Chapter 7: Private Consult From A Pasha

Another day had passed, and all was NOT going well on the Middle-Eastern front. At least not from the point of view of Anna Kournikova. We find our heroine securely attached to the Wheel again, the Golden Horseshoe sparkling between her thighs, peeping from between her slightly blood-engorged lips. Tarek had done a magnificent ringing-job indeed, with few to none complications.

It had stung somewhat, but in retrospect Anna had to admit that it had been nothing even close to warrant her subsequent death scream. In the first place, the build-up of stress and the whole IDEA of the operation had to be blamed for that.

After the Russian had 'received' her intimate jewel, the men had taken her from the Wheel and kept her hands tied behind her back. "Precaution against infections," Tarek had explained. It was better "not to masturbate just yet." It didn't make a lot of sense to Anna at first. She saw it as just another excuse to merely make life more difficult for her. After all, that's what these men seemed best at. But that would soon change... The initial throbbing ache had remained bearable throughout, but it had slowly transformed into a maddening itch that was far more difficult to handle! Especially without hands. Anna would have given ANYTHING to scratch down there.

In the end she had rubbed herself against the edge of the desk in her room to get some relief. A pretty embarrassing situation... Even more shocking was that, in pure desperation, Anna had found herself lusting after something like a hard pumping dick. No matter how hard she had tried to wipe those thoughts out of her girl brain. Absolutely ANYTHING would seemingly do to get rid of the unbearable irritation.

Anyway, despite much pleading her hands had remained tied up the rest of that day. But that didn't mean that she had been left helpless and all on her own! When it came to maintenance, she had absolutely no reason to complain: another burka had come by to spoon-feed her another extremely spicy meal. After the meal, she had even been bathed by a couple of them. Ok, so being hung up by her tied hands onto the ceiling of a shower cell was not her own idea of 'bathing'. But clean she was, and not a single square centimetre of her body had been skipped. Not 'just' every square centimetre of her body had received the attention it deserved. But, well, every square centimetre that was reachable without the use of tools. And as she could witness, it was really remarkable how deep old ladies' fingers could actually reach! Even after all that scrubbing, her body paint had remained intact, though. Rashid hadn't exaggerated one bit about its sustainability. Anna started to wonder how long it would take her to get back her famous unblemished skin. One of the many god-given features that had made her a lot of money already. Some of her endorsement contracts actually depended on it, and it would be unrealistic to cover her entire body with heat-packs to hide it. That trick was not really an option. Not this time.

After the thorough washing, the burkas had been considerate enough to apply a disinfecting cream to her battered pussy, and again before she was put in bed. Being well-fed, clean and disinfected; what more could she possibly ask?

"Would I even have a case against them in court???" She clearly hadn't lost her sarcasm...

Thanks to her total exhaustion, Anna had actually had a pretty good night's rest, even with her hands tied to the bedposts. She slept through the morning, and only woke up when two servants came in to remove her bonds. Although her hands were free, there was no time to scratch. Well, there actually WAS enough time, strictly speaking. But the Russian didn't really feel like it, in the presence of these men. She was slowly getting used to her permanent state of public nudity, but openly manipulating her intimate anatomy was still something different. And they didn't grant her the necessary moments of privacy, since after stretching her limbs a bit, it was straight back into her Wheel again! Anna surprised herself with her obedience; it all went pretty smoothly, just like Rashid would have liked it. Just a couple of days ago, this was unthinkable! The first cracks in her resistance?

After securing her and a carrying out a quick check, the two incommunicative guards left the girl alone.

Now that her emotional and physical rollercoaster ride came to a temporary stop, the Russian had some time again to think her situation over. It didn't look all that great, she had to admit. The message which she had (hopefully) managed to post on her web forums, was just about the only thing that kept her flame burning somewhat. Only, she hadn't had the opportunity yet to sit down at the computer again to check out the outcome! No matter whether her outcry would be successful or not, she was starting to face the possibility that she wouldn't escape - completely - from the new 'duties' assigned to her. The famous blonde had by now almost mentally accepted at least one 'companionship' with this so called 'Prince of the Deserts'. Since it was scheduled within less than two days, it started to look pretty unavoidable. How bad could it be, anyway? It was not like she hadn't been fucked before. It also wasn't - by any stretch - the first time that she would be copulated by total strangers, or even the first time that she would get in contact with Arabian seed (more about that, soon). About the only *really* unpleasant aspect she could come up with, was that she would not be calling the shots. And even THAT wouldn't be the first time, either. Another experience she had come out of alive and well. [Note from the author: read 'A perfect match' for more details]

Slowly she had thus settled for plan B: perhaps she was going to sit through it for some days, letting herself paw and defile a bit more by those turban troglodytes, after which the Special Forces would enter and gloriously set her free on prime-time television. She would then kick Rashid in the nuts in front of a live audience of millions. Revenge can be sweet. Now - that - would give a tremendous BANG, and boost her fame considerably on top of everything! With some mental gymnastics, she would possibly even be able to make herself enjoy some wild sex in the mean time. Although it would be easier if she were British; then she would just have to close her eyes and think of England to get done with it...

England, where her favourite tournament was held, in Wimbledon, she dreamed away.

All in all, the anticipated sexual activity was actually not her primary concern. A bigger question mark was the last item she had read on her 'road plan to companionship': the 'Purrification', or was it 'Purification'? Not that the term itself indicated anything particularly unpleasant. But the same could be said about the 'Decoration', and that hadn't turned out to be Anna's favourite pastime. The Russian had learned to distrust any obscurely named activity organized in this institute of perversion.

That, and the uncertainty about her 'term' at Uday's. If only she knew for sure that it would merely be for a couple of weeks, she would sit through it. Then again, Anna was too much aware of her own outright hotness, to believe that she would be dumped after such a short period already. And pretending to be a poor performer had already been covered by that terrible pasha as a far too transparent and obvious tactic. No, if there was a way out, it was not to be found in that corner.

She possibly had one more string on her bow: she could attempt to deploy all her charms, to bribe herself out. Not exactly the best way to avoid sexual abuse, but maybe she could at least limit it and concentrate it over a shorter period. And from experience she knew how to play this game. It was known territory for the Russian blonde.

"If you help me out, I promise I will suck you dry."

"We can have some fun together; you can get me, if you do me a little favour."

"I'll participate in your gangbang if you untie me and show me the way out."

Anna started practicing different get-out lines.

Problem was: apart from Rashid and Tarek, all the men in this nuthouse seemed to be either chronically uninterested thus far, and/or so primitive and ignorant of English that negotiating was out of the question. The first group treated her without even the most basic respect and even touched her against her will, but acted as if they merely did their duty. There was no underlying desire to take advantage of her vulnerability or to humiliate her. (as mentioned before, Anna had also been a little bit surprised and even insulted by that lack of interest; deep down she expected to be more desirable... ) On the other hand, some of the half-apes looked like they would fuck girls straight into hospital without even raising an eyebrow. Rashid may have been a total creep, but in a way Anna was glad that this clearly professional man was around when the primitive brutes played a part in her drama. At least he seemed to have them under control. Admittedly, that was the *only* positive thing she could say about that Taliban-turd.

All this brain activity didn't change a thing about her precarious situation. But at least thinking through different scenarios gave her SOME illusion of control. Much needed control in an adventure in which she had been effectively reduced to a passive object thus far. Hopefully, that phase was past her from now on...

The sound of footsteps in the hallway, apparently one person, put an end to Anna's private musings. Company was on its way once again...

Anxiously she focussed her stare on the door. Whoever was going to enter, it probably wouldn't be someone with whom she would voluntarily spend private time. What made her feel even more worried than usual, was that it had to be one of these men all on his own. Up until now, they had always approached her in a group, and her intuition had sensed that there was some sort of social control at work that had prevented the worst. Without that peer pressure to walk between the lines, she was fair game.

The footsteps stopped at the door. Agonizingly slow, and producing an appropriate creepy sound, it opened and revealed Anna's visitor...

It was Rashid's sinister silhouette that appeared out of the darkness. He closed the door behind him, and calmly walked towards the Wheel.

Anna tensed up. From one moment to the other, a cold came over her naked body as if his presence made this hell freeze over. Despite his value in handling the half-apes, the obnoxious pasha was definitely the one she favoured least. There was something about this man that repulsed Anna like she had never before experienced. Not even Shaq's buddy, fat Wilson, came close. He looked dirty, and downright evil. In his heavy long robe, and big turban, he easily could have modelled for the 'bad sorcerer' in one of those Aladdin Disney movies.

Not that Tarek, just to name another member of her 'staff', was the type of guy she'd date. But somehow he did have his charm and authenticity, sincerity if you want. He was definitely a brute, but you knew what you got. And from time to time, she liked it rough.

It was different with this gent. As far as Anna was concerned, he was pure viciousness with a thin sauce of false decency poured over it. Each time he came close to her, every square centimetre of her flawless skin tried to crawl away. Every muscle in her body would fight to get her out. It was no different this time. Love was not in the air tonight, that much was for sure!

The pasha didn't say a word and just stood there staring at Anna from a couple of metres distance, in his usual position with crossed arms and hands covered in his sleeves. The eerie silence continued for an awfully long moment, only slightly disturbed by the tennis-teen's nervous breathing, while the two protagonists observed each other.

Then Rashid casually stepped closer. As his swinging heavy gown came to a stop, the resulting breeze created goose bumps all over Anna's body. He stopped within an arm's distance of the spread-eagled blonde and ostentatively checked her out from top to toe. Even though he didn't touch her (yet?), his stare was already enough to make Anna feel highly uncomfortable. The Russian could feel how his eyes scanned her frame, taking their time and devoting extra attention to the most 'interesting' features. She generally didn't mind being looked at. She even didn't mind much being looked at *this way*. But not while being totally exposed and unable to defend herself!

The abducted star nevertheless did her best to present herself as strong and confident as possible under the given circumstances. She proudly raised her head and faced her opponent. She was determined not to let go without a fight, even though her situation looked more critical than ever. The fact that Rashid, apparently the architect behind all her abuse, gave her the opportunity to regroup herself somewhat, made her very suspicious, though. Did he have some nasty surprise up his sleeves?

The 'creep', as she called him by now, mumbled approving to himself, then swiftly moved behind Anna. Something the girl didn't like one bit! Her facade of confidence was her only weapon, and now he walked around it. Desperately she tried to keep him within her field of vision by turning her head first to the right, then to the left... Rashid was well aware of the effects that an invisible threat had on the girls. He couldn't suppress a nasty little smile when he noticed how his captive lost her cool completely as soon as she lost visual contact. He really savoured these moments of privacy with the inmates. Anna, from her side, had more and more trouble to keep her mouth shut. But she reminded herself that it was a psychological battle and gritted her teeth. She had to be strong, but couldn't hide her agitated breathing. It still was the only sound to disturb the uncomfortable quietness.