WARNING: This story contains graphic punishments for infidelity.

Thanks to Nightbird for his editing skills.

A Stitch in Time


     Okhasha Bin Mohsin rubbed his temples; his wife was driving
him mad!  She knew that he wanted an heir, but he had found a
small wine skin containing Black Seed Oil among her possessions.
Imbibing just a sip of that after they had joined would prevent
her from having a child.  Damn that bitch!  He had taken her from
an unsure fate and made her a wife, not just any wife, but a
chieftain’s wife.  He gave her everything she wanted, but she
refused to bear his child.


     As chieftain of the Al Khamsa tribe, Okhasha was ruler of
one of the most powerful Bedouin tribes.  He was a feared
opponent, yet he could not control his own wife!  This problem
will require much thought if I am to deal with it properly.  He
looked at his wife bent over from the waist reaching for
something.  Her slim body was still discernable through her
flowing robes, her firm ass-cheeks pressing tightly against the
fabric.  The woman is an affront to Allah!  Did not the prophet
Muhammad state,  “Women who would be dressed but naked, Curse
them for they are truly cursed."  It was a shame that such a
woman would flaunt her god given beauty and have such a cold
heart.


     ‘Twas merely a few days later than Bashka, one of the most
disreputable members of his tribe, came to Okhasha and inferred
that he had some information vital and would be glad to share it
for some consideration.  Okhasha had dealt with this type before,
he stared at Bashka’s leering eyes and unwashed face; he felt his
rage building.  Okhasha threw the filthy insignificant creature
to the floor and began flailing him with his sheathed scimitar. 
The shrieks brought Okhasha’s guards into his tent where they
watched the spectacle with open mouths and their swords half
drawn.  “Tell me you misbegotten spawn of a scorpion, what news
have you that you wished to squeeze a ransom from me?”


     The bruised and broken wastrel sobbed, pleading for mercy. 
“Your eminence, most kind chieftain of the Al Khamsa, stay your
noble arm and I will tell you my most distressing news.  Even as
I speak, your misguided wife is in the tent of one Toualeb, the
blackguard.”  Okhasha drew his scimitar and held the curved bade
to Bashka’s throat.


     “You had better not be lying to me dog or the sands will
drink upon your blood this day.”  Okhasha strode from his tent,
led by his naked scimitar. A growing crowd of tribesmen, women
and children followed in his wake.  The tent of Toualeb was shut
up tight, as if for the night.  Okhasha’s sword quickly opened a
slit in the side of the tent. He grabbed both sides and tore open
a new doorway.  A sight that would shock even the most jaded
camel awaited him.  His wife, his naked wife, kneeled in front of
the brute Toualeb with his large cock in her mouth, the noises of
her sucking was loud and the greatest outrage to Okhasha.  Her
eyes were closed, but Toualeb’s were not. They widened as he felt
the sharp blade of the scimitar at his throat.  His large uncut
cock suddenly shriveled in her mouth and slipped out as he
stepped back.  The harlot’s eyes opened and she screamed.


     A trio of guards grabbed Toualeb disarming him and pushing
him to his knees.  Okhasha grabbed his sluttish wife by her long
dark hair and dragged her from the tent.  He dragged her to the
center of the encampment and called everyone to him.  Once the
entire tribe had gathered around, he spoke loudly,  “You see here
my former wife, a harlot found naked with this man and pleasing
him.”  Okhasha pointed at Toualeb, who hung his head in shame. 
“They will be punished according to the laws that have been
passed down through the generations, Observe!’  Toualeb was
dragged forward stripped of all his clothes, his saddled horse
held by a guard behind him.


     Okhasha drew his jeweled dagger and waved it aloft to the
crowd.  “Behold, a gift from my former wife, the slut, will be
the instrument of her lover’s end.”  A guard bent down and pulled
his flaccid member forward from his kneeling body.  One swift cut
separated Toualeb’s genitals from his body; the guard dropped the
bloody flesh to the ground.  Okhasha went to Touleb’s horse and
buried the dagger in the rear of the saddle.  He grabbed the
harlot by the hair and dragged her to his tent.  Meanwhile two
guards tied the screaming Toualeb backwards on his saddle, and
sent the horse running out into the desert with a hearty slap to
its flanks.


     Summoning his second in command, Okhasha requested his
saddle, a large needle threaded with coarse twine, and all of the
men, five at a time, to be brought to his tent.  When his saddle
was brought Okhasha dragged the slut to the end of it by her
hair.  He spun her around so that her feet were touching the
saddle.  Guards grabbed her by her ankles pulling her legs to
either side of the saddle and tied her legs to it.  He then
plopped down on the saddle facing her spread foul hole of
infidelity.  Okhasha stuffed her fuck-hole with desert sand. 
Handful after handful was packed tight until no more would fit. 
The slut was whimpering as he rudely filled her unholy vessel of
deceit.  Okhasha then held up the needle with his right hand and
grabbed her swollen lips with the other.  She started screaming
at the top of her lungs knowing what was to come.  He proceeded
to stitch her outer lips up tight, each thrust of the needle
bringing a howl from the harlot.


     When the stitching was done, Okhasha cut her legs loose,
rose, and threw her bodily across the saddle.  Her stomach rested
on the smooth leather, while her naked ass was stuck up into the
air.  The men inside the tent were speechless.  None of them had
every seen this before, although some had heard of it being
practiced centuries before.  Okhasha was washing his hands, the
final task needed to separate any connection with the slut
forever.  Her name would be stricken from the history of Al
Khamsa forever.  It would be like she had never existed.


     “Well, what are you waiting for?” Okhasha growled at the
waiting men.  The first one unlimbered his shaft from his robes
and walked to the prone harlot.  He plunged his dry prick into
her tight ass-hole.  She started screaming once again, which was
ignored by all.  He pumped her virgin butt hard and fast, soon
flooding her unclean hole with his cum.  The next man strode
forward. His cock was monstrous, and even with the dripping semen
lubricating her sore ass it brought forth more howls and screams
from the debased woman.


     The third man and every other man that followed spit on his
cock then coated it with a covering of sand. Her ass started to
bleed as Okhasha watched on satisfied.  He knew this tale would
be told around evening fires and he would never have to deal with
a straying wife again.


     The last Okhasha, or anyone, saw of his nameless former wife
was her staggering into the desert while the sun was hanging low
in the sky.

Copyright 2005 msboy8 (email=msboy8@yahoo.com)