Isabelle Fontaine sat on a chair attached to other rows of chairs as she looked out the large glass window watching a plane taking off. She was in an airport terminal in Paris, France and in about ten minutes she was going to join the passengers queuing up for a plane headed to Tripoli, Libya. It was still early morning and there were four reasons for her to go to Libya. First, she was offered a lot of money by the government to teach French. Libya was a Socialist dictatorship despite being an Arab Muslim country. Second, she broke up with her last boyfriend and had problems with many of the men in her life and she wanted to get away from it all and Libya was very far from it, being in North Africa. Third, she was a proud French national and teaching French would be a means of promoting her country's culture and language, despite the rest of the world becoming more and more Anglo-Saxonized and adapting the American culture due to Globalization. Fourth, Libya was a hot country and although she had never been there before she expected it to be something like Morocco or Algeria, France's former North African colonies. She loved the heat and she could speak Italian, a common language that was often spoken in Libya. After ten minutes, Isabelle Fontaine got up and joined the queue headed for Tripoli. She had no problems going to a country like Libya despite the fact that it was on the US's terrorist list because it was an anti-American country and Isabelle was a proud Socialist who disliked the United States. Isabelle was 5 foot 9, and was slim and sexy at the age of 30. She had 40D sized breasts, was quite tanned, with short brown hair, crystal blue eyes and a round face. She heard men giving her wolf whistles too often; she just had to get away from it all.
TWO WEEKS LATER
Isabelle had just finished teaching a French class but was still in her classroom. She looked at the clock and saw was two. She was teaching French in all girls secondary school and was checking the French assignment hand-ins from her students. But she stopped marking papers, got up and walked out of the classroom because she heard noises out in the hallway.
In the hallway she saw a taller girl pinning down a much shorter girl.
"Hey," Isabelle walked towards the much taller girl and pulled her aside, screaming,
"What do you think you are doing?" The much taller girl was nearly a head taller than Isabelle and her name was Shakira. Shakira was a student in her class who often bullied the other girls. Shakira had black hair, black eyes and an olive complexion.
"I was not doing anything," Shakira muttered back in Arabic. Isabelle understood some Arabic.
"Yes, you did," Isabelle scolded her. Isabelle looked at the much smaller girl, whose name was Faisul,
"Did she hurt you?" Isabelle asked Faisul. Faisul shook her head. It was obvious that Faisul was scared of Shakira and would not dare rat out on her.
"I know you bullied her. I want you to admit it now before I go to the principal," Isabelle shot Shakira a stern look.
"Why are you blaming me? I have done nothing wrong," Shakira protested back. Isabelle let them both go with her telling Shakira,
"One of these days I am going to catch you". Shakira sometimes disrupted the classroom. She was definitely sure that Shakira had bullied Faisul just now because of the noises in the hallway which had drawn her from her classroom. Just one more day to go and she had two days free because unlike Western countries, where the weekend was the holiday, in Libya Thursday and Friday were the holidays because they followed the Islamic system, though not Sharia Law.
Isabelle lay on her bed reading a French novel. The past two weeks in Libya have made her feel like she was living within the former USSR. TV stations are tightly run by the government with all the programming and shows came from neighboring Egypt. Unlike Europe, Libya did not have porn shops, night clubs, or discos. Western foreigners had to go to special shops and markets to purchase what they wanted. She only intended to spend a few more months before headed back to France as her contract only specified a couple of months. It was even illegal to have sex with men in public. No real freedom although she got paid a lot of money.
Isabelle was in her classroom, doing some paper work. She heard a knock on her door and looked up. Her door was open and she saw it was her student Faisul.
"Hello. Come in," Isabelle waved at her. Faisul entered the classroom. Faisul was the girl who was bullied and whom she had rescued yesterday. Isabelle noticed that Faisul was carrying something in her hand. Faisul approached Isabelle, raising what she had in her hand. It was a necklace, a beautiful necklace.
"Wow that is beautiful. Is there something you wanted to see me about?" Isabelle asked as she eyed the necklace. She was attracted to it, mesmerized by it and she wanted it for herself.
"This is for you," Faisul said.
"Really," Isabelle was excited at the prospect of getting the necklace.
"Just to say thank you for yesterday," Faisul said and handed the necklace to Isabelle. Isabelle took it.
"Ok Miss Fontaine, I better get going," Faisul walked away. Isabelle didn't bother to see her leave as she busy placing the necklace around her neck. Once she had it around her neck, her mind went blank. It was if she was put under some sort of spell. Someone then entered the classroom. It was Shakira and she walked up towards Isabelle's table.
"Get up," Shakira ordered Isabelle. Isabelle got up, saying in fluent Arabic,
"You can come in now," Shakira bellowed. Faisul meekly entered the classroom. She slowly crept up to Shakira.
"She will obey you now. I swear. She will obey the first person she sees," Faisul cowered in fear of Shakira. Shakira looked down at Faisul, saying,
"Good. This means that you no longer have to pay me money every day. But if you tell a single soul about this I will kill you, understand," Shakira bullied Faisul. Faisul nodded in fear. For her help, Shakira was not going to bully her anymore or torment her.
"Now go," Shakira ordered Faisul and she ran off and Shakira then turned her eyes on her new slave, Isabelle Fontaine. Faisul had found the necklace for Shakira from some ancient ruin dating back to Greek times and she knew about the legends that said whoever had the necklace around her neck would obey the first man or woman she sees. Shakira was the first person Isabelle saw since she placed the necklace around her neck.
"Who are you and what is your purpose in life?" Shakira asked testing the spell.
"I am Isabelle Fontaine and I am your slave mistress," Isabelle Fontaine responded meekly.
"Good, now we will go to the car park and we will drive to your place," Shakira ordered. Shakira hated Isabelle for standing up for the much younger and smaller girls. Now Isabelle was going to join them in taking orders and allowing herself to get bullied by Shakira. Isabelle was Shakiras slave and would only be free again if her "owner" removed the necklace from her neck. Isabelle walked to the car park as instructed and once Isabelle was by her car, Shakira spoke to her.
"Now we are going to get inside your car and you are driving us both back to your place, understood?" Shakira commanded.
"Yes mistress," Isabelle responded meekly in Arabic. They both got inside Isabelle's car and Isabelle drove them away from the all girl government school. Isabelle drove until they reached the apartment block where she lived. Once Isabelle parked her car, the two of them took the lift towards the fifth floor where Isabelle's apartment was located and once they were inside, Shakira sat on the sofa.
"Make me a tea drink and also get some biscuits for me," Shakira ordered.
"As you wish mistress," Isabelle bowed like a slave. Isabelle brought her mistress tea and biscuits. Shakira was eating biscuits while her new slave stood in front of her.
"When we are in front of the other students you will not call me mistress but by my name. I don't want them to know that you are my slave. You will only call me mistress when we are alone. You will obey me and be loyal to me at all times," Shakira said.
"Yes mistress," Isabelle meekly responded. After Shakira finished her tea and biscuits, Isabelle took the cup and plates and cleaned them up then returned to her position. Shakira looked at Isabelle as she stood in front of her like a robot and then stood up. She was nearly a head taller than her slave.
"You are a beautiful woman Isabelle," Shakira said as she fondled Isabelle's brown hair.
"Thank you mistress," Isabelle responded, as if scared of her mistress.
"You are afraid of me, aren't you slave?" Shakira asked as she toyed with her slave's brown hair.
"I am afraid of you because my life is yours and you are my mistress," Isabelle responded with fear in her voice. Shakira liked this new Isabelle. She liked that Isabelle was not just her slave, she also afraid of her, and no longer the heroine who defended smaller students against her. Shakira wore a white uniform, a headscarf and long pants. She had forced younger girls to have sex with her against their will and even seen porn magazines and videos illegally brought into Libya by some Libyan boys.
"Slave, take off your clothes," Shakira commanded.
"Yes mistress," Isabelle obeyed, slowly stripping off her clothes until she was totally naked.
"Now we will go to your bedroom," Shakira said.
"Yes mistress," Isabelle headed for her bedroom and once inside Shakira ordered her to lie on the bed. Shakira took off her clothes and climbed on the bed onto to her French slave. She, forced her lips onto Isabelle's while squeezing her breasts and pulling at her nipples.
"Ok slave. I am going to lie on the bed while you lick my pussy," Shakira commanded. Shakira laid on the bed and Isabelle buried her face between Shakiras legs, licking at the clitoris. Shakira enjoyed her clitoris being licked. But she had other plans for her slave also.
"Ok slave. I want you to lie down now," Shakira commanded. Isabelle lay on the bed and Shakira crouched over her face.