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Worth a Camel
by Brush Strokes (1996)

***

Gwen marries a history major and travels with him to 
Istanbul. There she is less than happy with her 
lifestyle, but when she is kidnapped and added to a 
dessert leader's harem things change radically for her. 
(Mdom/F, intr)

***

Gwen's life was in turmoil. This had its good and its 
bad points. Just one short year ago she had met Alex, 
her fiancé. He was a graduate student studying history, 
who specialized in the Byzantine Empire. They had met 
when Alex and his advisor had come over to Daddy's for 
dinner. While Alex's advisor romanced her father for 
enough money to start an archaeological dig in Turkey, 
Alex romanced Gwen. 

He had been a perfect gentleman. Unfortunately, the 
only thing he was passionate about was his work. For 
hours on end she would listen as he told stories of the 
noble Byzantines fighting bravely against the barbarous 
Turks. The Turks, who took all they captured into 
slavery, reserved the prettiest women for their 
Sultan's harem. Gwen wondered if she was pretty enough 
to be placed in a harem or if she would have had to 
work in the fields with the plain looking girls. 

The Byzantines were not much better than the Turks. 
Their popes and emperors kept numerous mistresses in 
their own style of harem. The Turks were men enough to 
admit what they were doing when they kept a woman 
solely for sexual purposes. Gwen felt that because of 
this, the Turks were the nobler of the two races and 
therefore deserved to rule the land. They did not treat 
their women ambiguously. A woman who did not know where 
she fit into society was miserable. 

Gwen knew where she fit in society. She had attended 
Radcliffe as an undergraduate and had completed her 
graduate studies at the Wharton School. Martin's Inc., 
the multi-million dollar company which her father, 
Victor Martin, had created was her role in society. The 
presidency of one of the fastest growing firms in the 
country was in her future, but first she was going to 
marry. This was in no way going to interfere with her 
career plans. 

Alex made her laugh, cry and feel like a little girl. 
He was the perfect escape from the corporate chaos 
which surrounded her from nine to five or more 
typically from seven to midnight and beyond. Still, to 
her surprise and dismay, their relationship, although 
they were soon to marry, was never physical. 

At first she felt Alex might be a coward. There was 
something that kept him from sleeping with her. Either 
he was afraid of her or afraid of her father, who had 
agreed to finance the dig. This idea was quickly 
dispelled when Alex met Gwen's college sweetheart Mark 
at a party. Mark was a large athletic man who still 
carried a torch for Gwen. 

He carried the torch as persistently as he spoke of the 
game he played, football, which had been the final 
reason for their separation. There was only so long 
that a woman could stay with a man who watched last 
years Super Bowl seventeen times. At the party where 
Mark and Alex met, her former boyfriend had drunk a few 
too many cases of beer and made some off color remark 
about Gwen and the back seat of a car. 

Alex calmly removed his coat and asked Mark to step 
outside. She begged Alex not to pursue the matter while 
Mark was encouraged by two of his old football buddies 
to "kill the wimp." Gwen followed them outside hoping 
that she could throw her body across Alex's once he was 
brought down by Mark's first punch. This turned out not 
to be necessary. 

Mark threw a lumbering punch. Alex ducked inside of the 
blow and brought his knee up into Mark's groin. This 
was followed by three quick punches to Mark's nose. The 
first broke his nose, the second insured that a plastic 
surgeon could put his daughter through four years of 
college, and the third knocked Mark out. 

Mark's two football cronies did not believe that Alex 
had fought fairly. After all, hitting below the belt 
was illegal. Instead of running in the face of these 
superior odds, Alex added several years of graduate 
study onto the education of the plastic surgeon's 
daughter and threw in a Porsche as a graduation gift. 

The violence had been childish and uncalled for, but it 
had left Gwen strangely excited. That night she had 
asked Alex up to her room. He declined stating that it 
was only two weeks until their wedding, they had waited 
this long, and he wanted it to be special. 

Gwen debated between using the seventy year old butler 
or the statue of Zeus in the garden to relieve her 
tension. In the end, she settle for an unsuccessful 
cold shower followed by a gentle massage of her 
clitoris. As she brought herself to climax, she 
fantasized that Alex had kidnapped her from her rich 
father and was adding a little sexual pleasure on to 
his ransom demand, doggy style of course. 

Daddy had died unexpectedly of a heart attack just 
before the wedding. The ceremony had to be cancelled 
and out of respect a smaller service was held several 
weeks after his funeral. Despite her sorrow over her 
father's passing, this added time apart only increased 
Gwen's frustration. Her clitoral massages became more 
frequent, as did her dreams of Alex using her body for 
his pleasure. 

Their honeymoon plans were also completely thrown off. 
They missed their Mediterranean cruise, which would 
have ended with a visit to the archaeological dig and 
Istanbul. Since they now had less time, she agreed that 
the cruise was both out of the question and 
inappropriate, and therefore they would go straight to 
Turkey, so that she could see the land of which Alex 
told such fascinating stories. The money for the dig 
had already been committed and without Alex's presence 
everything would come to a halt. 

They caught a plane to Rome and from there transferred 
to a flight which took them nonstop to Istanbul. On 
this last leg of their journey, the newlyweds met an 
English gentleman, Lord Preston, who lived in Turkey. 
To him the Turks were a godless race since they didn't 
eat kidney pie. They were thieves, cutthroats, 
bigamists, and, worst of all, slavers. Turks loved 
European women and would go to great lengths to procure 
them. Once a woman was in captivity, she would be 
carted off to some harem in the mountains, never to be 
seen again. 

Alex and Gwen laughed this off. Lord Preston was a 
relic of the old English empire and had entertained 
them thoroughly with his observations on Turkey and its 
people. As they were disembarking the plane, Lord 
Preston pulled Alex aside. Gwen could overhear the old 
gent saying, "Listen chap, I advise you to keep close 
to Gwen at all times. Never let her travel without at 
least two male escorts. They will grab her off the 
street in a second and you will never see her again. 
Remember, to a Turk she is worth a camel." 

Upon hearing this Gwen struggled not to tell the sexist 
old bastard what he could do with his Victorian view of 
women. She could take care of herself, yet she wondered 
why Alex wouldn't take her forcedly from the street and 
enslave her. Gwen longed to be held in his strong arms, 
having no choice but to yield to his savage passion 
again and again. 

As they left the airport Alex and Gwen passed a gypsy 
girl dancing on the street. She was dressed in what 
Gwen would call slave silks. The only jewelry she wore 
was a chain decorated with silver bells, which rested 
snugly around one ankle. One by one she removed her 
long silk veils as the onlookers threw her money. Gwen 
had never seen a more depraved exhibition in her life. 
Maybe Lord Preston was right, these were a godless 
people. 

They caught a cab to their motel. Along the way Alex 
pointed out interesting architectural features of the 
city. As they got closer to their destination, Gwen's 
loins longed for attention. She snuggled up close to 
Alex and whispered in his ear, "You wouldn't make me 
wear an outfit like that dancing girl, would you? You 
wouldn't want me to have bells on my ankle?" 

Alex seemed immune to her request. He continued to 
stare out the window and said, "No, I wouldn't dear. 
You are to much of an independent woman." 

She wanted to scratch his eyes out. Alex sat there 
impassively holding her hand. On their honeymoon, he 
was paying more attention to the passing architecture 
than to his bride. Tears started flowing from her eyes. 
He kissed her gently and said, "I am sorry if I am in a 
daze dear. While you were using the ladies room at the 
airport, I received an urgent phone call." 

"Trouble?" she asked. 

"It seems as if there was a minor earth quake in the 
area of the dig. Several workmen were killed and my 
advisor is among the missing." 

"Oh god honey, I'm sorry." Gwen said, forgiving her 
husbands indifference to their honeymoon. 

"Once we get to the hotel, I have to take a helicopter 
out to the dig. Why don't you get settled in? If all 
goes well I will be with you tomorrow night." 

At the hotel they held each other for what seemed an 
eternity. The Fates seemed to be against their 
happiness and against Gwen's desire to be filled by the 
man she loved. Alex had to rush to the roof to catch 
his flight, while Gwen set up the honeymoon suit for 
his arrival the next night. 

Tired from a day's travel and the disappointment of 
spending her first married night apart from her 
husband, Gwen went to bed early, without the benefit of 
her nightly self-massage. In the morning, she would go 
shopping for a slave outfit like the one she had seen 
on the dancing girl and maybe she would even pick up 
some bells. When Alex returned, he would be in for a 
surprise. Maybe he would treat her with the disrespect 
she longed for. 

The next day Gwen walked into the open market of 
Istanbul. All the goods being sold in the main market 
were designed for tourists. Next to vendors selling 
dates and figs there were vendors selling American 
flags and tee-shirts with the Statue of Liberty on 
them. 

In disgust Gwen walked out of the main market and down 
a side street. Here there were vendors which sold goods 
to the locals. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a 
large man wearing a red fedora, which she remembered 
seeing at the stand which sold the American tourist 
goods. 

She walked on down the street until she saw what she 
wanted. There at a little shop which sold veils, 
scarves and lengths of silk was the outfit she wanted. 
The man in the red turban approached her. "Very 
pretty," he said holding up a thin veil, yet looking at 
her. Gwen turned and began to walk away. To her dismay 
she realized that she was forced to walk away from the 
central market, towards the back streets of Istanbul. 

After walking several blocks, Gwen looked behind her 
but did not see the man. Breathing a sigh of relief, 
she turned to walk back towards the central market. A 
lumbering truck forced her to step off the road. As it 
passed, two men jumped out of the back and grabbed her. 
She tried to scream; a heavy sack, which muffled her 
cries, was thrown over her head, and she was hoisted 
into the truck. Struggling to regain her freedom, she 
felt the truck pull away and ropes being tied around 
the sack. She soon realized that it was futile to 
resist. 

The truck took a series of sharp corners and then 
headed straight for what seemed to be an eternity. Gwen 
realized that she was being taken out of the city. 
There was a sharp pain in her right arm. Letting out a 
small gasp, she realized that she had been injected 
with something. Suddenly she began to feel very sleepy. 
Knowing she would probably never see Alex again, she 
began to cry. She continued to sob quietly until she 
lost consciousness. 

Gwen awoke to find herself free of the sack, inside 
what appeared to be a large tent. There was a sore spot 
on one arm where she had been injected with something 
to insure that she slept properly. Immediately upon 
raising her head off the pillow, she was surrounded by 
a half dozen girls all dressed in slave silks. They 
immediately began to undress her. Fighting with what 
finger nails she had, Gwen managed to drive the girls 
away. One of the girls yelled something in Arabic. 

Two giant men, with shaved heads and whips walked into 
the room. They look at her menacingly and walk out of 
the room. Once again, the girls began to undress her. 
This time Gwen did not resist; she had no choice. 

They led her giggling to a bath which had been treated 
with perfumes and oils to soften her skin. The slave 
girls scrubbed her vigorously and then backed away, 
allowing her to soak in the warm water. "Maybe being a 
slave won't be all bad." she thought. 

A bell rang in the distance and the girls help Gwen out 
of the pool and dried her. They wrapped her in silks 
like their own, curled her hair and applied her make up 
for her. The final touch was three silver bells, tied 
to her left ankle. Gwen walked gingerly across the 
room, enjoying the tinkling the bells made with each 
step. 

Suddenly all the girls bowed as the two bald giants 
reappeared. They walk towards Gwen and fastened a 
collar around her neck. It was silver and matched the 
chain which attached the bells to her ankle. She humbly 
followed the two men as they left tent. 

Like a dog, she was lead across a compound to an 
extremely large ornate tent. There sitting on a throne, 
wearing a mask to keep the desert sand out of his face, 
was her captor. With the lower half of his face 
covered, he looked sinister. She could tell, just by 
his presence, that he was cruelly handsome and that 
expect to have his way with any woman he desired. 

Gwen was forced to kneel in his presence. The man on 
the throne snapped his fingers and a smallish man who 
looked like a Turkish librarian walked into the room 
and sat at the base of the throne. In a high shrill 
voice he spoke, "You are now a slave of the Sultan Naj. 
You will bow in his presence and obey his every 
command. You will only address him as 'Master'." 

Rising to her feet, Gwen said, "I will not I am a 
citizen of..." As she spoke the Sultan raised two 
fingers and one of the giants brought his whip across 
her back side twice. Gwen winced in pain, biting her 
tongue to hold her scream. 

As if nothing had happened, the librarian continued, 
"You will now dance and remove your veils to serve your 
master's pleasure." 

Exotic music came from behind one wall of the tent as 
the librarian and two enforcers took their leave. Gwen 
started to dance. It was awkward at first but she did 
not want to feel the whip again. No matter how hard she 
tried, she kept stumbling and could not keep with the 
beat. She started to cry. This man was a stranger and 
she did not love him; how could she be expected to 
dance for him? 

His eyes smiled at her as he said, "Dance like the girl 
at the airport." 

"Yes, master," Gwen replied and promptly kept time with 
the music. Each twist and turn of her body sent ripples 
of desire towards the Sultan. 

As he became more and more engrossed in her 
performance, she removed each veil in succession. Upon 
reaching the last veil, the Sultan stood up. He removed 
it himself and lowered the mask from his face. As his 
lips descended to meet hers, Gwen cried, "Oh Alex." She 
felt his hand slap her smartly on the rump. "I mean, oh 
Master!" 

With that he pulled her to the floor by her chain. 
There, on the soft rugs, her took her over and over 
again. Each time was more ferocious than before. 

In the morning she awoke with a pleasant soreness 
between her legs. She could not have asked for a better 
honeymoon, for she knew -- to him -- she was worth at 
least two camels. 

END

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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