Prologue - Kobekistani Background

Those readers familiar with the history and geography of Kobekistan can safely skip this prologue and start at Chapter 2.

The Emirate of Kobekistan is one of those wonderful places where a visitor feels that they have stepped back into a more leisurely and more dignified era of history, but without sacrificing any of the more useful gadgets of modern civilisation. Air-conditioning protects the inhabitants from the rigours of a sub-tropical climate. Motor cars whisk them from one building to another. Desalination provides ample water. The most modern medical advances are practised in the hospitals. Television shows umpteen channels. Education utilises the most modern computer-aided systems, for boys mostly. Childbirth is no longer as dangerous as it used to be, even though eunuch doctors are the only ones available to the women of the harems. Becoming a eunuch is very rarely a fatal operation since it is carried out by experts in surgical conditions second to none. Moderation in all things is the watchword. Toleration extends to allowing alcohol to be sold to foreign workers in the country, though only within their company compounds, and of course the rich and powerful. Women are even taught to read and write, at least in some harems.

Of course, these facilities are not all available to all the population, but for all those who matter, the better families, they are taken for granted. A field slave might not benefit from all of them, but the medical services ensure that a slave no longer has to be put down if an over enthusiastic owner damages it somewhat while administering discipline.

The disadvantages of civilisation as it is understood in the West are nevertheless kept at bay. Advertising is negligible. Tourists are not permitted to enter the country. Women are not allowed to show their faces on the streets. Marriages are usually arranged by parents who are wiser in their choices than the impulses of youth would be. There is none of the political brouhaha since the country is ruled by the Emir whom a deity or fate has appointed. His word is law, literally. Were he to say “Off with his head,” the miscreant would be executed in public within the hour.

All of this is made possible by the oil on which the Emirate rests. When all the oil reserves have been extracted, in some centuries time, the level of the land will have been lowered by an average of ten feet. The oil is a ‘heavy crude’ which is dug out of the ground in lumps looking for all the world like treacle toffee. There is none of the messy liquid to process and no unsightly wells.

The Emir’s Advisors Relaxing

With the Emir His Magnificence Ibrahim, may he live for ever, and his heir Crown Prince Gamel taking a few weeks’ break in Monte Carlo the three principal advisors felt they could relax a little. In fact all three of them were at home amusing themselves as only very rich men could. Their pleasures were in no way inhibited by living in what the ‘civilised West’ saw as ‘the most backward regime in the world’. The three were all equal in rank,

Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov, was the economic advisor; in the UK his rôle would be the Secretary of State for International Trade, in the USA the Secretary of Commerce.

Kamal Qumsiyeh, was Head of Protocol.

Hajji Kofi Natsheh, was the advisor on diplomatic matters; in the UK his rôle would be the Foreign Minister, in the USA the Secretary of State.

Chapter 1: Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov

An unworried Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov was in his bedroom accompanied by three concubines kneeling beside his chair stark naked and unadorned, except for slippers. All attention was focused on the unmistakably English girl, still in what remained of her own clothes but looking very cowed. Evidently she had been ‘persuaded’ that she was now a slave and had better make the best of it. There were no protestations of nationality, or demands for access to the British Consul, or even pleas for freedom. Perhaps this was because she had been given the impression that Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov wished to rescue her from her imprisonment by the slave traders, who had raped her and roughly shaved her pubes, but she now received a rude awakening.

“Entertain me; use her,” Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov instructed.

The slaves stood, then took several steps towards Pamela; she tried to escape by stepping back, pulling away from their hands, but they persisted. She was gradually was stripped, and meanwhile excited in ways she had never imagined possible.

Pamela was pushed on to her back as each of the three servants began to kiss her body. One of them squatted on the young woman’s face, pushing her shaven pussy down on to Pamela’s mouth. The other two started working on her lower body. One drew her hand back and gave her victim’s hairless slit a good hard slap.

~That looks awfully tight to me, ~ said the third.

SMACK!

Another slap onto her sex mound. Pamela gasped for air, trying to get gulps of air each time the slave’s pussy mound lost contact with her mouth. Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov watched as the handprint turn from pink to red, and it was as if it framed Pamela’s pussy.

“I think her arse needs attention; she is almost a virgin there,” Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov said to the slaves who immediately took Pamela’s body and turned her over.

Smearing some of her own lubrication on Pamela’s hole, one of the slaves placed the tip of her index finger on her tight rim. Instead of slowly working it in as she would usually do, she suddenly jammed it all the way in as far as it would go. Pamela tensed and groaned as she felt her arse tightly grip the finger, almost sucking it in with the tension.

Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov told Pamela that she knew better than to get all tense as the slave plunged her middle finger in beside the first one. The slave pulled them out about halfway, and thrust them back in again quickly. The Hajji watched the muscles of Pamela’s back flex then relax, settling down as her arse began to open up for the slave. Adding a third finger the slave began a slow rhythmic motion in her hole. Pamela began moaning softly as she moved through the stages of first tolerating it, then getting used to it, getting off on it, and finally loving it.

It was early evening by the time it was over. The lust that flowed in her veins was ebbing from her body. She began to remember the things that she had done with her fiancé before he had sold her to an Arab on their pre-wedding holiday when he discovered that she was not the virgin he had thought her, and the pain the slave traders had inflicted on her body. She did not know why she had allowed these things to happen; all she knew was that she had enjoyed every experience, and the sexual appetite that had been roused was throbbing within her body and needed a release, even a painful one. So when Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov had come to her, freed her from her captors, and offered her to the three females, who were actually slaves, she had been at his mercy, letting them do exactly what they wanted.

The lithe British girl tried to dress, but before she could get her brassière and knickers, she was cuffed to the four corners of the bed, facing upward. Her feeling of passion turned to one of terror as Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov, whom she had thought was a friend, signalled to the gigantic Negro who was always in silent attendance, to take her.

The Hajji’s voice echoed around the room, words in a language she did not know, that Pamela didn’t understand, and the monster of a man dropped his shalwar, revealing his body and his penis which was enormous. Pamela could see that it was visibly growing as the man came closer taking up a position to mount her body. Pamela thought, ‘I could never take that in my body; I am sure it would rip me open.’ She was surprised by the gentle hand, running through her salivating slit.

The eunuch was not impotent, merely chemically vasectomised, as Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov delighted in watching couples fucking, but reserved the paternity rights in his harem for himself. The negro had seen very few women who still bore traces of pubic hair; one that was as red as his blood was never seen in Kobekistan as shaving or, more painfully, plucking of the female pubic region was the norm. He ran his hand over her slit, oiling it, working his fingers deep into her cunt.

She soon was aroused by his fingering; she could feel the effect his fingers were having on her cunt lips. They felt puffed and the tip of her clitoris peeped from its hood. Pamela closed her eyes, letting out little cries of pleasure as he continued to move between her legs, positioning his now erect weapon at her wet lips. She whispered, “Please don’t,” as the tip of the invading warm plump prick spread her sex.

The negro thrust his weapon deep into Pamela in one long movement; her eyes opened and she screamed as he spread her cunt wider than it had ever been before, filling her so completely. He ignored Pamela’s cries, pumping into the helpless woman for his master’s amusement. Soon Pamela was at the climax of sexual excitement as new waves of pleasure flowed away from her sex, washing though her body, one with every thrust of his prick.

“I want her arse stretched,” Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov ordered.

The slave withdrew, unfastening the bindings on her legs then turning Pamela over. Pamela’s screams as the giant negro plundered his victim’s tight rectum, previously pierced only by her fiancé’s relatively small cock and the fingers of the women earlier that day.

He continued fucking Pamela using all his power in an attempt not to cum until his master ordered it. He could not hold back any more and shot his useless load deep into Pamela’s arse as she lay exhausted on the bed. He withdrew from Pamela’s body and marvelled at her tiny hole puckering as if it was gasping for air. Pamela was bathed by Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov’s three female attendants and then handcuffed, and locked into a cage that was barely large enough for a dog, but she was left alone for hours in Hajji Darwish Dosmukhamedov’s stateroom to anticipate any nightmares that might await her.

The slave had never had a woman like Pamela; he found her remnant of pubic hair a fascinating difference. ‘With luck,’ he thought, ‘I can use her again before she is properly shaved, and then ruined those enormous dildoes of his.’

Pamela’s sexual experiences to date had only been with her first boyfriend, who took her virginity and then never dated her again, and then her fiancé who was not well endowed though he had used her brutally when she confessed to not being a virgin. So the shock of having this massive penis inside her still echoed in her head, the effects of being imprisoned in an animal cage seemed to amplify her emotions as well as her fears.

Part 1 »