Chapter 2

Sophie Russell's horrendous experience was brought to a merciful end when a small boy arrived with a note for her husband, and the note just said, 'The Justice Department has decided that your wife will not be caned or sent to prison. She has been granted a full pardon on the charge of stealing.' Michael was almost disappointed. Looking up at his wife, standing naked in front of the several hundred people who had gathered by now, he had been rather looking forward to watching her being caned! After all, she deserved it, and it would be wonderful to watch.

However there was no excuse for delaying so Michael hurried up onto the stage and told her the good news. She stood looking at him for a moment absorbing the news, then collapsed in his arms and burst into tears, and he hugged her and let her cry for a bit, his hand stroking her bare bottom, before kissing her and telling her to get dressed. While she did so, he gathered the rest of the family, although Tim refused to move until his mom had finished dressing, loving every moment of her embarrassment. He was clearly very unhappy that she wasn't going to be caned! At last Sophie came down off the stage and they all hurried back to the hotel.

None of them wanted to stay any longer in that dreadful place where the two black men had fucked Sophie in front of her family, so Michael phoned ahead to book a hotel in the next large town, and they set off to explore the countryside.

The road was incredibly bad, and progress was very slow. Michael would have liked to pull in somewhere for a meal, but there were just no suitable looking restaurants in this impoverished country. Sophie was still very upset, and Michael suggested they should stop and just walk around to give her something else to think about. He stopped in a small town, and they all got out. To their surprise there was nobody about, so they went exploring, and found a few people still hurrying to enter a strange domed building. "It's a mosque," Michael explained to everyone. "Sort of like one of our churches."

"Oh, good, can we go inside," Tim asked, and Michael said he was sure that would be okay. Taking their cameras, they all went over to the entrance, and followed the last of the men inside. It was really hot, the sun beating down, Michael and Tim were in shorts, Sophie was in a dress but because of the heat she wasn't wearing a bra. Jessica was looking really pretty in a tiny red miniskirt and tight top that was tied tightly below her breasts, showing all of her tummy. Lisa looked very cute in a tee shirt and hot pants that showed off her coltish legs.

Tim, in the lead but still some way from the entrance, noticed that the men all took their shoes off before going inside. He waited until the rest of the family joined him and point to the rows of shoes around the entrance. Jessica took photos of them.

"How on earth do they find their own shoes when they come out?" Lisa laughed, and they all agreed it was pretty silly. Jessica led the way, as they stepped into the building, keeping their shoes on rather than risk someone stealing them while they were inside.

They found serried ranks of men on their knees, all bending forward with their noses to the floor! Michael whispered, "Be quiet everyone, they are praying."

After standing watching for a few minutes, Sophie commented, "They are all men! Where are their women?" Already bored, Tim set off to find out, while the rest of the family took pictures of the praying men. They used flash because the room was quite dark. They noticed some of the men looking up at them, and Lisa waved hello.

"Let's go down the front," Jessica said, leading the way. The men were now all sitting up, kneeling and sitting back on their heels, and everyone was looking at them. The girls all smiled at the men, but Michael was starting to get bad vibes, and whispered, "Let's leave them to it, shall we?"

Jessica insisted on taking some more flash photos, while Lisa took a video of the whole scene, turning slowly round. She noticed some men standing up and leaving the building, and others were coming toward them.

"Dad, there's some guys coming this way. They look a bit cross. Do you think we were meant to pay to come in or something?" Michael turned and saw the approaching men, and yes, they didn't look friendly. He started ushering his family out. But it was too late.

Stepping out into the sunshine, Michael found a growing crowd of locals standing looking at them, and more were streaming from the building behind them. Ahead, Tim was being held by two large men while a crowd of women stood around him shaking their fists and yelling in their strange local language.

"What happened to you, Tim?"

"I found where the women were praying, and I started taking some pictures, when these two goons jumped on me and dragged me out."

One of the men stepped forward and slapped Tim hard across the face. "Do not call my friends goons."

Michael was about to protest but looked into the hard face of the man, clearly the leader, and decided to say nothing.

"You are tourists? Where are your passports?"

Michael pointed to the car, and offered to go fetch them, but the man asked for the car keys and walked to the car, while the family waited nervously, all still held very firmly by strong men each side of them. They watched as the man searched in the glove box and found the passports. He looked through them as he walked back to the family. "So, you are Mr Michael Russell?" Michael nodded. "And this is your wife, Sophie?" Again Michael nodded, not very keen on the way the man looked down at Sophie's breasts, straining the thin material of her summery dress. The man looked around and gestured toward the three kids. "I take it these are your children? Timothy, Jessica and Lisa?"

Michael agreed that, yes, they were.

"How nice to meet you all. My name is Yusuf." For just a moment Michael thought maybe everything was going to work out okay, just a misunderstanding. The man calmly put their passports in a pocket of his pants, and handed Michael back his car keys.

"You are tourists? On holiday? You like taking photographs, souvenirs of your holiday?"

Michael agreed, smiling, hoping they could resolve this quickly and be on their way. "Yes, you have a lovely country. I hope you didn't mind us taking photographs in there?"

"Do you take photographs or people praying in your own churches?"

Michael wasn't sure, he hadn't been in a church for ages, but he thought they did. He said, "I'm sorry if you didn't like it. We won't do it again, we didn't mean to offend you."

Suddenly glaring at Michael, he snarled, "Offend us? You come into our place of worship and cavort about taking photographs with your flash light cameras, while your women stand around dressed like sluts? You allow them to dress like that? Your wife, your daughters?"

Michael tried to explain that girls nowadays dressed like that. The man swept his arm around to indicate the modestly dressed women standing around behind Tim. "Our girls do not dress like that. Even the young ones dress honourably." He snapped a name and a girl of about 15 stepped forward, with a very pretty face, but wearing clothing that covered her body including her hair and her shoulders and her knees.

He walked over to Sophie, and calmly reached for Sophie's breast and squeezed it. "I thought so, no bra." Keeping his fingers gripping Sophie's nipple, he turned back to Michael. "So your wife as well? You allow her to go around with no bra on, despite having such magnificent breasts?" He kept his hand on Sophie's tit as he asked this, ignoring the panting Sophie and looking at pale faced Michael.

"Please don't touch her," Michael said nervously, and the man released Sophie's tit and walked over to him. He stood looking into Michael's eyes for a minute then casually smashed his fist into Michael's stomach! The men were holding him so tightly that he couldn't fold over, but instead lifted his knees up into his chest, and the men easily supported his weight until he slowly relaxed and lowered his feet back to the ground.

"Do not ever tell me what to do, in my own village." He gestured the young local girl forward, and said something to her, and she shyly opened her shirt to show that she was, indeed, wearing a bra. "You see, our women and our girls dress modestly. It is a husband's duty, and a father's duty, to see that they do so. This girl knows that she would be punished if she walked out on the street without the proper underwear on." He said something softly to the girl, and she quickly tugged her shirt back down and went back to join the watching crowd.

Yusuf turned and walked back to stand in front of Sophie, whose nipples were showing clearly through the thin material of her dress. Michael realized that her nipples were responding to the attention!

He put his hands out and tweaked both her nipples. When she tried to squirm away, Yusuf snapped something at the men holding her, and they firmed up their grips so she couldn't escape, and he released her nipples and put his hands on her breasts, one cupping each tit, and slowly massaged them. "What's the matter, lady, you don't like men handling your breasts?"

Sophie moaned, no idea what to respond, and not daring to risk being punched the way the man had hit her husband. "Yet you go around with them barely hidden under your flimsy clothing, so everyone can see their shape? They look so nice and firm, and I can clearly see that you have big nipples. You like everyone to see your nipples, do you Mrs Sophie Russell? Or is it that you just don't care? Let's have a proper look at them, shall we?"

As Yusuf said this, he moved his hands up to the neckline of her dress, smiled, then pulled it apart, ripping the thin material down to her waist and exposing her breasts.

He stepped back and Sophie was subjected to amused stares from the crowd, probably twenty men and boys and ten women and girls by now. He said something in his language, and translated to the Russells. "I just asked them who wants a feel of your wife's fine tits." He folded his arms and watched approvingly as a line of men and boys, and some women, formed, each in turn fondling Sophie's breasts before stepping aside to let the next person have a feel. They didn't just cup her breasts the way Yusuf had done, they played with her nipples, tugging and twisting so she squirmed, and some even bent down and took a nipple into their mouths!

Sophie tried to maintain some sort of dignity through all this, looking away from the men who were fondling her, and trying to look unaffected by what they did. But the awful thing was that she could feel her nipples hardening as these awful men played with her breasts! While this was going on, the man in charge went over to Michael.

"Tell me something about your lovely wife Sophie. Respectable women don't shave their pubic hair, but I am prepared to bet that she does, doesn't she? Answer me, is your wife's private place shaved?"

Michael almost said she wasn't but then remembered the awful events of yesterday and that morning, and mumbled that, yes she was shaved. The man went over to Tim, and asked if he knew whether his mother shaved her pubes. Tim gulped, and said that, yes she was shaved down there. He blushed as he remembered shaving off his mother's thick growth of hair the night before, and giving it a touch-up in the morning.

The leader smiled, interested to discover that the son knew such things about his mother, but he didn't push the matter. No sons of his would ever see their mother naked!

Instead he called a halt to Sophie's gropings, with perhaps half the men having fondled her breasts, and by then Sophie was only too horribly aware that her arousal must be obvious. The man walked over to Sophie, who had been too busy coping with intimate hands and mouths to pay attention to what he had been discussing with her husband and her son. "You do, don't you, slut?"

Sophie stammered, "I'm sorry I didn't hear what you were asking."

"I asked if you shave your pubic hair." Sophie moaned, wanting to say that she hadn't ever shaved before yesterday's horrible events, but her mouth was too dry and she just stood there looking up at him in desperation and nodded. Inevitably he reached out and undid her belt, then ripped her dress all the way down, exposing her panties. He cupped the crotch, and laughed, and said loudly, "As I expected, the bitch is sopping wet. And I can't feel any thick protective bush over her cunt. Let's see if she does have pubic hair."

Saying that, he tugged her panties down to her knees, exposing Sophie's recently shaved pubis. He laughed again, then said something to the two men holding her. Effortlessly they lifted her up in the air, so he could slide her panties right down and off her feet without having to bend down.

With her still high in the air, the man stepped back to let everyone see. Sophie wanted to die! "Open your legs, slut," the man ordered, holding her knickers to his nose, and when she was slow to do so two other men reached in and grabbed her ankles and pulled them wide apart. The man ostentatiously handed her panties to one of the watching men, who sniffed and yelled something that earned a roar of applause from the crowd, before passing the panties to the man next to him, who also sniffed them before handing them along. Sophie, still suspended in the air by the amazingly strong men holding her, and with her legs held wide apart by two other strong men, watched in dismay.

The man called out something, which obviously translated to 'who wants to cop a feel' and immediately another line formed. As men groped her, the men holding her legs raised them up, and Sophie found herself being tipped back and hands under her bottom lifted her hips and held her so her body was horizontal, her legs still very wide apart, so that her crotch was now nearly at the level of the faces of the men inspecting her. The inspections were just appallingly intimate, men, and especially the younger ones, opening her hairless labia and peering inside! And as she looked down her body at the men fondling her so crudely, she could see her daughters watching in dismay.

There was much laughter as each man in turn extracted his fingers and either wiped them on her thighs or belly, licked them himself, or put them in her mouth and made her lick them clean. Soon her mouth was full of the mixed taste of her own juices and the pungency of the fingers of heavy smokers. But her pussy seemed to be living a life of its own, spasming around the endlessly invading fingers. A few of the men stroked her clitoris, and each time she jerked and writhed helplessly. Other men were behind her, handling her breasts, teasing her nipples, and she knew that soon she would orgasm. Just before she did so, the man ordered that she be put down, and she found that she was so weak she could hardly stand. It didn't matter though, the two men continued to hold her very firmly.

To the family's dismay Yusuf turned to the two daughters.

"So, girls, do you normally dress like this? With most of your bodies on display?" Jessica and Lisa looked shyly up at him, not sure what to say.

"You look like whores. Are you whores?"

Both girls tried to deny it, but the man obviously didn't believe them. He went close to Jessica, and slowly undid the ties of her top, so it could fall free. She twisted and squirmed, and tried to kick him, but she was held too firmly. The crowd went silent as they watched. The man ignored her struggles and slowly opened her top and left it hanging from her shoulders. Jessica's big breasts were delightfully supported in a lacy half cup bra, and he casually put his hands inside each cup and lifted her breasts out, then stepped back to let the others see.

To everyone's delight, Jessica visibly cringed as her breasts were exposed to view. Although she had shown them to a very few boys during dates, despite the way she dressed she was still intensely shy about exposing her more intimate parts to others, especially strangers. Yet now she was being made to do just that.

"Your name, whore?"

"I'm Jessica, sir."

"Are you a virgin, Jessica?"

The blushing girl glanced at her parents and then looked down at the floor. "No sir."

"Well, there is a surprise. How many lovers have you had?"

"I dunno, half a dozen I suppose." Jessica wasn't sure whether a quickie in the car park of a pub counted as a lover, but chose not to get into a debate on the figures.

She was relieved when the man turned from her and walked over to her sister. "So you must be Lisa?"

"Yes, sir," the terrified girl stammered. She looked down as his hands came to the waist of her tee shirt and casually lifted it all the way up, and pulled the front over her head so it was trapped behind her neck, the way some soccer players do when they score a goal! He put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up and bent down and kissed her on the lips, while one of his hands returned to her breasts and the other pushed down her tummy inside her shorts.

"You are very beautiful, Lisa, but you also dress like a whore. Your mother dresses like a slut, but you and your sister dress like whores. Do you know what the difference is, between a slut and a whore?" As he talked his hands began unclipping the buttons of her tiny shorts.

Lisa shook her head feebly, hating the way he was talking almost more than she hated what his hands were doing.

"A slut like your mother goes around with no bra on, not caring that men watch her breasts moving as she walks, not bothered that men can see the shape of her nipples, and ignoring the way those men lust after her. A whore is quite different. A whore flaunts herself, wanting men to admire her, wanting them to approach her and make love to her. Are you a whore, Lisa?"

"No sir, no I'm not, honestly."

"No? Well, maybe you had better become one, Lisa, if you want to go home. You realize I can keep you here, nobody would ever find you even if they bothered to search for you? Do you want to be allowed to go home, Lisa?"

Lisa looked at him in horror. "Yes of course I do."

"Then, Lisa, you are going to have to earn it." Lisa looked up at him in total confusion, no idea what he was expecting her to do.