From: nogarder@ix.netcom.com(*** )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Middle East Adventure [1/2]
Date: 4 Mar 1996 00:22:57 GMT

			Middle East Adventure
			      Chapter I

	I knew I'd been in the mid-East too long. It had gotten to the
point where the sight of a well turned ankle on an otherwise
completely covered woman was turning me on. After ten years I had
learned to take full advantage of the infrequent vacations to Europe,
the far East or back to the States. Nonetheless, my returns to the
mid-East were always depressing, knowing that it would be six more
months before I'd even be able to talk to a woman.

	One of my neighbors was an Arab diplomat, Ahmed Abdul. He had
developed a particular liking to visiting my house, auspiciously to
practice his English.

	Ahmed tried to return the hospitality by inviting me to his
house, but I don't think he liked the saffron tea and propaganda
movies about his home country nearly as well as he liked the scotch
and porno movies that were available at my place. I know I didn't. The
first time he saw one of the porno movies he was surprised by the
women's pubic hair. In his halting English he explained that in his
country, women always depilated themselves. Jokingly, I remarked that
I'd like to see that sometime - knowing full well that my chances of
that were about the same as there being a full scale blizzard in this
hot desert country. He didn't make any response, but then I didn't
really expect one.

	A few months later, Ahmed was getting ready to return home on
leave. He was planning on getting married and surprised me by showing
me photograph of his fiance, without the veil. I had to compliment
him, she was really a beautiful woman.

	While Ahmed was gone, trouble began to develop. His house maid
had two children. The kids were both boys and were just as
rambunctious as 7 and 8 year old children normally are. One morning I
was leaving for work and discovered that they had thrown a rock
through the windshield of my car. I presumed that it had been an
accident and decided not to make too big an issue of it. As soon as
Ahmed returned though, I planned on telling him about it.

	Finally, Ahmed was back in country and I took the first
opportunity I had to tell him about my windshield. He was most upset.
He promptly reimbursed me the 2,000 rials the new windshield had cost
me and assured me that such a thing would never happen again. I
returned home, well satisfied with the outcome of the evening.

	A few days later, I was leaving for work when another rock
came crashing down - this time through the rear window. Remembering
the electric defroster, I knew I could never replace this one for
2,000 rials. I hurried over to Ahmed's house, but unfortunately he had
already left for work. I left a message, asking him to call me and
went to work myself.

	As soon as I got to the office, my phone was ringing. It was
Ahmed and I just thought he had been upset before. After ten minutes
of ranting and raving, he asked me to get a price for replacing the
window and promised to see me that evening.

	This was getting to be a real pain in the ass. It hadn't cost
me any money, but the time and trouble involved in getting the windows
replaced was a real irritant. I planned on talking to him that evening
about getting better control over his household.

	Promptly at 7:00 P.M. Ahmed showed up. I was surprised to see
that he was accompanied by two women, both heavily veiled. I was also
a little disappointed. I knew I could never broach the subject of his
unruly household while they were present. But I invited everyone in
and offered them all tea. Another disappointment. I knew that whiskey
was out of the question as long as any other Arabs were around.

	It was an interesting tableau as we waited for the tea to
brew. Ahmed, myself and one of the women took seats around the coffee
table while the second woman moved to the far side of the living room,
outside of everyone's view.

	As I served the tea, Ahmed introduced the first woman as his
new wife, Hafida. He also explained that among family, women almost
never wore the black robes and veil, and that he would be honored to
accept me into his family.

	So saying, he unfastened Hafida's robes and removed them and
her veil. As her photograph had indicated, she was a gorgeous woman.
She was very well dressed and spoke flawless English. It shouldn't
have been too much of a surprise to learn that she had been educated
in London and that most of her clothes came from there or Paris. Other
than the black robes, of course.

	In due course, Ahmed asked me about my window. When I told him
what I had learned that day, he promptly paid me the 3,000 rials a new
one was going to cost. Then he said, "Sam, in my country, we love our
children very much and they are never physically punished. Children
are naturally good, and when they do wrong it is the fault of the
parent who must suffer for the children's actions. Shabilla has caused
you much trouble with your windows and has brought great embarrassment
to my family - of which you are now a part. So we have brought her to
your house to punish her for her failure to properly supervise her
children."

	With that, he stood up and asked me to help him remove one of
the hanging plants I had in my living room. It was a very heavy plant
and I had had the hook put in special to hold its weight. He then
called Shabilla over to him. Taking a nylon rope from a bag he had
brought with him, he knotted it around her wrists and then looped it
over the hook where the plant had been.

	Pulling the rope tight and fastening it, he left Shabilla
standing on her tip toes in the center of the room, arms extended over
her head. She looked rather strange, a black apparition hanging in the
center of the room in place of my plant. I didn't really understand
what was going on, but I knew enough not to get involved in an Arab's
family matters.

	Turning to me, he said, "This women is Hafida's personal maid,
so she has caused her the most embarrassment. Because of that, Hafida
will begin the punishment. And be assured she will punish her well.
The same rule that applies to children also applies to servants.
Hafida knows that if she cannot control Shabilla she will find herself
hanging from the ceiling receiving the punishment."

	Reaching into the bag, Hafida took a quirt and began flogging
the woman across the shoulders. After ten strokes, she put the quirt
down and removed the woman's heavy robes. Other than the veil she was
still wearing and her unusual position - hanging from the ceiling,
Shabilla now looked quite normal. The robes had been hiding a European
style dress and what was now revealed as a very attractive figure.

	Taking the quirt again, Hafida began striking her some more.
Ten strokes to the tender spot on the back of each knee caused each
leg to jump up and down. When she had finished this exercise, Hafida
wiped her brow and asked if she might have something stronger to drink
than tea.

	I didn't know quite what to say, so I turned to Ahmed for
help. He asked if it would be okay for him to make himself at home at
my bar. He busied himself for a few minutes and came back with a
sherry for him and his wife and a scotch for me. Of course, nothing
for Shabilla.

	After taking a few sips of her drink, Hafida went back to
Shabilla. Taking a pair of scissors from the bag, she snipped at the
arms, shoulders and various parts of the dress until the whole thing
lay in tatters on the floor. The hapless victim hung there, arms and
shoulders bare. Her middle-eastern complexion contrasted nicely with
the white lace of her full length slip. The way the nylon clung to her
curves reinforced the fact that the attractive figure which had been
hinted at earlier was a very nice one.

	Unless she had falsies and a girdle on underneath the slip,
Shabilla had full, shapely hips, nicely formed, perky tits, and a slim
waist. I really doubted that she was wearing any falsies. The slip was
snug and I could see enough of the lines of her underwear to be pretty
sure that neither her panties nor her bra was substantial enough to
hold those things. I was sure, but I was still hoping that I was going
to get to see.

	Picking up the quirt, Hafida concentrated on Shabilla's bare
shoulders and upper back. Ten more strokes left ten red marks across
the delicate skin and broke the stoicism Shabilla had been
demonstrating. The girl was weeping when Hafida put down the quirt and
took another sip of her drink.

	As I mentioned earlier, I'd been in this country so long that
the sight of a well turned ankle was starting to turn me on. You can
imagine my feelings by now. Here we were in my living room, and an
Arab woman was being whipped after having been forcibly stripped of
her robes and dress. The slip did little to conceal her curves and,
after only seeing ankles for so long, what I could see of her and what
Hafida was doing to her was really turning me on.

	Happily for me (unhappily for Shabilla), Hafida wasn't
finished yet. Taking the scissors again, she cut the shoulder straps
of the slip. A couple more snips between her tits and around her waist
and the garment slithered down Shabilla's body and joined the remnants
of the dress. A flush crept over the newly exposed parts of her body
as Shabilla hung there, revealed in her skimpy matching panties and
lacy brassier, garter belt and stockings, and of course, the veil.
And, as I had noticed before, there wasn't enough of either garment to
hold a falsie.

	But I was fascinated by the quality of her underwear. Like all
Arab women, she had gone to great lengths to hide herself beneath the
robes, and here she was, revealed in undies that were only available
from Fredericks of Hollywood.

	Reaching for the quirt, Hafida turned her attention to the
girl's shapely bottom, barely protected by the meager panties.

	"Ten strokes Shabilla, and I want to hear you cry!"

	After the fifth stroke, Shabilla was swinging her hips
forward, trying desperately to avoid the sting of the whip. This
caused her crotch to swing right up near my face and it was all I
could do to keep from reaching out and grabbing her. On the seventh,
she broke and began to cry in earnest. After the tenth, Hafida put the
whip down and left the girl wailing in agony over the pain in her
backside.

	Once again, Hafida felt the need for some refreshment. This
time Ahmed prepared her a light scotch and water and (naturally)
another scotch on the rocks for me. While he was preparing the drinks,
Hafida removed Shabilla's garter belt. Without the belt to hold them
up, Shabilla's stockings began to droop noticeably.

	After finishing her drink, Hafida delivered ten more strokes
to Shabilla's still quivering bottom. The poor girl's frenzied
squirming at this renewed attack caused her loosened stockings to fall
to her ankles, leaving her legs completely bare.

	Throughout this ordeal, I had absolutely no idea of what to
expect. I had been really surprised when Hafida had removed her veil,
and now here they were, methodically stripping an Arab woman in front
of me. And not just stripping her, but whipping her while they were at
it.

	I wasn't so surprised that they were stripping and whipping
her. I was sure that sort of thing happened all the time in this
chauvinistic culture. But to do it in front of me, a foreigner. Arabs
never show their women to anyone outside of their family and now
Shabilla had been reduced to her underwear. I couldn't even begin to
guess when they were going to stop. I hoped they didn't, but I had to
remind myself that even if they did I had already stored up enough
memories for a lifetime of wet dreams.

	Hafida must have been reading my mind. As if to assure me that
she had no intention of stopping any time soon, she took the scissors
and cut the shoulder straps of the bra. Then, rather than unfastening
the bra, she attempted to cut the heavy material. When this proved to
be fruitless, she turned to Ahmed and said something in Arabic too
fast for my limited grasp of the language to catch.

	When the Arab produced the ever present dagger from his
billowing robes, I started to object. Stripping and whipping was fine,
but I didn't need a snuff movie to add to my wet dream collection.
Quick as a wink though, Hafida took the knife and sliced through the
heavy material of the brassiere. Then she returned the knife to Ahmed.
And Shabilla was bare from the waist up.

	Her tits were beautiful. Very well shaped, not too big and
certainly not too small. The aureole were small and crinkly and the
nipples were already fully erect. Taking the quirt again, Hafida
stepped in front of Shabilla. After a brief conversation, in Arabic
and mostly one sided, Shabilla burst into tears.

	I couldn't understand what was being said, but the poor girl
was obviously begging and pleading with her tormenter. Hafida ignored
her though and began whipping her tits. The underneath, the sides, the
top and across the nipples. Fifteen strokes to each breast and the
angry red welts covered both of them.

	"Well Shabilla, your begging earned you extra licks on those
breasts your so proud of. You've let your stockings fall, so I guess
your legs want some too. Let's see how they like the taste of the
whip."

	Naked, except for her panties Shabilla thrashed violently
while Hafida delivered ten strokes to each of her thighs... She vainly
tried to keep her legs tight together, but soon each leg was kicking
independently of the other. Hafida took full advantage of this by
directing the whip to the tender inside of the thighs every time the
legs parted.

	When she was finally finished, Hafida asked for another drink.
Ahmed had obviously anticipated this request - the round of drinks was
already prepared. Chugging her scotch, Hafida returned her attention
to our miscreant.

	The moment of truth had finally arrived. By this time I had
absolutely no doubt that they fully intended to strip her completely
and I was going to get to see if what Ahmed had told me was true. That
Arab women, or at least this one particular Arab woman, shaved their
cunts.

	But Hafida kept me wondering a little while longer. First she
gave Shabilla ten more severe strokes across her pantied ass. These
were long hard strokes and really had the girl dancing on the end of
her rope. Then, two quick snips with the scissors and the panties
joined the rest of her ruined clothing lying at her feet.

	Shabilla was naked. Except for the stockings which had fallen
to her ankles, her high heel shoes and a few gold bracelets, she was
utterly and completely naked. And Ahmed hadn't lied to me. Her pussy
was just as bald as the day she had been born.

	I had never seen a bald pussy before and this one fascinated
me. There wasn't even a hint of a five o'clock shadow and the slit up
the middle was very pronounced. I wanted to reach out and touch it,
just to see if it was as smooth as it looked like it was, but I wasn't
at all sure what my limits were. Seeing me observing her so intently,
Shabilla blushed even more. Even her naked pussy turned pink.

	Advancing to her now naked servant, Hafida announced that she
was going to give her fifty more licks, ten for each of the
spectators, ten for herself, ten that Shabilla obviously couldn't
administer to herself and then ten more, just for the hell of it. She
did give Shabilla the choice of where she wanted to receive the licks,
across her tits, her pussy or her ass, or divided between the three.
Shabilla could barely speak, but finally managed to gasp out that if
she had to have fifty licks, would Hafida please give them to her on
her bottom - anywhere but her pussy, and please, please don't spank
her breasts anymore.

	Hafida obliged her with ten strokes across each breast, ten
across her pussy and the remaining twenty strokes across the cheeks of
her already blistered hindquarters. When she finished, Shabilla was
completely distraught. Her ass, tits and pussy were covered with welts
and her ass in particular had taken on a deep red hue. Needless to
say, Shabilla was sobbing uncontrollably.

	Finished with her task, Hafida took no more interest in the
girl. She threw the whip down and asked for another drink. This time I
noticed that Ahmed gave her straight scotch, not even an ice cube. The
three of us then sat on the couch and proceeded to carry on an
interesting conversation.

	I say we carried on an interesting conversation. The truth is
that I had no idea what they were talking about. The only thing I
could think about was that naked body with its bald pussy hanging and
sobbing not ten feet from where we were sitting.

	Eventually Ahmed turned the conversation back to Shabilla.
"Well Sam. Hafida has had her vengeance. Now it's up to the two of us.
She has certainly embarrassed me and I know she has caused you
considerable grief."

	So saying, he untied the naked girl and let her down from her
hanging position. But she only had a minutes rest. He retied her
wrists together behind her back and pulled the rope through the hook
in the ceiling again. This caused her to bend forward at the waist
with her arms pulled up behind her.

	Then he reached into his bag and pulled out an unusual looking
contraption. I think he called it a spreader bar. He attached it to
each of her ankles and then screwed it out until her legs were
stretched about three feet apart. Bent over like she was and with her
legs spread, her pussy and asshole were both exposed to my lascivious
gaze.

	As horny as I was, I couldn't imagine why we were wasting all
this time whipping her. Like they say, "A hard dick ain't got no
conscience," and mine was ready to go in either of those holes.

	Taking the quirt from where Hafida had left it, Ahmed
approached Shabilla's backside.

	"Sam, I'm going to give her fifty strokes, twenty-five to each
cheek. And I'm going to put most of them between her cheeks aiming for
her... What do you call those places in English?... asshole and cunt,
that's it. I'm going to aim for her asshole and cunt, and when I'm
finished, I expect you to do the same. Then we'll decide what else is
to be done with her."

	Without further ado, he proceeded to lay into her ass. True to
his word, most of the strokes fell on the inside of her ass cheeks. I
was amazed at his accuracy. A good many of the strokes landed right on
the cute little rosebud of her asshole and some of them even darted
inside the lips of her pussy. Before he had finished, the inside of
both of her ass cheeks was an angry fiery red.

	Then he handed the quirt to me. "Go to it Sam. Don't give her
a chance to rest up. Fifty strokes, and make them good ones."

	I wasn't quite sure what I was doing. I knew I didn't want to
whip her asshole or pussy. I didn't think I'd have a chance, but I had
something much more satisfying in mind for either of those. Hesitantly
I approached the quivering globes. Drawing back my arm, I laid what I
thought was a good solid stroke across the bottom of both cheeks.

	"Oh, come on Sam. You can do better than that. Make her feel
it."

	Resolving to do better, I took careful aim, increased the
force, and laid a second stroke across the first one.

	This time Hafida spoke up. "Sam, do I need to show you how it's
done? I know you're strong enough. But I want to hear her scream. Now
come on, give it to her. Make the lazy bitch cry! Or maybe I'm going
to have to show you some technique."

	Not wanting to have a woman show me how to do this, I really
delivered the third stroke. Other than a couple of "Ooohs," there was
no reaction from my spectators this time. But Shabilla let out a cry
and jumped forward as far as her restraints would allow.

	Figuring that this was what was expected of me, I delivered
forty-seven more strokes just like the third one. By the time I had
finished, I was exhausted. Remembering what Ahmed had said earlier
about servants being the responsibility of their master, I couldn't
help wondering how Hafida would react if it were her delectable
derriere that was receiving this punishment. Shabilla was sobbing and
screaming and her ass was covered with deep purple welts. I didn't
know how she'd do at disciplining her children after this, but I knew
she wouldn't be sitting down for a good long while.

	Thinking about Hafida and her lovely ass, I hoped Shabilla
would continue to screw up with the kids. I could just imagine both
women hanging here, side by side. I'd have to put in another hook, but
I was sure I could manage that.

	Ahmed and Hafida both congratulated me on the way I had
administered the whipping. It took me a while to get the hang of it,
but once I did... Hafida remarked that she was glad she hadn't been on
the receiving end.

	Naturally, that only reinforced my desire to see her in a
similar position.

	Then Hafida got busy gathering up the ruined clothing. The
robe was folded carefully and placed on the coffee table. Everything
else went into the bag.

	While she was doing this, Ahmed stood behind Shabilla. Opening
his robes, he took out his prick and, without any foreplay, buried it
in her throbbing vagina.

	After a few strokes, he pulled out of her cunt and, aiming his
now well lubricated prick an inch higher, plunged up to the hilt in
her rectum. With this invasion, Shabilla let out a scream the likes of
which we hadn't heard before. I thought he was killing her. But then I
was surprised to see her eagerly thrusting her ass backward to meet
the force of his thrusts. It wasn't long before Ahmed came, letting
out a scream himself. Pulling his now limp prick from the depths of
her ass he turned to me.

	"Okay Sam. I know you need that as much as I did. Just don't
come in her cunt. We don't need anymore of those little kids running
around."

	As horny as I was, I didn't need a second invitation. Standing
behind Shabilla I considered which hole to use. Her anus was already
well lubricated and in my condition I wasn't sure how long I could
hold out.

	Deciding not to take a chance on impregnating her by cumming
in her pussy, I plunged straight into her asshole. I was pleasantly
surprised at how tight it was and that she was thrusting back on my
member just as she had on Ahmed's. It was also a surprise the way she
used her sphincter muscle, tightening and loosening it to milk my dick
of everything I had. I just a few minutes I came, what seemed like
gallons, deep into her bowels. The next time she shit, she shouldn't
have any trouble with constipation. Ahmed and I had changed her oil
and given her a complete lube job.

	While the two of us had been buggering the girl, Hafida had
been busy. When I pulled my limp dick out of Shabilla's trembling ass,
Hafida approached me with a wet wash rag. Gently and carefully she
cleaned all the shit and cum off my prick, then leaning over and
exposing a lot of cleavage, she kissed it, right on the head of my
dick. I couldn't believe it. Everything I had ever heard about Arab
women - and now tonight.

	Meanwhile, Ahmed had untied our victim and let her sink
exhausted to the floor. Only then did I notice that she was still
wearing her veil.

	"Well Sam, Hafida and I had better go now. I think Shabilla
has learned her lesson, but we're going to leave her here with you for
the next week anyway. She's your slave, so you can do what you want
with her. I only have two requests - don't leave any permanent marks
and don't cum in her pussy. I'll leave her robe in case you send her
to the store. I'd leave the quirt, but I think I might need it myself.
When you whip her, and she will need whipped, you'll have to use your
belt or your hand. Now, remove her veil. Stripping a woman of her veil
signifies that she belongs completely to the man who took it from
her."

	Carefully, I removed Shabilla's veil. I couldn't believe the
beauty of the tear streaked face she was hiding behind it. Despite the
runs in her mascara, her eyes were beautiful. And her full lips looked
like they were just made to encircle a prick. I didn't know if she had
ever given head before, but I was sure she would before the night was
over.

	With that, Ahmed took Hafida by the hand (she had put her
robes and veil back on), grabbed the bag of Shabilla's ruined
clothing, and left. My imagination was whirling after the remark he
had made about maybe needing the quirt. The thought that he might be
whipping Hafida's naked ass gave me an incredible hard-on. I knew that
somehow, I had to get involved in that action.

	Then I looked at what they had left me with. The assaults
Hafida, Ahmed and I had made on her body had all taken their toll. Her
tears had destroyed her makeup job and her hairdo was a shambles.
Despite that, her hairless pussy, her willing ass and tight little
asshole all seemed to scream for my attention. Removing my belt, I
took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. There was time enough
to worry about Hafida later. Right now I had Shabilla to tend to and
her ass seemed to be cooling off already. From:
nogarder@ix.netcom.com(*** ) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject:
Middle East Adventure [2/2] Date: 4 Mar 1996 00:24:17 GMT

			Middle East Adventure
			      Chapter II

	A few days later, Ahmed called to see if it would be all right
for him to come over that evening. Seemed that there had been some
problems and he had a few things he needed to discuss with Shabilla.
Realizing that the reason for him coming to my house instead of
inviting me to his was that I had whiskey,

	I made sure I had a fresh bottle. I was off from work that
afternoon, so I had plenty of time to test the whiskey (just to make
sure it was fresh) and to watch Shabilla. It amused me to watch my
"slave" as she made all the preparations, cleaning the house and
preparing snacks. All while totally nude, of course. She did put her
robes on to do some last minute shopping, but she removed them as soon
as she was back inside the gates of my villa.

	Much to my gardener's delight, and her chagrin, I had informed
her that the limits of my house were the high walls around the yard.
Outside of those walls she would be permitted to wear her robes, but
inside the fence, unless I made a specific exception, she was to
remain totally naked.

	Like I said, my gardener, Mahmoud, thought this was wonderful
and took advantage of every opportunity to watch her as she performed
her chores. To my knowledge, he hadn't done anything other than watch
her, but I had every intention of remedying this before I had to
return her to Ahmed. Then I realized that Ahmed might be taking her
back tonight. After checking to make sure she was finished with her
preparations, I took her to the little house out back and presented
her to Mahmoud. I informed him that I needed her back by 6 o'clock
then went back inside to test the whiskey some more and take a well
deserved nap.

	Promptly at 6 o'clock, Mahmoud showed up at the front door
with my little vixen in tow. And I must say that she looked very well
used. Her hair was completely disheveled and her make up was a mess.
At least there was no sign of any tears. She had cried when I gave her
to Mahmoud, but she seemed to be all right now. I learned later that
his two sons had been visiting and that between the three of them they
had used all of her holes, several times.

	She barely had time to get herself cleaned up before Ahmed
knocked on my door. I wasn't at all surprised to see a veiled woman
whom I assumed to be Hafida with him, but I was surprised to see him
accompanied by an older man and and another veiled woman. I wasn't
sure what Ahmed had planned, but after inviting them in, I asked if I
could offer them some tea. I assured him that Shabilla made a much
better cup of tea than I did.

	Shabilla, meantime, was cowering in a corner of the living
room, doing her best to hide her nakedness from this stranger in our
midst. And I suppose she had heard how her children had been
misbehaving again and was sure that Ahmed's presence here did not bode
well for her backside.

	Ahmed just laughed at my offer. "Thank you, but if it's okay
with you, I think we would prefer something from the bar. Hafida
understands that we are among family here, and I think she could use a
drink. As for my brother and his wife, I've never seen either of them
turn down a good whiskey. If you don't mind, Shabilla can make the
drinks while we chat."

	So Shabilla was forced to display her nudity, first while she
took drink orders and then while she served the drinks. I learned that
Ahmed's brother's name was Mohammed and his wife's was Fatima. The two
of them would be taking the children back to their village in the
mountains but Fatima would be staying here.

	"And in conjunction with this trip, my friend, I have a few
favors to ask of you. But first, we have some business to attend to.
As you know, the children have been misbehaving again."

	Shabilla visibly cowered when she heard this. Her memories
were still fresh as to just exactly how badly her ass had burnt the
last time the children misbehaved.

	"That's the reason we're taking them back to the village. I've
given up hope on those brats ever learning to live in civilization.
But as you know, their mistress is responsible and will be punished.
Shabilla, come here!"

	Shivering, Shabilla stood in front of him, hands behind her
back and her head bowed. Naked as she was, she couldn't hide the face
that even her nipples were trembling.

	Ahmed turned her around and felt her quaking bottom. "We gave
these buttocks a pretty good workout the last time I was over here,
but it didn't do any good. You would have thought their mistress would
have learned something from that whipping, but apparently not. The
children are just as unruly as before. But Shabilla has been over here
this past week, and since then, Hafida has been in charge. Hafida,
come here!"

	Ahmed must have warned Hafida what to expect. Without
hesitation, she took her place beside Shabilla. The two of them
presented quite a contrast, Hafida in the traditional robes and veil,
and Shabilla, just as naked as the day she was born, but both of them
trembling as they awaited the next command.

	Ahmed said three words. "Your robes, Hafida."

	There was a moments hesitation, but then Hafida's hands went
to her collar. She untied one knot and the robes fell to her feet. I
was amazed. When she had been over here before, she and Shabilla had
both worn fancy dresses and petticoats under their robes. And I had
been told that no matter how hot it was, Arab women were always fully
dressed under the black robes. This time, Hafida was wearing none of
those dresses or petticoats. Except for her shoes and veil, she was
just as naked as Shabilla.

	Seated like I was, I could only see her from behind, but that
behind breathtaking. I'd like to tell you how I admired the fine lines
of her shoulders, the texture of her skin, but it would be a lie. The
only thing I saw was her ass. It was big and beautiful, with dimples
just where they should be. I can't say it was nicer than Shabilla's,
it was just different. But the two of them together - it was a
marvelous sight. And Ahmed wasn't through with her yet.

	"The veil Hafida. Then turn around and show yourself to my
friends."

	Hafida loosened the veil and slowly turned around. When she
did that, I thought I was going to pass out. She still had on her
shoes, but except for them she really was just as naked as Shabilla.
Every hair had been removed from her pussy.

	"And now for the favors I need to ask of you," he said. "Do
you still have that rope we used the other day? And can we use that
hook in your ceiling? It worked so well with Shabilla, I'm going to
have to have one installed myself."

	I was having trouble speaking. My tongue seemed to be stuck to
the roof of my mouth. But finally I managed to respond, "The answer is
yes to both questions. Of course you can use the hook. Anything I have
is yours for the asking. I cut a few bits off of the rope so I could
tie Shabilla spread eagle to the bed, but there's still plenty left."

	"Now that's an idea. We might need those shorter bits before
the night is over. But let me have the rope now so I can get on with
the task at hand.

	"Hafida, you remember the position you had Shabilla in last
week? Well, that's how your going to start out. And your roles will be
reversed. Shabilla is going to have the pleasure of whipping you
first. After all, it was her children that you mismanaged. And you
don't need to hope that she'll go easy on you. If she doesn't whip you
as well as I think she should, I'll whip you again to make up for it
and then I'll whip her as well."

	Lashing the rope around her wrists, he threw it over the hook
and pulled it taut, pulling Hafida up onto her tiptoes. Turning to
Shabilla, Ahmed said, "There's the whip, and she's hanging here
waiting for you. I expect her to be well marked when your finished.
Otherwise, you know what you can expect."

	Tearing my eyes away from the naked flesh hanging in front of
me, I watched Shabilla as she took the whip. I was surprised to see
that it wasn't the same quirt they had used on her. This one had
several strands of leather coming out of a handle, much the same as
the cat-o-nine-tails you've read about in pirate stories. It didn't
have the bits of metal imbedded in it like the pirate's did, but it
still looked like an extremely malevolent instrument.

	"Yes master. But is there any particular place you would like
me to concentrate on? Her bottom, the backs of her legs?" Shabilla
asked.

	"I expect her to be well marked, all over," was the response.

	Hafida groaned when she heard this, but Shabilla just smiled
and bent to her task.

	Shabilla began by whipping Hafida's buttocks. Strung up the
way she was I wouldn't have believed it possible, but Hafida managed
to bend herself like a bow in her efforts to avoid the whip. This
thrust her naked twat directly into my line of sight. It took
everything I had to keep from reaching out and grabbing that beautiful
box.

	I moved around to the other side, away from temptation, but
also so I could see the effect this was having on Hafida's ass. After
about twenty licks, the whole thing began to take on a bright red
glow. Then Shabilla started whipping the back of Hafida's legs, near
her knees and worked her way up to the shoulders on the right side of
her body, then back down again on the left, paying particular
attention along the way to the already burning hindquarters.

	With this whip, it was impossible to direct the blows to a
particular spot, but with nine cords, it wasn't necessary. It was kind
of like a shotgun. Every time she struck, nine new welts stood out on
the tender skin. It wasn't long before Hafida's back and buttocks were
both a mass of welts and she was screaming like a banshee.

	Ahmed stopped Shabilla at this point. "I'm terribly sorry, my
friends. I didn't realize she would scream like this and I didn't
even think to bring a gag."

	Turning to his brother, he said something in Arabic I couldn't
understand. Mohammed just nodded and turned to his wife. There was no
hesitation, but Fatima thought for a moment before she stood up and
removed her robes. She still had on her veil, but without her robes
she showed us a very attractive figure and a nice western style dress.

	Although she was quite a bit older than either Shabilla or
Hafida, I decided right away that I wouldn't mind seeing more of her.
After another minute, I got my wish. With no hesitation at all, Fatima
raised her skirt halfway to her hips. Reaching under her skirt she
pulled her panties down and off. Handing the panties to Ahmed, she
headed toward the bar to mix another drink.

	I was in shock and hoping desperately that she would bring me
one too. I knew I needed it, but I couldn't form the words to ask for
it. And I certainly wasn't going to go to the bar and miss seeing what
else might happen with Hafida.

	In short order, Hafida found her mouth filled with Fatima's
panties. Shabilla was then directed to continue with the whipping.
After a few more licks on the still quivering bottom cheeks, Shabilla
moved to the front of her victim.

	At first she tried to whip the breasts with the cat, but soon
became dissatisfied with its inaccuracy. The tines hat were sticking
Hafida's belly and ribcage were okay, but when Shabilla tried to
strike the tip of the breast there was too much danger of hitting her
in the face. Whipping was one thing, but we didn't need to risk
putting an eye out. Putting the whip down, Shabilla settled for giving
Hafida's breasts a severe hand spanking, knocking the tits back and
forth and turning them bright red in the process.

	Then she asked Ahmed if he could lower her victim a few
inches. While Ahmed was lowering her, Fatima came back with fresh
drinks for everybody, even Shabilla. When she offered me my drink, my
jaw literally fell into my lap. I don't know if Mohammed had told her
to or not, but while she was at the bar she had removed the rest of
her clothing. Now she stood in front of me wearing her stockings and
garter belt, and nothing else. And her pussy was just as bald as the
other two women's. So it was true, Arab women did shave their cunts.
And I had been afraid of going to the bar for fear of missing
something.

	After serving everyone their drinks, Fatima returned to her
seat by Mohammed, but made no pretense of trying to cover herself at
all. She just sat there as if everything were perfectly normal, legs
slightly spread giving me a perfect view of her slit. Her breasts were
well formed with just a slight sag. The only indication that she might
think things were other than normal was her nipples. They were both
sticking straight out.

	My head was spinning. The other day I had been presented with
a naked Shabilla as my slave to do anything with that I wanted. Then,
this evening Ahmed had made his wife disrobe completely so he could
have her whipped while I watched. And now his sister-in-law, an
equally beautiful woman, had peeled off all of her clothes and was
sitting on my couch. I could not believe it. Except for her stockings,
she was as naked as the other two and they were being punished. I
thought Arab women were supposed to be modest.

	Shaking my head in a vain attempt to clear it, I turned my
attention back to Hafida. Now that she was closer to the floor,
Shabilla had made her spread her legs and was whipping the insides of
her thighs. Every stroke inched a little bit higher, closer to the
delicate pussy lips. I could tell from the look on her face that if it
weren't for her panty gag she would have been screaming to high
heaven. Finally, in a desperate frenzy, Shabilla repeatedly brought
the full force of the whip straight up from the floor, between
Hafida's legs, directly across her vagina. The gag did no good. You
would have thought a police siren had been turned on.

	Shabilla dropped the whip, fell to her knees in front of
Ahmed, and prayed that her performance had been satisfactory.

	"Let me check her out. If she hasn't been adequately marked,
I'll let you know soon enough."

	Taking the panties out of Hafida's mouth, he threw them to
Shabilla. "Wipe your slit, girl. You're dripping, and you wouldn't
want to soil the carpet, would you? As soon as you're finished, see if
you can help Fatima. I know scenes like this get her pretty excited
and she might need hers wiped as well."

	Then Ahmed unfastened Hafida from her hanging position. "Would
you like a drink now dear? Or should we get on with the rest of your
punishment?"

	"I-I-I'd like a whiskey if I could, please? And please Ahmed,
can't we go home now? I'll do better, I promise. I've given enough
whippings to know when one has been adequate, and believe me, this one
has been more than adequate."

	"No we can't go home yet. I'm sure you'll do better, but I'm
also sure that you haven't been whipped nearly enough. But you can
have a whiskey if you like. You'll have to get it yourself though.
Fatima and Shabilla seem to be pretty busy right now. Get drinks for
the rest of us too. As long as they're busy, you might as well be the
serving girl."

	At that, I glanced over to where Fatima was sitting and lost
my composure again. She had Shabilla busy cleaning her up all right.
The younger girls face was buried in her crotch and Fatima was holding
her head, directing her to lap up every drop of her spendings. I
couldn't tear my eyes away as Fatima had orgasm after orgasm. My
musing was interrupted as a still sobbing Hafida stepped in front of
me, offering me another whiskey.

	"Go ahead, touch her Sam. I know you've been dying to ever
since she dropped her robes."

	I couldn't resist. I circled one arm around her hips, feeling
the heat emanating from her still burning buttocks. I thrust the other
hand between her legs, feeling and rubbing that little bald cunt.
Hafida hunched down on my hand and two fingers penetrated her with no
resistance at all. She was sopping wet. Her slit was just as much in
need of wiping as the other two women's were.

	When I told Ahmed about this, he threw the panties to me. "Go
ahead, wipe it up then. I'm sure you'll enjoy it as much as she will."

	After a few minutes, Ahmed interrupted my wiping by fastening
her to the ceiling again, this time with her arms behind her back.
Just like Shabilla the other day, this caused her to bend forward from
the waist, giving me a wondrous view of her ass and pussy. When the
spreader bar was attached, this view became spectacular. My biggest
fear now was that when Ahmed left he was going to take Shabilla with
him. My dick was raging. Ahmed had let me feel her, but I had
absolutely no hope of burying my prick in his wife. Shabilla was in
for a workout unless Ahmed took her home with him.

	The punishment proceeded much as it had with Shabilla. Ahmed
whipped her bottom relentlessly, concentrating on her asshole and
pussy. Then he gave the whip to me. I was reminded of what Hafida had
said when I took my turn with Shabilla and resolved than no one,
except possibly Hafida, would be complaining about the force of my
blows.

	After about the seventh or eighth blow, a lucky stroke sent
the tip of one of the strands into the center of her cunt. The police
siren returned and I thought I was going to go deaf. Ahmed grabbed the
panties, now soaked with the spendings of all three women, and forced
them down her throat. Then, as though nothing untoward had happened,
he asked me to continue.

	When I was finished, he passed the whip to Mohammed. The
whipping he gave her was no less ferocious than the ones administered
by Ahmed and myself, but I think Hafida was becoming inured to pain.
Throughout that lashing she just hung there and moaned. She flinched
with every blow, but the screams seemed to be a thing of the past.

	Then Ahmed gave the whip to Fatima. Once again a naked woman
was flogging another naked woman and my fantasies were in a whirl.
Afraid that Ahmed would take her home with him, I called Shabilla over
to sit on my lap so that I could play with her pussy while I watched
this beating.

	And a beating it was. Fatima was an artist with the cat. While
the rest of us had been covering her ass with welts, she managed to
direct her strokes so that the tips of the whip were just touching the
inside of Hafida's ass cheeks and pussy lips. And Hafida began to
scream again. Not individual screams, but one long agonizing wail of
pain. By this time I wasn't sure of much, but I was sure that Hafida
would not be sitting down for a good long while.

	Finally it was over. Hafida just hung there while Ahmed spoke
to the rest of us.

	"Thank you my friends for helping me with my labors. Now I
think we could all do with a little relaxation. Sam, you've been
admiring her all night, so why don't you make use of Hafida while
Mohammed and I amuse ourselves with Fatima and Shabilla. Do anything
you want with her, but I recommend her little bung hole. She's never
let me near it, so I think it might still be virgin. And she's
certainly in no position to deny you anything right now. If she tries,
well, we'll just have to whip her again."

	Hafida was still wearing the panty gag, so she couldn't cry
out, but she was visibly alarmed as I approached her backside. My
prick needed no urging and she was sopping wet again, so in one smooth
stroke I was buried in her cunt. Hafida was obviously relieved that I
had chosen that hole and immediately began humping back against me,
trying to milk my prick with her pussy walls. After a minute of this,
I decided that I was lubricated enough, so I pulled out, aimed a
little higher and began knocking at the door to her rectum.

	Hafida went into a panic and began swaying her ass all over
the place, trying to avoid my attack. But tied as she was, her
movements were very restricted. Swatting her once on her scarlet ass
to get her attention, I grabbed her hips on both sides and, ramming
myself forward, I buried myself, up to the balls, in her virgin
asshole. A wail escaped from around the gag, but it wasn't long before
she was thrusting back at me, just like she had before, trying to get
more and more of my dick inside her. With her fucking back like this,
it took only a few minutes before I filled her bowels with what seemed
like gallons of cum.

	Looking up, I saw that the other four were enjoying themselves
as well. Mohammed was giving it to Shabilla from the back while Ahmed
fucked Fatima. While I watched, they kind of rolled around and Fatima
began sucking on Ahmed while she sat on Shabilla's face. Not to be
left out, Mohammed spread Shabilla's legs and continued fucking away.
This time I'm sure it was her cunt he was using.

	Finally everyone was satiated. Ahmed said, "Sam, I have one
more favor to ask of you. While we are gone, would you accept Hafida
as your number two slave. I know she would normally be senior to
Shabilla, but for this week I think it will be good for her to not
only have to do your bidding but also to have to follow the
instructions of the number one slave. Now I know that there is a lot
of responsibility associated with two slaves. Fatima will be staying
at my house, but should you require her for anything, anything at all,
don't hesitate to call her. She will come right over and will be more
than happy to tend to your needs, whatever they may be."

	Again, I was speechless. Not only was he leaving me with
Shabilla, but he was giving me Hafida as well. And what did he mean
when he said Fatima would tend to anything I might need? With two
beautiful, willing slaves, what could I possibly need? Oh, the
possibilities were endless.

	"Of course Ahmed, anything you need. You know that."

	"Thank you, Sam. I knew I could count on you."

	And with that, he hustled Mohammed and his wife out the door,
Fatima clutching her clothing in front of her. And I was left with my
beautiful Shabilla and Hafida, still hanging in the living room.