Chapter 1

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 Benghazi to review security to the Ambassador's Compound. There had been some questionable breaches recently, and several people had been called to review personal security, computer security and internet security.

Katherine was apprehensive about the tense situation in Libya. On the other hand, the ancient Greek city that had been founded around 525 BC and called Euesperides and probably founded by people from Cyrene or Barce on the Mediterranean Sea was of particular interest to her.

As a young student just out of college, she had visited the raised piece of land opposite what is now the Sidi-Abayd graveyard in the Northern Benghazi suburb of Sbikhat al-salmani and participated on a number of digs and was responsible for finding many artifacts.

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. The view from the surrounding hills out over into the Mediterranean Sea was beautiful.

She remembered going to the July Park on Gamal Abdel Nasser Street and spending time in the Tibesti Hotel that bordered along the waterfront.

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 birka. 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 Libya, it was hot. The Mercedes cab took them straight to the embassy. The embassy was not so much a building as a compound. It was built more like the Palacio Real de Madrid owned by the country and is the official residence of Juan Carlos.

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. They did not have the fully automatic weapons that the Israeli soldiers and Special Forces of the Mussad.

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 Libya.

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. Some of the security forces who resisted were shot.

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 Arabic.

The one they called Amal was not Arabic. 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 Arabic, 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 Libya. 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 a 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 raise 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.