Chet Bentley lay bleeding on the cold marble Beirut hotel floor. He shook his head, trying to shake the searing pain from a clubbed blow above his right ear.
He'd been savoring a stroll along Ras Beirut and poking around the Paris couture's for a present for his girl friend; the American had settled on a pair of lacey silk tap pants and matching camisole, paid for it, stuck the sales slip in his back pocket and headed into the navy blue night. After a few drinks at the Dolce Vita, he'd staggered back towards the St. George Hotel, musing at the poster-splattered walls chipped with gun fire from which Khomeini, Nasser and Arafat stared at him with militaristic daring.
None of the terror of anarchy and confusion of guerilla warfare filled this American's veins! A veteran of the Special Forces of Viet Nam, the tall, muscular blonde documentary filmmaker was in prize condition... except when he was drunk.
Like now...
He remembered twisting the key in the lock, dumping the Milady lingerie bag onto the chair, and swinging open the door. Had his senses been more lucid, he would have noticed the three dark figures crouching in waiting at the stairway. He'd heard a blur of movement behind him, but before his senses could react, they'd shoved him forward into his hotel room, kicked shut the door and clubbed him with a sickening crack alongside the skull.
Beaten to his knees under a hail of blows, it took a moment to gather the strength to fight back. Punching blind blows into the dark, the second try landed a balled up fist into a fragile cheekbone. The attacker grunted out in pain and crumbled to the floor.
Chet's blood was running hot. Hunching down like a cat, his Special Forces Marine training surfaced like a cork in choppy waters. He slunk behind the chair and grabbed it by the back legs. The Milady shopping bag gave way his position as it rustled to the floor. With a murderous grunt, he caught one attacker across the back. Chet stood panting, confident he'd gotten them both. But the unaccounted for third, slammed a bolt of lightning pain into his ribs, cracking it like brittle ice.
Gritting his teeth, Bentley 1ashed into the dark with fists and feet. Harsh breathing gasped tauntingly in the blackness. Abruptly a looping roundhouse crashed into his cheekbone, sending him windmilling against the wall. The world had erupted into a crimson splatter of agony.
The American regained consciousness moments later and lay panting on the cold marble floor, the blood singing in his ears below the background noise of heels bumping down marble steps. Seconds later, screaming and a blast of gunfire echoed from the hotel lobby below.
Now Chet stood swaying in the dark, his head pounding cruelly. He dragged himself to the bathroom, pulled the light-switch, gagged into the toilet, turned on the basin faucet and wedged his head into the cold porcelain bowl. The cold water's pressure diluted the coagulating globules of blood which dripped down his cheekbone onto his white shirt. His collar was soaked with blood. Chet shook his head, wincing as pain throbbed in his skull and the dancing lightcord created a Frankensteinian monster in the mirror.
The left eyelid had swollen shut and purpled; a cut above his left ear left an egg-sized lump and his chest was rivered with blood.
The attack didn't make sense from a political standpoint or a mugging. If they'd wanted his wallet and Travelers Cheques, the street would have been the perfect stage for a robbery. Who listened to gunfire in war torn Lebanon, anyway?
Bentley switched on all the lights and checked the hotel room. Minutes later, he sat propped up on the bed, sipping from a bottle of whiskey he'd taken from the airplane, and raked his fingers through his hair. None of this made sense!
His camera equipment in the silver Halliburton case sat behind the dresser where he'd put it. The leather satchel and suitcase hadn't been opened. Wearily, he dabbed at the coagulating wounds with the cool washcloth and staggered toward the door. The hotel owner's foreign chatter from the lobby below filtered up the staircase. Chet was in no mood to involve himself with foreign police and, about to close the door; he noticed the white Milady lingerie bag on the third marble step below.
Who in hell would want to steal women's underwear?
Why had they attacked him? His assignment from CBS Network to take footage of petrochemical plants, offshore oil tankers, and recently constructed pipeline networks in the Strait of Hormuz was hardly an undercover assignment. If he'd been attacked in Abadan, Kuwait or even Baghdad, his stopover, he could have conjured up a few quick theories. What the hell had women's panties to do with the Iranian/Iraqian war, anyway?
Tossing the crinkling Milady bag onto the chair, he stripped naked and decided to get some rest. Tomorrow morning's eight o'clock flight to Baghdad would come soon enough, and with the way his head was feeling... If he were late to meet Karen, his documentary editor and lover, all hell would break loose!
"Redheads," he snickered. Better he get his bags packed now, though. He braced his palm against the dresser and hauled out the Halliburton case and checked the movie camera for damage. That Halliburton case had followed him around the world- Uganda to cover the Idi Amin case, Tehran for attempted shots of the hostages, now back to the Middle East for the renowned Strait of Hormuz, the most powerful stretch of water in the world these days.
From beside the bed on the marble floor, he plucked a handful of dirty socks and pajamas and stuffed them into his satchel, wishing to God he hadn't had that last Singapore Sling at the Dolce Vita.
He zippered up the satchel and stood upright, swaying a bit from the pounding above his left temple. Scanning the room, his eyes fell on the Milady bag which he hastily stuffed into the satchel after pulling out the customer's receipt from his pocket and stuffing it in as well. His roundtrip ticket had Beirut scheduled as a stopover and if the sexy plaything didn't fit Karen, he could exchange it. Buying clothes for a woman, he mused, was the damnedest job in the world. If you bought it too big, they berated you for thinking them fat; if it was too small, they thought they had no bust at all...
Right now he'd better get some rest and pack ice on that eye.
The hotel clerk at St. George's didn't so much as blink an eye when the American filmmaker checked out of the hotel on a sunbursting morning at six o'clock. Enroute to the airport, the bomb shattered walls plastered with Khomeini's bearded face seemed to follow him, haunting him. The recent skirmishes over the coveted Strait of Hormuz were intensifying but strangely enough, that disturbed him less than the attempted robbery of his hotel room the night before. One was personal, one was not.
Right now there was something personal he'd like to get into: Karen O'Malley, five feet four inches of luscious flesh with a brain to match. Daring little bitch, he thought, the creepy feeling that a bomb could detonate any second and blow him to smithereens crawling up his spine. The Arabs were a strange bunch, and with the Israelis supposedly choking them out of their home lands, Mohammed only knew what destruction they would wreak on each other! Blowing up schools, hospitals... this land couldn't be trusted.
These thoughts and a thousand others rambled through the American's brain as the taxi driver let him off at Beirut's airport. The concourse of the airport terminal was clogged, but he picked out the flaming red hair and the fresh-cream Irish skin instantly. Looking officiously elegant, Karen was wearing a beige gabardine suit with an emerald green silk blouse that matched her eyes. Flames of hair tumbled about her shoulders, and the tight vest nipped in her waist and did nothing to hide the rich swells of her full, young breasts. Christ! Bentley shouldered his way through the crowd. Harry Goodfellow didn't know what a favor he was doing me, when he assigned Karen as my assistant!
Karen stood near the check-in counter, checking her wristwatch every few seconds and glancing around impatiently. Her patent leather heels tapped impatiently and it was obvious her Irish temper was shortfusing.
Chet snuck up behind her, let his bags drop to the floor, and cupped her shoulders, swinging her around to face him.
"CHET! You promised you'd..." A tiny fist flew to her mouth, and she winced. "God, what in the world happened to you?" Her emerald eyes traced the purpled eye, up over the swell of his ear to his temple.
The filmmaker's hand rose to his face and a crooked grin creased his lips; he shrugged defensively. "Had a little tussle last night in Beirut. Some thugs got me in the hotel room. Don't worry, the camera's safe... they didn't get anything."
"You look terrible! Have you seen a doctor?"
"Nothing a little kiss couldn't fix up..." he grinned, leaning down to kiss her soft, warm forehead.
"Please, Chet... we don't have time." She pulled away and shot an anxious glance at the overhead clock. "Our plane is due to leave in a few minutes, and you know how Harry is about missing connections..."
They'd handed their airline tickets to the black haired, doe-eyed Lebanese airline employee who, eyeing their names and destination, paused a moment before drawing out a telegram.
"This just came in over the teletype," she announced, handing him the blue envelope which he ripped open with a thumbnail.
Chet frowned. "Now what the hell?" he grumbled.
FIGHTING BROKE OUT IN STRAIT OF HORMUZ. STOP. IRANIAN TERRORISTS SUSPECTED OF POSSIBLE SABOTAGE. STOP. GO TO KARBALA AND WAIT INSTRUCTIONS. STOP. HARRY. BE CAREFUL.
Chet handed the telegram to his assistant. She bit her lip. "I knew this sounded too easy... but gosh, I had no idea the war was so close. Terrorists?" she wrinkled up her perky, freckled nose and searched Chet's eyes for an answer. "This part of the world makes Harlem look like Forty-Second Avenue. Now what?"
"Looks like we spend a vacation in Karbala, hon... might as well make the most of it."
The next flight out to Karbala wouldn't be departing for three hours. "We'd like to cancel our reservations to Baghdad," he informed the Lebanese lovely. "Change it to Karbala."
He guided Karen by the elbow and plucked the luggage from the floor. "We might as well head for a lounge and relax," he suggested. Changes of plans were customary when one's business was filming network news. He recalled with a shiver, almost being captured in Tehran by a gang of Iranian terrorists who'd eyed his camera with CBS's logo and wanted him for the fifty-first hostage. A vacation would do him good... and what the hell, a free vacation with Karen was nothing to sniff at! Maybe he'd have some time to do some independent filming... of Karen in a variety of sexy poses.
Shivering with anticipation, he visualized the warmly clinging sleekness of her pale naked voluptuousness stretched out against his lean tan body, and the mere thought made the gabardine of his pants tighten against his thigh as the familiar tingling feeling crawled from his belly to his penis, feeding it with anticipation.
The Beirut airport had suffered a few attacks of its own, but hastily rebuilt to show the world its recuperative powers against Israeli attacks, none of it showed from the inside. They found a table next to the glassed-in wall and contented themselves over wine as they stared wordlessly out over the concrete expanse of the runways. The morning sunlight glinted off the silver jets, their needled noses all pointing straight ahead like so many giant bullets.
The baggage loaders were crawling toward a 747 jetliner, looking like a couple of mechanically operated Mattel toys from where the Americans sat. The tractor pulled away and the mellifluous voice of the Lebanese announcer hummed the flight departure to Baghdad.
"I was looking forward to Baghdad," sighed Karen, resting her dimpled chin in the palm of her hand. "This is the first war time assignment Harry's trusted me with. Really," she said, turning her eyes to his, "I wouldn't have minded going to Tehran with you but you know how Harry is about women and the military."
They clinked glasses to that and idly turned their gaze to the jet's pivot for take off. Slowly it rumbled down the runway, the vibrations of its power felt in a slight tingle of lips to drink glass. The tail end rose from the ground, the wheels started to pull up
away to Baghdad.
Suddenly, the sky turned into a ball of fire. Everyone in the lounge was on their feet screaming. Bomb? Air crash? The truth made itself known as an explosion showered fragments of wings, and metallic shrapnel into the air. The body of the plane, a ball of shriveled metal, plundered to the ground, shaking the foundation of Beirut's International Airport.
The American filmmakers stood paralyzed in the chaos of hysterical friends and relatives, terrified observers and distraught officials. The morning freshness turned into a holocaust of sirens... ambulances, military always on guard in the Middle East, and fire trucks screaming toward what was left of the wreckage.
Karen heaved a sigh of distress and rested her head on Chet's shoulder. "We... we were supposed to be on that flight..." she shuddered, and buried her face in his chest.
Chet heaved back a sigh of acknowledgement. "I'm fully aware of that, darling... fully aware!" His voice was shaky, his muscular body preened for survival. The Special Forces had done that to him-taught him the key to survival was a clear head.
"Do... do you think anybody..."
"Survived?" He shook his head and stroked her satiny hair comfortingly. "It blew up too fast. They would never know what hit 'em... thank God."
"B-b-but what happened?"
He shrugged and shook his head. "In this part of the world, it could easily have been sabotage."
"Oh..." she sobbed. "Oh, Chet, this scares me, and I thought I was so strong!" she whimpered miserably.
"Don't give it another thought." Bentley patted her shoulder and cogitated for a moment, recalling the telegram's message. How many other planes were scheduled for blow up? Crazy Arabs... don't give a damn who they blow up!
"Let's have another drink," he announced, searching for a bartender in the emptied lounge, and finding none, slipping behind the bar to refill their glasses with healthy splashes of whiskey. They clinked glasses.
"Let's put this out of our minds," he said as much to himself as to Karen. "And whiskey is the best antidote for that!"
Two drinks later, he glanced at his digital wristwatch through his one unpuffed eye. "If it would make you feel better, we could take a train to Karbala." He studied her expression of relief. "It would only take twenty-four hours, and after seeing what we just did, I think I'd feel safer on the ground."
Karen sniffled in relief. "At least you have a chance that way... yes, yes, darling, let's do that!"
After a quick, reassuring hug, he patted her cajolingly on the shoulders and announced he needed to take a quick trip to the men's room. "After I come back, we'll check out the train schedule and take a taxi to the train depot." He grabbed his satchel and left her standing alone.
With everyone plastering their noses to watch the futile rescue attempt, the bathrooms were deserted. Wanting to dab antiseptic Neosporin on his healing cuts, Chet set down the satchel and ran the basin full of warm water. He was lowering his head toward the basin when he caught surreptitious movement in the mirror.
The second attack took place.
Two men, swarthy, black haired young men wearing black shirts and pants and berets had been hiding in the deserted stalls. Simultaneously, they emerged from the stalls, like two dark demons of death. Lanky, panther-like bodies with strong Persian features set determinedly.
For a second Chet panicked. A steely hand had gripped the nape of his neck and forced his face below the water. Taken by surprise, he'd automatically sucked in his breath. Now his mouth and nose and throat were burning from the hot water. His lungs felt as if they would burst for lack of air! His ears pounded and for a second, he knew how Houdini felt in the escape tank. They'd pinned his left hand behind his back; his other hand was pinioned between the sink and the second assailant's strong thigh. He heard the rustle of a paper bag next to his feet where the man behind him rummaged through his satchel.
Chet thought wildly of dunking his head lower and pulling the plug free with his teeth, but his nose and chin, thrust down against the bowl of the basin would prevent drainage.
Frantic, he bucked and heaved, trying to force his head up and back to break the grip on his aching neck. The blood sang in his temples; another few seconds and he'd be dead.
Special Forces training in the Marines had saved his life more than once, and by God it had to work again. Struggling backwards would do no good. He must use his leverage in a surprise attack coming from the front of him. With the little strength remaining him, he lifted his feet from the floor and pressured down on the sink with his one hundred and ninety pounds of muscle. The effect crackled the sink loose as the screws and bolts tore away from the poorly plastered wall (too many times repaired from small bomb blasts) and the basin tilted forward, separating from the wall.
It crashed to the floor, pulling Bentley free of his assailants' grasp. Taken by surprise the Persian thugs reacted slowly, relying as was their practice on knives and guns and bombs instead of human innovation. By the time they'd scrambled to their feet to face him, he had sucked enough air into his burning lungs to regain strength.
Crouching menacingly, arms outstretched, the two men advanced. Now Bentley got his first look at the attackers. The taller, leaner one sported a fresh wound over his right cheekbone... about as old as the one purpling Bentley's eye. Ah ha, so these were the same men who'd messed him up last night!
A cold fury bordering on insolence piqued a rush of hot-blooded adrenalin in Chet's veins. After being attacked from behind by sneaky Vietnamese guerillas, he wasn't about to let a couple of Persian thugs do him in!
His upper lip curling, breath hissing from his lungs, he grabbed the first man by the collar and tossed him against the wall, but not before he'd drawn back his arm and crunched into his jaw from below. The man dropped to the floor, a tooth flying from his mouth amidst a river of fresh blood.
Behind him Bentley's ears sang with the hissed threats of the second assailant. Wincing, Chet staggered as a blow caught him in the ribcage. He careened against the wall until cold fury sparked instinct and he drove a balled up fist into the Persian's groin. The man fell to the floor in a heap of bawling pain. Chet's foot drew back for a swift kick in the belly which sent the swarthy terrorist sliding over the wet floor to bang his head against the sink's rim. Joyfully, Chet grabbed the first assailant by the hair and hammered a few blows into his broken nose before wiping his bloody hands on his pants, grabbing his satchel and making a hasty exit.
As they headed for the Information Booth to inquire about the train schedule, he told Karen about the attack.
"This doesn't make sense... first you're attacked in your hotel room, then the airplane crash, now this." She stared at him cautiously. "That makes three, Chet... and you know what they say about that."
"Christ, I'm not a foreign agent, I'm just another schlep cameraman, that's what bothers me. If I had footage on the Strait of Hormuz, I could understand the attack... but I have nothing."
Karen shook her head tragically. "You have one messed up face, my dear, that you have."
Chapter Two
The train to Karbala was far more crowded than either of the Americans expected. Parties of anxious faced would-be plane travelers who, after watching one plane blow up into a fiery cloud, decided the ground would be far safer, made a mad scramble for an empty car compartment, but Chet's awesomely bruised face frightened the pushers aside and they slipped inside, closed the door, and relaxed.
"Jesus, at last," sighed Chet, staring out the train window. From his vest pocket, he hauled out a bottle of bourbon purchased at the train depot and unscrewed the cap. He took a long sip and passed it to Karen.
"That's just what I need... more booze," she quipped undoing the buttons to her tight vest and relaxing back in the seat facing Chet.
Chet winked a purple eye at her. "More booze and a bit of sex'll make a man forget about his woes anytime. Come here... why are you sitting over there? I haven't felt that hot body since JFK last week."
With a flirtatious flip of the hand, she pooched out her succulent lips that had touched the rim of many a shot glass that day, and slipped down beside him. His strong length felt fantastic, his hand cupping her shoulder and pressing her cheek to his chest.
"Mmmm," she cooed. "I will have another sip... does wonders for the nerves." Behind fluttering eyelids, the fiery ball that once was a jet flickered like a re-run videotape.
"Forget about that and let's enjoy ourselves, relax, kick off your shoes," he cajoled in a lusty voice.
Karen had no objections until the glass door slid open and a voluptuous Lebanese woman poked her head inside. Chet sucked in his breath at the beauty dressed in an airline stewardess' uniform. She was tall, with a succulent set of lips the color of ripe raspberries, and wide set, thrusting breasts that gave an hourglass shape to her body, thanks to the belt cinched tightly about her waist.
Those sloe eyes traveled from Chet's handsome Nordic looks to Karen's Irish beauty. "Excuse me," she said with a French accent, "may I share the compartment with you?" She glanced over her shoulder and shrugged helplessly, then gesticulated with her hand as only the French can. "The rest of the train is filled."
Karen let out a tiny sigh of resignation at Chet's generosity. "Of course, help yourself. Move the luggage if you like."
As the airline stewardess lifted her luggage from where she'd let it rest on the seat beside Karen, the back of her hand brushed more than once against the smooth curve of the voluptuous filmmaker's breasts.
"I am a stewardess on the Baghdad flight, but our flight was cancelled because of the crash. Now I must find my way by train to Karbala and then on to Baghdad." She heaved a tired sigh. "So many problems in this part of the world."
"Ain't that the truth," muttered Chet under his breath, giving Karen a squeeze.
The airbrakes released with a wheezing sound and the train lurked forward heading southeast for Karbala. Some miles outside of Beirut, heading for Damascus, the sun began its westward journey, splashing orange ripples over the sand, reflecting as if on water. The eerie almost neon light splayed over the lovely Lebanese stewardess' gorgeous face... a fact of appreciation which Chet didn't ignore.
Later, after the sun was down and they'd consumed sandwiches from the vendor who'd wormed his way from one car to the next with his cart of cold foods and Lebanese beer, Chet switched off the light above the window and settled Karen in the crook of his arm. She nestled her head on his shoulder kittenishly. "Mmm..." she breathed. "I'm so drunk, Chet, and it feels so good!"
The filmmaker's hand was cupped around the bulge of Karen's breast slipping beneath the gabardine vest to rustle in the emerald silk. "Me too!" he grinned. "Jesus, it feels good touching you."
The pressure of his warm palm increased against the weight of her melonous flesh, and his thumb made rotating circles around the bud of her nipple where it spiked out under the silk.
"Chet!" she hissed. "Remember we have company!"
"She likes you," he whispered hotly in her ear.
In the dark, Karen blushed. "Shhh..."
"She's asleep... don't worry."
Despite protestations, Karen's hand, lying along the top of his muscular thigh, began a warm, squeezing motion. One of her slender red-tipped fingers started to make tiny circles, caressing the tightly-stretched gabardine. With the heel of her hand, she felt a sudden pressure as his long thick penis, trapped between the cloth and his flesh, began to jerk into hardness.
Chet was breathing heavily. Reaching across his free hand, he pulled aside the stiff fabric of her vest and slipped it off her arms. Now he could touch the smooth curve of her lushly ripened breast behind the silk cup so warm to his touch. Gently, he stroked his palm up and down across the fleshiness of her now erect nipple, bringing soft mewls of pleasure from her laxly parted lips.
The heel of her hand on his thigh began a rhythmic gyrating motion, rolling the hardness of his penis from side to side under the material of his pants as the fingers increased the tempo of their caresses. Chet's long, thick cock stiffened into a rubbery rigidity, throbbing beneath Karen's drunken, lust-provoking caresses. A dime-sized spot of seminal fluid stained the light beige of his pants.
Chet's arm around her waist tightened, thrusting up his palm to shove the ripely swelling mound of her breast harder against the exploring fingers inside Karen's blouse. His exploring hand found the cleft of softly trembling flesh between the twin cups of her brassiere, played there for a moment, and snuck under the taut strap to slide tantalizingly down inside the satiny cup of her brassiere and fondle the warm, velvety skin inside.
Karen gasped as he rolled and tweaked the rubbery bud of her strawberry nipple between his strong fingers, sending maddening charges of indecent sensation charging through her aroused young body. Her breath quickened, her chest began to rise and fall, and her luscious mouth dropped open. Her own fingers started rolling over the hard bulge of his massively pulsating penis outlined in bold relief, its mushroomed head seeping damply.
"Ohhh, Karen..." Chet groaned in her ear. "Jesus, what you do to me!"
Bending his head, he pressed his warm lips over her wetly parted ones and slipped his wet tongue between her lips.
Karen's breath exhaled hotly from her flaring nostrils and her body convulsed in a sigh of appreciation. The terrifying events of one day in the Middle East was beginning to fade from the reassuring warmth of Chet's body. Ecstatically, she squirmed against the seat, her veins on fire with dancing demons centering in the heart of her womb.
Sensing her drunken, agreeable state, Chet guided her hand to the vee of his loins, helped her tiny fingers unzip his pants, and aided, too, in pulling out the stiff tube of his penis. He wrapped her tiny fist around his eagerly throbbing cock.
As her fingers closed around the muscled staff, Chet groaned deep in his throat and smashed his mouth down harder on her trembling wet lips. She jerked his hotly throbbing penis free of the flap and mewled with delight as it sprang quiveringly erect into the air and stood up from the fly like a heavy blunt stalk.
He helped her at first, gradually milking his long thickness, his large hand clamped over her small one. The loose foreskin moved up and down the shaft as his tongue probed ever deeper towards her throat and the maddening touch of his fingers on her nipple sent shocks of desire tingling through her belly.
Karen, this isn't like you, she berated herself. But I'm so damned drunk... and it feels so good to be touched! Shamefully, she realized she was drenched up between her legs. The moist nylon of her panties was cool against her throbbing cuntal lips as her thighs involuntarily parted and the cool, desert air played over her secret flesh.
The seclusion, the loneliness of traveling in a foreign, war-torn land... was that the reason for this abandonment, she cogitated drunkenly. With a smothered groan of lust, she pulled her mouth free of Chet's warm lips and compliantly bent her head under Chet's urgent nudge. Now her flamed cheeks were posed just above the wetly glistening head of his lustfully pulsating cock. He could feel the hot caress of her breath blowing against the sensitive tip.
The American filmmaker sucked in his breath as a tingle of lewd delight flamed through his body towards his loins. The trembling redhead's mouth was a lick away from his eagerly pulsing penis, now gleaming whitely along its rigid length. A thread of saliva dribbled down from Karen's slack lips to mingle with the seeping fluid oozing in pearly drops from the slit in its bulbous head as she took her hand from the shaft and felt for his testicles. She meant only to tickle and tease, but Chet, sucking in his breath, clamped his hand over hers and urged her fingers to squeeze and explore.
Chet gritted his teeth as the girl's fingers fell into a rhythm of their own. She kneaded his sperm-bloated glands until he panted with desire. His chest heaved up and down and his head was thrown back against the headrest of the train seat. He felt her other hand reach for his cock and guide it toward her ovaled lips... and then he gasped and thrust his loins involuntarily as the warm moistness of her open lips closed tight as a rubber band over the throbbing mushroomed head.
Put a woman in a foreign land, and by God what she won't do. Maybe it's the Arabic influence, thought Chet in a haze of lust. This was a first!
His lungs were bursting with excitement that ricocheted through every trembling nerve in his body as she slowly lowered her head, taking almost half of his cock into her wetly heated mouth while her tongue licked kittenishly against the lust swollen cock head. He jerked his own head forward and stared down at the glossy red hair tumbling about her shoulders. God, if only he had her alone in bed... what he wouldn't do to her!
His heart pumped dangerously in his chest as Karen pulled the foreskin back as far as it would go, tightening the flesh of his penis until it felt as though the head would burst. Her hot lips were sucking now at the inflated tip, and her tongue began to flicker around the glistening shaft. Keeping the skin pulled back to show off the naked head, she started bobbing her head experimentally up and down, at the same time twirling her tongue around the moist stickiness of the blood-swollen tip.
Chet let himself go as far as he could. Leaning back, he smiled mesmerically down at the profile view of her lust-contorted face with the thickness of his cock stuffed between her sucking lips. Excitement charged through him as he watched his wetly glistening penis fucking rhythmically in and out of her ovaled mouth in time with his flexing hips. The sight was too damned erotic to let him sit still. His pelvis tensed and jerked up into the slavering face of his assistant until he thought she might gag. With each hard thrust, more and more of his thick hardness disappeared until finally only a quarter of an inch showed in the dim light as they passed a small oil refinery somewhere in the desert.
For being a neophyte at cocksucking, thought Chet with a lusty chuckle, she's got the practice down! Her tongue was making his cock head throb and jerk as though a second heart were beating within. Hypnotized, he watched as her fleshy lips pulled out grotesquely, clinging to the hard shaft as she sucked hungrily, her mind and concentration drunkenly centered on her lewdly thrilling workout!
Easing out his hand from under her blouse where her breasts were squashed against his knee, he tangled his fingers in her wealth of silken hair and guided her greedily clasping lips up and down the hot throbbing length of his fleshy stalk with dominant power. God, if only that Lebanese airline stewardess weren't sitting there, he'd shove his cock up her pussy so far it would come out her throat! Jesus, he'd love to pump his sperm into her belly. Closing his eyes, he groaned in anticipation and ecstasy.
Neither had seen the wide sloe eyes glinting across from them. "What a pleasant way to while away the time on this boring train!" The voice came directly across from them. Chet's eyes flew open to stare into the amused gaze of their travel companion. In a hush of clothing, the stewardess sat forward in her seat, her full lower lip shining wetly and her wide black eyes glinted in covetousness.
Instantly, scorching with humiliation, Karen jerked her head away from Chet's cock at the sound of the silken voice. Her open mouth glistened with saliva and seminal fluid as she stared up at the hawkeyed stewardess. Absentmindedly, she grasped the rigidly pulsing penis. "Oh, dear God... I'm so sorry," she whispered in humiliation and guilt.
Chet cleared his throat and froze, hating to stuff his stiffened penis back into his pants when he was so darned close to cumming... and with Karbala so far away too!
A throaty chuckle broke from the stewardess' French-accented lips. "Don't let me stop you," she whispered warmly. "Perhaps we could all..."
Chet heaved a titillated sigh and regained his poise. "Move over, honey... and let the lady sit down."
"Oh, Gawd, Chet, what are you talking about?" barked Karen. "Aren't you satisfied with one woman?"
Then Karen's head flew around when a warm hand descended upon her arm. She raised her head too quickly and dizziness set in. She counted four gorgeously snapping eyes boring into her soul.
"We can all three enjoy ourselves, don't worry. I won't touch your boyfriend."
"You mean?" Karen protested, but the stewardess awaited no further protest and dropped to the floor of the train on her haunches. "You see, we foreigners design for sheer enjoyment!"
Deftly, she swung Karen's ankles up onto the six foot long train seat so that the drunken, puzzled redhead found herself lying full length along the seat with her head in Chet's lap and her burning cheek resting against the gleaming hardness of his cock.
Chet Bentley grinned a hot blooded American male grin. Catching onto the idea (having spent plenty of time in Da Nang brothels) he shifted positions so that his weight was on one hip and his penis now jutted horizontally from his gaping fly, a dead target for her wetly parted lips.
Karen's mind was a whirlpool of indecision. She knew it was horribly obscene to involve another woman in their lovemaking... perverted, immoral, indecent, a hundred objections flitted through her mind, but beside it flickered the rational that this was a foreign country and what happened here was somehow disjointed with the American life of Karen O'Malley.
Chet could always stop it if something bad happened, she reasoned, not wanting to rebuke him after all the horrible things that had happened to him in the past twenty-four hours. Anyway, she needn't enjoy it... and it was for him. Yet flickers of strangely aroused desire danced through her loins. This one time... for Chet.
Karen gasped and whole body convulsed as the stewardess reached deftly up under her skirt and yanked down her white panties in one practiced gesture.
Karen's mouth flew open so that her head was resting on the seat and her lips brushed against the wet, velvety tip of Chet's penis! Her lips parted compliantly, and before she knew what she was doing, she'd raised a hand to guide the thick stalk of meat back between her parted lips.
Down on her knees, the salaciously erotic Lebanese-born stewardess licked her lips at the sight of the curling pussy hairs foresting Karen's trembling loins. She placed the palms of her warm hands against the girl's trembling inner thighs and spread them gently apart as far as the panties pulled down to her ankles would allow.
Karen shivered and groaned as the pole of flesh invading her mouth made her a slave to the intolerable tremors of anticipation threatening her wetly throbbing cunt. Hesitations and doubts blew like desert sands. Her nipples hardened against the satin of her brassiere as she abandoned herself to a whirlwind of indecent pleasure that whirred in her alcohol-hazed mind.
Gently running her polished fingertips along the tender inner flesh of Karen's thighs, the stewardess placed her thumbs on the pulsating lips of the squirming girl's pussy as she feasted her eyes on the moistly gleaming pink slit nestling in its furrow of damp hair. Then, spreading the vaginal lips with a teasing pressure of her thumbs, she lowered her face towards the silken, glistening cuntal flesh a lick away.
Karen moaned again and sucked more furiously on Chet's cock, bringing up one hand to seize the thick base of the shaft and pull the throbbing stalk of flesh harder into her lust contorted face. The wildly aroused filmmaker snaked his hands beneath her arched back to unsnap the hook of her brassiere and then began frenziedly to caress her naked breasts, squeezing and tweaking the sensitive flesh as the two full mounts with their strawberry nipples sprang quiveringly free. Below, the kneeling stewardess muttered an obscene moan and flickered her tongue deep into the hot, velvety depths of Karen's splayed cunt.
The young redhead jerked and quivered as she felt the tantalizing wetness of the hot, quivering tongue spear into her tight little vagina, and she ground her naked buttocks into the tweed train seat as she began a frenzied milking movement with her fingers along the base of Chet's cock.
Panting lustfully, the stewardess licked gently at the swollen pink bud of Karen's clitoris, snuggled in the warm fuzz of her pubic curls at the entrance to her pussy, pressing her thumbs further apart to gape at the naked, wet slit. Her tongue traced a lusty path between the layers of succulent flesh, surrounding the moist hidden crevices up between the girl's softly trembling thighs.
Unannounced, the kneeling Lebanese woman raised her head and grasped the underside of Karen's thighs and pushed them up, so that her legs, linked together by the wide stretched panties, rose high into the air and the whole flat plane of her genitals was exposed to her sloe-eyes.
With a groan of appreciation, the dark head sank down again... and the ravishing tongue darted into the wet pink flesh of Karen's tight cunt. From this position, she could penetrate further, and soon, with her own lips clamped lasciviously to the swollen folds of the writhing redhead's vagina, her tongue could stab far up into the deliciously pungent depths of Karen's secret flesh.
Karen's body almost jackknifed from the erotic contact of the tongue spearing so far up into her trembling belly. A choked cry burst from her wildly sucking mouth, her fingers fell from Chet's cock, and then her loins began a slow, eager grind against the Lebanese's face.
And she lapped voraciously at the redhead's cunt. She thrust her hands between her raised and spread thighs tangled her fingers in the strawberry curls between Karen's thighs. Groaning ecstatically from the mouthful of Chet's thick cock, Karen locked her calves behind the stewardess's neck and pulled the hotly sucking mouth harder still against her seething cunt, trapping the stewardess' face between her thighs.
Under the monotonous grind of the train's southbound wheels, the obscenely wetly sucking sounds filled the compartment's air as Karen sucked more frenziedly on the filmmaker's penis and the stewardess lapped kittenishly at her gyrating cunt.
And Karen was out of her mind with desire, rolling on the seat in a fit of eroticism while the desert stars shone in diamond chips outside the train window. She thrust her quivering breasts hard up against Chet's mauling fingers as her mouth slid frantically up and down the saliva-coated shaft of his throbbing penis and her thighs tightened around the black head plundering her loins. Shudders of forbidden pleasure raged in her belly with fiery urgency. Nothing mattered now-not the attack on Chet's life, not the airline crash-nothing, but the shafts of piercing delight warring within her body. The torturous agony of the wonderful swirling sensations rippling over every inch of her naked body was her sole universe. She writhed and bucked, twisted and groaned under the Lebanese's expert oral fucking, making her suck harder on the bloated head of Chet's hard cock, her cheeks hollowing with effort as though she would draw out the last drop of blood from his body.
As her fingers tangled tightly in the stewardess' hair, the kneeling stewardess slid her arms under Karen's naked hips and slunk her hands up and over the trembling white flatness of the redhead's belly, so that the cuntal lips were pulled tight against her hungering mouth.
Karen was at the point of utter subjugation to the foreign lesbian lover. Her back arched convulsively off the seat as her hips began to shudder in involuntary spasms. At the same time, Chet dropped his head back against the cushioned head rest and let the sensations boiling through his own loins take charge. "Go on, go on, baby!" he hissed through set teeth. "Suck harder... it's... it's... faster!"
Chet could feel it build in his balls. The pressure mounted like the squeeze of a handcuff. His wildly pulsing cock felt like a balloon being inflated with cum!
He thrust his hips up against Karen's face, ignoring her protesting mumble as he worked for the final lease of the unbearable tension building, forever building, and then, every nerve in his body drain away to his genitals and he felt the white hot current surge deep in his balls and race the length of his wetly plunging shaft of flesh. He gave a strangled cry and his teeth showed white in the gloom of the night as his lips writhed back in a sneer of ecstasy.
His hips arched away from the seat back and his penis began a mad staccato jerking that flooded Karen's sucking mouth with gushes of scalding sperm, bloating her cheeks until she swallowed to keep from choking, mewling and crooning through gagged lips at pumping loins.
"Don't stop! Don't stop... suck... suck!" he gasped, ramming his madly jerking cock deeper into her throat as his hands kneaded the quivering mounds of her naked breasts. Karen sucked as he spewed his white hot cum deep into her throat, and then, with a
dying groan, he emptied the last dregs between her lips and fell against the seat, a satisfied man.
At the first acrid taste of Chet's hot sperm jetting against the back of her tender throat, Karen sensed own orgasm building deep within her tongued belly. As she swallowed, the climax became a flood, a wave of sensation carrying her along on a crest, breaking in the center of her being and sending her spiraling up amongst the stars. With a throaty cry, she wrenched her cum-smeared lips away from Chet's deflating penis as her head flailed from side to side on his lap in swirls of shimmering red.
"Aaaggghhh! Oh God, oh God, I'm cccuummmming!"
Her thighs tightened around the kneeling stewardess' ears as her cuntal juices seethed from her tongue plundered pussy to stream down the trembling crevice between her naked ass cheeks and flood the slavering chin of the frantically sucking stewardess.
Insanely excited by the effect of her depraved attack on the redhead American's genitals, the stewardess dropped one hand to haul up her skirt and finger fuck herself in time with Karen's thrusting loins. Out of her mind with desire at the sluicing sounds of the twin orgasms echoing from the seat above her, she clawed furiously at her own wetly throbbing cunt until after a few seconds, her fingers thrust savagely under the elastic legband of her panties to massage the blood engorged bulb of her clitoris.
In seconds she, too, was twisting and groaning in climax, all the while her lips remained fastened, sucking voraciously at the sweet quivering flesh of Karen's cunt.
At last it ended. The kneeling stewardess lowered the upthrust legs gently to the seat and lay her shimmering black head against Karen's damp thighs. Karen, too, muttered a deep contented sigh and subsided against Chet's hips. Later, when the fear and strangeness of the day had dissipated, self-disgust and shame set in. But for the moment, after this harrowing, confusing day, she was happy to relax.
"I must leave now... we are almost to Damascus," breathed the Lebanese stewardess, straightening her skirt and hauling her luggage from the rack above the seat. "From there I fly to Baghdad."
Then she was gone through the sliding door of the quiet train compartment, punctuated by Chet's snores.
Chapter Three
"What do you mean the train tracks have been blown up?" barked Chet at the Jordanian train conductor. "What does that mean?"
"In the Middle East," explained the swarthy, chisel-faced conductor, "one must be prepared for inconveniences of all kinds. We believe it is the work of Iranian terrorists, since Jordanians, as you Americans know," he put in with bushy, arched eyebrows, "are on the side of Iraq."
"A lot of good that does us," mumbled Karen, then tutting with a sigh.
The hour approached sunrise. Outside their window a hint of pink streamed in elegant ribbons over the wind-rippled sand with steely fingers poking into the arid waste. Neither had slept well in the train compartment and irritability from repetitious delays shortened her Irish temper.
"That means we're stuck here out in the middle of the desert until they fix the tracks, is that right?" she snapped at the chocolate-eyed conductor who nodded affirmatively in a slump shouldered bow.
"That's just great!" Karen stared up at Chet as if this inconvenience were his fault.
Chet took one look at the tired emerald eyes, pleading for a decent night's sleep and, taking the conductor by the elbow, pivoted him into outside the compartment. He drew a handful of assorted Lebanese, Jordanian and Syrian coins out of his pocket and shoved them into the conductor's fist. "You think you might find us a sleeper?"
The conductor balked.
"Karen and I need time alone," he insinuated, offering the conductor one of those; you-should-understand-because-you're-a-man smiles. "You see, I picked up this French lace lingerie for her in Milady's in Beirut, and I want to make it a special occasion."
"French panties... lace, ah ha... I see." the conductor said smiling knowingly. He scratched his chin, the muscles in his jaws meshing. Rattling the coins into his pocket he cross his arms over his uniformed chest and shifted his weight. "No wonder she is cranky, she needs to be loved a bit. You are a lucky man, she is quite beautiful, and obviously passionate as well. However, I suggest, you Americans do not lock your sleeper which I have agreed to find for you." He spread his hands. "In case of attack..."
* * * * *
As Chet threw the luggage up onto the top bunk in their air-tight sleeper keeping the satchel below, something struck him as weird. The conductor didn't have a Lebanese accent like the airline stewardess, or come to think of it, like any other service people at the train depot or airport. He sounded more Arabic than... Don't let your paranoia run away with you, Bentley. You need rest to clear your head...
Karen kicked off her shoes and peeled off her suit and blouse, until she lay on her back staring up at the bedsprings of the bunk above them. Cascades of flaming red hair, tussled and unbrushed, tumbled about her naked, creamy shoulders. Her eyes followed Chet's deft fingers as, standing with head bent to avoid collision with the six foot ceiling, he stripped naked.
"I'm getting tired of feeling like a hostage in a war zone, Chet."
"Don't think about it," he appealed, getting down to his knees to crawl in beside her. "When you're in a better mood, I have a surprise for you."
Her eyes saucered. "That was a heck of a surprise last night..." She blushed, hoping lovemaking with Chet would dispel the recriminations she had suffered ever since the outrageous scene with the Lebanese stewardess. Yet, she had to admit that the experience taught her that her own sexual inclinations were a little less normal than she'd realized! Chalking it up to Arabic influence and foreign travel, she decided not to think about it. Things had a way of working themselves out, and circumstances have a way of helping, too.
He interpreted the stress in her voice. "Think some old fashioned lovemaking would cure your guilt?" Facing her, the voluptuous redhead suddenly drew in her breath as she felt his finger come into contact with her nearly naked flesh as she lay in her black satin brassiere and panties to match.
An electrifying shock charged through her body as she felt him stroke gently towards the top of her thighs. A moment later, he raised himself up on one elbow and with the palm of his warm hand, cupped the full mound of one swelling breast.
"Let's take that off," he breathed.
"Again? In this heat?"
Removing his fingers from her warm thigh, he guided one of her tiny hands towards his loins. She felt the hard rubbery head of his cock nosing against her skin. As the hotly throbbing shaft grazed rigidly into her palm, she gasped and muttered a protest. "Really, Chet... so soon after?"
Karen's squeal of protest changed to a moan of pleasure as he stripped off the warmth of her brassiere and panties and kissed her on the lips. He moved the palm of his hand over the shifting mounds of her firm young breasts, teasing the nipples so that the tender bud of flesh hardened and stood up stiffly erect under his rotating caress.
Releasing her hand, he stroked her thigh again, feeling the nudity quiver under his touch. Karen mewled with delight as the tip of his outstretched middle finger found the narrow, swollen slit of her vagina, hesitated, and then gently thrust into the wetly throbbing flesh. Her hips arched up from the mattress as his probing finger parted her softly curling red pussy hairs and made tantalizing contact with the quivering button of her clitoris.
The tiny shaft of flesh was already wet and slippery from the unexpected desire of lying naked with the man she loved. She sucked in her breath to hold back the groan of helpless ecstasy she felt building deep in her rapidly rising and falling chest.
Chet shifted the hand on her breast to give its twin equal attention, and his other massaged the hairy length of her desire-soaked vaginal furrow. Maddeningly, he stroked the wetly throbbing inner lips of her tight young cunt, circling his middle finger around the swelling head of her clitoris as she squirmed and writhed on the cool sheet on the bunk bed.
"Feel me, touch me," he breathed.
It was a request she couldn't deny. Her own fingers clasped around the hardened shaft of his penis, rolling the loose sheath of the foreskin up and down the massively rigid pole of masculinity
He smiled at her, his pearly teeth making striking contrast to the ruddy tan of his cheeks from a week of Beirut sunshine. His bruises had healed astonishingly overnight; the swelling had gone down.
"God, you know how to turn me on!" he panted. "Oh, my dear Karen."
Staring at her with passion-widened eyes, he eased his hips across her pelvis so that her fingers and the hot stalk of his cock were trapped between her warm thighs.
His penis felt enormous, and it was! Her slender fingers could just reach around the sinewy hardness of the blood-engorged shaft. The bulbous head was squashed wetly in her clenched palm, seeping its seminal juices between her fingers to guide a sticky path across her softly trembling belly. As he'd taught her to do, she smoothed the lubricating juice around the penis, rubbing it into the folds of his foreskin so that it was slick and ready. Chet was a good teacher when it came to lovemaking.
Chet groaned in lusty desire and smashed his mouth down on her wetly parted lips to plunge his tongue deep into Karen's throat. Forcing his hands between her shoulders and the mattress, he ran them over the soft curves of her back and hips, feeling the raised ripple of her spine as she undulated her perspiration sheened body up against him in a hypnotic motion. Her legs pulled apart, her soft thighs spread of their own volition and he sank down between them, the tautness of her tendons hard against the outside of his hips. He knew how great they'd feel later when he'd buried the domineering hardness of his cock deep up into that quivering little belly.
The American filmmaker panted hoarsely and shoved his sweat-warmed hands further down beneath her, cupping the firm fullness of her buttocks in his palms and pulling her hotly open loins up tighter against him. Slowly, he began to move up and down, sliding his lubricated shaft in and out of her feverishly clutching fingers, feeling it grow hotter and harder and wetter with every thrust of his strong loins. The claustrophobic hotness of the train's sleeper, rivers of perspiration coursed down the crinkled skin of his testicles to mingle with the dampness seeping from her wetly gaping cunt.
The erotically aroused redhead moved her ass cheeks in urgent circles, grinding her cock hungry little pussy up against Chet's thighs. Guiding her motions with the dominance of a male lover, she snaked her legs wide on either side of him, and locked him to her. Her heels hooked over the backs of his knees and her calves, sweating from the humid Jordanian air, pinioned his shuddering thighs and pulled him tighter to her.
"Ohhh, Chet..." she gasped into his open mouth, her eyes tightly shut and her pelvis writhing uncontrollably beneath his weight.
Moaning with desire, Chet began to shift his hips, dragging a warm hand out from under her quivering ass cheeks to reach for his hotly throbbing penis. But the girl was too quick for him, and she pulled the slippery shaft of hardened flesh across her belly, rolling his thick penis toward her pussy. Their sticky fingers met around the rock-hard pole of flesh, sending waves of shivering excitement through each of them as together they guided the hot pulsating head between the fevered lips of her passionately trembling cunt.
Chet panted wildly as she slid his penis up and down between her legs, teasing it damply against the crinkly hairs of her pussy, forcing the blood engorged pole of flesh into greater hardness until it ached intolerably from the agonizing pressure within the veins. Reaching down with her other hand, she used her thumb and forefinger to spread her vaginal lips apart.
The feel of her tight, young pussy opening for the head of his cock, brought a deep animalish groan from Chet's lips. Who could hold back with a cock tease like this hot redhead! Ramming his hips down with a cruel thrust, he drove the thick bursting tip of his cock into the gaping mouth of Karen's trembling cunt with a flesh splitting surge.
"Aaaagghh!" whimpered Karen beneath him as he felt the warm sheath of her cunt slide wetly over his lust-hardened thickness.
"Ohhh!"
He rammed in as deep as he could go, tearing another moan from her parted lips, louder and with more feeling this time. "OOOHH-AAAHHH!"
Chet levered himself up on his hands to gain more power, then thrust again. His relentlessly boring rod of searing hot flesh forced its way another inch into her warmly clasping cuntal hole.
"Ohhh!"
And another inch deeper.
"Aaagghhh!"
He bored into her wetly seeping folds deeper still. Then he stopped, feeling his sensitive cock head bang against the spongy tip of her cervix. It felt tight and hot, aching the full length of his rigidly pulsating shaft her cuntal lubrications eased the way, and now his cock head was firmly jarred against her cervix as his heavy, sperm-bloated testicles slapped wetly into the wide split crevice between her ass cheeks.
Karen's lips parted in a low animal cry. She was pinned to the bunk bed mattress, unable to move. The muscular filmmaker lay still for a moment with his long hard penis embedded to the hilt in her moistly clasping vagina, waiting for the shock of his brutal entry to subside into a warm glow of eroticism. Far up in the trembling girl's belly, he flexed the inflated head until Karen groaned, her teeth clenching between passion-drawn lips. He flexed the head again... and she groaned. It turned to a mewl of desire as her hot passage expanded to clasp the pulsing length of male flesh within.
Then Chet began a slow revolving motion of his pelvis, grinding his massive hardness tightly into her naked loins, expanding the caressing walls of her vagina until her moist cunt fitted his pulsating shaft like a glove. Karen squirmed from side to side as she strained under his weight, arching up her hips to lift them both off the bed. Crooning with desire under his pounding body, the lust-inflamed redhead began to open and close her legs scissor-like around him as she thrust upwards to meet him on each spearing plunge.
Her mouth gaped wide. Her red hair flung from side to side on the white sheet warmed with their damp perspiration. As Chet drove his penis rhythmically into the hot wetness of her pussy, a stream of warm moisture ran down the widespread crevice between her legs to saturate his fingers where he felt his own hard rod of flesh sawing away into the hairy lips of her tight young cunt.
He massaged the warm softness of her buttocks, and felt his cock growing hard inside her clasping little cuntal hole until he was sure it would burst from the exquisite milking pressure of her caressing cuntal walls. His balls slapped wetly against her nakedly rotating ass cheeks below. It wouldn't be long now, he knew, hearing the blood sing in his ears. Christ, he hoped she was ready to cum too... nothing as embarrassing as leaving a woman hanging on the edge of orgasm!
He rammed his penis into her with long, hard strokes, striving to excite her to that peak of climax. Their sweating, undulating bodies streamed with sweat as they ground frantically against one another. Her swelling breasts scraped voluptuously against the matted hair of his pounding chest. Their bellies slapped lewdly together in the damp heat of the room. Their thighs glided over one another as easily as the greased shaft of his cock plunged into her cunt.
Chet could tell Karen was broaching the precipice of orgasm. She gripped him frantically with her ankles and knees, opening and closing around him in time with his surging thrusts into her hotly palpitating pussy. Beneath him, she gurgled and mewled, hissed and drooled. He knew it couldn't be long now... with that hope, he plunged into her with merciless speed.
"Aaaahhgghh!" she chanted, spurring him on with pounding heels riding high on his muscular back. She jack-knifed her legs up towards her shoulders, pulling her knees back savagely to offer him the widest possible opening of her loins. Her body was steaming with desire. She clasped him with the backs of her calves, winding her tapered legs around his nakedly pumping buttocks as her eyes rolled uncontrollably in her head. Her ankles locked together above his hips as she ground her ravenous cunt up and down his pulsating shaft as it fucked into her with maddening power.
Her face contorted with lust as she strained for the final explosion that would set her free of this maddening lust! So close, so close. Almost.
And then...
The friction of her moist elastic cuntal walls sucking at his throbbing cock did it for Chet! An irresistible flood of feeling built up in the nerve ends deep in his sperm filled balls and surged relentlessly outwards... a wave of white hot passion broke within his body and pounded in his ears.
He hoped to God the force of his climax would make Karen cum too! Shuddering, he gasped. His mouth clamped voraciously down on hers and then he uttered a groan that swelled to a cry of victory as his lust-hardened cock jerked uncontrollably and spewed hot sperm far up into her wildly clasping pussy. She felt it gush against her cervix in torrents, forcing her closer to orgasm with each scalding spurt... and as he had hoped, the fury of his climax triggered off Karen's.
Wrenching her lips away from his, she opened her mouth and screamed so loud Chet had to silence her cries with a kiss. Her naked heels drummed in a furious tattoo on his pumping ass cheeks, pounding at his sweating flesh as she sobbed her ecstasy into his mouth. She squeezed the cheeks of her buttocks up against his now deflating penis to trap it within her. Her seething belly ground frantically against his tense loins. For both of them it was a timeless moment of space and time... there was no train stuck in a desert, no war over the Persian Gulf, no attacks, no worries.
When it was over, Chet expired a sigh and collapsed limply between Karen's lowered thighs, his softening cock slipping wetly from her well-fucked pussy with a lewd sucking sound. His lips nibbled gently at the soft skin of her warm neck, dipping under the curls of her red hair. He closed his eyes, giving himself into the feeling.
In the airtight compartment, Karen lay quietly on the narrow bed, listening to his breathing and feeling the slowing of her own pulse. Drowsy and contented, she felt calm and completed. Tenderly, she kissed Chet on the forehead and cuddled into his shoulder. A trickle of tension returned to haunt her for a fleeting moment. When would the train move again? To where... how far had the war spread since she'd left the States such a short time ago? The attacks on Chet, by whom and why?
She nudged him with her shoulder, a smile growing over her lips. Had he forgotten about the surprise?
Tiredly, she glanced about the stuffy room, her eyes falling upon the door. Karen blinked, panic racing like ice water in her veins.
"CHET! Somebody's coming through the door!" she screamed wildly.
She jabbed Chet desperately. The door flew open and a lean figure with a black hatchetman's mask over his head and a gleaming knife in his hand leapt into the sleeper car.
Chet was exhausted... but he was sober and his mind snapped back to alertness. In the split second before Karen had screamed, he had sensed the stiffening of her muscles, heard the sudden intake of breath and flicked his eye sideways to see the door opening. By the time Karen's cry had burst into the silence of the steaming hot room, his brain had already telegraphed a warning to his muscles and nerve ends. That Special Forces training again.
As the Marines had taught him in hand-to-hand combat, he didn't try to roll away from the assailant, he went for him.
Like a bedspring, his steely body uncoiled; wrapping his arms around Karen's shoulders, he rolled over her and forced her to the inside next to the wall.
The attacker hurled himself onto the bed just as Chet rolled under him onto the floor and Karen scrambled nakedly to the foot of the bed and crawled beneath. The knife blade plunged into the mattress still-warm from their lovemaking, where Karen and Chet had been lying two seconds before. The black hooded mask reduced the attacker's peripheral vision to his disadvantage and, by the time he'd retrieved his knife from the ripped mattress, Chet had time to plan action.
Scrambling onto the top bunk bed, Chet tore the sheet from the creaking bedspring. Whoosh! The cold steel blade jabbed at his naked belly; Chet whirled to one side, twisting away from the murderous steel and slammed the edge of his hand brutally down on the intruder's forearm in a swift karate chop.
Grumbling in pain, the knife man clapped his free hand to the injured arm and thrust a second time, this time grazing Chet's upper arm. But Chet was ready this time. As the assassin drew back for another lunge, Chet tossed the wadded up sheet over the man's head.
Beneath the lower bunk, Karen's lush young body trembled in terror. She heard the clang of the knife hitting the metal edge of the creaking bunk, heard the grunts of pain and raised her hand to her mouth in pure terror.
Chet's arm seared with pain. Blood dribbled onto his chest, his belly and splattered on the walls. The sight of his own blood enraged him. As the assailant tearing at the sheet, pulled off the black hood and charged again, Chet recognized him as the conductor.
"Dirty sonofabitch," grumbled the American, grabbing the Halliburton steel case housing his movie camera and flinging it with all his strength at the man crawling up onto the upper bunt, knife dripping with Chet's blood clutched in his fist. Automatically, the assailant's arms flew up to protect his head from the heavy case, but the weighty steel and its contents knocked him backwards over the edge of the bunk.
That's when Chet took a nosedive off the top bunk His lips thinned in a snarl of fury and his eyes blazed with rage. Chet's shoulder caught the man on the thighs and knocked him off balance so that the knife swung in the air above Chet's head, then tumbled to the floor. For a moment the two of them tangled in a hydra of arms and legs in the cramped space legs kicking under the bed where Karen lay cringing Then Chet's strong fingers closed around the assailant's wrist below the knife blade's handle and forced it high above his swarthy face.
Eyeball to eyeball, the American and Middle Eastern conductor glared murderously at each other. Panting lungs burning for air, they locked together in the suggestive position of lovemaking. Gritting his teeth with the effort, Chet pinioned the man's free hand under his arm and used his superior strength to roll over on top. Then, using an old Marine trick in terrorism, he grunted out a murderous growl as every sinew in his body tensed and he tried to bend back the hand grasping the knife and force the assailant to drop his weapon
The sinewy attacker's tendons corded as he strove desperately to fight the pressure of the ex-Marine's powerful grip. Beads of sweat popped out on his swarthy forehead and he showed a gold tooth as he gritted his teeth, struggling to break the American's grip and plunge the blood dripping knife blade into his back. His lips went taut as a wild dog, and his smoky breath hissed up over Chet's handsome features.
Under the bed, Karen let out a cry of helplessness. From her vantage point only Chet's naked hairy legs and the assailant's dark painted ones was all she could see. Biting her lip until it bled, her fists balled up for action, she lunged, propelling herself out from under the bed in attempt to grab the assailant's arm.
But her timing was half a second off. Chet's steely body had spasmed into a tighter grip. The sudden movement behind him caught Chet off guard, as he relaxed his concentration.
That was enough for the assailant. Thrusting a springy foot against the American's ankle, he kicked Chet's leg aside and brought up his other knee to crash into the naked American's testicles.
Chet gritted his teeth in a choked cry of pain. He rolled off the attacker's stomach and let go of the knife blade hand to grasp his balls.
Karen screamed. Down on her haunches above the assailant's head and out of his line of vision, she watched in horror as the assassin rose to his feet and raised the knife high in the air to plunge it into Chet's heart. With adrenalin-powered strength, she picked up the steel Halliburton case and brought it crashing down on the back of the man's head.
The assailant crashed to the floor, the knife fluttering from his hand. He fell face down, his body draped over Chet's spasming thighs.
Chapter Four
Karbala was a far more modern city than Chet had anticipated. King Khalid's putting his petrodollars to work, the American documentary filmmaker thought to himself as his shoes slapped urgently on the hot sidewalk heading for the steps of the American embassy in Karbala Arabesque mosaic architecture blended like fire and water with glass skyscrapers keeping odd company.
He was in search of someone who might enlighten him on the sudden violence in the Middle East and shed some light on the Iranian/Iraqi upheaval. And a few personal issues-like attempts on his life-could use some illumination as well.
The man he sought was an acquaintance from the Special Forces based in Da Nang back in 1975. Colonel Jibsen had been one hell of a Marine, and once a Marine, always a Marine. Chet needed a man like that right now and, luckily for him, Jibsen had found station in the Saudi Arabian branch of the Central Intelligence Agency.
As Bentley's shoes climbed the steps to the embassy, his mind fled to Viet Nam those years back and recalled in particular stout hearted American whose zeal for patriotism was matched only by his muscular structure. Two hundred and thirty pounds of unadulterated beefy muscle, closely cropped hair and bird-like eyes. If the gun he carried didn't scare the pants off indigent American officers whose poor performance was viewed as an embarrassment to the United States and due cause for death by their own countrymen specially trained in high intelligence, the burly sight of him did. That was Jibsen's job: killing lazy Marines who fucked up.
There's trust in distrust, Chet reminded himself, and honor amongst Marines. Jibsen would help for that reason and only that reason.
* * * * *
Jibsen hadn't changed a bit, except for a few extra crowsfeet under his eyes from the searing Karbala sun. His ruddy skin matched his hair in color, making his head look obscenely naked. Robin's egg blue eyes stared at the nervous American filmmaker.
"What the Strait of Hormuz and oil has to do with life, I don't the hell know!" blared Chet across the man's desk. "I've been attacked three times, a plane was sabotaged that should have had me on it, a train track gets blown up in Jordan!" he sighed heavily. "Jordan's not the hell in the war yet!"
"The hell you say," corrected Jibsen. "They're backin' Iraq."
"So what information have the police gotten out of the conductor who tried to put a knife through my heart... huh? What the hell kind of judicial system have they got in this country?"
"You're in a foreign country," rebuked Jibsen, his blue eyes piercing Chet's blazing ones, "...mind your fuckin' manners." His ragged fingernail picked at a piece of meat between his front teeth. "You're American, they're Arabs... they want what you got," he said flatly.
Chet's voice whined in frustration. He spread his hands. "What the hell have I got?" He enumerated the items on his fingers. "A couple pair of underwear, socks, a banged up camera, a coupla shirts and a present for my girl." He drew in a deep breath. "Shit, I
forgot about giving it to her."
"What?" Jibsen cocked his head to the side.
Chet shook his head disgustedly. "It's not important... I bought my girl a little something in Beirut, something I was saving for a surprise and I forgot to give it to her."
"Maybe that's what they're after," suggested Jibsen with renewed enthusiasm.
"A pair of panties and a camisole; the world's in a worse state of affairs than I thought if that's cause for trying to kill somebody!"
"So what do you want me to do about it? This is a big country, Bentley, biggern' Vietnam ever thought about a bein'." He shook his head appreciatively. "Lots a bucks to be made in this part of the world if you got the right connections." He leaned over his desk and grunted, "These fuckin' Arabs'll own the world in a couple of years after they clog up the Persian Gulf. Huh," he snorted, "the stupid shits in the States'll be ridin' bicycles."
Chet failed to see the humor in it. "Who the hell's side you on, anyway? I'm surprised you're not wearing a Khomeini button, for Chrissakes."
"Listen!" Jibsen's coarse features hardened. He levered his meaty palms on the top of his desk and rose off his chair. "The only reason I'm talkin' with you is because you're a Marine. You were a chickenshit in Nam, and you're a chickenshit now... but you're a Marine, so I gotta treat you like one."
"You win," Chet held up his hands. "Maybe I am a chickenshit, but I got this aversion to people trying to kill me. I want to find out who's after me and why, and get some information out of the conductor. He's probably the bastard who blew up the tracks. I've got an assignment to work on, I'm waiting for orders from CBS in New York. I need a bodyguard for Karen. I can't take her to Abadan with me."
Jibsen stiffened. "Abadan... that was bombed yesterday."
"What?"
Jibsen slapped an English newspaper on the desk under Chet's nose. "We're at war, boy. The fuckin' Strait's all clogged up!"
* * * * *
Back in the hotel room, Chet explained the situation to Karen: She would stay in Karbala under Jibsen's auspices and he, unassisted would head for location when word came from Goodfellow to advance. War documentary assignments, he was beginning to understand; weren't a hell of a lot different from being in the Special Forces. Both took guts.
That afternoon the awaited telegram arrived from CBS. CONTACT ABDULLAH IN BASRA. STOP. REPORT BACK UPON ARRIVAL. STOP. HARRY.
"That's it," sighed Chet resignedly, never having appreciated Karen's luscious bumps and curves more in his life. Christ, he hadn't felt this scared since he landed in a rice paddie in Viet Nam up to his knees in muck, leeches chewing at his kneecaps and guerilla farmers throwing glass Molotov cocktails in his face.
Something about being in the midst of war with no gun and a sense of survival your only ammunition, un-nerved the ex-Marine. He felt it, but didn't show it.
Cupping Karen's shoulders, he stared into her emerald eyes. "Jibsen's an asshole, but he stays alive." He shook a finger at her. "But don't let the ugly bastard seduce you, that's all I ask, because if you get turned on by him, that'll make me look pretty damned unattractive."
"Oh, Chet, I want to go back to New York, both of us." Her lovely shoulders shivered and she pressed her soft curves to match his muscular ones. "I don't like being in the middle of war with no news of what's going on. I keep thinking of the American hostages in Tehran who've been cooped up going crazy for over a year, and anything seems possible."
"I've got a plane to catch," he announced, pulling reluctantly away from her tempting lusciousness. He'd have given anything for an hour naked in bed with her in one of those Hemingway love scenes, feeling the earth move for them... but damn it, this was real life. He had a job to do.
Chet was retracing those thoughts, wishing he'd gone for that one last screw, when he walked up the steps of a government building in Basra. The streets of the city were eerily vacant and the smell of sulphur and burning oil stung his nostrils. The imminent feeling that a bomber could strafe overhead any second and nail his bloody carcass to the American Embassy doorstep, shivered through his lanky frame. Times like this, he wished he shared some of Jibsen's cocksure sentiment. Jibsen was a man who'd never die.
Chet's growing distrust of Arabs intensified as he eventually came face to face with Abdullah. Events happened so damned fast in war, yesterday's friend could be tomorrow's foe. With that in mind, he extended a hand to Abdullah, the Minister of Information at the Embassy. The sweaty faced Iraqi looked the epitome of the typical Arab male. A large nose dominated his long, thin face. Taut lips spreading in a welcoming smile nearly brushed the tip of his nose. His attire created a strange contrast of East and West, He wore a natty suit, with a crisp white shirt and about his head a turban draped over his shoulders.
Bentley handed him the letters of introduction which the diplomat read carefully. After perusing them, Chet stuffed them back into his satchel along with his clean socks and underwear. His fingers touched the crinkly Milady lingerie bag stuffed in the bottom, and mentally he snapped his fingers at his stupidity for neglecting to give Karen her gift. He wondered what the Iraqi would think if he knew he was carrying a pair of lacey panties in his bag. Damn things getting to be a bad luck charm...
"You are from New York City, the Big Apple?" put in Abdullah rhetorically.
Chet eyed the Iraqi diplomat quizzically, and nodded. He hadn't expected this kind of reception in a country devoted to anti-Americanism.
"And your assignment is to take footage of our petrochemical plants for use in a documentary film?" He spread his hands as he spoke.
Chet nodded. "Correct. I was originally scheduled to go to Abadan but after the oil war broke out, my supervisor decided my assistant and I should not risk the dangers."
"You are wise not to step foot in Iran," he said crisply, shifting slightly in his chair. The Khomeini has treated your people badly."
Chet got the instant impression that anti-Iranian was equated with pro-Americanism in this country, and that helped dispel a bit of distrust.
"The world does not understand that Iran and Iraq are two totally different cultures. They are Persians, Indo-Europeans, we, the Iraqis are Arabs," he said proudly. We belong to the Sunni sect of Islam, the Iranians to the Shiite sect."
The American filmmaker stared at the map of the Islam world over the diplomat's shoulder. Red arrows marked war zones. "I had no idea the war had spread that far. When I left the States there was talk, but-"
"It is the war of the century."
Chet dove for the chance to change the subject. He had the distinct impression he could waste a whole day listening to the Iraqi damn the Iranians. "About my permission for filming..."
"Oh, yes. You mentioned an assistant." The Iraqi leaned back and touched his fingers together.
"Karen O'Malley. For safety sake, I left her in Karbala under the auspices of an American by the name of Jibsen."
Abdullah's eyebrows raised, and his thin lips fell slack. "Jibsen... I have heard many things about the man."
Chet didn't like the delivery of that admission. "Yes, he works with the Central Intelligence Agency. I knew him in the Special Forces in Viet Nam."
"There have been reports that your Mr. Jibsen is allied with an Iranian terrorist group who are anti-Khomeini." His face was set in a knowing smirk.
"Jibsen? With the Iranians?" Chet scratched his head. "I find it hard to believe... the man would have given his right testicle to die for America..."
Abdullah lit a cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. The air stung with a clovish smell. "Believe me, Mr. Bentley, the man is a clever capitalist. The Arabs are just now coming into wealth; we are enamored by what I shall call Western fast talk, and your Mr. Jibsen fits well into that category. He has made many petrodollars procuring wives for American women-hungry sheiks and now he is reputedly working in this country for an oil field heir back in the United States who despises the Ayatollah, and wants only to embarrass him. You see," and here the Minister of Information stiffened judgmentally, "the Ayatollah is the savior of the poor masses. There are others who oppose his dictatorial regime."
The idea of Jibsen being involved with wealthy oil men didn't sit comfortably with Chet. Somehow it amused him that the burly, redheaded hulk had managed to finagle his way into Arab money.
The American filmmaker squinted off into space. "Come to think of it, I recall there being a rash of arrests involving anti-Khomeini demonstrators."
"You see, this is the war of the century. We are twice torn-by religion and by money. The Iranians are united for a cause now, but soon it will be the oil rich versus the hungry masses. Such is the curse of our universe." He paused. "Which is why your Mr. Jibsen is being hired to gather information in case of future wars within our countries."
"Meaning..."
"I'm talking explosives, bombs, Mr. Bentley."
Chet gulped. A dark cloud of doom haloed his head, growing more dense as he lifted his head to stare into the Arab's snappy eyes.
"I fear you've made a grave mistake leaving Mr. Jibsen to care for your female assistant. Especially if she is young and pretty. The man is ruthless."
Bentley's hand rose to his forehead. Alarm sizzled through his veins. "Karen, I've got to find Karen."
"Believe me, Mr. Bentley, you had better hurry. It may already be much too late. I will do anything to assist you in dealing with this Mr. Jibsen. If you need help, please feel free to contact me."
Chapter Five
Karen O'Malley blinked her emerald eyes and stirred to a drugged wakefulness as she lay belly down on the warm sheets. For a moment she stared dizzily at the flaking stucco walls. Where was she? She pushed herself up on the palms of her hands, tumbles of red hair cascading about her naked shoulders.
Stripes of sunlight filtered through the barred windows, creating a rectangular slash across the small room. Dimly she recalled Chet packing for Basra, him telling her that she would be under the care of a Mr. Jibsen, was it? Wearily, she slung one shapely leg off the rumpled bed, and realized with a shiver that she was completely naked. Now her saucered green eyes took in the small room with its single chair and elaborately carved table. In the corner of the room her luggage had been spilled open and its contents scattered about the floor as if someone was looking for something. What?
In a burst of alarm, the facts started piecing together. The attacks on Chet's life, the robbery in his hotel room, and now this.
She had distrusted and abhorred the red faced Jibsen the moment he appeared at her hotel with instructions to pack immediately and relocate to a safer part of the city. Something odious and offensive about the man disturbed her and when he drove her further into the poor, congested sections of Karbala, distrust crystallized into fear. She'd struggled to get out of the car, but his steely grip caught her tiny wrist and whipped her around to face him. He drove then, one hand gripping the wheel, the other clamped to the nape of her slender neck.
Trapped in an Arab town, God only knew where left alone, imprisoned. It was ridiculous as a B-rated movie, melodramatic and terribly real! A naked white female prisoner... Karen O'Malley, film assistant, CBS, New York. What a story line, she whimpered.
In a burst of white hot panic, she leapt for the arch door. The heavy wood plank with its iron hinge refused to budge. Terror like she'd never known ripped through her body as she twisted frantically at the hinge, until beads of perspiration sheened her naked, jiggling breasts and red tendrils clung in sweaty swirls to her creamy forehead.
Her eyes flew about the room, settling on the chair. She dragged it to the window and with the tips of her red polished nails, pulled herself up until her dimpled chin rested on the rough window ledge. The dusty smell of camel dung stung her nostrils as a parade of Arabs in tarbooshes and white robes rode waddling camels toward the marketplace beyond. Her tiny fists grabbed the bars and clung to them with desperation. Dizziness overcame her, and the terrified American climbed off the chair and collapsed onto the rumpled bed.
How would Chet find her, imprisoned in this dung-smelling cubicle?
And Jibsen... what had happened to him? Had he brought her here to die? She gave in to emotion, weeping helplessly, her body wracking with sobs that splashed onto her flushed cheeks to dribble onto her luscious milky breasts.
* * * * *
Jibsen's face wore the self-satisfied smirk of a satiated cat as he slipped the heavy key into the hinged door and stepped into the coolness of Karen's prison. He stared at the hostage's sleeping white body. Christ, what a luscious piece of ripe ass Bentley had managed to find, the lucky bastard! Just looking at her shapely naked body splattered with Arab sunlight was enough to make his balls ache and his thick cock stiffen and jerk inside his loose pants. She was all soft curves and lush pink-white flesh.
He rested his hands on his hips and glanced around the room where her luggage contents were strewn recklessly. Obviously she hadn't come to yet, he grinned. The smirk faded and his thick fingers clawed at the back of his head. He grunted with dismay. Sudan and Mitib sure managed to fuck things up. Christ, three attacks on a guy and still they couldn't get their grubby Persian fingers on one measly garment bag! And it was nowhere to be found in the luggage. Faisal was going to be damned pissed for this mess-up and he knew who would have to pay. Arabs didn't fuck around when it came to leveling judgment on defectors, and he would be termed just that, if he didn't find that damned bag with the lacey underwear.
His eyes fell on her magnificently rounded breasts bursting out from around the sheet immodestly draped over her soft pink flesh. Her naked shoulders and swan-like neck looked so sweet and fresh compared to the swarthy, sweaty Arab women. One of Karen's legs had kicked out to the side, making the sheet bunch up and show off one silken pale thigh. If he craned his neck far enough to one side, he could see the jeweled slit of her pink pussy and the patch of moist red tendrils.
A dull pounding ache coursed through Jibsen's stalky cock. Christ, how he'd like to ram it deep inside her soft belly while she moaned and thrashed and bucked under him. Lucky bastard Bentley! Even in Nam he got the lookers and left the dogs to him. The man had a way with women. By God, Bentley wasn't the only man who could make snooty little bitches beg for cock.
Jibsen sucked in his breath and Karen's eyes opened slowly... at first. When her emerald eyes caught sight of the bird-like orbs lecherously raking over her shapely, naked body like dirty little insects, she yelped and bit at her clenched fist in terror. Karen saw the bulge under Jibsen's loose pants and turned her head in revulsion. With an angry gesture, she yanked the sheet up to her neck and tucked in her leg.
"What do you want with me?" she spat up at him. "Why have you taken me here, and where's Chet?"
A crooked grin showed off yellow teeth and Jibsen's paunch heaved as he sucked in his breath, his hands resting on his hips in military fashion. Lewdly he cupped his balls with one meaty palm. "Since you ask, babydoll, I'll tell you. Number one, this is what I want with you, and number two, I've brought you here for safe keeping, let's say, until certain items show up. Lastly, about your precious-assed Chet, he's probably in Basra with his balls blown off by now."
A cry that was half rage, half shame tore from Karen's tightly pursed lips. "How can you call yourself an American... what have you got to do with the attacks on Chet?" she demanded icily. "I'm beginning to see how this all fits in, you kidnapper!"
Jibsen stood grinning down at her with a taunting smirk, cupping his heavy balls and staring at her. "Just beginning to figure it out now, are you? Well, when you're as cute and curvy a fuckdoll as you are, I'd say it's okay if you aren't too smart. Men aren't going to be wanting you for your brains, when your sweet ass and tits and that red-furred pussy more than make up for a lack of smarts."
"You ugly pig!" she spat. "Don't get any ideas about..."
With that insult, Jibsen leapt to his feet and seized the trembling redhead by the shoulders; his nails dug into the soft, tender pink-white flesh as he shook her savagely. Karen squirmed and writhed, trying to wiggle free of his steely grip, but he held her tight. Karen threw her head back and cried out hysterically.
"You think you can scare me, you've got another think coming... and as for Chet, don't underestimate him, he's as strong as you'll ever be and twice as tough." Her eyes raked rancorously over his massive hulk.
"He's a chickenshit!" grumbled Jibsen.
"You make me sick!" she yelped. "You ugly, filthy pig!" Karen stopped, panting for breath, the room was suffocating, dusty and close.
He threw her back onto the bed, her head slamming into the wall. His upper lip curled hatefully. "You think your Bentley's such hot shit you ain't had nothin' till you've had a real Marine fuckin' up into your belly." He held her motionless then, and stared insolently into her small innocent and frightened face. "If I want to fuck you, I'll fuck you, good." He gave a short, cruel laugh, his lips curled back over tobacco stained teeth.
"You lay one hand on me and so help me God, when Chet finds me, he'll kill you!"
"Shut up!" Jibsen's hand shot out, seizing the sheet from her nakedly shivering body in one swift motion. He wadded it up and tossed it to the floor amidst the wreckage of her luggage. Holding the fear frozen American girl by one meaty paw, he struggled out of his pants. Deftly, he eased them down over his thick hips until his thick, rock hard cock sprang free, stiff as a pole, its bulbously swollen head oozing drops of pre-cum lubricating fluid. Karen gasped in disgust. It was the hugest set of genitals she'd seen on a man- elephantine in size, and angry looking, red as the shortly cropped hair crowning his head. Whereas Chet's penis was silken and hard, this one was stalkish and brutal looking. She shivered.
"What's the matter?" he sneered. "You never seen a real Marine prick before?"
Karen shook her head in disbelief and then stiffened as his calloused hand slid down over her smooth stomach to the gentle mound of her lush pelvis, then further down between her legs to crawl with insect slowness along the sensitive rounded skin of her soft inner thighs. She gasped, struggling to free herself from his lecherous fingers. Huge wet tears rose to her eyes and purled down her flushed, satin cheeks.
"Please," she begged, "don't touch me. I'll give you whatever it is you want, but please don't touch me."
"What I want, you ain't got... that chickenshit Chet's got it, the fuckin' bastard!. And when I find the shithead, I'm gonna pull out every hair on his head, one by one until I get that damned bag!"
Karen buried her face in her hands, sobbing. "Why? Why are you tormenting us? What is it you want?"
He shot her a contemptuous look as he forced her ripe naked body down on the bed. In a wheeze of breath, he got on his knees and straddled her defenselessly shivering body. His snaky eyes filled with red hot lust, his mouth twisting sardonically.
"Anything. I'll give you whatever it is you're after," she whimpered like a little girl. Her voice trailed off into a hopeless wail of despair. Nothing would placate this odious creature, nothing! Dear Chet... where are you? Why didn't you take me with you instead of leaving me with this beast! Tears of rage and horror poured from her emerald eyes.
The ex-Marine turned foreign agent bent his head to Karen's and mashed his thick lips wetly on her tightly closed mouth. Brutally, he forced his hot, wet tongue between her futilely resisting lips, lashed in and out, and slithered its slimy way down her fear constricted throat.
Karen struggled against him until the last ounce of her strength had died in the heat of confusion an despair. She lay whimpering beneath his weight, sobbing softly as his calloused, meaty hands roamed over her pinned down nudity, stroking her neck, her throat, the soft, naked flesh of her smooth white shoulder pinching and tweaking and appreciating with a lustful vengeance. His hot, sweaty palms moved down to cup a melonous milky breast in each hand, kneading and squeezing. Hot hungry lips explored her face again, his tongue sinking deep between her lips so that she could taste the clovish smell of tobacco. Tauntingly, he ran it down the valley between her milky white breasts and with a lewd, savage growl, he fastened his sharp teeth harshly into the small bud of her nipple while Karen recoiled in pain. She began to struggle feebly again, her naked flesh squirming up against the hard, massive body that pinned her to the sagging mattress.
With a deathly movement, Jibsen caught her small wrists in his powerful grip, crushing them until she swore she could hear her bones crack. When he lifted his head and snapped down at her, she could see needle-pointed sharpness of his incisors. She shivered, recalling Chet having described the practice of certain serious-minded Marines who, for the sake of creating a weapon of their mouth, sharpened their incisors to beaver-tooth blades. Fearfully, she bent her head and noticed the red marks on her breasts where those teeth had drawn blood.
"Please... please don't hurt me again."
Jibsen snickered lewdly. "I'll chew your clit off if you don't shut up!"
And this man was animal enough to fulfill that promise, Karen realized in a sizzle of terror. He bent his head again, the bristles of his crew cut red hair brushing against her cheeks brazenly. His thick lips roamed moistly over the snowy whiteness of her heaving breasts, teasing the nipples into taut little cherries, despite the fear and rage ricocheting around in her brain. His two meaty hands slid down the flesh of her silken belly, roved over the soft, sensitive curves of her hips, slipped under the twin half moons of her smoothly rounded white buttocks with a touch that sent little quivers of tingling dread through Karen.
Dear God, could it be this ugly creature with his dominant touch was raising desire within her? She closed her emerald eyes tight, feeling his hand seeking thin, softly curling wisps of red pubic hair to slip with slow deliciousness into the narrow pink slit of her pussy. He searched teasingly between the warmth of her inner thighs until he found the tiny pink bud of her clitoris and stroked it into throbbing erection with the strength of his middle fingerpad.
With a deep, animalish growl, he slipped his fingers from Karen's helplessly quivering cunt and kneed up over her again. "Liked ol' Jibsen finger fuckin' ya, didn't ya? No better than them Nam whores," he leered down at her. His harsh tone brought Karen's mind back to reality of her gloomily imprisonment with a horrible abruptness. Chet flitted to mind again and the thought of his wonderful maleness and subtle gentility, closed shut any traitorous circuits of desire this horrible creature had clicked on within her.
Gruffly, Jibsen pried her soft, fleshy thighs apart, then hunched over her, his red head inches above her loins. As she realized his intentions, she let out a wail of despair. The filthy pervert! How dare he defile her body!
She thrashed about, flailing her arms until she exhausted herself. Triumphantly, Jibsen held her down with a mocking grin. When panting, she lay back limp and unresisting, he fixed his bird like eyes on the thin, tight pink slit up between her trembling legs.
"Jesus, I could make a fortune sellin' your little pink cunt to these pussy-starved Arabs. Blondes and redheads, that's what they all want."
Jibsen rested the palms of his hands on the rounded flesh of her soft inner thighs, while his strong thumbs sought out the fleshy coral edges of her moist cunt. With a slow, teasing outward movement that brought a low cry of shame from Karen, he pressed the soft, wet, hair-fringed pink lips apart, exposing the pink, glistening hole of her cunt to his gaping eyes. He growled out a snarl of appreciation riding her body like a cowboy, buried his face in the vee of her openly spread wet genitals. His tongue flicked in out of his mouth, running over his parted lips with lecherous intent. Lizard-like, he slipped the slimy digit into the wetly seeping hole of her juicy pussy!
"Oooohhhh... nooooo!" Karen screamed out in shame as the lewd, maddening sensations raced through her nudity, making her tingle against her will and goosebumps rose on the sweat-sheened globes of her breasts. The suffocating heat, terror at reprisal and her own perspiring young body worked against her will, and her legs jerked wide apart, hanging over the edges of the bed as though they belonged to a limp rag doll.
The ex-Marine ran his slimy tongue lewdly up and down the hairy virginal furrow, probing and lapping and exploring until his razor sharp teeth found the tiny bud of her clitoris and, once again, with a maddening swirl of the tongue, he licked the quivering mound into throbbing erection.
Karen whined with agonized pleasure, torn between the traitorous exquisite feelings that his insistent licking of her wetly throbbing vagina aroused within her helpless body, and the shame and humiliation at the wicked delight... not unlike the train car episode,
she thought dully. Could it be she possessed a mania for oral sex?
Her body rippled and shivered and goosebumped as Jibsen's mouth closed over the hardened bud of flesh that throbbed against his flicking tongue. Breathing with insane lust, the burly man began to suck it as if it were a shellfish. Grunting and growling, he gave the tiny tit of flesh a sharp, cruel nip with his sharpened incisors that tore a gasp of real pain from Karen's heaving chest. A bolt of electricity shot through her body, scissoring her legs and sending her head to bang against the wall.
She arched backwards desperately, struggling to free herself of this monster ravaging her disgustingly. Closing her eyes tightly to shut out the shame, a groan of despair tore from her body and overwhelmed by his maddening licking, she slumped back against the bed. He plastered his open mouth to her ragged cuntal lips, sucking them into the hot wetness of his mouth until they dripped with saliva. He flicked at the soft folds of the throbbing pink flesh there, withdrawing to push her legs up over her head and lick downwards at the narrow crevice between the smooth twin moons of her nakedly upturned buttocks.
Karen's cheeks burned in shame, her breath came in heavy pants.
Jibsen smirked inwardly. Hot redheaded little bitch...! Christ, she's almost cumming! Then, lifting his lips from her syrupy vaginal furrow, he grabbed his thick, veiny cock in one hand and, kneeling up between her wide-spread thighs, guided the bulbous tip to the vertical mouth between her legs, pushing forward the thick, rubbery head slipped through the flaming-red strands of her pubic hair towards the swollen flanges of her pulsing vagina.
Karen gasped and held her breath as damning desire churned with the agonizing guilt within her. This was her kidnapper, her tormentor. How could she feel desire from this evil creature's wicked lapping of her cunt. And now he was going to fill her belly with his seed.
The blood swollen tip of Jibsen's enormous prick slipped into and penetrated the tightly clenched opening of her naked cunt. The searing contact of his huge cockhead with her swollen, itching cuntal lips, sent her into sharp little spasms of pain and pleasure and she screamed from the bottom of her soul.
"Please... no... please!"
But with a sudden thrust, Jibsen flicked his heavy his forward and thrust his cock deep into that seeping narrow pink cuntal slit, spearing into her without mercy or respect. It was up to him to show her what a Marine could do... that he could break anyone's will.
He flexed his hips forward again, plunging and drilling into her until Karen felt as if his fleshy shaft had exploded up inside her womb to shatter every nerve ending. Vainly, she braced her hands against his hirsute, steely forearms and levered back, trying to escape this evil rape. But his cock held her in place, it might have been a spear stabbing into her womanhood. Still and exhausted, she lay panting beneath him, impaled on his cock that pressed against the soft-ridged flesh of her cunt, inflaming it, turning it into a searing sheath of fire.
Jibsen lay still too, until suddenly, he arched his back, raising himself above Karen to stare contemptuously down into her fear-stricken face. "Bigger cock than Bentley's, ain't it? Don't it fill that little belly of your's to bursting?"
Karen's lips trembled and shook her head violently. "Never! I'll never say that!" she spat.
"He's a chickenshit and I wanna hear you say it!"
"No... never..." she shuddered.
"Then I guess you need a little more cock." He flicked forward, fucking so deep into her belly he bored into the spongy tip of her cervix with pinprick force.
Karen let out a wail of pain and again tried to squirm back to lessen the bursting pressure within her hot belly.
Jibsen withdrew partially, raised himself up and snarled: "I'm gonna fuck you into submission, bitch. Tell me Bentley's a small-dicked, chickenshit or I'll turn your guts to pudding!" His tone was brutal, his manner animalish.
Terrified he might do just that, Karen bit her lip until tears squirted from her eyes. His final torment, was to make her verbally degrade Chet while he raped her, Chet's woman.
"Never, I'll-aaaggghhh!" He'd bored into her another three healthy inches of cock, skewering her to the bed with his burly, hairy body, his cheeks flushed with a rich suffusion of blood that matched his carrot hair.
"Tell me... I want to hear you say it." Flexing his hips, he slammed forward so hard Karen's head banged cruelly into the wall.
"He's a chi-chick..." No, she couldn't say it! Flinging her head from side to side in a wave of curls, she refused to open her mouth.
"By God, you say it!"
Harder this time, deeper and more painful.
Karen couldn't take the torment a second longer "He's a chickenshit...!" she hissed through pearly clenched teeth. "He's a small-dicked chickenshit!"
"Good girl! Want some more cock now?" he taunted, grinning lewdly down into her contorted face, wallowing in the power he exerted over her hot flesh.
"Oh, no... no... no!" she wailed.
"No? You sure?" A threat of rebellion rang in his voice.
"Y-yes... I d-d-oo!" Karen hurriedly amended as through her agony, she caught his tone of displeasure.
"Then beg for it, bitch!" he snarled.
"Please... no! Please don't make me!"
"So help me, you beg for my cock now, or I'll sell you and turn you over to a greasy sheik and they like nothin' better'n to screw an American redhead right in the ass!"
Karen sucked in her breath.
"Say it," he snickered. "Say "fuck me, and don't forget to say please!"
"Please, please do it to me," she pleaded, her eyes stinging with tears.
"Say please fuck me with your big cock, and you'd God-damned better well mean it!"
Karen's head lolled to one side in abject humiliation and shame. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she pleaded, "Please! Oh, please f-fuck me with your big cock."
"Marine cock." He laughed.
"P-please, please fuck me with your big M-Marine cock!"
There it was out, her shame completed.
Jibsen's mouth twisted scornfully into a sneering grin. He slipped his strong hands beneath the soft, smooth, rounded cheeks of her fleshy ass as he began the slow deep thrusts that would bring him to ejaculation. He slaved above her, fucking in and out of her tightly clenching pussy in long, smooth strokes, burrowing his cock deep up into her moist pussy that clasped and released it in smooth motions of submissive acceptance.
Then, a wicked grin creasing his contorted, bulbous features, Jibsen bored the tip of his outstretched finger into the tiny puckered starfish opening of her puckered anus, bringing a moan of agony from Karen's parted lips. Slowly, he wormed it deeper into her secret nether depths, boring in deeper and deeper. Karen moaned in real pain as his ragged fingernail tore into the buttery flesh of the stretching rubbery rectal hole until his finger brought out lessening mewls of pain.
Jibsen fucked in and out of her cunt wildly now, making the bed creak and bang loudly against the wall with each hip thrusting lunge. And it worked its effects on Karen. Exquisite tongues of fire seared inside her loins, her quivering belly, shooting high up through her shivering nudity to lick at her tender, teeth-nibbled breasts. She tossed her head from side to side, delighting in the feel of his hard driving penis, and even the finger skewering deeper up inside her rectum.
The ex-Marine grunted and drooled, his face beet-red as blood surged from his head to cock and back again with the force of his impending climax. He felt his captive jerk and lurch beneath him. A wet, sticky fluid gushed from the slippery walls of her hotly clasping pussy and then, unbelievable to them both, she writhed and churned wildly under his strong body. Teeth clenched, copious streams of tears squirting out of her emerald eyes, the captive American girl grunted out her powerful climax.
That did it for Jibsen! He felt his own lust tormented cock bloat in agonizing spasms, the insides of his testicles seemed to explode and split wide open. The hot white liquid churned there for a frothing moment before shooting out the rock-hard prick deep into Karen's hotly contracting young belly. It churned and swirled there with her own flooding juices before dribbling down her inner thighs in thin rivers of surrender.
Jibsen collapsed heavily on top of his perspiring captive, his sweaty, hairy chest grinding against the smooth nudity of her fat, melonous breasts. Limp and exhausted, she meekly and helplessly tolerated his weight... her legs spread lewdly to the sides of the bed in shameful defeat.
Chapter Six
In the twelve hours following Chet Bentley's arrival in Basra, his meeting with the Minister of Information, and his subsequent decision to leave based upon Abdullah's inside scoop on the ex-Marine Jibsen, the conflict had escalated to a full scale war.
Chet was sitting dejectedly in his hotel room, trying unsuccessfully to make arrangements to return to Karbala, when the first Iranian warplanes headed for the petrochemical plant in Basra strafed the plant at a low one hundred feet altitude. The $1.1 billion complex, geared to produce polyethylene vinyl chloride and other valuable petroleum by-products, was obliterated in seconds.
"Holy shit," the American filmmaker wheezed, hearing the air raid sirens wail in his ears. Shades of Viet Nam came back to haunt him. Death, destruction in a foreign land, and with no weapons to defend himself. He had to get back to Karbala, but how?
With Iranian warplanes clouding the skies of Basra and the confusion of evacuation attempts of over three hundred workers, the officials turned a deaf ear to the cries of one stranded CBS filmmaker. No city busses were running to the airport closed to tourist travel, and no one could promise him when the airport would operate again.
"Shit..." Chet paced his hotel room, listening to rockets bombing the city. The skies had turned into fireballs. Reports filtered through the hotel's front desk that part of Camp Camelot, the housing area for foreign workers, had been bombed. Now many Americans dead or injured, he wondered, feeling a panicky helplessness.
Attempts to reach Abdullah, Minister of Information, were aborted and frustrating. Wait... he could only wait.
As he sat on the edge of his bed chewing his thumbnails, his eyes fell to his satchel where the white Milady lingerie bag peeked out tauntingly. Chet stared for a long moment as if he expected it to reach out shake hands with him in complicity.
* * * * *
Back in Karbala, things fared no better. Irate over his ineffectiveness in finding the long-sought for item that would win him a nice slice of wealth and power, Jibsen vented his rage on the nearest target: one quivering, naked and submissively sobbing Karen O'Malley.
"Please... I don't know what your intentions are," whined Karen, resting after another lusty round of sex with Jibsen had come to an end on the bed she was imprisoned on, "but I beg of you, you must let me out of here immediately!"
Jibsen tweaked one of her puffy pink nipples and chuckled coarsely. "Must I? Save it," he rasped. "You'll get out of here when and if I let you out, but if you're so Goddamned hot on gettin' out of here, I know of a nice greasy sheik who'd powder my fist real well for a pretty white skinned red head with big tits like you!"
"Oh, God no! Oh, please, you wouldn't do it...!"
But the fierce glint in his eye told another story. "One way or another I'm gonna make out on this deal. And since I ain't finding what I want, I'll make up my losses by selling you!"
"B-b-but, w-w-what is it you really want?"
"Just what I said. I hauled you off to this dung smelling dump to find something and I ain't found it yet and I'm gettin' real pissed. If you ain't got it, that means that asshole Bentley's got it."
"Got what?" Karen's chin quivered.
"That would be tellin', now wouldn't it?" he smirked, glowing inwardly as she dropped her face and wept into her cupped hands.
"He'll find me... Oh, God, he has to! He won't stop until he does!"
Jibsen laughed. "Fuck that shit. I got half of Iran backing me... more money than the fuckin' federal government, so don't tell me that chickenshit's gonna risk his balls for a dumb redhead with a nice ass and big fat tits."
"You'll never get away with it." She screamed, and broke off with a wail of pain as the ex-Marine's hand slapped viciously across her tear-wetted face. The blow sent her reeling back against the wall and a red mark welted across her cheek.
Shooting her an evil glare, he stomped out the door, locked it behind him and left her to misery. Some time later, when the sun was dipping toward the west in orange ribbons and the night grew cool, Karen raised her head from the bed at the sound of a key turning in the lock. For a moment hope soared, then plummeted miserably as she recognized Jibsen's jowled face and two swarthy Persian faces emerge from the deepening shadows of night.
"Oh, dear God!" A hand flew to her mouth and she bit her fist.
Jibsen laughed at her look of alarm and then barked orders in Arabic at the two young Persian men. Their black eyes danced and their mouths spread in lewd, lusty smiles.
They emerged from the shadows, their dark brown, almost-black skinned-strong bodies in full view. Strong, aquiline noses gave symmetry to tensely strained expressions that bordered on a lust for violence.
Before Karen realized what was happening, the two Persians leapt for the bed and seized her by the arms and legs. She screamed wildly, flailing her arms and legs. Like a sack of potatoes, they picked her up and flung her violently face down on the bed. One of them threw his dark, lanky body across her scissoring white legs while the other sat on her writhing freckled shoulders, his boney brown knees pinning her arms to her sides, his sweating face towards her feet.
Painfully twisting her head to one side under his weight, the hysterical captive American girl saw with a thrill of horror that Jibsen was slowly unpeeling his clothing.
"Mitib," he barked at one of the men, "pull them plump pretty thighs wide apart."
"W-what are you going to do to me?" she quavered.
Jibsen pulled his shirt over his head and licked his thick lips. The room was dark, save for a slither of dying sunlight. "Redheads with round white asses and fat milky tits are big game in this country, little girl. But Arab sheiks like their women used, you know... well trained... virgins don't cut it in this country."
Karen stared at him wide-eyed through the glow of orange light that splashed over his ruddy cheeks making him look all the more evil.
The big ex-Marine unzipped the fly of his pants, peeled them off and stepped out of his shorts. Standing naked before her, he looked even more immense. And his penis... dear God, his penis! His meaty, muscular body towered with strength. Over the heavy, bloated pouch of his hairy testicles, the stalk of his penis jerked toward the plaster-chipped ceiling in a bulbous erection.
Karen gasped aloud as she felt her legs suddenly freed of Mitib's brown-honey frame-and then her ankles were pinned and wrenched brutally wide apart, so that she was held spread-eagled, face down on the bed. And now Mitib leaned forward with a toothy grin and dug his dark, boney fingers into the naked, sweat-moist split of her full, fleshy, softly rounded white buttocks. Gripping her top half between his splayed thighs, he pried the quivering, trembling, half-moon mounds of her smooth white flesh slowly apart. Opening her up like a ripe peach, he exposed the entire length of her juicy, hairy pink cunt and puckered pink starfish to Jibsen's searing gaze.
She felt cool night air on her moist genitals, and she realized with a desperate sob that she had never in her whole life felt so utterly helpless and degraded. Shivering, she jerked again, shuddering with disgust as Mitib worked a thread of spittle to the front of his mouth and spat it down on the tightly clenched nether ring of her tight puckered anus.
The shameless gesture was only the beginning of the humiliation and pain she would soon suffer. Staring mesmerically at Jibsen's cock, she watched saucer-eyed as he rubbed the loose foreskin up and down the rigidly bloating pole, exposing the purplish, bulbously inflated head as he massaged the pole of flesh into rock hardness.
"Arabs aren't big on girl-cunt, they use camels for that," he guffawed hoarsely. "But assholes, now that's somethin' different."
"Noooo!" Karen grasped the meaning of his evil intent. She wailed as the full implication of his bestial, indecent intentions popped luridly into her mind. "You can't... nooo!" she gasped. "Please, no... not there, no!"
"Save your breath, honey. Don't wear yourself out. The best is yet to come." Stepping towards the bed, he leaned down and thrust the tip of his outstretched middle finger against the tight pink starfish-hole to her naked rectum, poking viciously at her defenseless anal hole.
Spread helplessly on the bed with her legs brutally forced apart by two Persian terrorists and her hips jammed down by the pressure of Mitib's buttocks-splaying hands, the sobbing captive writhed her quivering naked buttocks against the fiery rape of her anus, thrashing wildly from side to side and clenching tightly her ass cheeks to fend off the brutal penetration of her tender anus. That these merciless terrorists could conceive of such vile acts was monstrous! Maybe they were just tormenting her, trying to scare her into something, but what? She couldn't be any more frightened than at that moment, trapped by three strong bodied men bent on ravaging her defenseless body!
Jibsen leaned down and spat a wad of saliva onto her desperately contracted anal ring shining like a puckered button between her brutally stretched ass cheeks. With a grunt of evil intent, he bored his finger deeper into the warm buttery depths of her anus.
"Aggggghhh!" Karen couldn't hold back a scream.
"Tight asshole you got there... gonna take some stretchin'," he grunted. Lewdly, he drilled his finger deeper and deeper, stretching and expanding the tightness of the girl's rubbery rectum until, she thought she would faint from the pain. Moans of protest bubbled from her fearfully quivering lips as he moved the finger around the inside of her contracted little hole, sawing it in and out to stretch the clenched anus in preparation for the worse tortures to come. Between his thick thighs, his evilly swollen penis throbbed with delightful anticipation.
"Ahhh, don't!" the redhead screamed again and he jammed a second finger into her warm, velvety depths. "You're hurting meee!" she wailed from depths of her soul.
"Scream all you like, but Arabs like to hear redheads scream," he taunted. Abruptly, he plucked the raping finger away from Karen's defenselessly puckered hole. Forcing his hand between her fear-tauted stomach and the rumpled bedsheet below, he stroked his fingers lewdly back and forth along the hairy length of her vagina and smeared the fluid of his earlier excesses still warm in her cunt up and around her plundered anus to lubricate the hole further still. A moment later, she felt the bed sag as he climbed on and kneeled between her cruelly spread thighs, and then the hard, warm seeping rubbery tip of his bulbous, hotly pulsating cock was pressing tightly against her hairless anal opening.
The spread-eagled girl held her breath as she felt the thickly rigid penis wedge into the crevice of her forced open ass cheeks and pressure remorselessly forwards. Dear Lord, it was huge! He would kill her with it! Rape her in half!
Jibsen's stomach muscles contracted, and then stood out as he strained forward. Karen felt the hard probing pressure between her buttocks grow into an agonizing fiery pain that seared through her anus and up into her intestines. Stars flickered before her eyes and she went dizzy with fright.
"Ohhhaanngghh... God!" she belted out. "Please, ohhhh, agghhhhh!" she shrieked in agony as the nether ring gave way with an evil, ominous pop and the inflated head of his penis popped inside her anus with a surging power.
A spasm of miserable agony shot through the nakedly quivering redhead's loins, a pain so unbearable it rent screams from her burning lungs. Squirming with all her strength to evade the impalement, her naked buttocks writhed wildly under Mitib's splaying hands, but her wigglish attempts only abetted him in wedging the thickly gleaming cock deeper into her tortured anus. It felt as though a monstrous battering ram was being relentlessly thrust into the tiny opening of her virginal back hole!
Grinning cruelly, Jibsen slammed his thick penis forward another agonizing inch, and then another, and still another hot inch into the screaming girl's nakedly thrashing body. Then his beefy loins smacked heavily against the softness of her lewdly spread ass cheeks. She was hopelessly skewered on the brutally thick fleshiness of his raping penis! It was buried to the hilt in her tightly clenched anus and there was no hope for escape or mercy!
Panting and wheezing from his exertions, the ex-Marine began to fuck rhythmically in and out of her hot spongy depths under the lustful gaze of the two Iranian terrorists.
As the helpless girl fought with frantic desperation against the horrible degradation of this monstrous attack on her defenseless anal hole, his pounding hips pumped faster and faster, thrusting the inflamed spear of his lustfully expanding rod again and again into the brutally ravaged tightness of her rectum. She was impaled on the stone hard cock as helplessly as an insect on a collector's board!
The kidnapped redhead's coppery hair flailed over the bed, her head twisting from side to side in helpless subjugation as the tempo of his pistoning hips increased and his huge penis plowed on and on and deeper and deeper into her savagely stretched rectum. Her mind was adrift on a sea of pain and humiliation. The soft, round flesh of her ripe young buttocks shuddered and quivered uncontrollably under the pressure of the terrorist's fingers. The soft bowl of her belly trembled convulsively every time her agonizingly splayed thighs were buffeted by another hellishly thrusting plunge of the American's raping shaft. Her ankles, held painfully wide in Sudan's grasp, were aching for want of blood, and her proud young breasts, still bearing the incisor marks of his earlier rape were squashed under the weight of evil Mitib.
Jibsen's mind was an inferno of impatient lust that burned in his cheeks and sent another pint of blood to bloat the tube of his inflated penis. The sensation of the naked captive's warm, velvety rectum clasped so tightly around the base of his passion inflamed cock was driving him on to greater excesses. His eyes locked with piggish delight on the sodomizing pole of his iron hard flesh buried deep in Karen's soft, upraised ass cheeks, and he felt his heart pumping wildly in his chest. Never had he seen a more exciting sight in his life! He was almost sorry he was turning the bitch over to Faisal!
With steaming breath, he eyed the tender ridges of her pink anal flesh pulling out with each withdrawal of his long thick staff-and then disappearing once more as his inward thrust drove her little rectal ring back up into her belly. His breath gushed in jets, faster
and faster, through his flaring nostrils as he fucked like a madman in and out of her piteously puckering anal hole.
And scream, Karen did.
Pounded into the bed by his hammering cock, pinned in total submission, her cruelly distended anus brought fresh groans with every scalding plunge. Gradually, she discovered when she relaxed the muscles in her anus, the pain lessened and experimentally, she concentrated on just that. Amazingly, a new sensation, frightening in dimension, overwhelmed her loins. Unexpected, forbidden sensations of excitement began to ripple in her tingling loins. The shame of lying helplessly on her face being sodomized by one man while another sat astride her back forcing her fleshy white buttocks apart, was joined by a strangely masochistic sensation. Pleasure? Could she possibly be feeling pleasure from their cruel rape? She was a white slave, her body being used like a whore's to satisfy his cruel male lust.
No doubt about it, she realized with self-degrading humiliation. Twinges of pain still shot through her belly, but the feeling of Jibsen's hard cock, that hard spear of male flesh, racing up into her vulnerably-filled rectum was flooding her veins with a sensation of pleasure-pain! Shame and ecstasy, pain and pleasure mingled to fill her with wonders of what a man's body can do to a woman.
The sweat poured from Jibsen's face as he plunged in and out of her anus. Spittle drooled from the corner of his mouth. The insanely writhing redhead felt Mitib's dark, splaying fingers removed from the cruelly stretched cheeks of her fleshy ass-only to be replaced by Jibsen's mauling hands.
She gasped again as she felt someone's obscenely intruding fingers forcing themselves beneath her hip bones and creep lewdly through her drenched coppery pussy hair to feel the ragged swollen wet lips of her cunt.
Abruptly she mewled a new wail of agony, this time from the soul. Her defenses crumbled and the young redheaded captive began screaming again with clenched teeth passion as the raping fingers patted her throbbing cuntal lips and scrabbled at the tightly erect bud of her pink swollen clitoris. Dear Gawd! It was unendurable, intolerable, delicious... if his fingers continued their unbearable clawing and torment of her secret inner flesh, she just might cum!
Jibsen's blood-fed penis sawed into her seething anus with harsh, burrowing strokes. No, she couldn't cum! She couldn't respond that masochistically to an ass-rape, her mind screamed. To cum would be an admission of something dark and defiled lurking in her soul. The same element that had made her relent to the Lebanese stewardess' lapping tongue, and that repetition was unthinkable!
The tidal wave of erotic lust swept over her remorselessly. She heard a voice within her soul scream: "Do it... fuck me harder... harder!" She realized with a shrilling bit of horror that, that voice belonged to Karen O'Malley!
Jibsen felt the sweat stream from his every pore as he fucked into Karen's widely stretched hole between her soft, buttery buttocks. He stared down in fascination at her tightly clasping rectal mouth, pulling her softly rounded ass cheeks further apart as he fixed his piggish, staring eyes lasciviously on the pink ridges of her anal flesh clinging to his raping cock on each withdrawal stroke.
She was pumping her ass insanely back against him now, meeting thrust with thrust as she screamed her lust aloud. The little bitch was going out of her mind, she was so damned hot! Faisal would pay a good bit of money for this one, thought Jibsen greedily, proud of himself for thinking up this plot of getting rid of the little red-headed bitch, since she didn't have the thing he really wanted. Once he had disposed of her, he'd go after Bentley and by God, that would be the end of them both! What a stroke of luck, he chuckled to himself, that Bentley had come to him for help... what a god-damned lucky stroke that was!
"Aaagghhh!" Karen cried wildly. Her tingling body was bursting with sensation. It didn't matter what they did to her now, as long as she could cum!
Sensing that his victim was about to reach the peak of sensation and topple over the precipice to one teeth gnashing orgasm, Jibsen plunged his stone hard cock into her fire-filled anus with redoubled fury, brutally splaying her plump white buttocks apart as his pistoning cock fucked faster and faster against her eagerly thrusting ass cheeks. And suddenly he felt her back arch, her body stiffen and shudder.
"Aaaghhh... Ohhh, Gawd! I'm cumming!" Karen screamed in a demented wail of lust. Then her lusciously ripened young body bucked and jerked and thrashed with a crescendo of intolerable delight as her orgasm tremored insanely through her with the force of a tropical hurricane!
The wild churning of her lust inflamed white buttocks triggered off the sodomizing ex-Marine's own climax, he threw back his big head and bellowed out a gasping cry of release. His hips arched convulsively forward, ramming his raping staff even deeper into the helpless girl's rectum as the throbbing head of his cock exploded into a storm of powerful jerking in the tightly convulsing depths of her vise-like anus.
Scalding spurts of semen jetted far up into the ravaged redhead's bowels, and she shrieked in a mindless ecstasy with each fresh gush of his white hot cum. For a long moment, the men held her cruelly pinned to the bed, as Jibsen skewered his spewing penis, ejaculating his churning cum in forceful spurts far up into her quivering rectum. He thrust violently down on her spreading round thighs and levered himself away from her, his deflating cum covered cock pulling free of her plundered nether depths with a lewd, wet, champagne-cork-plopping sound.
"Christ, what an ass!" he panted, clambering off the bed to leave a thick pearly trail of cum stringing across her visibly trembling buttocks. "She's still tight as hell... Mitib, jump on and see what you can do with her now!"
Crushed into abject subjugation by the rape of her anus and the Arab's obscene mauling of her clitoris- and humiliated even more by her own lewd reaction to it-Karen lay sobbing submissively on the bed.
She felt Mitib's weight lift from her ankles, and then the other leapt down to take his place. Straddling her back and arms, he leaned forward to once more pry apart the hot, shuddering cheeks of her ass once more. Again her fleshy thighs were excruciatingly spread wide as Mitib took up Jibsen's position between them and hauled down his pants to produce his own stiff, swarthy-black cock!
"Oh Gawd!" wailed Karen aloud, as she felt herself falling into new depths of despair. "They're going to rape me again!"
The men laughed loudly at her cry of despair and the lustful Persian terrorist, his dark eyes dancing with triumph, guided the rigidly throbbing shaft of his dark cock in one hand, ramming the wetly seeping head against the plundered pink hole that his friend was holding wide, and plunged the hot, searing pole of flesh two inches into her distended and sperm-wet anus in one powerful thrust. As she screamed in a combination of pain and pleasure and shame and remorse from the animalistic attack, he rocked back on his heels and grabbed her wide soft hips to drag the tightly clasping ring of puckered pink flesh still further up the raping shaft of his penis.
Jibsen was zipping up his pants. "Do it to 'er, boy... stretch that tight little asshole! She'll thank us for it later, once she's all broken in!"
Stuffing the limply shining tube of his deflated cock back into his pants, he chuckled down at Karen's flailing white body. "Sheik Faisal's gonna have something special for you, little girl, that ol' chickenshit Bentley never even dreamed of."
Chapter Seven
Almost as soon as the air-raid sirens shrilling in the Basra skies broke the silence, Iranian Phantoms roared over the skyscrapers. Chet Bentley stood on the balcony of his Basra hotel enduring the ten minute holocaust of whirring Iranian rockets and Iraqi anti aircraft guns. Moments later silence fell, an eerie, untrustworthy silence. An hour later the sirens screamed anew. Seconds later two Phantoms streaked in 200 feet above the hotel. Its belly nearly scraped the upper floor of the hotel.
"Holy shit!" muttered Chet Bentley. At least in Viet Nam he had weapons; here anything in the way fell victim. Including foreign filmmakers!
He slunk dejectedly back into his hotel room and threw himself down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. His mind hadn't jarred from the worry of Karen. He was trapped here by the war and the fighting, and who knew how long it could take before he could even get back to Karen. God knows what could happen to her by then... Only one man could help him get back to Karbala in one piece-Abdullah. And who knew how even he could manage it in this kind of fighting.
* * * * *
Karen O'Malley lay on a gold-tasseled divan in an arabesque, vaulted room. The divan sat on a platform with mosaic swirled tapestries strewn with gold hung on the wall. She lay on a heap of pillows. The smell of incense was heavy in the air.
She could recall nothing of her journey-the fumes of hashish surrounding her, combined with the dulling effect of the drug Jibsen had shot into her hip to keep her quiet and docile, made the horror of his bestial rape a fantasy and nothing more.
CBS and New York and even Chet Bentley seemed distant, faraway and unreal as dazedly, she wondered if she would ever see him again, feel his warm, loving fingers touching her flesh. Her old life already seemed a distant thing in her drug-addled brain. Languidly she stretched out on the divan and crooked one naked leg to-naked! She hadn't even realized she was naked!
Her head turned slowly as a tall lean man in a white Arab robe pulled aside the curtain and floated into the room. His dancing dark eyes bored into her milk-flesh, bringing a whimper of fear to Karen's trembling lips So much had happened, so much to think about, if only she could think!
He spoke English brokenly through tensile lips. Mockingly, he bowed and said: "I have come on behalf of Faisal, your new master." As she lifted her wide, frightened green eyes to him, his own dark ones began to roam over the smooth, pale ripe curves of her naked white body, a sadistic smile playing over his thin lips. His face was long and swarthy-dark, his nose hooked so exaggeratedly the tip nearly touched his lips as he grinned lecherously down at her.
Karen shivered. "My m-master?"
"Yes, your master!" He said with a strength in his voice that left no doubt, even in her drug addled brain that she had heard him correctly. He settled down on the divan beside her and she could smell the heavy sweetness of his oil. Without ceremony, he reached out brazenly and roughly pinched one of her rosy nipples into a hard peak of tingling sensation. "I have come in my master's behalf to examine you and see if you are worthy of residing in his harem and attending his diffa."
Karen didn't listen to his words; her mind was centered on the tips of her breasts, burning with growing excitement. The effects of the hashish and the tranquilizer softened fear and heightened sensation, leaving her floating on a Persian carpet in unclouded skies. Her mind blocked out his voice, concentrating on his actions. A tiny moan escaped her throat as she felt hunger churning in her loins.
"You have a magnificent young body. The master enjoys American women with big white breasts."
To test her reaction, he squeezed hard on her milky tits until jagged spears of pain shot through the reddened nipples, wrenching her from dreamy arousal. His closeness was suddenly making her claustrophobic. She struggled frantically to pull herself free of his excruciating, biting grip. A rush of adrenalin flooded her veins and she managed to tear herself from his sweaty grasp and leapt up from the divan to dart for the curtain. But the Arab was accustomed to hysterical and frightened young women in harems, it was his job to control them, and he caught her easily before her tiny bare feet even hit the floor. He looped one arm around her slim waist and effortlessly dragged her back down on the divan, sending the pillows flying. She lay there quivering, naked except for the heavy gold ring piercing her nose and which lay heavily on her upper lip, a new addition to her appearance compliments of her master which was engraved in Arabic, French and English and identified her as the personal property of Sheik Faisal, the chieftain. She had just become aware of its presence and her fingers touched it timidly, exploring this new permanent alteration to her pretty face. Her nose was still very tender where it had been pierced and she took her fingers away, frowning as the reality of it sunk in. Her new master had pierced her nose like she was a prized pig at a county fair!
"Do not try to escape or the master will be most displeased. You will be beheaded for such attempts."
"Be-beheaded?" she gulped, forgetting all about her nose and the ring in her sudden fear.
"And disemboweled."
"Disemboweled?"
"Yes. Women in our country are property. You must learn to accept this idea or it will go very badly for you. You now belong to any man who possesses you. You were sold to your master, and he owns you now. You wear his ring permanently in your nose, marking you as his. If you tried to escape, you would be quickly identified and brought back to him for a sizable reward for whoever returns you to him again. If you displease him, he may do anything he likes to you to punish you. You may be beaten, you could be forced to live and work in one of his brothels where he sends his cast-offs to, or, if he is truly angry with you, he may simply do away with you!"
Karen blinked at that clear cut philosophy and cowered into the cushions against the wall, crossing her arms over her breasts in a feeble attempt at modesty.
Her weak defenses curled his lips in amusement. A couple more tugs with his large hand and he'd grasped for his penis that poked out from under his robe like a snake crawling out of a hole. It jutted out menacingly as his fist pumped at its blood-fed length.
No... he wasn't going to take her from behind, she prayed.
Dear God, Chet!
A crooked smirk creased the Arab's face as with a sudden movement, he wagged his penis at her with one hand and eased her back down on the divan with the flat of his palm.
"I want you to suck my cock," he said flatly. The young naked woman cringed at his crude words, just one more torment in an endless nightmare of rape and pillage.
Wide-eyed, paralyzed with fear, she watched him hold onto his robes and knee his way up to straddle her naked breasts, pinning her arms to her sides with his knees. She saw the blood fattened head of her Arab master's penis thrust forward and press wetly against her tightly clenched parched lips.
"Oh, God, Chet!" she wailed.
"You must take my cock in your mouth or suffer the consequences," he panted lewdly. He grinned lewdly and with his sweaty thumb and forefinger, reached down and pinched the be-ringed nostrils of her finely chiseled little nose tightly together until she sputtered out in a desperate need for air.
"Mmmmphhhgghh!" Karen groaned, dizzy from holding her breath and the unctuous smell of his heavy oil. It was either open her mouth and accept that stiff tube of Arabian meat, or die. The choice was an easy one to make.
Finally, her lungs burning for air, her eyes blinking against the stars flitting before her dizzy, drug-dulled eyes, her lips popped open wide, sucking in great gulps of long denied air.
"You are being sensible now. The chieftain has paid a great deal of money for your favors."
For an Equal Rights Amendment supporter like Karen O'Malley, that hardly made sense. Dear God, why had she asked for the Middle East assignment? Why couldn't she have taken the Mt. Hood assignment instead! She'd rather lose her life in a flood of scalding lava than to drown on Arab cum, and that's what the choice was, pure and simple.
With a cruel lunge, he shoved it into her helplessly gasping mouth, ramming it down deep inside her parched throat until it seemed to brush all the way back against her open throat. She gagged and tears filled her eyes as she fought wildly to expel the rock hard protuberance that filled her mouth to bursting, so unnaturally. The smell of his genitals stung her nostrils, pungent and unclean. The telltale smell and taste of women's love juices was distinct in her mouth and she wondered how many women this detestably ugly man had raped that day. God, it was sinful, disgusting and unclean what he was doing to her! She would suffocate on the smell of him if the length of his drubbing cock didn't kill her first.
Viciously, the Arab grasped Karen's tumbles of coppery-red hair in his dark, gnarled, knuckled hands and yanked her head cruelly forward. Karen broke free just long enough to suck in more of the genital-scented air, and panted with relief. Then the triumphantly grinning Arab sank his lust hardened pole deep into her mouth again, in... in deeper... up to the kinky curls of black pubic hair. The short, wiry hair around his penis grazed and tickled her lips, while his sperm heated balls slapped lewdly down against her chin, beating a lewd tattoo. Now he began to fuck in and out of her widely ovaled mouth with long, quick strokes, and strangely, partly due to the drugs numbing effect and the aphrodisiac effect of the hashish she'd been forced to smoke, and partly due to the rising tide of masochistic acceptance of the debasing act she was being forced to perform in this godforsaken country, Karen began to feel a whispering wind of unwanted passion again rising in her that took possession of her body, leaving her helpless to fight against this obscene defiling of her cock-stretched lips.
He rammed his Arabic cock so hard into her tiny mouth that Karen could feel the tight, parched corners of her lips stretch, then split painfully. Chills of damning excitement whipped up and down her goosebumped spine, little sparks of lascivious delight seemed to explode, fluttering like butterflies in her blood. With a terrible shame masked by the threat of death, she felt the sticky moistness seeping wetly between her now wide spread legs, felt the warmth of it suddenly hotly flooding her pulsing pussy, felt the ache and throb of desire down there between her legs.
How could it be that she was surviving this obscene act? Sucking an Arab's cock, she thought dully. It was wonderfully horrible! Wicked and evil. In a sudden of love for life, she shed her self-degrading inhibitions about this strange race of people and their morals, and threw herself into the act of cocksucking. She ran her shamelessly searching tongue back and forth over the sensitive length of his huge prick, teasing the tiny slit into the tips, licking the drops of sticky fluid that oozed from it, tasting it, savoring it for dear life... as he jerked his hips forward and fucked deep down inside the saliva filled cavern of her mouth. It throbbed there like a heartbeat in its hotly clasping liquidy warmth for a moment, then withdrew, and plunged in again.
Karen's lust-distorted brain brushed aside all rational thought except for the will to live... all memories of Chet and their life together fled, and she gave herself completely over to her subjugated and humiliating task of being fucked in the mouth by a foul smelling Arab... an utter stranger whose swarthy face she'd never seen before and hoped to God to never see again! No! She'd never sucked anyone's cock but Chet's and that was only to please him... never herself. Irish Catholics were raised that way, and Karen O'Malley, despite her perfect curves and proportions, was no exception.
Now it seemed she could not get enough of the stabbing of this swollen dark penis deep into her throat, as if she could not bear to wait for him to shoot his foamy white sperm, filling her mouth with the searingly pungent flavor of his male cum-pouring it down her throat, letting it flood out over her parched lips, dribbling down her dimpled chin while she thrashed in erotic bliss below him.
Madly, insanely now-she sucked on that rubbery knob, her cheeks of their own volition contracting, tightening around his fleshy staff that moved in and out between her tight, pursed lips like a well-oiled oil rig. And then, suddenly, the man's faceless body above her went into a violent spasm, and his abruptly jerking testicles sent the hot stream of thin, milky sperm gushing warmly up into her tightly clocked mouth, welling up and over her young lips like a fountain of half whipped cream.
Karen gulped to swallow every precious drop, her throat constricting and relaxing in turn to squeeze it dry. The captive American mewled and cooed and gurgled and swished her tongue hotly around the now slowly deflating penis, while the Arab threw back his head and ground his teeth together in pure joy. Her lips clung possessively to it, her ovaled lips elastic and tight in a last desperate effort to prolong the moment. At last he grunted and pulled away from her mouth with a wet, sucking sound, and reeled backwards, a thin, glistening strand of his sperm following him away and across the firmly rounded melons of her shimmering, heavy breasts. Karen's exhausted head sank heavily down onto the divan.
"You are a beautiful and talented American woman," she heard him say with a satisfied amusement as she buried her head in the cushion and sobbed in utter despair. "The chieftain will be very pleased to make your acquaintance, and partake of your considerable charms, I am sure. Be sure to please him as well as you did me, and you will be well cared for as one of his concubines!"
* * * * *
Chet was almost jubilant! The Minister of Information had finally decided that because of heavy air raids, culminating in the bombing of Basra's petrochemical plant and the subsequent hurried expiation of American families, all but a handful of foreign correspondents covering the war, would be asked to leave Basra.
He stuffed his dirty socks into his satchel, gathered his shaving equipment and paid his hotel bill. A special courier bus would pick up the reporters from UPI, AP and the major television networks and deposit them in safer Karbala.
The journey from Basra to Karbala is a long one. A single highway joins the two cities, a lonely ribbon cutting through seas of sand rippling under the orange sun. Now and then an oil rig added a touch of spontaneity to the monotonous arid wasteland; clusters of buildings housing foreign oil drillers sat in inanimate testimony to life in the barren land.
The ride was tedious, temperaments rang from despair to tension with reports of fresh attacks drilling further into the heart of Iran. There was talk of foreign involvement and fear of the United States entering the war.
One man ignored the heated chatter of rumors and sat alone with his chin cupped in his hand, staring out into the sensuous wind-whipped wastelands of a country he'd come to despise. The smooth outline of sand dunes, curved and smooth as a woman's body, sparked heated reminder of what lay ahead in Karbala.
The idea of Jibsen being involved in foreign terrorism both amused and terrified him. And what of Karen? What was this crazy intrigue over his baggage, he wondered, his head spinning around as a white Toyota pickup truck hauling two camels in the back, whizzed by in reminder of changing times. Funny, he cogitated, now time moves differently in foreign countries. Bedouins hauling camels to their diyarat, traditional grazing areas, white slave trade, sheiks in Halston suits wearing the traditional turban.
A weary load of travelers debarked in Karbala. Hotel rooms were made available in a downtown hotel not far from where Chet and Karen had spent one night before his instructions to leave for Basra. Chet checked in his luggage at the Hussein Hotel with the instructions to keep it under lock and key, and headed straight for the Hotel Americana.
The buxom old Frenchwoman at the reception desk sat sipping mint tea. She studied the handsome American's face behind the rim of the delicate tea cup and set it down with a clatter. No, she had not seen Miss Karen O'Malley since she'd checked out of the hotel room two days prior, and no, she had left no forwarding address or message.
"The room is vacant, sir, if you wish to look for yourself," she encouraged, reading the distress on Chet's tired face.
"A large American with red hair?" Again a negative. A finger touched her lip then. "Wait... yes, I do... I believe he was carrying her luggage."
Second guessing Jibsen's Marine mentality, Chet accepted the large brass key and headed for the marble staircase. He slipped the key in the lock, turned it and
eased open the door.
And stood dead still in his tracks.
Chapter Eight
In the palatial headquarters of Faisal's region outside of Karbala, the diffa, a ceremonial dinner, was in the midst of preparation. Chieftains from surrounding regions were due to arrive that evening for three days of hedonistic pleasure. The air was redolent of chickens cooked with livers, succulent roast lamb cooked over a spit, rose-flavored milk, pilaf and orange juice.
The women of the Chieftain's harem, of course, were not permitted to participate in the affair until called for. A woman, in traditional Arabia, is not worthy of mingling socially with men and for that reason, Karen O'Malley lay in a drugged stupor in her quarters. In the hallway beyond, rich carpets were hung for the occasion and the air was perfumed with spice burning in a brazier. Beyond was a twisting, high-ceilinged corridor closed off by heavy drapes. The Moorish arches were highly decorated in painted mosaics. Beyond this anteroom was the courtyard where the diffa was to take place.
The checkerboard tiles of the courtyard were strewn with expensive Persian rugs and velvet cushions, and on these about thirty swarthy-brown men attired in ceremonial robes reclined around low tables set with an incredible array of hot dishes, fruits and earthenware dishes. Faisal himself sat on an arabesque tapestry divan covered with Siberian furs. Attired in plain, white robes, he wore a traditional turban. Large-stoned rings studded his dark brown fingers and he sat with arrogant ease.
The occasion for this diffa was secret to most. As owner of the largest oil field in Iran, and having fathered twenty-seven sons (daughters didn't count), his penultimate concern in this his fifty-third year of life, was to perpetuate the power of his region. Two things assured this: money and weapons. The paranoia of wealth ran thick in his veins, the fear that the masses, backed by a fanatic like Khomeini, could some day by force steal from him what Mohammed had given him, was precisely why he backed the anti-Khomeini Iranians in the United States. And, thusly, he had employed one Colonel Jibsen to get for him the necessary information to assure his wealth.
This diffa was in celebration of the delivery of that information.
The night was warm and sticky, diamond chips stars sprinkled in a navy blue sky. The greasy smell of roast lamb cooking over an outdoor spit filled the air.
In the center of the courtyard a center platform had been set up with a divan and countless velvet cushions, built for the express purpose of showing off Faisal's harem of luscious bodied American women... who ranked, in dollar value at least, because of their desirability and rarity in these parts, one step above Arabian women. In status of course, they ranked just one step below a female dog, but they were the object of choice to have in one's harem. Most Arab men were lucky to possess one or two choice American or British females. Faisal had managed to stock his entire Harem with American girls, none older than twenty-five, most still in their teen years, all fair-skinned, all blonde or red-haired and each one, model-pretty. Chosen for their ripe curves and young, beautiful and innocent looks, most had been kidnapped from private schools abroad in Europe or while on vacation in foreign lands.
The women were all bathed, scented and well-scrubbed. Lipstick and make-up applied expertly and heavily to their young faces, their finger and toenails painted with bright shades of red or pink. Each sat in her own, separate room, lounging on pillows and inhaling the sweet tasting hashish that was given to them several times a day, through a bazuka pipe. Garrish strands of yellow gold chains and jewelry was draped about their shapely, white-fleshed, naked bodies, around their slim necks, waists and trim little ankles. Their rosy nipples and pert noses were pierced with thick gold rings that bore the name and inscription of their owner, Sheik Faisal. Strands of gold chain ran from nipple ring to nipple ring, and from nipple rings to nose rings.
For those ones who had been fortunate enough to earn their owner, Sheik Faisal's approval, their pink nether lips and clitoral hoods were also be-ringed with gold jewelry, a sign of their sexual expertise and talents. The more gold, the higher the girl's sexual talents. Their gossamer hair was brushed till it glistened in the lights and pulled back in traditional Arabic fashion, held with semi-precious stone-studded combs and barrettes. Slave-bracelets connected by gold chains to gold finger rings covered their hands and fingers.
Karen lay in a drugged lassitude on the divan, knowing her turn would come to please the Arab sheiks lustfully filling their gullets in the courtyard. The tinkly sounds of belly dancers filtered in through the mud walled building, along with the lewd laughter of men
in the heat of hedonism. The sound grew louder, and, turning her head, the red coppery trail of her hair falling over naked shoulders, she noted the door was opening.
They had come to get her.
Two Arab females, one holding a thin cane in one hand came to where she lay and motioned for her to rise. Leading her by the hand, her bare feet cooled by the marble courtyard floor, Karen's saucered green eyes took in the thirty robed, swarthy-faced Arab men nibbling from greasy brown fingers, bits of roasted lamb which they had torn off the roasted carcass in handfuls. Her body's movements tinkled in the still, warm night air as Karen, her gold chains and jewelry sparkling on her shapely white form, moving in a drugged stupor, was being dragged by the hand to the center stage.
A chorus of appreciative grunts rippled from the circle of men as the lush bodied redhead hesitantly sat down on the divan she was directed to. A sharp tap with a cane on the cushions indicated she was to lie prone, and Karen sighed and submissively obeyed. As she settled herself down in drugged complacency, the heavy, naked mounds of her full, milky breasts jiggled under the wealth of gold chain strung about her neck. Nervously, she eyed the crowd of hedonistic Arabs whose dancing black eyes bored into her naked white flesh like an army of crawling ants.
Where had Faisal found this lovely young thing? She was gorgeous, fresh faced and quite innocent-looking, unlike some of the haggard-looking women Jibsen often managed to scrounge up for various Arab Sheiks at the airports and bus terminals clogged with unsuspecting tourists. But Faisal always had the best, and none of the other Sheiks could match his wealth, or harem.
Karen looked back at them vacantly, in a drugged stupor, her pouty, full wet lips parted laxly open as she blinked and then stared off absentmindedly into the night. The torches burning in braziers reflected in dancing flickers in her large, wide and frightened emerald eyes.
The collection of sheiks and chieftains leaned over their low tables for a closer look at this virginal-looking creature whose shimmering red hair tumbled erotically over her creamy white-freckled shoulders. She seemed too well bred, too movie-star gorgeous to even be real. They stuffed their faces, licking their fingers and belching while Karen wriggled and settled herse1f nervously on the divan, one elbow braced on a soft pillow, her chin cupped in her hand, a look of child-like wonder on her innocent face.
A shapely belly dancer, (one of the many American girls trained to dance expertly for her Arab captor's pleasure) swirled from out of the anteroom, her lush white belly rippling erotically. Her long blonde hair danced down her back with the erotic movements of her art. Karen languidly turned her head and then her jaw fell slack.
Behind the belly dancer danced two grotesquely deformed black dwarves, their naked ebony skin covered in oil and sweat, shone obscenely in the brazier light. Their piggish eyes stared at the naked white woman and their tongues lasciviously circled their thick black lips. Karen sucked in her breath with alarm, instantly knowing her fate. From the hairless vee above each pair of stunted legs, the biggest black cocks she had ever seen in her life dangled grotesquely! As they danced towards her, hopping onto the stage, the two limp rods of dark flesh expanded and stiffened in obscene jerks, stretching elephantine-wrinkled skin until the two shafts were gleaming with tautness and the prune colored bulbous heads burst out of their foreskins to point at the stars sprinkled overhead. The bull-like sacs of their testicles swung heavily between their knees.
Karen bit her lip to choke back the cry of fear that sprang to her lips. Those menacing black penises spearing out so lewdly, so horrifyingly from the loins of the black, dwarves was the most hideous, obscene sight that had ever stung her eyes. She was cowering into the divan when the twin dwarves leapt up onto the stage, only a few feet away from her.
What kind of perverted sense of humor possessed these Arabs? she wondered wildly. Or was it just a desire to debase and humiliate another helpless American female? One of the robed servants arranged braziers burning with torch light on either side of the stage. The illumination splattered over Karen's provocative, naked white body and a gasp of awe rose from the crowd of men at the satiny alabaster flesh beneath. They could not see the goosebumps of terror prickling over her naked white skin or the tears squeezing out of her horrified emerald eyes. Karen sucked in her breath miserably as the twin black dwarves scrambled up onto the divan.
Intuition preempted inhibition and Karen, sensing the sadistic lust flanking her naked body on both sides, she recalled the second warning given to her that night, right after being subjected to a light caning while kneeling naked on all fours. The caning she was told, was to drive home the point, of how easily they could make her suffer for disobedience. And then the words again, spoken more sternly than the first time, just before she had been summoned for the diffa: "Remember! You will be beheaded or disemboweled if you do not please your master tonight, he wants to see an American slut performing for him tonight and that is what you will be for him, or you will deeply regret it!"
Oh, dear Chet... what has become of me? With disgust clogging her throat and fear prickling her nudity, she hastily traced her icy fingers down and tentatively felt for the half-bloated stem of his bulbous black cock, dangling lewdly in front of his huge, hairy black balls. Tentatively, she gave it a heartless squeeze while her emerald eyes squeezed out another bitter tear. Slowly, she slipped the foreskin back, leaving the tip of his mushroom-shaped head naked and shiny-wet. It didn't feel cold and as slimy as it looked in the glistening lights playing in orange shadows over his clammy skin. The other dwarf muttered something in a chipper, high tone and sensing the lust in his eyes, Karen reached out and grabbed his black penis, too.
Some of the sheiks, well acquainted with Faisal's penchant for owning and debasing American women and his brutal, sometimes lethal treatment of them, drank nervously from their vessels of wine, wiping their mouths with the backs of their hands. The Arabs reputation for brutally sodomizing sometimes took on deathly implications... The ones who survived, who became his favorites, often survived simply because they had the ability to handle the brutal ass-fuckings he subjected them to! They waited for the screams, the whips... waited to this poor gorgeous white creature down on all fours now, with whip marks crosshatched over her creamy white flesh attesting to a stern session with a cane or riding crop.
A grunting sigh broke from the white robed crowd of men as some of them, uninhibited in showing lust amongst other men, hauled up the hems of their robes and stroked their brown genitals in rhythm to Karen's little pumping white fist. Greedy black eyes took in her voluptuous Irish-American beauty... the high proud breasts with puffy pink nipples, hardening from the rings of cool yellow gold that pierced them, chains draped about her luscious white flesh, reflecting in shimmers from the torches below on the checkerboard courtyard marble.
Her ribcage and waist were slender and her hips full and mature as she sat on the red velvet divan. Her full, fleshy thighs were firm and marbly-white and her shimmering red hair accented her creamy Irish complexion. Total innocence and angelic pleasure... white and pure, in the eyes of the Arab men. Her stomach was fleshy, but firm, and her succulent pubic mound jutted out erotically as if offering something very special.
The droopy-eye-lidded Faisal licked his greasy fingers and stared lewdly at the newest addition to his harem of American slaves with awed pleasure. His half-closed black eyes fell to her pink pussy, on the two softly pouting cuntal lips peeking out as she sat with her legs spread wide.
The grotesque, naked black dwarf on her right ground his teeth, his pulse racing out of control at the velvety feel of Karen's pumping white fist working him into a hard erection. He sat beside her on the divan, his short, deformed legs and feet dangling off the edge of the bed, humping his black hips obscenely with the movements of her little white hand.
On her left, the other dwarf squeaked in delight as, standing in front of her, and to the side, he bent his knees a little, grinding his hips in time to Karen's pumping fist. A single drop of pre-coital fluid oozed from the tip of his cock and Karen gave his penis a tug and wiped the wetness on her soft, naked thigh.
From the audience, Faisal stuck his greasy fingers in a warmly scented finger bowl and grunted in broken English: "Play with your cunt... slut, let these honored Arab men see your pink American cunt!" He gesticulated expansively, turning his head to see the admiring glint in the men's eyes.
Wanting to keep her head and her bowels intact, the frightened, captive girl let go of the rigid stalk of black male flesh and slipping off the divan, kneeling up on the Persian carpet, she jutted her smooth pale hips obscenely out at the men, giving them a peek at her pussy's pink, ruffled sex-lips. The Arab gathering groaned collectively and the sound of rustling robes sluiced the night air as they cupped their hairy brown testicles beneath their robes and panted with lust.
Encouraged by that response and confident of her convictions that the only way to keep her head was to submit completely and be as whorish as possible, she smiled a lewd, drugged grin as her free hand slid down over her white belly and her elegant fingers played into the nest of her coppery pubic curls. The torches blinded her, mercifully hiding from her the men's hard lusty glares.
Maybe it was the hashish they'd forced her to smoke, maybe it was the strong survival instinct that had kept her alive through the past few days of endless rapes and degradation, but instead of fighting to separate herself from this humiliation, she turned into a groaning, shivering, goosebumped mass of red hot passion. If it was sex these Arab bastards demanded of her to stay alive, then sex they'd get... red hot and ready! She'd show them what liberties American women could have with their own bodies!
Her polished fingertips played over her pink cuntal lips like butterfly wings. In a tempting pose, she spread her feet wide apart and thrust out her hips; she clenched her dimpled white buttocks tightly together and swirling slowly around, bent her head and wiggled her fleshy buttocks at the hungry-eyed men. Her fingers unconsciously spread the swollen red lips of her cunt wide apart, opening it obscenely, like a fish's mouth.
One of the black dwarves grabbed her free hand and placed it directly on his thick, deformed cock, wrapping her slender white fingers around the greasy black shaft. She squeezed and pumped it, dribbling his dripping pre-cum onto her thigh in glistening threads of lust.
"Squeeze it!" the dwarf squeaked an order, and reached down to guide her hand to the tender spot underneath his stubby cock where the vein gushed with hot blood, bloating the black tube out another inch further.
A gasp of awe rose from the gathering of masturbating Arabs.
"American slut!" barked Faisal, "Prepare her!" And pointing at the second neglected dwarf with one hand, while his other hand dipped into the warm bed of birds and rice at his elbow.
Immediately, the dwarf seized her free wrist, wrenched it away from her pussy lips and spun her around, tearing her other hand from his twin's genitals. Four rough black hands fell upon Karen's creamy nudity, grabbing at her, forcing her down on all fours on the divan. To keep her balance, she spread her legs wide, exposing her buttocks and the red-pink split of her pussy. They jumped on her at once, each seizing a fleshy, pale cheek of her ass and spreading it rudely aside like so much bread dough to show to Faisal the winking pink hole of her rectum!
The collection of Arabs murmured their appreciation and here and there one muttered filthy epitaphs in Arabic, bringing a titter of laughter from the men. Some wanted to see blood, some wanted chains... one suggested the snake charmer might do well in the act.
"Squeeze their cocks, slut!" belched Faisal, growing impatient.
Automatically, Karen's little hands wrapped themselves around the stumpish black cocks, this time pulling the black skin all the way back until the pair of mushroomed heads turned vibrant purple. The two black-dwarfed bodies, grotesque and horrible in their proportions, brutalized her body with savage, pinching touches. They attacked her pink-rosy nipples and gouged at her soft, glowing white flesh. Their hard black hands got bolder wilder and groped over her naked pale body, pulling and mauling her tender flesh as if trying to tear the skin from her bones as they pushed her back onto the divan, and onto her back, half-sitting, half lying on the pillowed surface.
Karen fell into a sex-induced trance. Her eyelids were half-closed, she parted her wet lips, licking them lewdly with her wet, pink tongue as she stroked their iron hard black cocks dazedly. Her pumping white fists stroked sensuously while their stubby black fingers ran torturous paths over her slim alabaster torso, down over her soft, naked belly, to probe at the jewel of her belly button. Then, straight down to the furry vee of her cunt...
Compliant, she lifted and bent her knees, parting her shapely white legs splaying open her lush, inner thighs, her weight on her little feet at the edge of the divan, curling her tiny, bare pink toes as she sat on the divan, giving the Arab men a wide open glimpse into her moist, pink, pussy-crack. She grimaced half with pain, half with masochistic pleasure as one of their thick black forefingers brazenly forced its way up into her wetly throbbing cunt, violating the American girl's sex as it began to saw in and out of the helpless captive's lust-seeping red hole. His finger dripped with her lubrication, thick and creamy as fresh dairy cream, her scent heavy in the air.
The dwarf sucked the ebony finger free, lewdly licking the cum-slickened digit and shoving it boldly back in. The Arabs went wild!
With each passing moment of this obscene violation of the innocent young American girl, Faisal's power grew in the room. Faisal was displaying to these other Arab men, in the most shocking and lewd manner, that he was so rich, so powerful, that not only could he debase a lovely American captive in such a manner, without fear of reprisal from the Americans, but that his wealth and power could provide him with enough of them, to provide mere sport and entertainment for an audience.
More than once Faisal had given over a perfectly lovely and desirable young Western girl to one of his favored black dwarves or servants as a gift, simply because he was bored with her. It was rumored that even his favorite matched pair of German shepherd guard dogs had their own personal female bitch. An American girl who he had grown bored with, or who had displeased him in some small manner. It was a source of amusement that he held the Western woman with such disdain and low regard.
Karen clearly heard the cheers and cries of ridicule and delight at her own debasement before these hateful Arab men, even in her drug-addled state. That humiliation alone should have made her want to die of shame... being mauled by the two physically grotesque black dwarves... but sex-pleasure filtered through the fear in the warm Arabian night.
The Arab men masturbated in rhythm to Karen's obscene ravishment as, jutting her hips forward in abandonment, she pumped them lewdly in time to the black finger sawing in and out of her wet vagina. Her soft hands were still squeezing the two stumpish ebony cocks and stroking them rhythmically as if letting go of them would mean death-and it would! Her own!
One of the dwarves jumped up alongside her and flipping her over as easily as he would a rag doll, he leaped upon her back, riding her like she was a sweating white mare, and grabbing her long red mane from behind, pulled her head back, nearly snapping her delicate spine. His livery lips locked in a long wet slobbering kiss to her open, pain-gasping mouth. His heavy tongue found hers and forced it to dance in an obscene, open-mouthed kiss. Their hot tongues sparred, licking at each other as his little black hands pawed at her naked alabaster breasts, leaving red streaks where his ragged fingernails scraped her innocent white flesh and raised blood in its path.
While one black dwarf rode her back, the other continued to finger her reddening pussy lewdly from behind, slapping the poor girl's plump round backside, making her soft, bottom-flesh jiggle and shake as bright pink handprints appeared like magic on her sweat-glistening white buttocks.
The night seemed to grow hotter, more humid too from the steam of lust rising from the stage. Everyone watched intently on stage, witnessing the ravishment of this pure-white, coppery-haired American angel. Low animalish grunts and groans rippled from the men as they played with their rock hard cocks.
Now the finger was yanked from Karen's sucking pink hole up between her gorgeous legs as the little black dwarf took a fistful of her red hair and one finger through her be-ringed freckled nose, and forced the captive to crawl on her knees in circles on the divan while the other dwarf rode her enthusiastically, finally he positioned her face-forward for the best view for the audience. He then piled pillows beneath her upper torso, just behind her fat, hanging white breasts, elevating her body, so she could kneel with hands free.
The dwarf on her back dismounted and moved around to one side of her, his ebony cock almost hanging in front of her pretty pale face. Kneeling submissively between them, her red hair cascading from her head in shimmers of fire-light, she stroked their bludgeoning black cocks and gazed with hungry eyes at the brutal, steel hard cocks wagging in front of her eyes.
"Suck his cock now, American slut..." demanded Faisal. "Suck his nigger cock!"
Obediently, Karen hauled the pulsating black stump down to her half-open mouth and let her long pink tongue flick out and lick at its swollen purple-black head. Nobody needed whips to coax her to do it. Opening her pouty pink lips wide, she slowly guided the hot shaft of ebony male flesh into her mouth as if it were her first food in days. Her full, fat lips closed down around the blunted deformed head and her cheeks hollowed and expanded in a lewd, sucking motion. The dwarf's black cock glistened wetly with her thick, saliva and shone brightly in the flickering torch light as the little man fucked brutally in and out of her slurping mouth, his grotesque little black muscular body humping wildly. With a lewd snarl, his hands reached down, one into her nose ring, and one tangling in her long red hair, holding her head steady as he began to jump up and down, levering her face forward and back, her coppery head wobbling on her shoulders.
The other dwarf contented himself with caressing her nakedly quivering white breasts as she sucked noisily on the other raging black penis. The men had finished eating now and several lit up clovish smelling cigarettes that filled the night air in blue smoke.
"Suck them... suck both of them!" ordered her master, Faisal.
She couldn't, could she? Her puffy lips clung to the shiny black flesh, her tongue licking its vein-heavy underside lewdly before she felt her head snapped around and she meekly opened her mouth wide to accommodate the other's ebony thickness. Her free hand groped behind her until she found the cum-sticky length of the other dark penis. She fondled its hot stubby black length as her warm, suckling mouth slid back and forth over it like an oiled piston.
The two deformed black dwarves squealed inhumanly with lusty glee. Their rough black hands dug into her tender pale flesh, massaging, caressing, pinching, poking and probing. They mauled every inch of her satiny white flesh, defiling her, leaving thin trails of blood from their ragged, unkempt nails. With a shove of his hips, the second dwarf guided his cock roughly between her swollen, puffy lips and shoved it deep into her mouth. Karen acted only out of self preservation but despite her horror and shame, or perhaps because of it, she felt a strange sexual surging from the hideous act of sucking two black cocks at once!
They held her head tilted back, holding her brutally in place, one by grasping the ring through her pert little nose, and the other by fistfuls of her thick mane of long, coppery red hair as they stood side by side, fucking into her beautiful innocent white face, punching their black cocks at her. The audience went wild, but they knew better than to move before Faisal gave the signal.
Karen's head was pinned back and her mouth wedged obscenely open until the girl's full lips were stretched so thin it seemed that at any moment the corners would split. The two huge stump-like black penises crammed well into her hot sucking mouth, gagging her. Wildly, insanely, she sucked as if with eagerness at both of them, her hands reaching out in complete subjugation to cup their oversized, black fleshy buttocks and pull them closer into her slurping mouth.
Her hardened pink nipples rubbed against their hairless black thighs, thrilling her from their sweat-moist heat. The Arab men gaped with open mouths at the sight of this voluptuous white American girl being debased and humiliated before their eyes, submissively sinking to the lowest depths of sexual depravity! And all for the amusement of her master, Sheik Faisal and his audience of wealthy Arab friends.
The American girl lay sprawled obscenely on the stage, her fleshy legs opening onto the shocking, spread-open view of her coppery, hair-fringed pink pussy with its glistening, dripping, dewy pink petals. The fat erect nub of her clitoris winked at her viewers, glowing like a pink neon bulb in the orange splatters of firelight. A steady clear flow of her thick, syrupy cunt-honey seeped like a glistening stream from her sex-hole and ran into the crack of her plump white ass-crack.
Faisal clapped his hands once and a servant came running. He barked orders in Arabic and seconds later a bottle of heated oil was thrust into the hands of one dwarf. Unscrewing the cap, he tipped the bottle above Karen's breasts, liberally splashing her with the warm liquid. Big oily blobs dribbled over Karen's magnificent white breasts, pooling in the shadowy cleavage.
The harsh order from Faisal was barked out to Karen. She was ordered to massage herself completely with the heated, scented oil.
Lewdly alive with lust, Karen used her small white hands to smear the oil all over her stomach while the black dwarves rubbed it all along her fat, milky breast, her curving fleshy thighs and soft abdomen. They rubbed until the American girl's white flesh shone like fine white marble.
Faisal barked another order in Arabic to one of the black dwarves and quickly, not wanting to lose his head, the little man devoted his efforts to deeply greasing the deep shadowy crevice between her round, pouting ass cheeks. Faisal's moustache twitched in anticipation.
Karen O'Malley was lost in a private world as she caressed herself, massaging the oil over her hills, valleys, bumps and curves. She tucked her chin in and bent her head as both hands tried hard to hold one fat, slippery tit-mound in place while her tongue licked and swathed the hideously humping dwarves black cocks.
Chapter Nine
"I knew you'd show up sooner or later," chuckled Jibsen, looking every bit the ex-Marine as he stood with feet wide apart fondling the black length of a billy-club.
Bentley's hand had barely lifted from the door opening onto the hotel room where he'd last seen Karen, when the coarse-featured Jibsen started laughing. Chet stared into the gloating piggish eyes, his fists drawing up into steely balls. He didn't like being betrayed; if he'd wanted to get stabbed in the back, he would never have left Viet Nam.
"Where's Karen? What have you done to Karen?"
"You might as well forget that little red-haired twat with the big fat tits. Me and my Persian buddies fucked her fat freckled ass off and sold what was left of her to Sheik Faisal. You'll never see her pink twat again... never," he grinned triumphantly.
Chet stepped forward and glared the man in the eye. Instantly the fondled billy-club waved ominously in the air. From where he stood, Chet could see raisin-colored splatters of dried blood. "So help me, Jibsen... I should have put a bullet through your ugly skull in Nam!"
The coarse featured man laughed. "You got a lotta balls coming back to this hotel after my Persian thugs bashed your face in."
"I came back to look for Karen."
Jibsen spit on the carpet. "Nobody does that just for a fuckin' fat-titted cow of a girl."
"I have and I did."
Jibsen's smile faded and his eyes raked up and down the tall handsome man standing ten feet away. "Well, you're a damn fool! Where's your luggage?"
Chet glanced around his ankles and an amused grin broke out over his face. "Gosh, I guess I forgot it, huh?"
"You bastard!" The billy-club wheezed through the air, barely missing Chet's cheek. "Where's your luggage?" Jibsen bunched up his ham-like fist and drove a cruel force into Chet's stomach. The blow seared into his guts, sending waves of agony flaming up into his skull. The billy-club was jabbed into his diaphragm and with a choking cry of pain and doubled over.
"Where's your luggage? You don't hear so good, huh?" the big American bellowed as Chet's tortured lungs gasped to draw in a lungful of air.
"...told you... I don't have it," he groaned. Jibsen jerked his head and two Iranian terrorists emerged from the closet. Chet took one wincing glance into their swarthy faces and instantly recognized them as his attackers in the Beirut airport men's room. They pinioned his arms behind his back without giving him a chance to struggle. Jibsen went to work, punching his victim's chest and belly and solar plexus with rapacious, ruthless force.
The helpless captive's body bucked and jerked and writhed under the battering attack. The sound of knuckles on flesh and bone filled the room along with an occasional whack of the billy-club crashing into Chet's ribcage. Chocking groans and gasps forced their way through Chet's bleeding lips. When Bentley was doubled over, Jibsen barked an order at the Persian thugs who let the American's body fall like a sack of cement. They stood back as Jibsen went to work.
"Where's your fuckin' luggage... I'm asking you one more time, Bentley... and then I'm gonna get rough."
Bentley's right eye was swollen shut, his nose bleeding red dribbles onto his once white shirt. He panted desperately, the pain in his ribcage excruciating. "I don't know... looking for Karen... I don't have it all... with Karen..."
"You lying shit... tell me!"
Behind his tortured, swollen eyes, Chet's mind raced. What was Bentley's obsession with his luggage?
What had his socks and underwear to do with international espionage and weaponry? It had become a matter of principle now.
The ex-Marine stepped towards the crumpled victim. Chet sucked in his breath, his broken ribs crippling him. With a wicked grunt, the big man leaned down and grasped the sac of Chet's sensitive balls and pinched them hard.
Chet bleated out in pain.
"I'm askin' you one more time... and then I'm gonna castrate ya!"
Chet stared incredulously up into the big man's eyes. "...don't know..." Another ounce of pressure would kill him. "Hotel... in the Hussein Hotel..."
"You lying sonofabitch... first you don't know and now you're lying!"
"Aaaggghhhh!" Chet screamed as a bolt of intense agony shocked his system as Jibsen's steely fingers grasped the sac of his manhood and yanked so hard Chet's body jerked puppet-like.
Jibsen had drawn back his booted foot, ready to bury it in the pit of the filmmaker's groin, when a thunderous roar rent the air. "What the hell's that?"
One of the Persian thugs darted to the window, stuck his black greasy head out and stammered: "It's an Iraqi military helicopter!"
"Shit..." muttered Jibsen. "An we ain't got the luggage yet. I can't afford no fuckups when we're this close. Come on, let's get the hell out of here... take the back fire escape!"
On the floor, the battered body of the American filmmaker lay twitching in agony. Minutes later, the door opened and Abdullah came into his fuzzy vision.
* * * * *
Under the starry Arabian skies, the torches blazed, splattering orange reflections over the redheaded American girl's oil glistening white body. The mounds of her milky breasts danced and shone with the rhythm of the black dwarves caressing touches. Her soft belly shivered, her fleshy white thighs quivered... and the Arab sheiks and chieftains were growing heatedly impatient.
Abruptly, Faisal clapped his hands, barked commands at a white-robed servant and seconds later the two screaming black dwarves were hauled off of Karen's writhing alabaster body. They were not to have their pleasure with the American girl tonight, tonight she was a treasure reserved only for the special Arab guests. Faisal jabbed a finger at Sheik Fahd, indicating it was his privilege to jump on stage and have a go at the hapless American girl first. Next a quick glance around the gathering and Faisal indicated to Ahmed he could also join in the shameful defilement of this luscious bodied American slave girl too.
Both men wasted no time stripping out of their robes and clambering up on stage to join Karen's oil glistening white body under the heat of the brazier torches. Fahd and Ahmed, their swarthy, dark brown, hard muscled bodies topped in white turbans fell to work, punishing her with poking fingers and prying hands as they stuck their fingers up into her pink, wet pussy... sometimes two or three at once, and fucked her hard, jabbing into her tender coral pussy flesh with their cruel, boney digits.
Karen, out of her head and nearly hallucinating, felt almost grateful that her black dwarfed lovers had been replenished, for they had stimulated her shapely little body to the point of painful arousal, and she wriggled helplessly on the divan like a pale-skinned belly dancer, mad with lust. The men's hands mauled at every inch of her white body as they stroked over her oiled flesh, pinching, pulling, and tweaking her creamy nudity. It was a wild pagan scene.
The men's muscle-rippling dark bodies sweated profusely under the torch lights. Finally Ahmed, slipping and over her ripe lushness, got a firm grip on her slippery waist and crouched over to whisper in her ear: "I'm going to fuck you... little white slut...!"
Karen shuddered with anxious anticipation. Her young oiled alabaster body trembled and she spread her pale legs wider still, wanting it now, and returning his dark threats with her submissive, and open invitation do just that. She shuddered with an unholy desire.
The Arab's well-endowed brown sex-tool slapped down on top of her face like a billy-club, smacking her across the cheek, then slipping and sliding, over her voluptuous white breasts. His throbbing brown cock jerked and twitched as he guided it between her soft white thighs.
The gathering of lustful Arabs riveted their eyes on Ahmed's dark brown buttocks and they leaned forward to get a look at this wonder of Arab aggressor fucking helpless, and quivering American. It was a commonly told rumor that American women were very much like whores, liberated in sex... very experienced in taking on a variety of partners, having had countless cocks inside of them. But many of the ones that they had captured or acquired seemed much less experienced than the rumors told about them, though they very soon learned to perform like the whores they were said to be. And this one? She seemed almost virginal, that is until the two Nubian dwarves had aroused and heated her lush white flesh. Now she wriggled like a wanton slut, opening her heated white thighs and undulating her hips, but could this petite, lush white body take the camel-sized prick jutting from Ahmed's gifted loins?
The voyeurs sucked in their breath as the dark, mushroom headed penis slipped easily into the pink, honeyed mouth of the girl's lubricated cunt and shoved with an obscene sucking sound that smacked of sadism. Her pink little cuntal hole spread wide for the Arab invader, and her fire-hair fringed pussy lips clutched involuntarily around the thick brown shaft as it sank well out of sight into her tautly rippling white belly!
This is what the Arabs had been waiting for! They hauled up their robes and squeezed their dark, sweaty balls gently as would a lover's hand, they pulled at their swarthy brown penis until they pounded with blood... all the while their fiery black eyes watched the defilement of the hapless white American captive.
Ahmed and Karen began to move in savage harmony, dark meat on white, as if they'd rehearsed this act for the benefit of Faisal's pleasure. Ahmed's bulging biceps rippled as he held the slippery naked white girl beneath him and fucking in and out of her wetly clasping cunt with a brutal force. His heavy brown balls slapped wetly against her oiled white buttocks, and Karen's tight little pink pussy rolled inward with each violent thrust. Each time he pulled out to the tip of his lust-swollen cock head, Karen's delicate coral-red cuntal lips clung as if lovingly to the thick brown shaft like a tight rubber glove pulled from a surgeon's hand.
And Karen was fucking the Arab to save her life! Literally! Her sex-greased hips gyrated and pumped like the filthiest of sluts, her pelvis rolling and humping as if on bearings, and she bucked and undulated with a total disregard for her long-gone lover, Chet Bentley. She had given up on ever seeing him again, and fucked as much for survival as she did for the unendurable heat that filled her burning little pussy! Just who was fucking who was almost anybody's guess, for she humped herself back against him almost as hard as he was slamming into her. Ahmed fought to hold onto her slippery oiled white body while the hands of a dozen hungry Arabs reached out to grab a shapely white leg, a fat white breast, or to tear at a red, coppery pubic curl. Her mouth gaped open like a beached fish sucking for needed oxygen, and deep animal moans of pure pleasure rumbled helplessly from her throat as her head thrashed from side to side, whipping her red hair about her sweat-glistening face. When she did open her eyes, they were glassy, with a distant, sex-heated, drug-reckless glint to those emerald green, cat-like orbs.
A complete orgy with this hapless American girl was but a few cock-strokes away...
Fahd, growing impatient and feeling a bit the left-out fool, now got into the act. "Roll her over," he grunted at Ahmed. "Roll the American whore over!"
Karen, lost in her wild lust, her slim waist bucking as her hips lashed up to take all of the Arab's hard brown cock, didn't even hear the terse command. Her emerald eyes blinked open only when she felt dark hands twisting her pale nudity around, rolling her helplessly over on the divan.
The tall Arab kept punching into her tender pink cunt as if trying to bludgeon her to death, even while they rolled over onto Karen was riding his swarthy, sweaty body like a horse. It was a relief, having his weight off her lissome white body, and the night air was cool on her heavily perspiring nudity. She breathed freely now, taking deep lungfuls of air, her mouth open and gasping, resting for a moment, concentrating on the huge, hotly throbbing brown cock buried deep up into in her velvety pink cunt. Then she leaned down, taking some of the weight with her arms and allowed the rosy-red nipples of her oiled, ripely swaying white breasts to brush back and forth over his dark, hairy chest. The effect was electrifying! Stars flickered before her green eyes and adrenalin-powered lust charged through her veins.
Ahmed looked into the gorgeous, dimpled white face of the red-headed American, seeing her innocent countenance distorted by her heated lust and he smirked lecherously. He ground his teeth with heated lust for the American girl. He teased her heated wet loins with his huge brown tool, giving her short thrusts that drove her mad with desire. Karen deliberately fought for his huge cock, wanting him to thrust inside her now, and she egged him on by clenching and unclenching her cuntal muscles, milking his raping brown cock with her maddening tightness. Slowly she tightened her fleshy white buttocks muscles and rocked back and forth over him, grinding her juicy pink cunt into his black pubic curls and mewling like a cat in heat from the feel of his pubic kinks grinding maddeningly against the pink oily nub of her erect clitoris.
The gathering of sheiks stared with incredibly-growing lust, their dancing black eyes staring wonderingly at the American girl's oil-slickened, meaty white buttocks only a hand's grab away, shining like two full pale moons in May.
Then their eyes fell on Fahd crouching by the writhing couple whose moans and yelps of lustful joy filled the night air. A cruel, depraved expression in his dark moody eyes glistened in the night as he held in his pumping fist the angrily throbbing blackened head of his brown, veiny cock.
Karen was slowly spreading her oil-sheened legs wider still, her sexual heat causing her to open herself more and more to the fucking she was getting, until she had to draw up her knees on each side of her ravisher to ward off cramps. She paused, a moment of depraved ecstasy on her distorted features as she unknowingly exposed her nakedly churning white buttocks. Her crotch was a dripping-wet, red-pink split from her pussy to her plump ass-crack, showing her hidden treasures to the gathering of lustful Arabs.
Murmurs-low, lewd, obscenely insulting comments, filtered up into the night skies, all directed Karen's way, the Arab men intent as they masturbated themselves shamelessly between quaffs of wine and nibbles of food.
All eyes were glued to Karen's naked, fleshy asscheeks as they slowly spread further apart, showing off the red crack, the tightly puckered starfish-button of her pink anus buried deep and snug in the fleshy red crevice between her pale ass cheeks. Her soft, dimpled buttocks undulated, rolling tantalizingly as they moved up and down. Unknowingly, she was teasing the men in the room with her meaty bottom cheeks as they pumped in helpless heat over the Arab's stalking brown pole, covering it with the thick, slippery sheen of her sex-oil as it burrowed and gored deep up into the gorgeous young American girl's cunt. Every hungry-eyed Arab could see that swarthy brown pole of male meat spreading the ragged pink lips of her delicate pussy so wide they almost folded back on themselves, reveling in the buttery softness of her seeping, helplessly unwilling, but desire-filled pussy.
The captive American girl deliberately used her slippery cuntal muscles to grasp more of his raping cock, as if her cunt were a second mouth, another nibbling set of lips. She slithered and scrambled on her knees, drawing them up higher, pulling them slowly forward until her soft, sweaty white thighs hugged and squeezed the Arab's brown, dusky body, her knees in his hairy armpits.
Her quivering pale ass cheeks rode shamelessly high in the air now, her pink-buttoned anus winking invitingly at Fahd as she ground her sex-heated cunt frantically down on the incredibly-huge stalk growing from the black hairy forest of Ahmed's loins.
Fahd fell to his knees on all fours, slipping between the hairy widespread legs of his friend and the smooth sleek thighs of the captive white woman, until he was crouched over her upturned, well-oiled ass cheeks.
Karen was one goosebumped mass of quivering female flesh, moving uncontrollably, as if she were being run on batteries. She now looked the complete part of what she knew the Arabs imagined her to be, a wanton slut with no soul, or morals. But she could no more stop herself from responding than she could flee to freedom from these hateful men.
Her mouth hung open lewdly, her emerald eyes glazed, a thin spittle of drool threading from the corner of her lovely, cock-stretched mouth bleeding from the torture of sucking on the two black dwarves at once. It wasn't until she felt the hotly probing naked head of Fahd's rubbery prick squeezing, pressing against her tender pink anus that she realized Jibsen's evil use of her bottom, his threats of how the Arabs would also use her, were now but a stroke away from reality.
The Arabs went berserk, shouting obscenities in Arabic, goading on their friend to take the American girl in her ass. They sucked in their breath as Fahd held his thick jerking brown cock in one hand, guiding it up and in to nudge against poor Karen's tightly clenched little anus.
Karen's eyes sprang open as if on springs when she felt the first digging pressure. She froze in her obscene position, scared of moving for fear of displeasing Faisal or Ahmed who was grunting underneath her, bathing her face in the smells of the roasted lamb and mint tea he had been enjoying. He was tweaking her rosy nipples now, squeezing and pinching them, biting on the sore ringed areolas, pulling her gold nipple rings with his teeth till she squealed.
Karen panicked.
Her red hair swung around and her wide emerald eyes stared uncomprehendingly at the swarthy figures hovering close to the stage. They were closing in on her: tight-lipped, lusty-eyed Arabs, pumping their cocks in their fists and muttering undecipherable insults, threats, and vile promises in a language she couldn't understand. She tried to move, but both men held her tight, their hands digging into her oiled white flesh, their ragged nails scratching her back in red trails of blood.
"Nooooooo!" It was a long lost wail that bubbled in her throat. Desperation glinted in her eyes. She had to get out of here... all these men... dear God, what would they do to her? What was there left to do to her? Would they fuck her to death? Desperation could not even convey the feeling of helplessness she felt of being held prisoner sandwiched shamefully in between two lustful, vengeful Arab men from a culture that despised women and in particular, American women to boot. She could not resist, and that was the hellish part, if she fought them, displeased them, they could punish her or even worse. To displease Faisal meant certain death. She could only hope they didn't fuck her till she died from the horrible and relentless invasion of their raping Arab cocks!
Now Fahd was using his brown hands to spread her smooth, slippery ass cheeks apart. Karen clenched her teeth, an elephantine tear squeezing out her eyes to dribble down onto her quivering breasts.
She quivered with dread as Fahd's hands brutally wedged open her tightly clenched white buttocks, drawing them apart like a dinner roll, and fully exposing the pink-red maw in between. The crowd hissed a gasp of encouragement as Fahd used first his knobby brown thumb to tease at her rectal opening and then, when he had the tight rubbery ring loosened slightly, his long middle finger.
With a quick jab, Fahd rammed his long, oil-coated brown finger into her pink-puckered anal hole and twirled it around in widening circles. Up to the first joint it bored. The muscles of Karen's buttocks clenched automatically and her anal hole gripped defensively at his finger like a tight-closing fist. The pain was reflected in her twisted and contorted face, and a high squealing moan came from her throat. Her full, plump-white breasts jiggled and shook on her bosomy chest as she sobbed and whined.
"Pllleeezzz noooo!" The horrible sodomizing experience with Jibsen and then his Persian thugs was still ripe in her mind. Two Arabs raping her at the same time... they were going to kill her!
Fahd's face was a mask of cruel sadism. His hatred and disdain for the young, American girl was evident as he began to cruelly jab into her lush white bottom. His thin, taut lips were pulled into a straight line, black eyes snapping, nostrils flaring. As if in answer to her panic, he sawed and reamed more quickly in and out of the buttery-warm depths of her cunt, ramming a dark finger well into her up to the palm of his hand. Karen groaned in agony from the scalding anal rape. Her aristocratic features contorted in pain and shocked incredulity. Recklessly, he fucked like a madman into her poor little asshole in preparation for much bigger things to come. And that bigger thing was throbbing and dripping with steady pearls of pre-cum now... dangling between his dark thighs!
Karen closed her eyes and tried to be still, concentrating, trying not to think or feel. She could see her ragged, bleeding white body left on the divan once Fahd had finished with her.
Chet... dear God, what had happened to Chet? She'd been so sure he would find her, rescue her. But there was no Chet, he had failed her... forgotten her... abandoned her...
She crouched on her quivering stomach on top of the groaning, humping Ahmed, her lily-white thighs spread wide, squeezing in and out, her knees tucked up along-side his raping body, hugging him tightly. His hard brown cock throbbed inside her cunt like a live animal, and she felt Fahd's thick worming finger stabbing through her rectum like a hot knife in a tub of butter from behind. She had cooperated with them, suffered the indignity of sucking an ugly, grotesquely disfigured set of black dwarf cocks, because she'd wanted to save her life. Now they were probably going to kill her anyway! Tears of betrayal scalded her emerald eyes, and inwardly she damned these detestable Arabs and their horrible cruelties and lies! Dear God, if she lived through this torture, she would never trust another Arab as long as she lived.
She begged and pleaded with them, but it did no good. The Arabs only jeered at her all the more, called her a whore and a slut, hurled insults of the most insulting kind about America, and American females. They pumped their dark cocks in her face, climbed up onto the stage and slapped and pinched her quivering, jiggling white buttocks, taunting her more and more with what they were going to do to her. They yelled in Arabic for Fahd to; "fuck her in the ass... fuck the American whore in the ass!"
Fahd pulled his finger from Karen's tight little anal button with a lewd wet plopping sound. He aimed the fat, lust-bloated head of his aching cock directly at that cringing puckered pink hole and flexed his hips with every ounce of strength in his body.
"Aaaagghhh...!" All eyes fell on Karen's lust-contorted face, saw her emerald eyes gape open in utter shock and surprise as the brutally stiffened cock plundered into her buttery depths with the speed of an oil rig.
"AAaaagggghh...! OHHHHH! GGAAWWWDDDDD!"
Every black eye turned to her trembling, nakedly upraised white buttocks as she froze, screaming out a squealing cry high up into the blinking Arab stars. Every Arab eye watched the grotesquely stretched pink hole give more, more, spreading, slipping like a rubber glove over the fat probing tip of his thick, rampaging cock. Fahd grinned in cruel triumph and thrust his hips heavily downward, burying half of the dark hardness of his brown, male meat into the girl's soft velvety channel with one vicious thrust of his powerful hips.
Her groans and squeals choked back into her throat as the pain became so great, she could no longer even scream. Karen, panicking, fought for freedom from this crucifying assault; but her every wriggling, scrambling move only helped to impale herself deeper on the two fucking brown Arab cocks with each jerk and twist of her tortured white body. A rain of blows came onto her from the surrounding Arab men, punishing her attempt at disobedience, spanking her shaking, bouncing white buttocks, leaving their handprints on her alabaster-white flesh, bright red handprints that stood out plainly, and then began to fade into each other as her entire quivering, sweating bottom turned a bright red.
Fahd's massive prick sank deeper and deeper into her futilely resisting anal hole. Beneath her, Ahmed grunted and rammed his penis into Karen's cunt until his cock bored into her tender cervix, doing his sadistic best to also pin her in place.
The voyeurs pulled at their brown penises and stroked their dark, hairy balls, watching as the lucky man leaned over the redhead's upthrust white buttocks and fucked his bloated penis through the last remaining resistance... going deep up into her tight little rectum, right up to his sperm-bloated balls.
They fell into a maniacal fury of fucking their redheaded prisoner, buffeting her pale body between them as easily as if she were a rag doll, watching her dance and bounce in helpless spasms on their raping brown cocks.
"AAAGGGGAAHH!"
The scream sluiced through the air, piercing the ear drums of every laughing, lusting Arab voyeur.
"Ohhh Gawwddd... it huuurrrtts... oh, please... oh, help meee!" Karen screamed piteously as she felt Fahd's hotly throbbing cock fucking deep up into her rectum, banging against the tender, thin membrane separating her cock-filled cunt and rectum, filling her hot ass and bowels, filling her dripping cunt from below. She whimpered and tossed her head in insane agony, sandwiched whorishly in between the sweating dark Arabs who treated her like the lowliest of Mohammed's creatures. With only that thin blood-fed membrane separating Ahmed's plunging brown cock from Fahd's thundering one, Karen felt everything magnify intensely. In and out they thrust in unison, pumping into her, punching her white belly and anus at the same time as if trying to meet in the middle.
The scene in Faisal's courtyard was close to riotous. The Arab men, with robes hauled up to the waist, pumped their dark penises frenetically, some of them began to cum, squirting their cum in white steaming arcs onto the stage above. Pearls of cum splattered over Karen's back, in her coppery-red hair, dribbling in white rivers from her thighs. When one came and left, another took his place and also came on her quivering white body as well.
Now her rapists fell into a smooth cadence that pounded her oil slickened body between them like a rag doll. Faisal, watching intently, clapped his hands and ordered the servant to bring out the other American women in the harem. One woman wasn't enough.
Seconds later a dozen hashish-drugged, white-bodied American girls, as nude as the day they'd been born, nude since becoming the hapless prisoners of Faisal's palace, were herded out into the courtyard like frightened sheep. The Arabs jumped on them with lewd grunts. In moments, the sound of wet cocks ramming into wide-stretched pink genital openings like high-powered oil rigs, slapped throughout the courtyard. They screwed and sucked and defiled the helpless American girls as they also watched the frayed pink edges of Karen's poor, little pussy-flesh pull out with Ahmed's penis on the outstroke and disappear back inside her cunt as he plunged again deeper into her quivering little belly.
But it was Fahd's thick brown cock pulling out of her jiggling backside, drawing the tight ridges of her tightly clenched anus with it, then wetly ramming back up into her until his cum filled brown balls were wedged hard up into her softly yielding white buttocks, that every one watched. Streams of sweat poured off of Karen's white body, running like a river over her breasts, her thighs, and down her back. It poured from her back into the trough of her moist asscrack, continually lubing the fat brown cock raping her lush, plump bottom.
Something started to loosen within the redheaded American. In her head as well as in her buttery-soft white ass. Maybe it was an hysteric reaction born of the will to live. Maybe it was the shameful and degrading idea of being ruthlessly fucked by two men while forty people watched ogle-eyed... that unscrewed the masochistic bent in her mind and in her helpless white body.
Arabs fucking their little American sex-partners scrambled up to their knees to look, breaking the chain of lovemaking, to watch the miraculous performance. A strange, far-away glint sprinkled in the captive's green eyes and a low ecstatic moan trembled from her full, pink lips. Involuntarily, her oil-glistening white buttocks began to undulate and churn. From the well-pleased expressions on the raping, Arab's dark faces, she obviously was clenching fist-like with her slick, juicy cuntal and anal muscles, milking their brown, raping cocks with her twin-honeyed holes.
"The American whore likes the ass-fucking!" one of the Arabs chimed in his native tongue and a chorus of agreement rent the night skies. Her rapturous moans and squeals of delight were making a lie out of the winces of pain on her sweat-streaked young face.
"Fuccckkk mmeeee..." she finally grunted thickly to them as they bored relentlessly into her anus and cunt in synchronized speed. The words coming from one so beautiful and innocent-appearing was doubly arousing. The other young American women of the harem stared and blinked incredulously at the newest member of their secret society of lost or captured American travelers who'd found themselves life-long prisoners in the ruthless grasp of Faisal's sex-harem.
Faisal, too, could not believe the profound transformation in the redheaded American woman. It surprised and pleased him to see her reaction to her first rape in his harem. Shedding his robe, he stepped toward the stage. Copulating Arab sheiks rolled to the side, parting like the Red Sea, to make a path for this powerful man who would soon be the most wealthy and powerful man in all of Iraq or the Middle East.
With a snarl, Faisal kicked hands and legs out of his path until he stood at the side of the divan near Karen's thrashing coppery-red head. He watched as Ahmed fucked in and out of her juicy, pink cunt with sadistic, punishing blows and Fahd pumped his hips, slapping up against Karen's tight little rectum.
The American bitch was supposed to be screaming for mercy at her first shameful and degrading rape in his harem, not loving it! She was being battered and jerked and twisted about, her coppery head flying back and forth until her screams turned to moans and moans to groans, finally to wild squealing sounds of animalistic delight as her pale body found the rhythm and she moved in fucking unison with her two Arab rapists.
"Well if she loves it so much, then Allah has blessed us with a whore that can fuck an army of Arab men! And if she can fuck an army, then we will give her an army to fuck! Fuck the little American bitch until she dies!" barked Faisal in a queer falsetto as he pumped at his rock hard cock that outsized any male's there by a full three inches. He caught hold of Karen's thrashing head and held it between his strong hands and, with his thumbs, forced her parched, gasping lips open. Brutally, he guided his cock toward her lips and shoved the full ten inches down her throat like a sausage being stuck into a meat grinder. "Yes, you are going to have many, many cocks, my beauty, many Arab cocks, and you are going to please hundreds of men every day. Your white American body will bring pleasure to Arab men until you are completely used up and there is nothing left of you! This I vow!"
Karen never even heard his terrible words, she was too caught up in her own shameful debasement. This was ultimate thrill... sucking the cock of the perpetrator of her capture and humiliation. Some weird sense of survival whispered from a deep corner of her subconscious that by lowering herself to this debasement, she would somehow purge her soul. This was her new master who was fucking her face now, her master wanted a sucking from her, and so suck she did!
Faisal began jerking his hips back and forth as Ahmed and Fahd fucked and bucked, and Karen let her white body ripple and go limp while she ovaled her lips and lapped and suckled hungrily at Faisal's dripping brown penis, tasting the bittersweetness of his pre-cum, reveling in her own rape-bound arousal. She sucked at him like the lowliest of whores, his American slut, drawing the sperm from her master's testicles that beat against her chin. She clenched shut her green eyes, glassy with lust, her long eye-lashes fluttering like butterfly wings over flushed cheekbones. She sucked and twirled her tongue as the Arab men beat into her from all directions.
The four sweating bodies, glistening with perspiration of mixed races and love oils, completing a circuit of lust. Faisal was the first to scream out his release. His stiff, proud brown body rippled, his teeth gritting. Karen felt a sense of pride in having pleased her new master, while white hot sperm shot into her captive mouth, bulging and hollowing her cheeks as she gulped and swallowed and sucked for more, her tongue twirling around the slitted end madly. When it deflated like a stuck balloon, she lovingly licked the splattered cum from his hairy, sweaty testicles like a little baby kitten.
Ahmed came next, exploding his thick cum into her cunt with a wild roar that sluiced the night air. Karen was up in the heavens with the blinking stars as her own searing orgasm blinded her for a moment. She felt as though her insides were coming out when it hit with a thunderous force and she let out a wild cry. "Oh, fuck meee...! Fuck my asss... oh, hurrrttt meee!"
And hurt her Fahd did. White hot pain coursed through Karen's anus and mingled with her orgasms, making it wilder, sweeter, more intense and damningly memorable. She felt as if she were riding a Persian carpet through the diamond studded skies, whirling off into limitless time and space on a ride of eternal pleasure.
Opening one emerald eye, she saw Ahmed lying beneath her, his moustache still twitching from his orgasm. From behind, she felt Fahd's hot oily cum shoot into her ravaged anus, filling her up until it dribbled down between her legs.
Then all went black.
Chapter Ten
"You must not approach Faisal's pasha as an American dressed as you are," insisted Abdullah dictatorially. "He will have you beheaded by his guards. The man is ruthless, powerful and to be feared."
Anger surged through Chet's veins. "But he's got my woman! I don't give a shit if I have to go as a beggar, but I'll drag Karen out of his ugly hands!"
"I regret I can be of no greater help to you, but to interfere would cause dissent in a country already torn by war."
"And just who the hell is this Faisal, anyway?" Chet winced, holding the ice bag to his swollen forehead and felt nothing but hate.
"Faisal owns the largest oil fields in Iraq. Because of his power, he is frightened of peasant uprisings. He is paying your Jibsen to get him the formula for the H-bomb."
Chet's head flew around. "Are you shitting me? Jibsen with a bomb? Huh?"
"Do not laugh," warned Abdullah, strolling up to the hotel window and glancing down into the clogged streets below. "This is a country of many changes."
* * * * *
"I can never thank you enough," said Bentley, offering a warm hand to the pro-American Iraqi. "I would have been a dead man had you not come to my aid." He adjusted the brown, dirty rags of his beggar's costume and felt the weight of the holster riding his hip.
"More reports of Faisal's treachery and possible treason have filtered through the embassy... and with your concern for your assistant, I felt it my duty to seek you out. Fortunately, Mohammed graced us with good timing." He bowed to the East reverently, accepted Chet's warm grip, and disappeared through the door.
On foot, his ankle length tattered robe marking him a beggar, Chet pulled up his hood to hide waves of blonde hair, and a bruised face. Below, his white Addidas whispered over the sidewalk as he made his way towards the heart of town, outside of the tourist district to where the heart of Karbala pulsed. Chet's pulse quickened at the thought of seeing his redheaded Karen again.
He neared the marketplace bustling with Iraqis who'd come to sell their wares, charm snakes, tell fortunes, juggle and do anything to earn a living in this land of extreme wealth and dire poverty. A parade of soldiers guarded the archway leading to the open market. Guns slung over their kaki shirted shoulders, they kept a wary eye out for suspicious foreigners during these days of strife.
Keeping his eyes peeled to the ground and looking the humble beggar, Chet quickly surveyed the hub of activity. Abdullah had given him vague directions to Faisal's palace, but he needed more concrete information to avoid looking the lost foreigner he was. He was swinging about, peering under the hood of his beggar garb, when a soldier on horseback whipped his horse into a gallop chasing a ragged youth who'd been seen stealing a pomegranate from a vendor. With disregard for filthy beggars, the horse charged into Chet's path.
To avoid being trampled under the dusty hooves, Chet nosedived to the ground. The protection of his hood flew backwards, revealing a tanned American. The sudden movement, following Jibsen's hideous attack on his genitals, left him temporarily stunned. Laying in the dirt, he shook his head and started rising to his feet when an Iraqi soldier caught the incongruity
"Halt!" he barked in Iraqi.
Chet took one wide-eyed glimpse over his shoulder, muttered a desperate "Shit..." under his breath, and scrambled to his feet. He was a foreigner in a country at war, an enemy at that, and his Arabic wasn't strong enough to withstand the rigors of long cross- examinations. Besides, the battered condition of his Nordic face and his new Addidas tennis shoes would lend no credence to any story, no matter how wildly convincing. They would probably throw him into a hay-floored dungeon and feed him gruel until every last hair fell out of his head. No, there was no other way around it.
The soldier, on horseback, had halted his horse, swung around and raised the barrel of his rifle. Had it not been for Chet's impeccable sense of timing, he might have been trampled under the heavy camel hooves being led by a Bedouin bringing earthenware vessels to market. The agile American yanked up his beggar's robe, the legs of his denim Levi's scissoring frantically in a mad dash for the twisting alleyway. Behind him, shots rent the air. The din of screaming women and thundering horse hooves screamed in Chet's ears. The marketplace became a bedlam of rearing donkeys, frightened camels and maddened soldiers hot in pursuit.
He followed the alleyway lined with mud-walled buildings. Behind him, the shouts of Arabic soldiers winging bullets in the air hastened his speed. His Addidas tennis shoes slapped along the dusty street as he headed for the adjoining alley and plunged into an arched doorway whose steps lead up to a courtyard above. But beggars weren't welcome in Iraq... he'd better keep running.
They were hot on his trail, no doubt about that! Panting wildly, he sprinted around the first bend in the narrow lane. He dashed into an entry smelling heavily of urine and littered garbage and ran up a flight of stone stairs, crossed a wider street and headed for an archway that led into a maze of alleyways behind. Footsteps and shouting voices sang behind him; bullets whizzed over his shoulder to chip plaster from the wall.
The length of the beggars robe was prohibiting his speed and he ripped it off, tossed it down the steps behind him and tripped up another set of steps leading to an alcove. He was making a split-second decision when he felt something warm grasp his arm.
Ready to swing, he pivoted around ready to land a punch in the face of an Iraqi soldier. His hand fell to his side as he stared into the blue-eyed loveliness of a white-skinned belly dancer returning from the marketplace.
A tight layer of diaphanous fabric sheathed her belly and hips, and a silver cupped brassiere with strands of silver dripping about her neck, shimmered over a deep cleavage. She might have been naked. Chet gulped.
"You American?" she whispered, her cloying perfume stinging his nostrils. She nudged him by the elbow and pointed to a winding staircase leading to a modest mud-walled house above. "Come with me..." she said in perfect English, tinted with a distinct Southern-American accent.
Chet did, gratefully. The sounds of pursuit were one stairway away, but the bullets had stopped singing in his ears. Hopefully they'd found the discarded beggars' robe and assumed he'd run the opposite direction.
At the top of the stairs, the seductive dancer opened a hinged door and nudged the American inside. She bolted it and leaning against it, stared longingly at the handsome blonde American.
The room was tiny, furnished sparsely with cushions and rugs on the floor. Chet had the distinct impression the American girl made her living by moving more than her hips.
And she was lovely. Voluptuously curved, her milky breasts heavy on her chest, her soft belly rippling under the green transparent shift. Her blue eyes were wide and her lips full and ripe. When she removed her veil, a cascade of blonde hair came into view.
"I saw you in the marketplace," she said in a voice which Chet thought was filled with a profound sadness. She cocked her head in the direction of the steps. "The military is after you, that I know."
She came toward him in a cloud of perfume. "I used to belong to Sheik Faisal's harem, I was his favorite, and he named me Pasha. That's my name now. I lived in his harem for about a year, but he grew bored with me, and put me to work in the marketplace. Now I earn my living by dancing and... well... as long as I give my master my earnings, he lets me keep enough to live on, not a lot, but it pays the rent, keeps me fed. You can stay with Pasha and I'll take care of you, I'm so lonely, I never see Americans any more." Whisking up the diaphanous skirt, revealing a shapely pair of lovely white legs, she thrust her pale pelvis outward and smiled seductively. Beneath the skirt, the delicate pink lips of her cunt pouted out invitingly.
Chet backed away. "I cannot stay, I must leave," he croaked in a tight voice.
"Don't you want to fuck me?" she whined. "I'm very good, my master trained me to please a man in every way. Please stay with me! I'll take good care of you and fuck you and care for you!"
Chet gulped. Suddenly she was pressing her pale lushness against him, her hands groping for his genitals, her fingers caressing, crawling over his flesh, groping for his testicles. Chet had no doubt the girl could back up her boasts about being able to pleasure a man in any way. This Faisal had to be crazy to cast a girl as pretty as this one out into the streets to be a common whore. Could he possibly have so much pussy, he could afford to be that choosy? In spite of himself, Chet felt his cock stiffen and lurch under his denim Levi's.
"See, you do want me, I can tell you do, you're all hard and ready for Pasha."
Chet groped in his pocket, hauled out a handful of change and clasped it into her warm palm as he pried it off his crotch. "I just don't have time for that right now, but you can help me with one thing honey. Tell me where I can find Faisal's palace."
Her tiny white hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, you can't go there," she sucked in her breath. "That is a forbidden place, for an American especially, unless you are a girl, that is, one of his harem. Better you stay with me! Let me take care of you, please? I'll be your little whore, I can please you, Pasha is a good slut," the girl said, her voice whining and pleading.
Chet grinned, leaning over to kiss her on the lips. The brief encounter relit the girl's desires and she was devouring him with kisses, her lush white body pressed against his, her round arm snaking around his neck to bend his head towards hers.
The sound of footsteps scrambling up the stone steps made both of them panic. She quickly unlaced her arms from around his neck. Her eyes shot toward the arched window.
"You must go quickly! I didn't think they would come tonight. The soldiers come here sometimes to have sex with Pasha. Master lets them have me for free when they are off-duty. They will find you, and its very forbidden for me to pleasure anyone but an Arab... if they find you here..." She ran a finger under her throat symbolically.
"Faisal's palace?" he whispered, hearing the footsteps and loud Arabic voices getting closer
She quickly gave him directions, begging him to return to her later. They banged on Pasha's door just as Chet made the ten foot leap onto a pile of rubble in the alleyway.
Pressing his panting body to the mud-walled building, he looked right and left, listening for Iraqi soldiers. Satisfied by the silence, he took off for Faisal's palace.
The outside of Faisal's palace was nothing stupendous, but once Chet had stolen his way through the arched courtyard, strewn with costly rugs and cushions, the meaning of Arabic petrodollars struck home.
Hugging a mosaic column, he peeked through the archways, hearing servants on the far side of the courtyard muttering in Arabic. Chet scurried through a deserted anteroom decorated in rich carpets and perfumed with clove-smelling incense, and followed a twisting corridor which led onto a second courtyard where a large fountain spurted prismatic crystals into the air.
Sucking in his breath and patting the holster boring into his hip bone, Chet tiptoed toward the back of the house. It would only make sense that the harem would be at the back. Rather like Blacks in the back of the bus, thought Chet miserably. Being a new member of Faisal's private society, no doubt they'd locked Karen in a separate room, considering her stubbornness, he was sure she had resisted valiantly up to this point, and kept Faisal at bay.
Or at least he prayed she had.
After seeing the little blonde American girl, no doubt a formerly sweet southern girl, reduced to the lowest form of common Arab street-whore by that bastard Faisal, Chet's blood boiled, he had to get to Karen quickly before they turned her into the same kind of trained whore...
A narrow stone stairway twisted upwards beyond the anteroom. Heavy wooden doors locked with heavy iron bolts lead off the corridor. Chet stopped, put his ear to the first door and listened. The sounds of sobbing filtered through the wooden plank. No, that wouldn't be Karen... she was too strong, the weeping was far too hysterical.
Cautiously, on tiptoes now, he unbolted the second door and peeked inside. A fleshy bodied naked white woman was asleep on her back. Another blonde! Where did Faisal find these girls? The third room he found empty. Biting his lip and losing hope, he unbolted the fourth. A naked woman with flaming red hair and enormous white breasts crowned with luscious raspberry nipples stared druggedly at him, a small smile coming to her lips when she saw him, her lush thighs opening in lewd invitation from a divan piled high with cushions.
Chet drew in his breath, shocked... for a moment, he had thought it was Karen, and now he was beginning to wonder just how much Karen had been able to resist Faisal's advances. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he squared his shoulders and dashed out of the room, rabbit-like around the corner... and stood still in his tracks.
A dozing guard sat outside a bolted door, a sword hooked in his belt. Cautiously, silent as a cat, gun drawn from his holster, Chet slunk towards the door. Hurling himself at the guard, he clubbed him viciously over the head with the revolver butt as his other arm squeezed around his throat.
The guard was well trained in combat and the thundering blows only stymied him for a moment. They crashed to the floor together and the sword fell from the guard's belt. As the strong body writhed and threshed beneath him, Chet levered his knees between the man's shoulder blades, put his arm around the guard's throat and pulled up with all his strength against the pressure of his knees.
The muscles of the guard's neck corded, the veins in his swarthy forehead popped as he fought against the well-trained ex-Marine's strength to break the neck cracking lock around his throat.
Sweat poured from Chet's brow and rivered down his cheeks; the muscles of his arms spasmed... until the gasping breaths of a choking man bubbled and died. The head flopped lifelessly on the marble floor. Chet stiffened. The screech of air-raid sirens sang in the air.
"Holy shit!" muttered the American, hearing the screams of terror echo down the hallways from the trapped women. Shuffling of feet scuffed up the stairs and down the hallway.
Knowing the dead guard wasn't the only servant stationed to maintain the harem, Chet shot back the bolt on the door and flung it open.
Karen, naked, lay sprawled on the bed, her red hair tumbling about her naked shoulders, she stared at him lewdly from a pile of cushions. There was a tall hookah pipe beside the bed and Karen was drawing in a deep breath on the long pipe end she had placed to her lips.
Karen's lush white thighs were splayed wide apart, and Chet could see her red-furred muff was wet with her sex-oil.
He gasped as he saw a seepage of thick bubbling sperm slip from the delicate pink lips of her honeyed hole. Someone had fucked Karen, and very recently.
And that is when Chet noticed the ring in Karen's pert little freckled nose, the gold chains running from the ring down to the rings through Karen's nipples, and as he stared between her full, fleshy white thighs, he noticed another ring had pierced her pink puffy pussy, right at the top, through the hood of her clitoris! He'd kill Faisal with his bare hands for this!
It was lucky for Chet, that he did not know how many men Faisal had offered Karen to over the past few days. Or that the sperm he had seen sliding form her well-used pussy lips had come from the very guard he had just killed a moment ago. One of the many guards who now enjoyed Karen's services each day, for Karen had been given to the guards as a plaything.
After offering her to the Arab Sheiks at the orgy, and seeing her respond so quickly as a whore, he had been disappointed that she had not been more shamed and humiliated.
He'd kept her over the next few days, but after getting his fill of her ripe shapely white body, he found he was still disgusted with the American redhead, and so he had given her over to his palace guards.
The fifty palace guardsmen shared five cast-off American females from Faisal's harem, and Karen was now the new favorite. Over the past five days, she had received all of the guards many times over. Only the strong smoke from the hashish pipe kept her from dying with shame at the daily defilement of her lush white body by the unwashed Arab palace guards. She had resisted only once in her first day of service to the men, and a stern session with a cane on her fleshy white bottom had quickly changed her mind, and brought her to submissive obedience.
She saw Chet in the doorway through her slitted emerald eyes, and thinking it was another palace guard come to ravish her, she obediently raised her knees and brought them up under her chin, spreading her full white thighs invitingly, wriggling her bottom which still bore the raised red welts from her punishment five days before.
Chet saw the invitation and his jaw dropped in shocked surprise. He felt a mixture of both revulsion and desire. He doubted she even knew it was him, but the invitation was clear. He felt his cock lengthening and hardening in his Levis.
It was tempting, but first things first. Jamming his gun back into the holster, he darted to the hallway and dragged the guard by the feet and dumped him in Karen's chamber. Outside the sirens wailed. Seconds later the hellish thunder of Iranian aircraft sang in the air.
The world exploded into a deafening blast of dropping bombs exploding over the skies of Karbala. The walls of Karen's chamber trembled, the plaster chipping from the walls.
"I never thought I'd love the sound of bombs, but by God, I'd rather take my chances in war than getting caught in Faisal's palace!" He grunted, grabbing Karen by the arm. "Come on, let's get you out of here."
She didn't budge, she stared up at him and smiled lewdly.
"You okay?"
She stared at him for a moment more and then a frown seemed to come to her pretty face. Her lips lost the smile and she pouted with annoyance. She had never expected to see him again... and here he was in flesh and blood. Why hadn't he come for her sooner she pouted. And then gradually, she began to clear her mind a little. He really was standing there! He really had come to rescue her. She flung herself hysterically into his arms sobbing wildly while the bombs sang and exploded, while plaster shivered off the walls and a detonated missile crackled blocks away. "Oh, Chet, I thought I'd never see you... Chet I've done awful things... they made me into a whore, Chet! Can you forgive me?"
"Later for that," he said urgently. "Cry later, explain later. Right now we've got to get ourselves out of this place alive. I have a feeling it ain't gonna be easy."
"But, I'm naked!" she protested, as if suddenly realizing her immodest state.
"Better to be naked than dead." He ripped off his shirt and held it out for her slender arms to slip through. "Come on, we've got to get out of here."
Outside in the corridor all hell broke loose. Women, trapped behind bolted doors, screamed as rockets shook the walls of their prisons. Karen balked. "We've got to let them out, please, Chet!"
"We'll take care of them later... maybe... right now we have to save our own necks!"
The courtyard below was swarming with guards and servants hovering in confusion as pillars cracked and crumbled around them, explosions biting into the mud-walled building of Karbala.
They picked their way down the steps and dashed for the alleyway. Stones bit into Karen's bare feet; the flaps of Chet's shirt winged up to show off the lush nudity beneath. Shards of rock and bits of stucco whistled through the air. Donkeys and camels, torn from their master's reins, thundered down the alleys braying wild-eyed.
The Americans plastered themselves to the alley wall as a wounded donkey screamed in the last throes of death before collapsing in the clogged narrow street.
Minutes later they dashed up the confusion of stairways and pounded on little Pasha's doorway.
Chapter Eleven
The air attacks on Karbala lasted one day. Iraqi war missiles whistled retaliatory strikes over Iranian skies.
Chet, Karen and Abdullah, Minister of Information, were sitting discussing the odious Jibsen and his Iranian terrorists. The Americans had checked into the Hussein Hotel and after a good night's rest their strength had been restored.
"I'm trying to get all this straight in my head," said Chet. "The attack in my Beirut hotel room, the airplane blowing up, the train tracks being bombed, and Karen's experience at the harem were all tied together?"
Abdullah nodded. "That's right. We've had spies planted in Faisal's palace and it appears the diffa was a sore failure since Jibsen was unable to deliver the goods. Faisal took it out on Karen basically, he distracted the other Sheiks by offering them the use of all of his prized harem girls. But yes my friend, the goods were not delivered."
"Which was? I still can't figure out what Jibsen was looking for from me? Jewels? Dope? What?"
Abdullah smiled patiently. "As I told you, Faisal is much concerned about weaponry. It is reported by our spies that he will soon have the secret to the bomb. That will make him an independent power within Iraq, a most dangerous situation for the harmony of our country."
"I'd say," snorted Chet.
"Speaking of our luggage, isn't something missing?" Karen wanted to know. She slung one slender leg over the other and cocked her head seductively. "Wasn't there a present I was supposed to have been given?"
Chet snapped his fingers. "Sorry, babe... forgot about that. My satchel's locked up downstairs. Why don't you two entertain yourselves while I go find my satchel."
Convincing the hotel desk clerk his battered face was the same as the handsome one on his clearance papers and passport, he was granted entrance to the luggage storage room filled with American luggage belonging to soon to be deported news reporters and war correspondents.
Keeping in mind that every occurrence with his luggage seemed to conjure up trouble, Chet slipped the key in the luggage storage door silently and twisted the latch. A beam of sunlight stole fugitively through the barred window. The afternoon shadows angled over the line up of oddly shaped luggage. Finding his satchel would be no easy task.
He'd stepped a few feet into the room when his sixth sense alerted him to another presence. Whirling around he tumbled to the floor with Jibsen's full weight hurling through space to pin him to the floor, knocking the wind out of him.
Gasping for air, Chet struggled to twist onto his back; but Jibsen had seized his arm and screwed it up between his shoulder blades.
The struggling filmmaker beat uselessly at the floor with his free hand. Jibsen's weight crushed him, and although Jibsen was flabby in the stomach, he was strong. Chet had to break the grip to keep his arm from being broken. His mind reeled with pain... Jibsen had gone for his left eye socket. With a grunt, Chet lunged his head forward and his teeth sunk savagely into the flesh of Jibsen's hand.
"You fuckin' sonofabitch!" roared Jibsen, releasing his grip on Chet's arm to grasp for his hair and drag the cruelly biting teeth from his hand.
The second the arm was free, Chet drew his knees up and with one supreme kick, threw Jibsen's heavy body to one side and scrambled to his feet to kick furiously at Jibsen's jowls. The tip of Chet's shoe caught Jibsen on the side of the chin and the sound of bone crunching filled the room. But Jibsen was a Marine and Marines fight to the death. He was up in a flash, his hands held away from his sides, an evil glint in his piggish eyes.
"This is what I've been waiting for, Jibsen... I've got a bone to pick with you! You raped my girl! Turned her into a whore!"
"Shuddup, chickenshit..." growled Jibsen, running his tongue over his teeth and finding a few missing. He spit them out just as Chet rushed forward again, swinging a powerful right to Jibsen's jaw.
The big man blocked the punch with his palm and smashed a murderous hook to the side of Chet's head. Chet staggered back against the luggage rack. His cheek had been split, and blood trickled down his chin. Jibsen seemed to have a thing about battering the left side of his face.
Jibsen was coming at him again, panting hoarsely as he hammered a flurry of blows to Chet's battered face and aching body. But Chet was tough too, and younger. Gasping and wincing as Jibsen's meaty fist raked across his chin, sank agonizingly into his abdomen and hammered into his ribcage, he stood up and returned punch for punch. His only hope was to stay on his feet and hope the older man tired first.
Jibsen's chin got a leaden beating as Chet thudded glancing blows there before punching at the heart. One fist into the solar plexus wheezed the air from Jibsen's lungs... and Chet, ducking under Jibsen's fists, brought up his head to pound his fist squarely into the other man's face.
Jibsen yelped out in pain as his broken nose gushed crimson; he swayed dazedly from the attack.
Tigerishly, Chet leapt forward to land a searing left and a pile driving right across Jibsen's diaphragm. Jibsen grunted and fell back against the luggage rack behind him, while the filmmaker punched into his gut.
But Jibsen wasn't an ex-Marine for nothing. He drew a deep lungful of air and came at Chet, knocking him alongside the head, sending stars shooting in front of his eyes. Then, grabbing a suitcase, he swung it at the younger man to throw him off balance.
Windmilling backwards, Jibsen took a flying leap at the fallen man.
Chet jerked his knees back into his stomach, smashed his heels into Jibsen's groin and straightened his legs with all his strength. Jibsen hurtled backwards and landed on his back, his head banging into the luggage rack.
Chet was on him in a flash. Blinded by blood streaming from a cut above his eye, Chet kicked him in the belly. The big man howled with pain and tried to scramble away on his knees. Chet grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him to his feet. A bent knee jabbed into Jibsen's groin, bringing him to his knees for good.
As he lay moaning through cut and bloody lips, Chet jumped astride his panting body, jammed one foot into his armpit, seized his right wrist in both hands and hauled upward on the arm with all his might.
"Let's have it, I want to hear the whole story..."
"What the fuck you talking about?" groaned Jibsen.
"About the Persian thugs attacking me... what have I got that's so damned important to you?"
Jibsen yelped. "You're breaking my arm!"
"I said talk!" Chet Bentley had two scores to settle... the attacks on his life and the abduction and raping of his girl friend. He took neither lightly. Breathing heavily, Chet shifted his other leg so that his knee was jammed against the back of Jibsen's elbow. Still hauling the arm up against the pressure of his foot, he began bending it back over his knee. "Tell me, you shithead, or I'll break your arm off!"
Jibsen screamed with agony and writhed on the floor, kicking his heels. More pressure... sweat beading Chet's forehead.
"Aaagggghhhh!" wailed Jibsen. The sound of cracking bones reverberated in the room. Chet let go, and Jibsen's useless arm flopped to the floor. "You broke my arm, you fuckhead!"
"I'll break the other one if you don't start talking!"
Jibsen groaned through set teeth. "Those... were Iranian terrorists... following you... the luggage... in Beirut you bought some lingerie in... a French boutique..."
"Yeah, big shit!" mocked Chet. "Let's hear the rest!"
"The lace... in your girlfriend's panties... has the secrets for the bomb woven... in Arabic..."
"That's for Faisal, right?"
Jibsen nodded.
"For a goddamned piece of underwear your Iranian terrorists blew up a fucking airplane... killing innocent people?" grated Chet. For that heinous crime, Chet grabbed Jibsen's good arm and brought it back against his knee.
"Aaiiiiie! Stop, goddamned you!" He struggled for breath. "It wasn't my idea!"
"Then whose was it?" snarled Chet.
"Faisal's... he's backing the anti-Khomeini groups in the States... giving 'em all money and papers to stay in the States... wants to take Iran... oil fields... Aiieee!"
"And Karen... why did you sell her to Faisal..."
"She... she didn't have the Milady bag... the stupid twat... so I fucked her good and made some money off her slutty, freckled ass... it's your fault, you asshole," he sang through clenched teeth. "You shoulda given her the lingerie and none of this shit would have happened... it's your fault Faisal turned her into his personal slut!"
"Why the hell did I end up with the lingerie... tell me that!" Another inch forced back against Chet's knee made Jibsen's back arch off the floor.
"Somebody else by your description... ouch... Christ, you're killing... me... Was supposed to pick it up..."
* * * * *
"Chet, I'm so glad to be going back to New York," chirped Karen hastily packing her suitcases in the Hussein hotel room. "Chet, I know you want me to keep the other piercings, and to be honest, I've sort of grown used to them, I kind of like them now myself... but can't we take the nose ring out, everyone who sees me will know I was a harem girl. And isn't there a danger in that?"
"I doubt it. You have your passport, your with me, and we have the attention of the American Embassy. I doubt very much anyone will try anything. Karen that ring is pretty thick in your little nose honey, I don't have access to a cutting saw. As soon as I get you home, I'll cut it out for you ok?"
"Okay, baby, I guess I can live with it a while longer. I've had it in my nose so long, it seems kind of normal by now. And as for the stares I get... well, it can't be much worse than the humiliation of being an Arab's plaything..."
He swung her around by the shoulders, his face a mass of swollen purples and greens. "Karen, I love you so much! I'm going to make this all up to you I promise! But before we go there's something I have to turn over to Abdullah... Reaching into his satchel he hauled out the lace trimmed tap pants and camisoles and spread the lace over his palm. Karen's slender finger traced the inch-wide lace.
"It looks terribly irregular... look at the stitches, they're going this way and that..."
"That's the code for the H bomb, my dear... woven into the lace of your underwear! That's why Jibsen's Persian thugs were trying to kill me... I had the secret they needed to keep Faisal from disemboweling them..."
Karen's forehead wrinkled. She shivered. "Sounds familiar," she murmured under her breath, rolling emerald eyes at the ceiling.
"Abdullah reported that's exactly what happened to the conductor who tried to knife me and the two thugs who attached me in Beirut and the airport... all over a goddamned pair of underwear... makes you wonder what the world is coming to."
"And the conductor... what happened to him?"
"Hanged himself in prison. It's called Islamic honor..."
A knock on the door and Abdullah appeared, ready to drive them to the airport.
Shelling attacks had temporarily halted and special dispensation had been granted to Americans anxious to return to the States. Chet was told by Abdullah that a private jet had been chartered by a group of Arabs who wanted to repay him and Karen for saving them from the threat of the bomb. They would fly home in style.
At the airport, the couple headed for the ticket counter, checked in their luggage and headed for the private VIP lounge for a quick drink before takeoff. Their flight was announced minutes later and scurrying through the gate, Karen quickly boarded the flight, two or three steps ahead of Chet who had stopped to show their passports to an inquiring guard at the gate. Karen had been waved through, and she boarded the plane, a flush of excitation rouging her cheeks.
"Hello, my friend," smiled the Lebanese stewardess closing and locking the fuselage door behind Karen, speaking through raspberry-red lips. "Welcome aboard your flight to Baghdad. If you will please sit in the seat near the back, I can strap you in, and make your flight a pleasant one... or not, it all depends upon you... Sheik Faisal has been very concerned about his private property, he is anxiously expecting you!"
Karen sucked in his breath and her pulse quickened. It was the French-speaking Lebanese stewardess from the train...
