Extract The sandstorm of the night was passing and Tariq left the relative safety of the
tent to inspect the makeshift camp. Damage was slight – a few guy ropes had come
adrift but they were of no consequence. Camp would be struck in an hour or so,
just as soon as the pretender to the throne of Sheik Al’almira was awake. The
pretender, the Sheik’s elder son, had been up late the previous evening
attending to the disciplinary needs of the captives they had taken during the
day.
That day had begun with the certainty of the sandstorm brewing and Al’almira
had left the desert camp of his father at first light with his two trusty
comrades, Abdul and Tariq. They had journeyed into the desert for several hours,
together with all the equipment they needed for an overnight camp. Finally they
had reached their journey’s end. It was a popular tourist spot in season, though
now the season was at an end and the number of tourists visiting the sacred
shrine was few. A tip off from their contact in the nearby town had stirred
Al’almira to make the trip. A trio of young, white women had hired a car the
previous day and they had put the shrine on their itinerary. It would be the
last spot of sightseeing they would be doing for some time and, had they known
what lay in store, they would certainly have changed their minds.
White women in this land seldom felt safe on their own and they had asked for a
guide to accompany them. Now, as Al’almira and his friends neared the shrine,
they saw the car by the side of the track. They stopped short of the sand dune
that afforded them protection from prying eyes. Tariq cupped his hands to his
mouth and a strange, eerie, howling sound flowed from him towards those standing
outside the shrine.
Tina Freeman, Rosy Matthews and Karen Andersen were on their holidays. Old
school friends, they had been on these kinds of holidays for the best part of a
decade. Now in their late twenties they were well travelled, worldly wise and
not unaccustomed to the nature and habits of the natives in the countries they
visited. They heard the howling sound and their conversation immediately stopped
as they listened for the sound to come across the desert sands again.
They did not have to wait long. When the second howling sound broke the silence
of the desert, the guide who was with them jabbered something quickly in broken
English. To the young women it seemed to end with the words, “must pray”. Before
they could react, he was running in the direction of the doorway leading into
the shrine itself. As he ran, his flowing gown chased to catch him up. Assamal
was in a hurry, not to pray, but to get away from the women for he knew what was
going to happen next.
“You, white women, what are you doing here?”
Al’almira and his comrades had appeared from behind the dune and were riding
quickly towards the group of women.
“We’re … we’re tourists and were told this was an important place of interest,”
Tina Freeman replied as soon as the three riders on their camels had stopped.
“No, no, no, you are spying on my property,” Al’almira’s voice boomed loudly.
“Spying, no we’re not spying on anything. We came to see this shrine. Our guide
has just gone in through the doorway – something about prayer time.” Tina
Freeman was about five feet ten tall. She had shoulder length blonde hair, a
slender figure. She was wearing her favourite pair of faded blue jeans and a
thin, white blouse. She had steel-blue eyes that looked steadily at Al’almira as
he dismounted.
“I say you are spies on my property. Come, I will show you what I do with spies
on my property.”
“Karen, quick, find the guide. He can explain it all.” Karen was a brunette,
five six tall, with her hair in the shape of a bun. She made to walk off to the
shrine but in a moment felt the camel crop Al’almira was holding, resting on her
shoulders.
“You, white spies, are going nowhere.”
Karen froze and as she did so, the third member of the trio shouted out
loudly.
“Assamal, help, we are being attacked,” she screamed. Rosy Matthews was the
youngest of the group and the tallest. She stood just over six feet tall and had
long, mid-brown hair which flowed down to her waist. As with her friends, she
was dressed in jeans and a thin, pale top, a top which showed off her large,
firm breasts. Al’almira pretended not to notice her breasts pulling at the
skimpy top, nor the dark areolas he could see behind the wispy material. She was
wearing no bra, unlike her friends.
“He will not come. I know him. He knew he was on my property and he has run off
so he will not be punished. He knows not to come here…”
“So why did he bring us here?” Tina sounded frightened now.
“Because he is foolish, and you were foolish to trust a stranger. Now, you will
all find out what it is like in this country to be caught for spying. It is, for
sure, an offence which carries the death penalty. As I am a judge as well, I
have the right to try you here in front of my friends. Then we can carry out the
execution and it will all be over.”
“You can’t do that,” Tina sounded braver than she was feeling.
“I can. Remember you are in my country now and our rules are not the same as
yours. However, I am in a good mood today and to sacrifice three such fine,
young people as you three spies, would be a shame.”
“So, what are you suggesting?”
“We punish you another way.”
“What are you suggesting, not what I think you are, are you?” Rosy Matthews had
gone pale at the sudden realisation of what the Arabs standing before them were
demanding. Indeed, Tariq and Abdul were already smiling the evil smile some men
manage before they are about to force a woman to submit to their will.
“You will come with me, through that doorway into the shrine. There is an altar
in there. It will be the first place of your punishment.”
The sun was high in the sky and hot, though the faint breeze of the beginning
of the sandstorm brought some welcome respite from the heat. Nonetheless, the
white women were momentarily glad to think they would soon be sheltered from the
sweltering heat of the sun. They followed Al’almira through the doorway and were
pushed forward by Tariq and Abdul as they brought up the rear.
As Karen passed through the doorway, her heart sank. The room was no more than
a fairly large, walled area. There was no roof and in the noon-day sun, the
walls offered no shade to the occupants of the area. The area was constructed as
an area of worship. From the doorway, ahead of the women was the large
flat-topped rock that presumably formed the altar. Leading from the doorway to
the altar was a pathway, maybe twenty feet long. To either side, and nestling on
the hot, sandy floor were slabs of concrete, evidently the places where any
worshippers could sit if they wished.
The three women were pushed down the central aisle until they stood in front of
the altar.
“Which one shall we punish first?” Al’almira tapped the shaft of the camel-whip
(a sort of riding crop but larger) in the palm of one hand as he spoke. He
smiled from behind the other side of the altar.
“You, what is your name?” As he asked the question, he pointed the camel-whip
at Rosy Matthews, allowing the tip of the crop to rest between her bursting
cleavage.
“Rosy,” she muttered softly.
“Good, Rosy, white bitch spy, we will start with you. Abdul, sit with the other
two. Tariq, I need your assistance. You, Rosy, remove your clothes.”
“What, what did you say?” Rosy stammered, her face going bright red from
embarrassment.
“I said to remove your clothes. Do it now or you will regret it.” Al’almira was
tapping the crop again as his impatience grew. Slowly Rosy started to unbutton
her tight blouse. “Quickly, white bitch, quickly, or I will get Tariq to help
you.”
Tariq too one step towards the young woman. She in turn suddenly found it in
her to remove her clothes at great speed. As she undressed, Karen and Tina were
frog-marched by Abdul to the seats on the left of the aisle. He sat them down
and then sat behind them, grinning his big, wicked, Arab grin.
Rosy was naked now, standing before the altar and facing away from her
friends.
“Lean over the altar so your breasts touch the rock.” Rosy obeyed.
“What are you going to do?” She asked plaintively.
“First you will receive a cropping on your backside for spying and then we will
teach you a lesson you will not forget.” As Al’almira spoke, Tariq walked round
the altar and grabbed Rosy’s hands, pulling them in front of her, forcing her
down hard against the stone altar. Her buttocks rose invitingly into the air and
it was only a few seconds before she felt the leather of the camel crop on her
pale flesh.
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