by Linzi Basset
Joanne looked at the women, huddling together in an effort to maintain some modicum of decency and privacy when they relieved themselves under the ever-watchful eyes of the ten guards. They looked defeated, demoralized with their shoulders hunched in fear of what lay ahead behind the rolling dunes. Not to mention, filthy and smelling of sweat and sex.
“Enough! Get back on the fucking truck,” he bellowed.
He grabbed the woman closest to him by the hair and shoved her in the direction of the vehicles and the other guards. She tripped with her panties still around her ankles, drawing wheezing laughter from the watching men. Their eyes glimmered when her dress lifted above her hips, exposing her naked buttocks to their leering gazes.
“Forget that. There’s no time,” Tarik warned the two guards who yanked her to her feet and fondled her breasts.
“Why the fuck not? What’s the rush?” The other guard, named Butros, grunted.
Joanne had been careful to keep her face blank. If they knew she understood Arabic, it might put them on guard even more than they already were. It had become evident that the Bedouin Sheikh of the Qara tribe had paid millions of US dollars for the group of twenty women—to serve as sex slaves to him and his friends.
She hadn’t participated in the conjecture by the other women on their fate. As an Anthropologist professor, she knew better than most what that would be—especially in a country such as Saudi Arabia, where there was no political freedom, no religious freedom, and no freedom of speech. It was, in fact, one of the most repressive regimes in recent history, and in her opinion, an affront to human rights and dignity. Women in this country had no rights whatsoever. She cringed as she remembered the recent atrocity where a young Arabic girl, who had been the victim of a vicious gang rape, had been sentenced to receive two-hundred lashes and six months in jail. She’d been found guilty of being “indecent” at the time of the attack because she wasn’t accompanied by a male guardian. What had infuriated Joanne even more, was that the rapists had only received minor custodial sentences.
What chance of survival did any of us have in a land such as this? We’ll be treated like dirt, used without dignity and respect. Slaves for their perverted sexual pleasures.
In Saudi Arabia, women were deemed second class citizens and treated more like children than adults. They were required to dress in black from head to toe, and required permission from a male guardian to work, to marry and for fuck sakes, even to simply leave their home.
Gmpf, I guess as sex slaves we’re not classed as women, which is why we’re dressed in these fucking transparent smocks!
“The Sheikh wants us to deliver his merchandise by tomorrow morning. We can’t delay any further.” The guard sneering at his comrades yanked her out of her reverie. She had to scramble to avoid the sting of his crop as he continued to herd the women toward the truck.
Joanne was aware that the Saudi Arabian Peninsula was the home of Bedouins—nomadic tribes of the desert—but was surprised that there were still those residing in the desert. Many had given up life in the sand dunes and opted for the modern lifestyle in the cities. She’d been trying her best to keep her spirits up and keep the women from falling into complete despair. It hadn’t been easy, especially as she’d been the only one of the group who had escaped the fate of rape from the guards, who had been gorging themselves every night on the defenseless women.
She settled in, shifting around irritably. They’d been driving for days and they were bruised from the bumpy ride and covered in a layer of dried sand and sweat. Her listless eyes found a lizard that took shelter in the shadows of a rock where the sand wasn’t hot enough to roast him. She sighed, wishing that the guards at least had a touch of humanity in them to cover the back of the truck with a canvas to offer them some protection from the sun.
I guess we can count our lucky stars they prefer a modern mode of transport. It would’ve been twice as bad on the back of camels.
The thought did little to soothe her when the truck pulled away with a jerk to continue the monotonous journey surrounded by the rolling sand dunes. Soon, the sun’s never-ending rays beat down on them mercilessly. Joanne felt the sweat rolling off her nose and she lapped at the salty moistness. Her eyes stung from the blaring streaks of the sun.
“Fucking hate this heat,” she mumbled as she pulled at her blouse that felt overwhelmingly hot and sticky. The stiff, dry desert breeze offered little consolation when all it did was to blow sand into her eyes. Her hair was stiff from a mixture of dried sweat and sand.
“Bastards didn’t even give us water,” Debra, one of the women who refused to be broken down by the guards, complained.
Joanne didn’t respond. She had learned to preserve every drop of moisture she had and talking diminished the spittle in your mouth. Her tongue felt like it was coated in fur. She ran her tongue over her lips and shuddered at how chapped and dry they felt.
“What I wouldn’t do for a glass of crystal clear, cold water,” Debra moaned, which a number of the women echoed. Others, just stared blankly ahead.
* * * * * * * *
Two weeks later . . .
“How much longer, Dabir?” Kasim Ansar, Sheikh Lufti Qara’s main advisor, barked. “The Sheikh is losing his patience with your inability to tame his slave.”
Dabir glared at Joanne where she hung weakly in the chains hooked to the rafters of the underground cell she’d been holed up in since their arrival at the surprisingly neat and modern compound at Nadqan.
“She’s weakening. It won’t take much more to break her spirit. Tell my brother he can prepare his aphrodisiac cocktail so long. Before the end of the day, this bitch will spread her legs willingly for his sword.”
“She better be. He paid the most for this one and he’s tired of waiting. He said it didn’t matter if she was covered in blood when you bring her, just to make sure she won’t fight him.”
Joanne noticed the cruel excitement that lit up her tormentor’s black eyes at the prospect of the leniency the Sheikh had granted him.
“Then so it shall be,” Dabir cackled gleefully as Kasim left. He picked up a cat o’nine tailed whip and cracked it in the air.
Joanne winced as she detected the sound of metal connecting. She realized that his whip’s lashes were tipped with metal balls for maximum pain. She licked her lips as he walked around her, snapping the ends of the lashes softly against her naked skin which were already covered in blue welts from the constant whippings and floggings he’d subjected her to. She was weakened but not as much as Dabir believed her to be. She still had enough strength in her to fight him—if she could get out of the fucking chains.
“No, please. Not that. I’ll stop fighting! I swear. I’ll be whatever the Sheikh wants me to be,” Joanne managed to shriek in a thin voice, her eyes wide and begging with her body shuddering in the restraints.
“I’m not so sure I believe you,” Dabir snorted. He pressed his face into hers. “Do you really think I’m going to deny myself the pleasure of watching you buck and scream under my whip? Especially now that I know how you fear this one.”
“I’ll tell the Sheikh! Do you really think he’ll be happy to know you gave him a bloodied body that suffers beneath him like a slab of dead meat when he could have a willing one bucking on his cock?” Joanne taunted him.
She’d overheard enough during her capture to know that Dabir feared his brother. She didn’t blame him. The rumors she’d heard were enough to make even her cringe, which had been the reason she’d put up such a fight. The Sheikh had made it clear that she had to be untouched by the guards and brought to him pure. She’d almost laughed aloud listening to that, wondering what had given him the idea that she was a virgin.
Dabir hesitated and glowered at her. “You’re trying to trick me. It won’t work, bitch.”
“No, please. I’ve had enough,” she whined fearfully, bearing back as he swung the lashes in her direction again. Her breath wheezed out of her throat as this time the strips connected
with a lot more sting. “I swear I will be willing. I’ll do anything the Sheikh asks of me!”
“I’m warning you, if the Sheikh isn’t satisfied with your performance, there won’t be any skin left on your body when I’m done with you.”
Joanne shook her head and sobbed. “I’ll be good, I swear. Please, I beg you.”
Dabir fisted her hair in his hand and yanked her head back. He spat into her face, “You better be and be warned, slut, Lufti likes to share and when the day comes that he offers you to me, you will thank me properly. Is that clear?”
“Yes, I’ll do whatever the Sheikh asks of me.”
Dabir stared at her. She could see he was debating whether to believe her or not. She intensified her sobs, forcing tears to form and roll over her cheeks. He nodded in satisfaction.
“Very well. Tarik!” he shouted at the main guard who came running immediately. “Get her down and take her to the washroom. Make sure every inch of her is clean. She’s broken but I don’t trust her. Make sure the guards keep watch while the women attend to her.”
“Of course, Dabir,” he said as he unshackled Joanne’s wrists. She slumped weakly against his chest. He bent forward and lifted her over his shoulder.
“And Tarik, make sure she has no hair on her body. Not one tuft anywhere. That task is yours to personally take care of,” Dabir ordered with a smirk.
“It’ll be my pleasure, Dabir,” Tarik cackled out a laugh as he carried Joanne toward the bathing chamber in an adjacent building.
Joanne wondered why they still found as much pleasure in debasing her. Especially as she’d been naked for weeks and subjected to their greasy hands all over and inside her body. She felt the bile rise in her throat at the memory of Tarik’s thick fingers pressing between her labia to ‘test’ if she was big enough for their mighty Sheikh.
“Ah, the Sheikh is going to have a tight and wet ride with this cunt, Dabir,” Tarik bellowed as he plunged his fingers inside her. “She’s as tight as a holed-up desert snake.”
She’d spat in his face which had awarded her a hard backhand across her cheek. It had been so hard, it had taken more than a week for the swelling to go down.
Tarik lowered her to her feet. Joanne whimpered as her legs gave way and she crumbled to the floor. She was weaker than she’d thought. Maybe getting clean and fed first would give her limbs time to recover to gain enough strength to fight her way out of this hellhole.
If any of these bastards think I’m going to spread my legs for their filthy, rotten cocks, they’ve got a surprise waiting for them.
Joanne had trained in the art of Krav Maga alongside her brother and his friends from when she was little. Of course, she’d trailed after him wherever he went and he’d made sure she knew how to defend herself. She’d become one of the few top female masters of Krav Maga in the US. If she hadn’t been chained from the moment she’d woken up from the drug they’d slipped into her coffee on the plane, hell would have broken loose.
Yeah, Joanne Blackmore, Jack taught you to be street smart! She sighed heavily in self-reprimand. if only I had been more alert when I boarded that fucking plane. I should’ve realized something was suspicious when the ticket was so cheap.
Tarik bellowed out orders to the women who scattered to fill the jacuzzi-sized bathtub with steaming water.
“Make sure she’s properly fed. She’s going to need a lot of strength to keep up with the Sheikh tonight,” he finished with a smirk. “I’ll do inspection before she’s presented to him to ensure there isn’t a tuft of hair on her body. Be warned, sluts, if there is, you will suffer for it.”
More Books by Linzi Basset
Club Devil’s Cove Series
His Devil’s Desire – Book 1
His Devil’s Heat – Book 2
His Devil’s Wish – Book 3
Club Wicked Cove Series
Desperation: Ceejay’s Absolution–Book 1
Desperation: Colt’s Acquittal – Book 2
Exploration: Nolan’s Regret – Book 3
Merciful: Seth’s Revenge – Book 4
Claimed: Parnell’s Gift – Book 5
Decadent: Kent’s Desire – Book 6
Club Alpha Cove Series
His FBI Sub – Book 1
His Ice Baby Sub – Book 2
His Vanilla Sub – Book 3
His Fiery Sub – Book 4
His Sassy Sub – Book 5
Their Bold Sub – Book 6
His Brazen Sub – Book 7
His Defiant Sub – Book 8
His Forever Sub – Book 9
His Cherished Sub – Book 10
For Amy – Their Beloved Sub – Book 11
Their Sub Novella Series
No Option – Book 1
Done For – Book 2
For This – Book 3
Their Command Series
Say Yes – Book 1
Say Please – Book 2
Say Now – Book 3
Paranormal Books
The Flame Dragon King - Metallic Dragons #1
Slade: The First Touch
Azriel: Angel of Destruction
Romance Suspense
Caught Series
Caught in Between
Caught in His Web
The Tycoon Series
The Tycoon and His Honey Pot
The Tycoon’s Blondie
The Tycoon’s Mechanic
Standalone Titles
Her Prada Cowboy
Never Leave Me, Baby
Now is Our Time
The Wildcat that Tamed the Tycoon
The Poet’s Lover
Sarah: The Life of Me
Naughty Christmas Story
Her Santa Dom
Boxset
A Santa to Love
Books Co-Written as Isabel James
The White Pearl Series
Double Shot Espresso – Book 1
The Crow’s Nest – Book 2
The White Pearl Boxset
Christmas Novella
Santa’s Kiss
Poetry Bundle by Linzi Basset & James Calderaro
Love Unbound - Poems of the Heart
About the Author
“Isn’t it a universal truth that it’s our singular experiences and passion, for whatever thing or things, which molds us all into the individuals we become? Whether it's hidden in the depths of our soul or exposed for all to see?”
Linzi Basset is a South African born animal rights supporter with a poet’s heart, and she is also a bestselling fiction writer of suspense filled romance erotica books; who as the latter, refuses to be bound to any one sub-genre. She prefers instead to stretch herself as a storyteller which has resulted in her researching and writing historical and even paranormal themed works.
Her initial offering: Club Alpha Cove, a BDSM club suspense series released back in 2015, reached Amazon’s Bestseller list, and she has been on those lists ever since. Labelling her as prolific is a gross understatement as just a few short years later she has now been published thirty-nine times; a total which fails to take into account the three other published works of her alter ego: Isabel James who co-authors—nor does it include the five additional new works marked for imminent release.
“I write from the inside out. My stories are both inside me and a part of me so it can be either pleasurable to release them or painful to carve them out. I live every moment of every story I write. So, if you're looking for spicy and suspenseful, I'm your girl . . . woman . . . writer . . . you know what I mean!"
Linzi believes that by telling stories in her own voice, she can better share with her readers the essence of her being: her passionate nature; her motivations; and her wildest fantasies. She feels every touch as she writes, every kiss, every harsh word uttered, and this to her is the key to a never-ending love of writing.
Ultimately, all books by Linzi Basset are about passion. To her, passion is the driving force of all emotion; whether it be lust, desire, hate, trust, or love. This
is the underlying message contained in her books. Her advice: “Believe in the passions driving your desires; live them; enjoy them; and allow them to bring you happiness.”
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