An Arabian Adventure

In my country marriages are often arranged at birth. My marriage arrangements were made in just such a way. There is no choice of falling in love, it is simply a binding legal arrangement in which the exchange of Dinar, possessions, land, or a combination of items seals the deal.
I am thirteen now. My wedding was scheduled to occur later this year. I have never met my future spouse, so I feel no attraction towards him, and what is worse, I have developed feelings for a poor boy. He has always been kind to me, but more importantly he was always kind to my mother, who although she is a wife in a family of high social status, is not the prettiest in my father’s harem of wives. It disturbs me that father debases and abuses her, but what is absolutely deplorable to me is that my mother has never experienced being loved and desired by a man. The only world she has ever known is that of being used by a man as a sex toy, or as a beast of burden used to bear children…preferably sons.
I am usually shy, and the veil that covers my face has always hidden me from the prying eyes of men; although not of the highest position, I am still of royal birth. I do not usually gaze upon men, for to do so in the presence of my father would have subjected me to much abuse.
Once, years ago at a young age, on a visit to the Souq, I had tripped and fallen on the ground, and before anyone else could respond, this boy quickly darted out of the shadows and helped me to my feet. If one of my father’s guards had been able to reach him he would have been severely beaten, but he quickly whisked me upright, looked into my eyes, and then disappeared back into the shadows. It was at that moment that my heart fluttered. That brief moment in time sealed my future, and my fate.
This boy was different. His hair, a dark black, was the perfect background for his piercing, steely blue eyes. I couldn’t deny the attraction.
At my mother’s insistence, and perhaps having seen the look of desire in her daughter’s eyes, my mother convinced my father to employ the boy for a short while working in the stables, and tending his herds of camels, sheep, and prized Arabian horses.
I took every opportunity to go to the stables under the pretense of riding a horse in a show for my father. I’m actually a quite good rider.
Perhaps it was one of the other shepherds who saw the look in our eyes, but much to my disappointment, the boy was soon let go.
And then came that fateful evening, less than a week ago, in which my whole world was changed…
I had crept unseen out of my father’s compound late one evening to see the city lights, and hopefully to get a glimpse of the young man that made my young teenage body shiver with anticipation. Every night I spent longing for his touch ended with me experiencing joy from gently squeezing my nipples and rubbing that magical button below my waist, but never quite reaching that crescendo of an orgasm.
I had not found my heart’s desire as usual, and it was getting late as I made my way through the shadows of the back alleys back toward my home. As I rounded a corner quickly, there was the silhouette of a large man standing facing me in the alley. I stopped quickly in my tracks, and before I could speak, men jumped from the shadows and forced a large sack over my head, and then something hit the back of my head hard and I lost consciousness.
When I awoke, I was in a covered wagon. My hands were tied behind my back, a rope was tied around my neck, my ankles were tied together, and a gag was stuffed in my mouth. The smell of burning hashish filled the wagon, and the entrance to the wagon was closed, not allowing the smoke to escape. My head still hurt from being hit, and my vision was not tracking correctly, most likely from the heavy hashish in the wagon. My clothing had been replaced with the rags of a slave. I knew now that I had been kidnapped, most likely to be held for a ransom.
I struggled to sit up, stuck my head through the seam in the wagon covering, and saw that we were traveling across a seemingly endless desert, with nothing in sight but sand. It was then that I realized I was not alone in the wagon, as a man yanked on the rope tied to my neck, slamming me back against a crate in the wagon, and knocking me out cold again.
When I awakened the second time, the smell of the hashish was not as heavy. I was now in a tent, and still bound, but the rope around my neck was gone, and the gag had been removed from my mouth. I waited until my mind was cleared of the drug’s cloudiness, and then rolled to my knees. Peering out the tent door, I saw three men sitting in front of a campfire in the cool desert night. They passed a bottle of drink between themselves and puffed on the long cords of a hookah filled with hash.
Searching in the darkness inside the tent, I found a knife in one of the men’s clothing, but before I could cut my bonds, two other men guarding the back of my tent heard me rustling inside, rushed to the doorway and one large man yanked me out by my tied feet, the knife flying out of my grasp and onto the floor into the corner of the tent.
The men laughed as I hit the ground with a thud. The three men who were sitting by the fire rose and walked to me. A short, fat man- the leader of the group walked up to me, pulled a blade from his belt, and swiftly cut the bonds tying my hands together. I rubbed my wrists and begged him, “Please Sir…my father will pay you handsomely…”, but before I could finish the sentence, the two guards who had been at the back of the tent pulled my arms stretched out to my sides. The guards were very large, muscular, and rough-looking men with faces worn by the desert winds and sand.
“We have already been paid for our services”, he muttered as he knelt down and cut the ties binding my ankles together.
I looked at the wagon train. It was a few simple wagons with a few camels and horses tied on.
“He will pay to have me returned home”, I stammered.
“Perhaps” he said, “Perhaps not”.
He stood and raised the sharp blade, slowly circling it around each of my pert, young breasts. His two partners pulled their garments aside and started rubbing their pricks.
I shuddered in fear.
He reached into the opening at the top of the slave’s garb between my breasts, pulled it away from my body, and in one fell swoop cut the garb from top to bottom.
The cool night air hit my nipples and they instantly stood erect.
He walked behind me, and as the men to my sides released my arms, he yanked the garment off my body.