force neither carries fully automatic weapons nor any ammunition leaving the embassy defenseless.
Life in the compound could be limiting. The state department suggestions were to limit any activity outside the compound to official travel only. They had modest theaters, dining rooms and game rooms. Travel and visiting outside was not recommended. They were given pamphlets to read and sign before entering Western Sahara.
They were not expecting trouble. At least they were not expecting trouble so soon. Somehow, the attack seemed to have come from inside. Somebody must have been hiding within the compound to have shut off the cameras, alarms and opened the doors. It was quiet, and Joe did not know what had happened.
The first hint of trouble was when the large black men in black jeans, military boots and ski masks holding Uzi's burst through the doors. They used handcuffs, plastic ties and nylon rope to bind or restrain all the occupants. None of the security forces were capable of resisting and not wanting to be shot did not.
Joe, Katherine, the Ambassador, his family and a small group of advisors were seated around a long oval dining table when the doors were kicked open. "Everybody put your hands up. Don't anybody do anything stupid. You are all under arrest by the army of Allah. Within the compound, Katherine was regarded as being in U.S. property, and was not wearing her scarf over her head. This was a huge violation of Islamic law.
When the terrorists began separating the group, they divided them according to rank. The security advisors were separated from the state department employees. When the sorting began, the men removed their ski masks.
They began using their names, but spoke in a local Arabic dialect known as Hassaniya.
The one they called Amal was not a Saharan Bedouin. He was about six feet six inches tall and weighed about two hundred sixty pounds. He looked like a tight end for the Kansas City Chiefs. His head was shaved, and he had about two days of stubble. His neck and bottom of his chin had been shaved. Although he spoke the local Arabic Hassaniya, his English was perfect.
Amal started going through the pile of passports, wallets and other I.D. that the others had taken from the occupants. "Well, well, well it looks like we have some new guests that have just arrived." He looked over at Joe, recognizing that he was the head consultant of security.
"It looks like you and the ambassador are the biggest threats we have here in Laayoune. We cannot afford to have you here to pass on your opinions back to the state department." He said.
Amal raised his Uzi and pointed it at Joe. The release on the safety sounded like a BAL peen hammer hitting a railroad track to Katherine as she saw the open end of the barrel pass by her and stop at her husband.
"Please ... No ... please don't do this." She screamed as she ran across the room, dropped to her knees in front of the terrorist with her hand over the end of the gun. She pulled the barrel down to point at herself. "Please don't do this." She said with tears in her eyes.
Amal looked down at the woman. He was not used to seeing a woman with red hair and green eyes. When she had run over and dropped to her knees in front of him, her already short dress had popped a button. She sat on her butt on the floor with her legs to one side. She was exposed most of the way to her crotch. The tops of her lace hose and a small amount of bare skin was open to view. This may have been a point of objection to most Arabic men if it had been an Arabic woman, she was an American. She was the source of all the perversion that was influencing young Arabic women.
"You want me to leave this man alone? You are pathetic. You are a disgrace to Arabic women. Your mouth and hair are showing. You wanton slut; you might as well be naked; flaunting yourself like this in our country. Take off that fucking dress."
Katherine was stunned. She couldn't think, but understood his point of view. She reached down to pull her skirt together as she tucked her legs under herself in an effort to recover her modesty. Katherine had heard him. Was he serious or just angry?
Katherine put her hands on the ground and leaned on her hands and knees, trying to gather her thoughts. "What do I do?" she wondered. "Is he serious? If I don't do what he says, he will kill the men; her husband and at least the Ambassador."
Katherine sat up. She had her but on the ground between her splayed ankles. She kept one hand on her dress to hold the hem together. She put one hand on Amal's leg. In the most compassionate voice, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said: "Please ... I will do anything to keep you from shooting them. Please don't do this."
"Stand the fuck up."
Katherine was still oblivious to what the sequence of commands he had ordered were leading to. All she knew was she had to keep him from shooting anybody. Katherine stood. She put one hand on the gun and the other hand on his arm. "Pppp ... please have some pity on these men."
"Take of the fucking dress."
Katherine began to slowly realize the words were meant for her. She looked around at the men who were bound with their arms behind them. "He's going to shoot us, Katherine." Her chicken shit husband mouthed to her.
Katherine was alone now. Her husband and the Ambassador did not want to get shot and nothing else mattered to them. Katherine didn't want it either. Her ears turned red as she slowly realized what she was being asked to do.
Slowly, she struggled to raise her arms. She looked over at her husband as she reached for the first button at the top. "He's just asking me to do this in order to judge my commitment or determination." She thought. Trying to test his poker skills, she reached for the top button. The room was silent. You could almost hear the button being pushed through the eyelet. There was no reaction from her tormentor.
"Oh, my God. He's actually going to make me do this." She thought. "Now it's my turn. I have to actually do it. I was the one who was bluffing." She said to herself. Her hands trembled, debating whether she could actually do it. She was so outrageously dressed. Why couldn't she have just worn pantyhose and plain white underclothes?
Katherine had to remind herself of her situation to come up with the courage to continue: "Do it or these men will die." She told herself as she bit her lip and reached for the next button. She made eye contact with Amal, looking for some sign of empathy that she could exploit. Seeing none, she was forced to continue.
"How much more will he make me do?" she wondered as she worked her way down the dress. Her cheeks burned as the last button was freed. "I wish to God I had used a dress with a slip." She thought to herself as the dress fluttered open. She tried to hold the sides together, but it didn't help much. The already short dress gapped open at the top and bottom, exposing the tops of her stockings and the black lace of her bra between the folds at the top.
Amal stepped over to her. He extended his arm holding the Uzi. He used the end of the barrel to pull her right arm away from the dress and guide it down to her side. She got the idea, and moved both arms to her sides. He used the end of the gun to slide between her bra and dress to pull the garment away from her. He could see her pink nipple respond to the ice cold metal of the phallus shaped metallic flash suppressor as it pushed the dress open.
Katherine was almost standing at attention as the skin between her lace panties and the tops of her silk stockings were revealed. She shuddered as she realized she was almost naked. Amal moved the tip up to her shoulder. She arched her back, reluctantly responding to his efforts to remove the garment. She shuddered as the garment fluttered to the floor around her feet.
The other hostages almost forgot about their situation as they watched the tall black man undress her. He didn't do it. It was like the savage Svengali's magic wand of an Uzi was doing all the work. She seemed hypnotized by the fear within the tip, which had her under its command.
"Neither fawn nor bully could be more lasciviously impertinent. His was a cynical humor more offensive than amusing; at the wrong thing, at the wrong time, in the wrong place. It was a chilling form of malice".
This small gun-metal gray crown seemed to wave menacingly back and forth like the early arousal of some metallic phallus that was searching like a cobra for its victim. Her black lace support did nothing but provide intellectual support and no cover as her long stemmed pink nipples peeked up and over the top. They seemed to have a mind of their own; neither bashful nor shy in belligerence to their owners own shame and humiliation for their presence.
It found its way under the connection between her two lace quarter cups. Amal stared at her. "Was he going to shoot the bra off of her or use the point as a fulcrum to rip it off of her? Katherine shuddered as she arched her back and unsnapped the clasp. She had no choice but to lift her arms together in front of her as he slid her lace treasure form her.
Katherine pulled her arms back and covered her breasts with her hands as the bra fell to the floor. "Put those fucking hands down you cunt." The words stung as she lowered her hands to her sides. Her pink nipples bounced to reflect her stomach recoiling in embarrassment.
Again, the silver phallus found its way up against the top of her lace panties. It turned and slowly burrowed its way down, searching for something it had seen vaguely through the almost transparent lace. It found its way to her cleft. It seemed to turn when it recognized where it was. Was it actually trying to enter, or was Amal just trying to lever her panties down.
Katherine wiped a tear off of her before reaching down with both of her thumbs to grasp the narrow bands on the sides of her panties. She looked over at her husband and the other hostages before turning her gaze back to Amal. Her hands shook as she lowered the lace garment to reveal her shaven cleft. Once past that, it seemed to flutter to the ground like an autumn leaf ready to be walked on.
Katherine stood there like a soldier. Actually she was not standing like a soldier. Most soldiers do not cry; they do not have wire rimmed glasses; they do not have long pink nipples pointing out at forty five degrees on the end of melon sized breasts. Soldiers do not stand in high-heeled suede boots with silk stocking that almost touch their shaven treasure.
The silver phallus seemed to waver. It seemed to be staring at wonder of her beautiful shaven cleft. It wanted in. But this was an Arabic silver phalanx. It wavered and turned. It turned up, looking for something else. It spotted those beautiful pink lips; it was the same as the slotted opening below; only oriented differently. It rested briefly against her chin; perhaps measuring itself to see if it would fit. It seemed to pull back. It brushed her lower lip; forcing it to open. Katherine seemed more humiliated than if it had been shoved into her wonder down under.
She mewed in embarrassment as the flash suppressor disappeared inside her lips. "Suck it you cunt." The voice at the other end of it said.
Katherine sobbed. Her nipples bounced. Her abdomen shuddered as her knees sagged. "Get on your knees." Her tormenter whispered. Katherine slowly dropped to her knees. The barrel was still in her mouth. "Suck it." The voice repeated.
Katherine probably didn't realize what she was doing as she raised her hands and put them around the barrel. She closed her eyes as she moved her head forward. She took more of the barrel in her mouth. The suppressor bulged the side of her cheek. She held her position, not sure what he wanted her to do.
"Show me how you suck your husband's cock."
"P ... p ... p ... please don't do this to me. You are killing my husband. Can't you see?"
"You parade around our country showing everybody your naked lips. Now show us what you do with them. As long as the end of this barrel is covered I can't shoot anybody. The choice is yours." He whispered. Her husband couldn't hear the conversation, Katherine pulled back. She moved her hands farther down on the blue-gray barrel. She extended her tongue and flattened it. She fluttered the end of it over the tip of the suppressor. She narrowed her tip and stuck it in the opening.
This was her fucking life she thought as she turned her head sideways and extended her tongue to lick the barrel and massage it with her tongue. It reminded her of her time under the football stands. She had gone there naively at the urging of the quarterback, who was the most popular boy in the school. She was a gangly fourteen-year-old freshman who had not fully developed yet. She was longing to have some small measure of popularity with the others. When this handsome, muscular boy took her for a walk, she was ecstatic.
Little did she know she had been set up as part of a prank with friends. Once they went to the deserted stadium after the dance, the others were waiting. She was tied and blindfolded. Naked and on her knees, she was forced to perform.
Now all these years later, she was doing it again. As a result of her earlier experience, she had refused to let any of her boyfriends or even her husband do that to her again. Now, at the age of forty, this middle aged young mother was being forced to relive the event again; except this time it was with terrorists in savage land.
"It was all the same to her" she told herself. "You have no choice. Do what you are told." She thought as she slowly bobbed back and forth on the cold metal.
Her head dropped when he removed the gun. She reached up with her hand to break the strand of spittle that joined her mouth to the barrel. She put her hands over her face and dropped her head down over her knees in humiliation of what she had just done. The shuddering of her shoulders were the only signs of humiliation and shame she could not hide.
"You have shown signs of competence. I will reward you with the real thing. I am convinced that you know what to do. Now unzip my pants and show me again." He whispered.
Katherine sobbed. She rose up to position herself on her hands and knees as she tried to absorb the words and repercussions of what he had said. "What's the fucking difference? I've done it before. Why should I care if my husband and a room full of strangers watch?" she tried to tell herself. Of course it mattered. It was against anything she had ever thought, but she had to get her mind adjusted to the debasement.
She looked over at her astonished husband and mouthed the words: "I love you" as she unbuckled the man's belt. She wiped a tear from her face before pulling down his zipper. The noise in the hushed room echoed off of the stone floor and walls as though there was a microphone in front of her.
She tried to look away as she lowered the man's briefs and trousers. The semi-erect monster hit her in the face as it cleared his underwear. The startled woman recoiled and caught herself before she fell over. The sight in front of her was more than she was prepared for.
Amal turned a chair around at the dinner table and sat facing away from it as he laid his Uzi near his elbow. Katherine knew the drill. She didn't need to be told. Her eyes burned and her cheeks flushed as she raised his feet to get his trousers over his military boots. Trying to kill time, she folded them slowly and placed them on the floor beside him. She reached up on the table to get a linen napkin and glass of water. "At least let me clean it off." She said as she wiped a tear off of her face.
Katherine stared at the weapon bobbing between his legs. It didn't have a gun sight at the top. The bulbous head didn't have slits along the sides like the aluminum suppressor she had sucked on a few minutes ago. She reached up with her left hand to steady it as she dipped the white linen napkin in a drinking glass and softly, tenderly washed the length of it like mother applying iodine to her child's knee after it has been scrapped.
Katherine had an incredibly compassionate manner about her, regardless of the circumstances. She never seemed to retaliate whenever disrespected or insulted. However embarrassed and humiliated she was, she had a tendency to disregard her own indignation to care for others.
She forced herself to ignore her own indignation for her situation in order to pamper the tormentor who could easily kill her husband or any of the others for any slight or insult.
Katherine folded the napkin, placed it and the glass back on the table. Amal used his foot to scoot his folded jeans over in front of her so she could kneel on it as a cushion. Katherine reached up with her left hand and placed her fingers around the base of his shaft for support as she looked down to shift the "cushion" under her knees. Time was running out. There was nothing left to procrastinate about. She looked over at her husband. His expression of anger and indignation had been replaced by curiosity and arousal.
"How can she do this? After all these years of denying me, how can she take her clothes off for a room full of strangers and get down on her knees in front of this huge black man? My God; she's got her hand around it." He screamed to himself. He dared not speak. He knew the madman might easily shoot.
Katherine looked from her husband back up into the eyes of her tormentor. She saw no signs of compassion. She leaned forward and draped her right arm over his left thigh and used her armpit for support. Her right hand brushed the end of in an unconscious effort to stall. She pulled a few loose pubic hairs from him. He had been shaved. His ball sack was a charcoal gray color and the skin was shriveled, giving it an almost suede texture to match her boots. The shaft was incredibly wide at the base, but the bluish black charcoal phalanx tapered down and lightened to a pinker color from the edge of his crown to the opening.
Katherine looked up at him as she turned her head and rubbed the tip across her face; from her left cheek at the ear, across to the right side of her lips. She watched for signs of mercy. She watched for signs of tenderness.
As a beautiful woman, she was used to signs of ecstasy for any gesture of tenderness she offered during sex.
The bluish gray phalanx jumped at the contact across her cheek. It grew another inch. Although she had not openly accepted that this was going in her mouth, somewhere in the back of her psyche she knew this was the path she was headed for. Her mind roiled at this slow animalistic extension growing out of the end of her hand.
This mysterious sea creature seemed to be panting as it struggled to leap out of her left hand. It could see what it wanted and strained against being tethered to his abdomen. Tethered or not, it seemed to grow in length and width in the direction of her mouth. The horizontal "eye" had found her lips and strained to get there.
Katherine raised her right hand again to wipe the ectoplasm off of the opening. It would be an endless and futile task. The more she tried to wipe it off, the more there was. Katherine put her right thumb and forefinger at the top and bottom of the back of his crown as she leaned forward and planted a soft tender kiss on the opening.
The whole room full of men seemed to groan and gasp at the erotic display. Again Katherine seemed to make eye contact with him as she brought it across her lips. She softened her lips and brushed the tip against her clenched teeth. The sensation of his tender tip brushing across the surface of her teeth brought a groan from the black Svengali. Katherine was too humiliated and shamed by the monster pressing against her lips to realize this man would have done anything to keep her there. She did not really understand at that point who was really in control.
Katherine leaned forward and opened her lips. She leaned forward enough to let the huge black salamander slide forward and start to disappear through her lips. She stopped when her lips covered the back ridge of his crown. Both of them held their positions; her in humiliation; him in extreme ecstasy. He reveled in the feelings of warmth, wetness and security of her soft mouth wrapped around him.
Katherine's husband looked on in astonishment and growing arousal at the scene of his beautiful, tender wife, naked and on her knees with the head of this monstrous cock in her mouth. The tears creeping down the sides of her cheeks were the only indication of reluctance he could see.
Katherine pulled back. She reached up with her right hand to remove her wire rimmed glasses and set them on the table. The movement of her head was going to slide her glasses down on her nose. Some inner sense of indignation and strange sense of embarrassment told her she didn't want to look silly with her glasses sliding down her nose.
Katherine felt the hands on the back of her head. She knew what was coming. Rather than be forced, she capitulated and moved forward to accept as much of him as she could. She gagged when the tip hit her tonsils. She struggled to keep much more than the tip in her mouth. The width stretched her lips and cheeks. The length would keep her from breathing if it went very far.
Katherine mewed and pulled back as she turned her head away. She reached up with her right hand to break the strand of spittle that joined her lips to the end of him. "P ... p ... please let me catch my breath.' She gasped as she reached up with her right hand to stroke the bottom of his shaft with the back of her fingers.
She had to find a way to bond with him. She struggled with her thoughts as she leaned forward and accepted him again. Her mouth made a gurgling sound as the air struggled to escape around the shaft as it moved in and then out. Occasionally she pulled back if she gagged. Amal would let her rest as she struggled to catch her breath.
Katherine looked up at him again as she wiped the tip with her thumb and forefinger. "I ... I ... I am begging you to please let us go without hurting anybody when this is over. Can I have your word on this?" she said between sobs.
Amal had lost his place. He was supposed to be in control. He had all their lives in his control. He almost forgot what was going on because he was so close to climax. She almost had him; perhaps a second or more; if she had pulled away a little longer? He did not answer.
Katherine saw his head go back. She felt the hands on the back of her head. She felt him ram the thing down her throat. Fortunately she felt him tighten up. She saw his legs straighten. Katherine was able to get her thumbs clamped down on the passage along the bottom of his shaft before it escaped.
She had her hands locked together in front of her lips. He could not ram it down her throat. Never-the-less, she knew better than to pull away. As his shudders started to subside, she let go of her pressure enough to swallow his semen incrementally in smaller amounts she could manage.
"How the fuck does she know?" Her husband wondered as he looked on in astonishment. "How does she know what to do? She didn't learn this from me" he thought to himself indignantly.
"You promised you would let us go now." She said as she turned her head sideways and licked the few remaining traces of semen from him and looked up at him. He let go of the back of her head and swept a few wisps of hair away from her face and back over her ears. His hard steely stare had softened. You are the best cocksucker I have ever been around he said as he helped her up.
The green-eyed woman with the long reddish brown hair stood and crossed her hands in front of her to cup her breasts and cover her bald vagina. This was the red-haired, green-eyed siren Perisinoe, with high-heeled suede boots and dark silk stockings up to her vagina. This was truly the angel of death that diverted ships of sailors onto the rocks in the old Greek Mythology. Beautiful but treacherous. By inadvertently forgetting to cover her long red hair and ruby red lips she had launched an attack against herself and the ambassador's compound.
Amal said something in a dialect of Hassaniya to the others. Somebody brought a long white nylon rope. It may have been about thirty feet long. One of the men made a loop on one end. He slipped it around Katherine's right arm just above the elbow. He wrapped about fifteen feet of the soft rope in a weave around both of her arms from the elbow up. It had a cumulative effect of pulling her arms together behind her enough that her breasts arched up and out. Her long-stemmed pink nipples almost pointed up. Katherine began to whimper and mew, not understanding what was going to happen.
They brought Katherine's Head scarf over and put it on her. It was a long silk scarf in the shape of a triangle with a hole in the middle. When it was placed over her head, the opening was big enough to show her eyes. It shielded her hair and mouth. They tucked the ends back over her shoulders. The rope had been looped over her wrists and about the remainder of its drug along the ground behind her.
Katherine stood, naked, in her high heeled boots and black silk stockings; with her arms behind her and her long-stemmed pink nipples pointing almost skyward.
"Take her down to the town square where the men come to drink from the well. Take her to where the young men come to talk. Take her there where the women can see what happens when women do not cover their hair or mouths. Let her service whoever wants her for the rest of the night and until noon tomorrow.
Tomorrow we will turn her husband loose and he can go clean her and take her home.
That night, Katherine was led, with the rope tied to her wrists and pulled in front of her by one of the big black guards wearing his black stocking mask and carrying his Uzi. The rope was strung between her legs and led by the man in front of her. A string of young boys and girls chanting in Hassaniya followed, not completely understanding her transgressions. They jeered the proud woman who although naked and humiliated had a regal manner about her they just couldn't seem to stamp out.
Many of the older men stared silently at the spectacular long pink nipples that they had never seen before. Katherine was forced to kneel when she got to the well. She was forced to service several of the men; some young and some old. It was as though somebody had forgotten to lock the doors of a Brinks truck and it had spewed money bags down the road. They knew it was wrong, but nobody was about to pass up a good deal.
Sometimes they leaned her over one of the picnic tables nearby. They spread her legs. With her head positioned over the far side of the table, and her long legs spread as far as they could stretch them, some of the men and some of the young boys took their turn with her.
Katherine sobbed quietly trying to hide her humiliation and embarrassment. "If I can only make it to morning." She repeated to herself as somebody splashed water on her to clean her up a little bit.
Occasionally one of the older women would take the hem of her burqa and sponge her down. They cleaned her scuffed knees. When the sun came up, Katherine was almost there. "If I can just make it to noon, my husband will come to get me ... won't he?" Katherine used these thoughts to get her through the growing morning heat.
When her husband came, she was so relieved. He was going to free her, or so she thought. Instead of apologizing for the indignities she had endured, he walked over in front of her. He unzipped his pants. He pulled out his wimpy penis.
He freed her eventually. They walked off together, with him leading her; still naked and at the end of the rope after he had taken his turn with her; stretched over the picnic table.