The tent of the Bedouin
by Bedouin
Part 13
miel held her breath as the Mulaazim's muttering continued, nausea lurched
through her as she felt his manhood brushing against her buttocks. He held her
open, as if he were about to savagely sodomize her. As his hardness grew
beneath his robe and pressed against her, miel sensed that at any moment he
would surely raise his garments and begin to force his angry lust upon her.
She could think of no way to escape, the Mulaazim held her in his grip tightly,
he almost seemed oblivious to her presence, lost in his rambling seizure. She
dared to glance back at him and saw, with horror, how his eyes had rolled back
in their sockets, showing only white, in the hold of some demonic possession.
She knew that she would have to snatch his attention, rouse him from his madness
or she was doomed.
The Mulaazim Awil was indeed in the throes of his twisted fantasy. He was
unaware of the girl writhing in his clutches, dreaming instead of his habibiti,
his sweet Mahmood, recalling how he had consoled the boy, promised him solemnly
that Bedouin would not have his balls because of some harlot and her lying ways.
He felt aroused as he remembered how the boy had fallen to his knees, kissing
his feet with gratitude, and how he had taken hold of the boy's soft hair and
drawn his head towards his rigidness.
In his mind, the Mulaazim was murmuring the same soft words of encouragement to
his new pet and some were spilling from his mouth as the memory of the boy's
greedy mouth washed over him.
'Sir..?'
The Mulaazim barely heard.
'Sir... please?' miel's voice grew gradually bolder.
The Moor's face twisted, unwilling to release his memories.
'SIR, Sir, please!' miel tried to balance her plea, she did not think it wise
to anger him further but knew she had to bring him back to his senses.
Reluctantly, the Mulaazim's eyes rolled forward again, waking him from his
soporific state. It took a long moment for him to relinquish the feelings, and
it was with anger that he saw the naked girl again, and it was she who had woken
him.
miel thought quickly, formulating an attitude and makeshift plan, she would have
to tread so carefully.
'I'm sorry, Sir..' she began in penitent tone ' I do not mean to anger you...'
The Moor scowled down at her, his large hands not relinquishing their tight
grip.
miel swallowed and let her hurried plan begin.
'I did not mean for Mahmood to be beaten..' she closed her eyes as she spoke,
concentrating, acting. 'It was a terrible mistake..'
No response. He was, at least, listening though, she thought.
'Please, .. please, forgive me' miel used a pitiful voice in the hope of
gaining mercy.
'I would not normally dare to anger such a powerful man as you, Sir, but... I
was, frightened and confused, please forgive me?'
miel bit her lip, hating the sound of her own words, and waited for his
response. None came, but she felt a slight relaxation in the grip that held
her. Drawing in a deep breath for courage, she continued.
'I, I know that you and Bedouin are great friends, and I'm sure that...' her
mind clutched for an explanation 'that, he would pleased that you are taking
such good care of me.'
A small grunt came from the Mulaazim at the mention of Bedouin's name, miel
took this as a sign of encouragement.
'If I can serve you in any way, any way at all, until his return.. I would be
very pleased to do so'. Her words revolted her, but these were desperate
moments and she knew that she must buy time.
The grip lessened on her buttocks, the Mulaazim now merely holding her steady,
he seemed intrigued by her sudden change of heart, perhaps her plan and soft,
simpering words were having effect, thought miel.
She could not have known then, with her face turned away, that despite his
relaxed hold on her, the Mulaazim Awil's anger was rising. A cruel sneer fell
over his countenance, he let the words come like thick treacle from his lips.
'Hmmmm...' he replied, finally 'Perhaps, I have been a little too harsh with
you, miel'
She stilled at his words, her heart leaping at his merciful tone.
'Perhaps, you can serve me, until Bedouin returns?' he asked almost kindly.
miel, too quickly, gasped 'Oh, yes, please.. Sir'
'It has been a very long time, after all, since I have tried a woman's
delights.' With that, the Mulaazim Awil pressed a large thumb onto the rim of
miel's anus.
miel managed to control the shudder of revulsion, remaining instead, very still.
Her mind argued with itself, reasoning whether or not to try and escape his evil
clutches or to keep him pacified at a terrible cost.
The Moor pressed his thumb into her entrance, he looked down to see how tightly
it gripped his knuckle, he knew that he was hurting her, that she was not
relaxed enough to accept any intrusion, the knowledge made him smile.
'Yesss..' he hissed, affecting interest 'A long time... ' He let out a dramatic
sigh to mislead miel.
She tried not to tremble, it was an agonising choice, but miel knew, deep
within, that she could not afford to face his ire, she must convince him of her
sincerity and submission if she were to survive.
'If it would.. please, you Sir' The words almost choked her, but she forced
them out and laid her head down on her arms which seemed to push her bottom
higher towards him, as an offering.
He had been right! She was no more than a foul temptress! He saw now how she
must have used her wiles to ensnare Mahmood, she had fallen easily into the
small trap, taking him for a witless fool. He watched her raise her unwanted
gift to him, thinking that he would take it, would be grateful for her
submission.
A cauldron of fury bubbled inside the Mulaazim Awil.
miel was trying not to sob into her arms as she awaited her fate, she knew that
at any moment what she had dreaded would happen, that she would have to bear it,
for her own safety.
She did not expect the sudden sharp movement and pain.
The Mulaazim Awil plunged his thumb harshly into her anus, he curled it inside
her, using it as an anchor to savagely grip her buttock again, his arm had
snaked forwards and grasped her hair, wrenching her head back, forcing her body
to arch in agony.
'Do you never learn, HARLOT!?' he raged in her ear
miel could not move, her terror at his renewed ire and his vicious grip keeping
her motionless, only her heart beat wildly with fear.
He twisted her head towards him, she saw the madman's face twisted with hatred
and loathing and thought that he might kill her.
She knew she had erred, made a grave mistake and it would be the last of her.
An eerie calm swept through her as she accepted her fate, and oddly, a word came
to her, one that she had heard Bedouin use, she used it now, her last sign of
contempt for the Mulaazim Awil.
'Kalb!' She spat in his face with harsh venom.
She saw his enraged look, felt him pluck his thumb from inside her and reach
into his robes. The dagger flashed in his hand as it came rushing towards her.
The last thought to flit through her mind was 'I am dead' and then, restful
blackness fell.
