For all of you who asked for more… here it is. Small dragons.
Hillary woke up in a dark room. Her head ached. Sitting up, she realized a few other things. She was naked, her hip burned and she still had on the emerald necklace that Antonio had dazzled her with the night before. As she looked around, she realized that it was a cell, not a room. There were bars on the windows and her bed was a slab of stone with a straw pallet on top. In a corner was a bucket.
Hillary walked over to the barred window and tried to look out. She could hear sea birds, and smell the ocean, but she couldn’t see anything except sky. Hillary walked over to the door and banged on it.
“Hello! Anyone there?” she cried out. No answer. She walked back over to the bed, curled up and cried.
The door opened and a man walked in carrying a tray. He sat it down next to the sleeping woman. “فتاة! تستيقظ! وهنا طعامك!” he said.
Hillary jarred awake at the sound of a man’s voice. She turned and saw the man and tried to puzzle out what he’d said. She knew a little Arabic.
“فتاة! وهنا طعامك!” he repeated part of it.
Hillary nodded and tried to sit up and cover herself at the same time. The man just laughed. She realized he’d told her to get up and eat. Looking at the food, she wasn’t sure if she could eat. She drank part of the water and then picked at the cous-cous and rice with some sort of seasoning. She ate about half of it.
The guard came back in a little later. He saw that she hadn’t eaten everything and snickered. He picked up a wad of the rice that was left and threw it at her. It hit her right in the face. He laughed and walked out.
Hillary picked the food off of herself and tossed it out the window. To her disgust, she had to use the bucket in the corner as there was no toilet. As the late afternoon sun filled the cell, she used the light to look at her hip. There was a tiny bump, and a number along with the word “146 الأمير Haveer”. She took a minute to puzzle it out, but she finally realized that she had the equivalent of an ID tag on her hip.
Sitting on the bed, she tried to figure out what had happened. She remembered Antonio putting the necklace around her throat, and then a scratch. Next thing she knew, she was in a cell. She curled up on the bed and waited for whatever came next.
“Is she awake?” asked Prince Haveer of the guard.
“Yes sir. Not much noise, just crying. She didn’t eat much,” said the guard.
“Okay. She’ll eat when she gets hungry enough,” said the Prince. The guard nodded.
The door to the cell opened. Hillary looked up to see Antonio walk into the cell. For a split second, she was relieved. That was quickly replaced by fear.
“Ah, so you do recognize me,” he said quietly.
“You… What do you want?” she asked not knowing where to start.
“I have what I want. You and your عاهرة of a friend,”
“Whore?” Hillary asked.
Hillary felt her pulse race. In the last few hours, she’d hoped that Samantha had been looking for her. Called Interpol, or at least the consulate.
“Why? What do you want from me?” she asked.
“Obedience. You are mine. I own you,” he said sitting next to her and pulling her face up to look at him.
“Yes,” he said pointing to her tattoo. “If you behave, you’ll live well. Misbehave, and you’ll wish you were dead.” His hand moved up to cup her breast. When Hillary jerked to get away, his grip on her chin went from soft to steel hard. “You are owned. Mine to fuck, beat, sell or have serve me.”
Hillary whimpered. She couldn’t move as his hand moved from her breast to her crotch. His hard fingers tried to slide between her thighs. When she clamped her thighs tight, he slapped her thigh right over the tattoo hard.
“Do not disobey me. I will touch you any way I want,” he said softly in her ear.
Hillary opened her thighs. His fingers moved swiftly over her mound and between her lips. She was dry from terror, and his thrusts into her pussy were rough. “Ow! No!” she cried.
He did stop, if only long enough to turn her over his knee and beat her ass and upper thighs with his hand. Without letting her up, he thrust his fingers up inside of her again.
As Hillary lay there gasping for air, she realized two things. First off, she had never been hit like that in her life and never wanted to be hit again. Secondly, she realized she was getting wetter and wetter from his attentions. She tried not to squirm as he began to play with her clit, but couldn’t help it.
“Ah, so you are sensual,” he said in a mocking tone. He massaged her clit faster, knowing that she was getting close to a climax.
“Please stop,” she gasped.
Prince Haveer smiled. “You need to learn the first rules of being a slave. You have no choice in anything,”
“No,” she cried out trying to stop how her body was reacting. The heat from the spanking seemed to suffuse the rest of her body as the orgasm built. She tried to fight it, but the stimulation of her clit wouldn’t stop.
“Come. Come now,” he said.
Hillary struggled to no avail. Her body betrayed her and she came. She gasped and collapsed across his lap. Before she could move or even think, his hand came down hard on her ass in a series of stinging slaps. Crying out, she tried to stop him with her hands, which only got her beaten harder. When he finally stopped, he stood up and dumped her limp form on the floor.
“You will learn,” he said and walked out the door.