Becoming Ghaniyah- A Tale of Bondage and Submission

by Paul Blades

  “Take off your dress,” the cruel sergeant ordered.

  Leslie shuddered at the order. It was not unexpected. Her stomach turned sour at the thought of the woman putting her hands on her, her lips and tongue on her, drawing out her deepest, darkest desires.

  Her hands shaking, Leslie began to unbutton her bodice. She felt the evil presence of the woman standing behind her. The woman would perform despicable acts upon her, make her perform despicable acts. And she had no power to refuse her. Something about that thought sent a thrill through her loins. It made her feel shamed at her own licentiousness.

  When the buttons were undone, Leslie took hold of the hem of her short skirt and brought it up. As it passed over her head, she reveled in the temporary darkness. If only that darkness would last, she thought. “If only I could pass into nothingness, vanish like I never existed.”

  When she had drawn the dress over her head, she was about to drop it in the floor when she felt the hands of the Queen taking it from her. She walked past her and placed it on the clothes tree, next to her ayala and the whip. She turned back to look at her. Leslie could see the flame of lust in her eyes.

  “Put your hands behind your head,” she commanded. “And spread your legs.”

  Tearfully, Leslie complied. The act of raising her hands caused her breasts to lift and present themselves. She could feel her nipples stiffening. She closed her eyes to try and blot out what was happening to her.

  “Open your eyes!” the woman ordered her curtly.

  Leslie opened them. Even her right to darkness had been taken from her. She must be a witness to her own demise.

  The sergeant placed her baton back down on the desk. She strolled leisurely over the where Leslie was standing. She stepped behind her, came close to her back, and reached around her front, seizing both of her pale, plump breasts. Her hands were hot and sweaty. She closed her hands around Leslie’s treasures, squeezing them, forming them into cones. She took hold of her nipples, pinching them, tugging them until her breasts came free of her body, pulled out to their greatest extension. When she released them, they fell, like two heavy weights, vibrating from the motion. Her hands closed around her waist, went lower, lower, lower, until they reached the crux of her thighs. Her fingers flowed along the engorging lips that guarded her divide causing a ripple of lust to flow through the young, defenseless girl.

  The woman’s breasts were hot up against her back. Her face was leaning over her shoulder and Leslie could feel her hot breath in her ear, on her throat. She felt the woman’s chest rising and falling deeply as if her own lusts were beginning to overwhelm her.

  The, she broke off. Rubbing Leslie’s naked buttocks as she passed, she returned to her desk. She picked up the phone and punched one of the buttons. There was a pause. Her eyes became alert.

  She made a short, curt statement in Arabic and then placed the phone back in its cradle and sat back down in her chair.

  The room was deathly silent as they waited. Her words ran back and forth through Leslie’s head. Who was she talking to? Who was she waiting for? The Queen’s steady, cold eyes, which continued to appraise her charms, gave her no clue.

  There was another door to the Queen’s office, across from and opposite from the one through which Leslie had entered. Her heart jumped when she heard a hand turn the knob. The door opened and someone entered.

  It was the officer who had released her from her cell after her assault in the men’s part of the prison. He was dressed in the same sharp, crisp uniform. He was youngish, maybe 40. His face was clean shaven and his aspect alert and bright. He was tall, almost 6 feet. His uniform had red epaulettes and there were gold bars on his collar.

  Sergeant Malikah stood when he entered. She smiled. She turned to Leslie. “Ghaniyah,” she said, “I take it you have already met Captain Khalil.”

  Leslie began to tremble. Her mouth ran dry and her body began to shake. When he had released her from her chains in the men’s prison, he had castigated her, accused her of enticing his man into fucking her. It was he who had brought all of these terrible charges against her, she just knew it. Now she understood what was happening. He had brought them so that she would become his slave, so that she would be at his mercy for years and years and years. He had probably sent the man in to fuck her!

  She started to sob. Tears were rolling down her face. The captain smiled as he perused her naked body. He said something to Malikah in Arabic. Leslie heard the name Ghaniyah repeated. Malikah answered him and he laughed.

  “I see you have been given a new name, Ghaniyah,” he said merrily. “It is most appropriate. We often get pretty girls here in our prison, but not, in recent memory, one as beautiful as you.” He had one of the ever present batons in his hand and he laid it on the desk. He strolled over to where Leslie stood, unbuttoning his tunic as he went.

  Leslie quailed as he stepped slowly around her. She could feel lines of sweat running down her sides. Her mouth was dry and her knees were weak. When he passed behind her, he casually ran his hand over her rear. His hand was large, larger than the female hands that had been using her, and stronger too. He walked around in front of her. His tunic was open now, revealing a strong, hairless chest. He stood before her and placed his hands under her breasts, lifting them, running his thumbs over her taut nipples. “Very pretty,” he said.

  He stepped back and removed his tunic. Malikah, the Queen, had been standing nearby, watching her as one would watch a well trained animal. She was smiling with satisfaction.

  “Today is your first lesson, Ghaniyah,” she said. “I want you to get down on your knees and spread your legs.”

  With a low pitched whine, Leslie descended to the highly polished, wooden floor. When her knees touched down, she spread them obediently.

  “Now, bend over and place your forehead on the floor,” Malikah ordered.

  Leslie obeyed quickly. Her hands were still behind her head and her elbows were flared out. She heard the heavy boots of Captain Khalil stepping behind her. He crouched down and slid his hand up and down her inner thighs, appreciating the silky smoothness. He captured her mons and stroked it, letting his finger slip between her watering divide.

  “Very good, Ghaniyah,” he said. “You’ve passed the first test. You’re nice and wet.”

  The man’s words opened a wound inside her. She was shamed at her lasciviousness, shamed that her body would evidence desire amidst her humiliation. When she felt the man’s finger tarry on her button of pleasure, she gritted her teeth lest her moan betray her passion.

  The man rose. She heard Malikah’s feet step towards the corner of the room, pause, and then return. Leslie desperately wanted to know what the woman was doing, but she dared not raise her head to see. She found out soon enough.

  She felt something trail along her back. It had several strands and was stiff at the ends. She recognized it immediately as the whip she had seen hanging on the clothes tree. It ran up her back and then over her defenseless, pale white, plump rear mounds.

  “I’m only going to give you a few strokes today, Ghaniyah, just so you know what it is like,” she said. “Should we have any problems, I will string you up and whip you until your back is raw.”

  “Nooooooooooo! Pleeeeease sayyadati! Please don’t whip me! I’ll do whatever you want! Pleeeeeease!”

  “And you were doing so well, Ghaniyah,” Malikah said in mock sympathy. “The first rule is that you remain absolutely silent. I’ll have to put something extra in it to teach you a lesson: do not speak unless spoken to. Burn that into your brain with each blow.”

  With that, Malikah let the whip fly. It landed across Leslie’s proffered rear cheeks. “Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhoooooowwwww!” Leslie screamed. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  “Since it’s your first lesson, whore,” Malikah said, “you can scream all you want. In the future, you’ll have to do better.”

  Her rear cheeks felt like they were afire. The Queen’s harsh words and dire threats pierced her to the hear
t. She gripped the hair at the back of her head tightly and clenched her teeth. The second blow came quickly after. It scoured her rear like the claws of a tiger.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhoooooooooowwwwww!” Leslie screamed. “Ohhhhhhhh! Pleeeeease stop! Pleeeeeeeeeeease!”

  “It seems that our pretty American whore cannot keep her mouth shut, Sergeant Malikah. I’m sure we have a remedy for that,” the Captain said. Leslie knew that his words were meant for her ears since they were spoken in English. She knew she should be quiet, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, by all that is sacred, pleeeeeeeeease stop! Pleeeeeeeeease!” she screamed.

  The captain said something to Malikah, amusement in his voice. She laughed.

  “The captain is right, Ghaniyah. Pleading to God is quite inappropriate for a blasphemer. You’re not helping yourself one bit. I’ll have to make a note of that in your file for the court.”

  “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Leslie moaned. She was sobbing intently. She hardly noticed it when the Queen went back to her desk and then returned. A hand fastened itself in her hair and she was pulled up. Her hands were yanked behind her and she felt a pair of handcuffs snapped on to them She turned to look and beg that she not be bound when a thick prong of leather came towards her mouth. She tried to blurt something out in protest, but the thick wad of leather went right in. The captain fastened its straps behind her head and pulled them tight while Malikah idly swung the tassels of the whip back and forth. Leslie’s head was forced back down to the floor.

  The Queen stepped up quickly and gave her another vicious stroke. This time, Leslie’s screams of agony were blocked by the fullness in her mouth and all that emerged was a muted, high pitched squeal.

  Two more cruel blows were directed at her lava hot rear cheeks. Leslie screamed helplessly at each one. Her supplications for mercy emerged as garbled, muffled sounds.

  They waited silently while Leslie’s sobs of misery quieted down. When she had recovered a semblance of rationality, Malikah spoke to her again. “I was only going to give you five strokes, Ghaniyah,” she said. “But I have to give you another for talking out of turn. I’ll save your punishment for your blasphemous outburst for your next visit.”

  At this news, Leslie released a heart rendering moan. Malikah let the whip fly one, final time. Leslie screamed and sobbed as if all the sorrows of the world had been poured into her.

  She knelt there for a while, her muted sobs winding down. She heard her assailants moving about the room. There was the sound of liquid being poured into glasses and being downed. Malikah laughed and there was the sound of a kiss. Then they turned their attention back to their prisoner.

  Malikah prodded Leslie with the tip of her boot. “Get up, whore. Kneel up straight,” she said.

  Anxious not to provoke any further abuse, Leslie dolefully raised her torso. Captain Khalil had stripped to the waist. He was in the process of lowering his fly. He reached in and drew out his sleek, stiffened prick. Leslie’s belly turned over when she saw it. She felt the buckles on her gag being released. The thick wad of leather was withdrawn from her mouth.

  “Now it is time for your second lesson of the day, whore,” Malikah said. “There is only one good use for the mouth of a filthy slut like you. Open it up and admit the captain’s prick. All American girls know how to suck pricks,” she opined. “We’ve had a few of you through here over the years, so don’t try and tell me different. I want you to give Captain Khalil your best effort or it’s back to the whip!”

  Leslie grimaced. It was true that she had experience in this department, but only a couple of times. She really didn’t like it. The thought of taking a man’s spume into her belly was repulsive. And the thought of holding it in her mouth while he came so she could spit it out was even worse.

  She knew she had no choice. Sadly, she opened her mouth and awaited the insertion of Captain Khalil’s prick.

  It was long and thick. Holding it steady in his hand, he advanced on her. He placed his other hand on her head, taking hold of her hair, and slid it in.

  Leslie moaned as she experienced the presence of his salty tool in her mouth. Reluctantly, she closed her lips upon it and started to suckle it. Khalil gave out a little groan as her moist heat transferred itself to his rigid rod. He began to pump slowly at her orifice, forcing her head back and forth to meet his movements. Leslie’s hands writhed in dismay behind her back as the despised presence worked its way over her tongue and lips.

  Khalil was not satisfied with her efforts. “Suck harder!” he ordered her. “Use your tongue!”

  Fearful of Sergeant Malikah’s whip, Leslie redoubled her efforts. She suckled and slurped, washed the pistoning meat with her tongue. All the while, she felt the cruel eyes of the Queen on her, assessing her efforts, taking amusement from her degradation. She tried not to think about it, but she knew that this was only the first of many times that she would be performing this service for the captain. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Wave after wave of despair flowed through her.

  When the captain’s efforts became more determined, when she heard him groan and felt his hand tighten in her hair, she knew that the ultimate moment was coming. She started an involuntary whine. Her eyes had closed the moment that the conscienceless prick had crossed the threshold of her oral cavity, and she clamped them even tighter as if she could blot out the moment of her ultimate humiliation.

  Khalil’s groans became more urgent. His thrusts came faster and harder. Leslie lost all ability to suckle the raging member and she concentrated on forming a warm, wet tunnel for its enjoyment. Suddenly, Khalil gave a shout and his cock began to throb and pulse in her mouth. His spume jetted out, filling her. Desperately she tried to swallow it all, fearful of the consequences of the alternative. Nonetheless, some of it burst from its confinement and spilled out over her lips. She coughed and choked, her stomach soured. Her body shuddered.

  Once his salty flow had begun to abate, Khalil slowed his motions back to a languid series of long, satisfied strokes. His hand loosened its grip on her hair. He let out a long, appreciative moan.

  Leslie’s lips were trembling when the cock slipped from between her lips. She looked up anxiously at her tormentor for a sign that she had performed her task satisfactorily. He looked back down at her, a smile on his lips. “Good work, Ghaniyah,” he said. “Not bad for a first effort. You’ll get better, I’m sure.”

  Leslie heard Malikah laugh. “You’ll get plenty of practice,” she said. “But now it’s my turn. Let’s see how you do at sucking my pussy.”

  Leslie groaned at the news of her new task. Malikah advanced on her. First she wiped the spilled cum off of her lips with her finger and ordered Leslie to lick it off. Then she took hold of her hair and forced her to knee walk to the other side of her desk. When they reached her plush chair, she reached under her green dress and lowered her panties. She pulled them over her boots and then sat down in the chair, spreading her legs widely. She pulled the hem of her dress up to her hips, revealing a bushy triangle of curly, jet black hair. “Come, whore,” she said, her voice husky with anticipated pleasure. “Get to work.”

  Leslie moved morosely towards the sneering, callous woman. When she reached the edge of the chair, tears in her eyes, she leaned forward, her tongue jutting slightly out of her mouth, and applied it to the sparkling wet divide between her outer labia.

  The odor of the Queen’s arousal was overpowering. Leslie whined as she tentatively slipped her tongue along the length of the woman’s gash. Malikah took hold of her hair, brought her head back and shook it violently.

  “You better do better than that, whore, or it’s the whip for sure!” she said threateningly. Leslie gave an abject nod and Malikah pushed her face forward once again.

  Conscious of the eyes of the captain on her back and rear, Leslie performed as commanded. Suppressing her revulsion, she thrust her tongue deep into the slick divide, pressing her lips on its outer guardians. She dragged her tongue upwards, wrigglin
g it all the while and then slipped it over and around the stiff nubbin at its top until she heard the woman sigh.

  It took longer to satisfy the cruel sergeant. She kept starting and stopping her, prolonging her enjoyment. She issued curt instructions, “Deeper! Harder! Faster!” She ordered her to subsume her hardened clit into her mouth and suckle it, compelled her to flatten her tongue and lick the length of her divide and then to use her rigid tongue as a cock, thrusting it in and out of her needy hole.

  Khalil crouched down behind Leslie and slipped his hand between her thighs. He began to massage and stroke her pussy, tickling her clit, thrusting his fingers in and out of her. His other hand crept around her torso and began to massage and caress her breasts. He urged her on, calling her a whore, a slut, a pig, a filthy dog. He warned her of terrible torments should she let up on her efforts.

  Leslie’s lusts grew higher and higher. She tried to will away the tantalizing sensations on her sex, but to no avail. She knew she was lost when she moaned into the Queen’s cavern. Her assailants laughed and her torment continued. She came twice, issuing body wrenching orgasms to the amusement of her captors.

  Finally, Malikah’s passions grew too high for her to resist letting Leslie drive her to completion. She groaned and moaned. She pushed Leslie’s face hard into her loins. Her thighs closed over her cheeks. Her grip on her hair became so tight that Leslie feared she would rip it out of her head. When she came, her hips bucked, her thighs swung in and out. She grabbed Leslie’s head with both of her hands and moved it up and down over her pulsing pussy. She shouted out something loud in Arabic. Her hips thrust upwards and her back arched.

  She hummed languidly as her contractions subsided. She brushed her hands tenderly over Leslie’s head, stroking her hair like she might a favorite pet. When finally satisfied, with a deep sigh, she pushed Leslie’s head away.

  “You have found a new talent, Ghaniyah,” she said, amusement in her voice. “I think we are going to be great friends.” And then she laughed.