Delilah Is Traded For An Old Jaguar

Delilah Is Traded For An Old Jaguar Delilah Is Traded For An Old Jaguar

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Young girl is sold as a sex slave to an Arab household.

Summary

Young girl is sold as a sex slave to an Arab household.

Content

Submitted: November 05, 2011

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: November 05, 2011

A A A

A A A


 

“Dammit, I want a horse. That bee-atch Susan thinks she is the coolest for riding a horse around.”
 
“I can’t stand that rich cunt with her perfect tits.”
 
“I’d run moonshine just so I can have the big butt of my horse fart in her face.”
 
Delilah, 19 years old, waved her arms. Her blond, long hair was straightened and patted with gel to look thick and smooth. Now hair strands went every which way after her tantrum. She wore a red apron imprinted with “Pretzels make me happy.” She stood behind a glass counter in the walkways of a mall with high sky lights and big leaf jungle plants. Her butt was big from a lack of exercise, yet shaped into nice rounds due to her young age. Her cleavage was full sized and padded up from the fat that she had put on standing behind a food stand in the mall since a year ago, when she had graduated from high school.
 
A dark-olive skinned man with silver-reflective sun glasses leaned forward over the counter. He had an expensive suit that made him look dusty old rather than James Bond suave. The white shirt collar between the black jacket was open without a tie. His full lips with the dark mustache opened for a moment, before he decided to speak, as if telling a secret.
 
“I know how you two lovely ladies could make enough money for a horse in a month.”
 
“Fuck off, you pervert. I ain’t sucking your dick.” Delilah through a cheap, tiny paper napkin in the man’s face.
 
“You misunderstand me, respectable ladies. This is a very legit business. I represent a recruitment agency for house hold help in Arab countries.”
 
“Why would I go into a war zone?”
 
“I forgive your ignorance, because we need to educate the West better. The fighting has been over in years. We have many rich oil families that need house hold help. We have brought in women from Sri Lanka. They are very cheap – a dollar a day. However, they are so poor that they have never seen a toaster oven, let alone know how to operate it. So, we started recruiting Americans in minimum wage jobs. Please, I do not look down on you. I started at the bottom as well. Now look at this rich Armani suit that I am wearing.”
 
“Delilah, this could be our big chance,” screamed the blond girl next to Delilah.
 
“The contract is very simple. You come for a month to work with a loving family. They will treat you like family. Arab hospitality is famous. Because of the lack of entertainment like movie theatres and strict religious rules on the outside, you will probably spend the whole stay at the family’s residence. In exchange for having to put up with the lifestyle limitations, you get paid three times as much as the best employer in America would pay you.”
 
“Wow!”
 
“Delilah, you don’t have a boyfriend. You live at your parents place. You don’t have a cat to feed. You should do it!”
 
Delilah treaded left and right in her sneakers thinking. She bit her full lip that was painted in a candy pink. Her body was chubby. It only made her appear more cozy and friendly. She seemed like an affectionate homebody with a sexy round face. She was pretty short as well.
 
“Okay, how do I do it?”
 
The man walked around the counter, put her arms around her, and started walking her toward the mall exit. She let him keep his arm around her, because she was eager to please the man. The fabric of his suit felt soft. His walk was a bit hurried and unstable betraying the richness of the suit. From a few words of small talk it appeared that he was simply a hired recruit that like her had gotten a bundle of money. He wasn’t rich or a powerful business man.
 
A black stretch limo waited in the red curb zone on the street going around the mall. A driver with suit, black leather gloves, and square limo hat opened the back passenger door. Delilah bowed to crawl into the limo on her knees. There was a mini bar with liquor bottles and small lights behind them. There were small mini-TVs everywhere. There was a big empty space in the center of the passenger area.
 
The man pulled a clip board out of a suit case.
 
“Here is the deal. You sign the work contract. We have a few fake letters. The letters are from a pretend family. As far as the embassy is concerned for the visa, you are going on a cultural exchange program. We prefer that you tell your parents as well that you are going on a cultural exchange. That also makes it easy for you to get a leave of absence from your employer. We got all the fake paper work for it here. Overseas, your family will provide you with everything, food, water, a bed. So, you have zero expenses. Upon your return, we pay you in cash. So, you don’t have any taxes to pay. You get to keep all the money.”
 
“I dunno. That’s it. I just sign here. And, in a month, I have a horse?”
 
“It’s that easy. Of course, you’ll have to clean a few carpets and cook a few meals. They love American fair like burgers.”
 
“I’m really good at cooking.”
 
“I believe you. Just sign here.”
 
“Okay.”
 
Within two minutes, Delilah stepped out of the stretch limo. She stood on the curb in front of the familiar mall. She felt like a millions. She held the fake family exchange papers in her hand. She’d have exotic stories to tell. She’d own a horse. She’d show that bitch, how cool she really was. She’d get a boyfriend. They’d go on awesome road trips.
 
The day that she stood at the airport gate felt so unreal that she feared inhaling to deep could break the reality into a million pieces like a broken mirror. The airline attendant checked her papers without care, without realizing how special her first trip abroad would be. And, then she would fly across the big ocean to an entirely different continent and culture. She looked excited at the tall floor to way high ceiling windows that opened up the view to the air field.
 
She watched all the dressed up people with shiny luggage swishing to their terminals. She herself was wearing a pink velvet workout trainer with a zipper-hoodie sweater. White letters over her butt said JUICY in bold. Two white strings ran down from her ears to the iPod. She listened to sexy hip hop music to get into the mood. She dozed through the long plane ride enjoying the regular interruptions for pretzels, drinks, movies, blankets, and captain announcements.
 
Her eyes were wide open at the sight of Bahrain. All the land was in a barren yellow brown. The airport buildings were white with flat roof tops. Palms were planted in many places. Stepping off the plane was like stepping into a wall of heat. A dingy old bus drove from the plane to the terminal. First class passengers were routed to a gilded hallway. Coach passengers had to step down a barren white, dirty hallway. An enormously long line for the security and duty check stopped her. The crowd in the line consisted clearly of migrant workers. They had huge bags. Their faces looked skinny, gray, and hopeless.
 
A tap on her shoulder made her turn around. “Miss Delilah, please come with me.” An Arab with big black sun glasses stood behind her. He was dressed in a long white traditional dress. His mustache was so huge and puffy that it almost looked like a fat whale. Yet, it was meticulously trimmed to avoid interfering with eating by hanging too low. The man took her carry on stroller out of her hand. It was funny to watch his white dress move around his legs. It kind of looked like a female dress stretches and moves, yet he was a man, walking like a man.
 
“I will take you past security. We have a special relationship with the chief of airport security. Can I have your passport, cell phone, and wallet.”
 
Delilah handed it all over to the men. She watched the police officers with big black sticks. They swung the sticks around, as if they were ready to use them. A few birds flew below the ceiling. They must have gotten trapped inside. An Indian man had numerous giant plastic bags. The security guards made him unpack everything and put it individually through the scanner. They looked at the men with disdain. The line behind glared at the man with anger. The man looked fearful at his prized posessions.
 
Out of the building was the airport road and pick up area. Palm trees were everywhere. Delilah had gotten familiar with the impressive heat and glaring sun. There was a definite two class society: Poor migrant workers and rich Arabs. The Arabs were either dressed in luxurious suits or traditional desert clothing.
 
“Can I have my things back?”
 
“We’ll hold onto them for safekeeping. You’ll get them back on your return trip.”
 
“Oh my baggage!”
 
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get it. Please get in the van.”
 
There was a big delivery van with no signage. The back door was partly open. Delilah lowered her head, held onto the wall and pulled herself up. It was dark in there. Pausing for a moment to let her eyes adjust, she saw that there were no seats. Five other young girls like her were sitting on the floor. One girl was also in trainers like her. Another girl was dressed up with a pencil skirt, black blouse, and high heels with thin black leather strips. One girl was dressed up with sexy LA fashion. Her t-shirt was see-through to expose the lace pattern of her bra beneath. Her skirt was short and exposed her midriff. She wore flip flops.
 
There was a somber mood in the loading bay of the van. Everyone was dressed up in their own special way to express the excitement about the trip. Yet, the taking of the passport, the dingy delivery van, and anxiety about an unfamiliar one month contract set for a somber mood. There were no windows or lights in the back. Only the half open door let the girls see the dark shady silhouettes of each other.
 
Another girl appeared in the opening of the van. “Yo, I need to call my parents to let them know that I arrived well.” The van door shut without response. Delilah could not see the new girl. “Hi, y’all. I’m Benita from Texas. Could someone hit the light switch!” After a moment, soft noises indicated that Benita was sitting down. The engine turned on. The van set in motion. Bumps, swings, and turns were felt in the bodies of the girls. That was the only indication of their unknown journey in a country far away from home.
 
After half hour, Delilah could feel the forward dip in the car. They were driving into some kind of underground structure. There was a lot of loud screaming noise from Arab man speaking in their Arab tongue. It kind of sounded like a cocktail party with everyone speaking excited. There were a few voices that sounded louder, like market criers. She could not make out an individual voice. Even if she could have, she did not know a single word in Arab. The van stopped. The driver door slammed.
 
She could hear the driver talking next to the van. The voice was swift and focused. Then, the van door opened. The light was blindingly bright after the eyes had attuned to the darkness. Outside seemed to be a ramshackle underground factory or parking. There were many white pillars. Everything was bearing and unswept for months. One girl was grabbed by her arms and pulled out. The door was slammed. The crowd seemed to grow quiet outside. A minute later, the voices crescendoed like a wave before it breaks.
 
Delilah was too stunned and busy to take in any hint about what was going on. However, one of the girls in blackness of the van started whimpering. Her soft cries carried the wetness of her tears. Another girl spoke in shock, “we got tricked.” Panic set in Delilah’s stomach. The door opened again. The arms of the driver fished in the darkness, got a leg, and started pulling. The girl screamed. She tried to hold onto the van. She got another girl’s arm. The girls tried help her hold her back in the van. The girls hands fished for a good hold on her body. Hands were grabbing her boobs, touching her lips, squeezing her biceps. The men outside were stronger and pulled her across the van floor. The door shut again.
 
There was a face slap outside the van, the immediate whine of the girl. The sound of torn clothes was audible, because it was close to the van. The crowd seemed to cajole in frenzy. Everyone in the van tensed. The van door opened again. Delilah weakly called out, “I’m coming out on my own. Please, don’t hurt me.” She could feel touches on her butt, as she leaned forward under the low ceiling. They were the well wishes of the remaining girls.
 
The outside was an abandoned underground parking. A couple flood lights lit up the place leaving black shadows in every corner. About forty men were crowded into a tight gaggle. A man dragged away the previous girl by her hair. The girl’s head was at his hip. She struggled every which way. Yet, the pain of the hair pulling kept her in check. Her pants were gone. She was walking in her thong underwear.
 
Delilah’s hands were quickly cuffed behind her back. The swiftness and strength of the driver’s hands made her hands move, as if she had no control. She felt the hard metal against her wrists. A skinny leather leash was tightened around her throat. The driver walked her like an upper class British dog with a loose u-shape in her leash. The skinniness of the rope made Delilah realize that any misbehavior of her would quickly dig the leather string deep into her flesh.
 
The crowd quieted. All eyes were staring at her. They were upraising her boobs, her cheeks, the whiteness of her skin, the blond hair that is rare in the Arab world. The crowd respectfully parted for the driver to make space. The driver lead Delilah with slow restraints movements to the center of the crowd. The men were dressed in slacks and traditional dress. Their eyes were dark. The corners of their lip played with disdain. They had horniness and excitement painted in their faces.
 
The driver called out something. He drew out the words. His voice was strong like a Shakespeare actor’s. They echoed back from the barren walls. The moment he finished, the crowd started roaring. The crowd pushed in. Hands grabbed Delilah’s boobs hard. Two hands moved through her hair. Three fingers tried to feel her lips and pushed into her mouth. A hand groping her butt made her want to sit down. Yet, the driver raised the leather string around her neck to force her to straighten. Thus, she was dangling like a fish, reacting to all the hands man handling her. Yet, her head stayed high and erect, as she tripled left and right and turned.
 
The men were in frenzy. Hands from backrows tied to reach forward only getting air. Helpless men were shoved against her propelled by the crowd. Her clothes started moving around. Her sweat pants were already half way down her butt. Fingers were curving around the top of her panties to feel the fabric. The driver forced her mouth open, lifted her lips to show her crystal white, bleached teeth.
 
A man spoke above the crowd on purpose in broken English: “I’ll give you my old Jaguar for the girl. I don’t need last year’s model, when I got this year’s model.”
 
The driver screamed a word what Delilah took to mean “sold.” The crowd let go of her. The new man hurt her by grabbing her wrist hard. The driver removed the hand cuffs and the neck leash. The new man twisted her arm behind the back and grabbed her neck from behind hard. Thus, totally under his control, he walked her to his car, a shiny, brand new Jaguar. The driver put away the newspaper to open the door. The new man pushed her into the car ahead of himself and made her move across the seats.
 
“Hi my name is Aafiya. You must not be frightened. We may have customs that seem exotic to you. However, you will be treated very nicely in our family. My wife’s name is Badra. My son is Da’wud. He goes to college at Oxford. He returned for his first summer break. He is about your age. What is your name dear?”
 
“I am Delilah. They told me that I would be household help.”
 
“Oh, yes, you will do the household chores.”
 
Aafiya wore a suit. He had dark hairy hands. His haircut was very conservative. He was trim, yet not exercised. His eyes were brown. His face was on the long side and had hard features. His shave was impeccably smooth like baby skin. His breath was smelly from cigarette smoke. His shoes were brown leather shoes with gold embellishments. The leather was so fine that it seemed more like a sock than a shoe.
 
The landscape passing the Jaguar was barren desert. Every once in a while, there was rubble along the street or a road pole. Otherwise, there was only barren, hard-baked dirt. The radio played Arab music with the silly ringing instruments that sounded like horrible Christmas music. In the distance, the capital of Bahrain was approaching.
 
“I am sorry dear. You are not properly dressed for our country. I have to ask you to make the rest of our voyage in the trunk. We are soon going into the city, where people will be able to see you.”
 
On cue, the driver pulled over at the side of the road. The tires crunched the crusty-dried desert dirt. Delilah sat dazed and frozen. Aafiya got out, around the car, and opened her door. Delilah got out. The trunk snapped open on cue. They driver had released the button. Aafiya looked deeply into Delilah’s eyes, while he opened the trunk fully. The trunk was like a big hungry mouth. Delilah’s eyes were big and fearful.
 
“I have to ask you to give me your shoes. The trunk opens from the inside. Should you try to run, I want to make sure that I don’t have to run too far to catch you.” There was a tentative, pleading gesture in his eyes that made him seem sincere.
 
Thoughts ran through Delilah’s head that she was captured. She did not move. Aafiya confidently pushed his index finger into her mouth. He pinched her cheek between the index finger and the thumb. Delilah felt a sharp pain and her body being completely controlled by a psychologically well placed little gesture. She was like a big dumbo controlled by a little thing. His other arm reached down and ripped the shoes of her feet without untying.
 
He carelessly tossed the sneakers into the desert. He pulled her low ankle socks of her feet as well. The socks were warm, fuzzy, and moist. Delilah had beautiful moist, nubby, and curvaceous feet. Her toes were painted turquoise and were beautifully glossed for a nice shine. The skin on her feet was so young, fine, without any folds. Desert dirt pieces stuck to her soles.
 
Aafiya looked at Delilah for a moment. He seized up her body. Delilah avoided his gaze. Her gaze fell on the desert dirt. She noticed that the particular spot was littered with young girly clothes. There were high heels, skirts, t-shirts, hats, bras, even lacy underwear littered all over the floor. From only having lost her footwear, she did not seem to have done as bad as other girls. Some of them were apparently stripped completely naked like an animal.
 
His hands pushed her back into the trunk, folded in her legs, and pushed her head down. The trunk lid smashed down right in front of her face. There was only a small space in the trunk. Delilah was curled in fetal position. Her back felt the rubber of the spare tire. The new car smell was very thick in the trunk. She felt the carpet like surface of the trunk. It felt rough on her skin. Exploring the space with her hands, she could feel the sheet metal of the trunk lid. The handle to open the trunk from the inside glowed green. She did not dare open the trunk. The car might be going a hundred miles or they might be in a crowded place in the city.
 
Delilah could not keep track of time. The exhaustion of constant adrenaline jarring moments had set in. She half dozed through the car ride. Two short horn blows woke her up. The trunk clicked open. Aafiyah opened the trunk. Delilah raised her head. They were in the driveway in front of a villa. The plants, trees, and shrubs were radiantly lush. Purple, blue, and yellow flowers were everywhere: Little purple once clustered in the tree, yellow big vase-like in plants on the ground. The driveway was made from expensive Italian marble. The villa was clearly shaped by a master architect. There were so many architectural features to it.
 
Badra stood in front of the trunk glaring at Delilah. Badra was slim, tall, and long-haired. Her face was carefully done with makeup. Her fingers were expertly manicured. She wore a long elegant black dress that covered her whole body, yet would have fit into any British high society event. Despite all the signs of beauty, her face expressed ugly disdain.
 
Da’wud was about nineteen. He wore an oversized Adidas soccer shirt, held an orange soccer ball in his hand. His hair was cut in a wild hair cut with her flying into every direction. “So, that’s your new girl, dad. She’s a bit fat, don’t you think so?”
 
“Da’wud, I appreciate that you speak in English, so that she can understand us. However, I do not appreciate your tone. Let’s call her an intern. She is here to learn about civilization. We saved her from poverty in America, so that she can experience the life with a civilized family.”
 
“I want to see her butt.”
 
“Da’wud, show her a warm welcome. If you say one more thing, I will have the driver give you five lashes on your bare soles.”
 
“Okay, dad. I’ll go play soccer with my friends.”
 
“Delilah, excuse rough start. You must be very startled. Let’s start over. My wife will introduce you to our kitchen, your office so to speak.”
 
Without saying anything, Badra walked to the inside of the building. Stones created steps across the front lawn. The grass blades were so thick that Delilah was in awe. Delilah followed looking at the moving ruffles in Badra’s dress.
 
The kitchen was a giant room that spawned the dining table and living room. The roof curved in a partial circle. The TV area had big couches and thick, colorful Persian rugs. The dining table was made of dark mahogany wood to seat a dozen people. The kitchen had big work surfaces. The two story high floor to ceiling sliding glass doors opened an entire wall to the few of the backyard. The backyard was an amazing assortment of perfectly manicured plants, statues, and swimming pool. There were many ancient Greek statues.
 
“This is a blender. You put drinks and ice in it. Then, you push this button. And, everything gets blended.”
 
“I know what a blender is.”
 
“Oh, you are so much smarter than the last girl from Sri Lanka. Do you know what that is?”
 
“That’s a microwave. You put in food. You set the timer. It heats up. And, you have to be careful to avoid putting aluminum in it.”
 
“Wow, your American high school education is excellent.”
 
“Ma’am, everyone knows that stuff without going to school.”
 
“Well, the last Sri Lankan girl went for a whole month to home appliance school, because she had never seen those things before in her life. I thought my husband only picked you, because he wanted to buy some white skin. Make me a sandwich.”
 
Delilah carefully opened the refrigerator. The refrigerator had light bulbs with the natural sunlight spectrum that made everything look more delicious. The refrigerator was oversized and fully stocked with fresh food and produce. She picked a tomato, lettuce, mustard, Swiss cheese slices, and turkey cold cats. Rummaging through the cupboard, she found bread. The smell of freshly baked bread immediately tingled her nose. The drawers had wood boards and knifes.
 
The labor of putting together a sandwich was the first familiar thing. Memories of back home, feeling safe and secure flashed up. Putting a neat sandwich together with such premium ingredients was a joy. She hoped that she would get to make one for herself as well.
 
Aafiya came by for a moment and exclaimed, “look at her! She’ll be great. Doesn’t she look gorgeous?” The word ‘gorgeous’ put an ugly frown on Badra’s face, like deep pain had crawled over her liver. Aafiya left without noticing. Delilah smiled for a moment and then felt the cold tension in her back.
 
Delilah finished the sandwich by painting a smiley face with the mustard on the side. She proudly handed it to Badra with a big smile. And, Delilah’s eyes had this clarity and radiance like one has after a deeply cathartic cry. Badra weight the plate in her hand. Then, she looked deeply into Delilah’s eyes.
 
“You did pretty well. It is a nice sandwich. However, the tomatoes are not tugged in completely under the bread. That may be good enough for America. But, you are in Bahrain at a premier family. This is not good enough. I have to be hard on you. It is the best for you to learn the basic properly.”
 
With that, Badra raised up the plate, tilted it to the side, and let the sandwich slide of it. Delilah’s heart sunk into her belly at the anticipation of her delicious master work hitting the floor. Badra stepped out of her fake diamond crusted black high heels. She stepped on the tattered sandwich. The yellow mustard bubbled up between her toes. The tomatoes were crushed to paste. The bread was flattened.
 
“Eat it. Nothing goes to waste here. When you make a mistake, you clean it up. Until you have earned it, you are not allowed to use your hands. Put your hands behind your back.”
 
Delilah felt the cold, dominating voice in her gut. She quickly got on her knees and bent over. To carefully get a piece of sandwich off the brand new and spanking clean marble floor. The bread tasted amazing, especially because she was so hungry. She carefully eyed the crunchy lettuce. She could do this. She sorted all the food pieces into the order that she would indulge in them.
 
Then, Badra’s foot pressed on the back of her head. With her hands behind her back, she could not resis the weight pushing her head down. Badra’s face flashed with anger. Delilah’s face was smashed against the food. Her cheeks were flattened against the granite. The mustard and wet bread pieces tuck to her whole face. Badra’s soiled soles left mustard and greens in her hair. Badra stepped around and wiped her soles clean on Delilah’s clothes.
 
Just when Badra had stepped back in her shoes, Aafiya returned to the kitchen with a startled look.
 
“I know what you are going to say, Aafiya – those American girls are trained better. However, look at her, she behaves like a dog. Those people were right after all that American’s are no better than filthy dogs. Have you ever seen a human eat of the floor like this? You should return her. Our son would love to drive your old Jaguar.”
 
“We are doing something good here. We simply have to go more slowly. Let her sleep in the dog house tonight. Sleeping in a bed may be too foreign for her. She may get scared. I have to go back to the office for a meeting with the minister. Be nice to her. I love you.”
 
Badra watched Delilah finish eating on the floor. Badra made Delilah lick up everything, including Badra’s mustard footsteps. The sun was setting outside. Delilah was shown the large dog house in the living room. She had to crawl into it on her knees. Inside was a soft doggie bed that was coated with balls of hair from a real dog. Crouching in a fetal position, Delilah quickly fell asleep.
 
The next day Badra realized that Aafiya wasn’t going to send away Delilah. So, she left for the day. Delilah began cleaning the floor. She vacuumed. She wiped the bathroom, which was opulent with a big Jacuzzi lowered into the floor, big screen TV, separate room for the toilet. The toilet room included an intercom to the main bathroom. The labor made her sweat a bit and forget the troubled journey. She counted one day down out of the month. She’d get her horse in the end. She just had to hang in there. Plus, the food was so fresh and good. There was so much food in the pantry and everywhere that she could easily take a little here or there without it being obvious.
 
In the evening, Aafiya returned with two burly men in tow. The burly men were laden with big heavy bags. The sweet aroma of Arab lamb filled the air. “Delilah, we are having special guests tonight. An official of the security service will visit us. I’d like you to be our server. They will be impressed to see an American working in our home. I even got you American clothes, so that you are comfortable. The guest will be so impressed to realize how tolerant we are by letting you were what you like, despite the stricture of our society.”
 
Aafiya threw Delilah a small plastic bag. Delilah peeked inside. It was a skimpy bikini with the colors of the American flag. One bra side had the stars. The other had the stripes. There were also see-through plastic stripper high heels.
 
“We only wear those at the beach.”
 
“C’mon, don’t be shy to be yourself. We are very open-minded. We value other cultures.”
 
Defeated by all the humiliation, Delilah went to the opulent bathroom. She stripped down her clothes. She got into the bikini and high heels. Her voluptuous thighs showed pinched by the string of the bikini bottom. Her belly was a little rounded out. Her big boobs lurked out on all sides of the bikini triangles. The high heels made her butt swing from side to side. Her skin looked pasty. She looked like a sweet, sexy homebody.
 
Everyone at the dinner table was dressed conservatively. Aafiya, Da’wud, and the security services official were dressed in suits with jackets. Badra was dressed in a black head-to-toe dress. Her face was covered by a veil. Only a black hole hinted at Badra’s eyes lurking out. Badra didn’t say a single word the entire evening. She never reached for a plate. If her husband forgot to replenish the gravy on her potatoes or the drink in the glass, she’d silently wait for her husband to place the food on her plate.
 
Among this display of conservatism, Delilah paraded the food in and dirty plates out like a stripper. Her butt bubbled and her boobs jingled with every step. Her toes were deliciously splayed from the forward weight of the high heels. Her face smiled. The back of the bikini kept working itself in between the butt cheeks to show even more of her big bubble butt. The men leered each time she entered. They would not resume talking until she left. In a way, it was just like back home. Let the old men stare. They never do anything.
 
When the table conversation had calmed from intense discussion to relaxed talk over digestive coffee, the head of security reached around Delilah’s thigh high up beneath the bikini bottom. His hand slid between her thighs and stopped her from walking. Delilah uncomfortably paused with the empty salad bowl in her hand. The security service official had a skinny face that was drawn out by anxiety and stress. He seemed perpetually in the need of another cigarette. He relished feeling up the naked skin of the American girl.
 
“I enjoy the tolerance in this house hold. Why don’t you let her show us her customs? I hear the American’s love bootie dancing.”
 
“Da’wud, get on YouTube. Find Delilah some bootie music.”
 
Da’wud eagerly nodded at everyone on the table to excuse himself to get up. He walked over to the computer in the living room area. The rapid drum rolls for bootie shakes quickly sounded up in the hifi sound system.
 
“Go, Delilah, don’t be shy.”
 
Delilah remained frozen. The security service official pulled his hand of her thigh. He undid his belt and pulled it out. The skinny black leather belt waved liked a snake. “You surely don’t let her get away with disobedience. This skinny leather belt will leave deep marks that will remind her for a long time.”
 
“Delilah, come here. Drink this.”
 
Aafiya gave her a half filled glass of clear liquid. It tasted smooth. Then, it burned her throat. Her eyes cried. She caught. It was vodka, easily three shots. She had not been allowed to eat herself, while she had served an opulent dinner for two hours. She breathed out threw her mouth to tame the burn inside her mouth. There was an instant high of anxiety from realizing that she would be senselessly drunk in a few minutes. She was breathing faster.
 
The bootie music was still thumping loud asking her to dance. She gingerly stepped her legs apart and squeezed her butt cheeks alternatingly. The fat tissue in her butt let the movement created ripples that spread through her butt. She gyrated her boobs to the music. Next thing, she was on her hands with her legs spread wide. Her butt was mooning the Arab guests. The sinews attaching at the center of her hip clearly showed demonstrating just how little fabric covered her snatch. The security services official let his belt snap in the air. Each time, she heard the loud crack, she shook her bootie a little harder.
 
“You know Aafiya, those American’s are always sex crazy. She probably looks so sad, because she is sex deprived. You should send her off with your boy. We have anyway business to talk about. No American can be in the house, when we talk. Send your wife to her bedroom as well. She could be a spy after all. The CIA is everywhere.”
 
Da’wud turned off the music. He got up. He had a huge grin on his smile. “Really dad? I get the American girl for tonight. I can do whatever I want? I can take her down to the strip?”
 
“Da’wud, your father is very generous. Now go, before you turn into a pest.”
 
Da’wud grabbed Delilah. His face was red from excitement. He had a boyish, boisterous excitement about him that made him forget his shoes. Then, he realized his shoes and something else. He left Delilah in the entrance hall. Two minutes later, he reappeared with a tiny, skimpy black dress. “Take this on. We got it for another household help. It should fit.” Delilah took it on. The bottom of the dressed stopped right beneath her bikini bottom. She would only be able to stand without showing her bottoms. The fabric felt sleek, wet, and fluid. Her whole figure was exposed as if she only wore body paint. The bikini outline showed clearly through the supple dress fabric.
 
Da’wud’s car was an old top of the line Mercedes S-Class. Once in the backseat, the inside of the car was anything but luxurious. The cigarette tray, glove box, carpet, and everything else had been crudely ripped out of the car. It felt like the shell of an abandoned car. There were cigarette burns and dirt stains everywhere.
 
“Do you love it? We trimmed another 50 lbs out of the weight of the car. It’s a racing car.”
 
Da’wud drove through the night. The neighborhood was sparsely populated by villas with large gardens surrounding them. The night was black. Nobody was in the streets. They picked up two friends. The two friends set left and right of Delilah. They were equally boyish in the dress. Their faces were innocent. They were clearly excited. Smirks kept flashing over their faces, which they tried to hide. They were shy about touching Delilah. They pulled their thighs carefully away from her.
 
The ride was silent. Everyone was breathless to steal a stare at Delilah. Delilah almost felt like she was in power. The Mercedes calmly rolled out into the deep desert.
 
“My father said that I could do anything with her. What should we do?”
 
“Da’wud, you have to put her on the car hood. Then, we’ll cruise up and down and impress everyone.”
 
The car came up onto cars parked along the road.
 
“Okay, Delilah, get out. Pose on the hood of the car.”
 
Delilah strutted out into the dark desert night on her see-through stripper heels. She sat on the hood.
 
“No, pose! Lean back, bent your knees a bit.”
 
Delilah felt the warm engine underneath the hood. It was a comforting warms in the cool night air in her skimpy outfit. The car slowly idled along the road. Groups of young Arabs were standing along the street. They were drinking. They had cups and bottles in their hand. They called out Arabic screeches at the sight of the skimpy white girl on the hood of the Mercedes. There were no girls, only young men.
 
Once they passed the strip of parked cars and drinking men, one of the Da’wud’s friends called out: “Let’s make her walk along the car like a dog. I have some cables here. Let’s put them around her neck like a leash.” The men inside the car got excited and giddy. The called Delilah to get of the hood and come over. They tied starter cables around her neck. The thick cables were heavy.
 
The liquor from the dinner table had its full effect. The good thing was that Delilah felt no embarrassment at all. Though, she wobbled helplessly in her high heels. She fell. The car kept going a bit farther. She helpless crawled on her knees. The friend holding her jumper cable leash excitedly called out: “Now she is crawling like a dog. That is even better!” her dress exposed her whole butt. The American flag bikini bottoms bared themselves to the crowd. The young men cheered.
 
A man that looked more official strutted straight to the car. The car stopped. Delilah took the chance to roll on her butt. Her skirt rode up high. Her legs were sprawled open wide. Her face had drooly eyes from the liquor. She was smiling to herself an evil smile, because a prank thought crossed her mind.
 
“Da’wud, can we borrow your girl? We are having a drag race. She could wave the starter flags. That would be so cool, like in the movie Fast and Furious.”
 
The race official gathered Delilah from the floor. He swatted the dust of her black dress. Then, he took the tipsy damsel to the middle of the road. A Porsche and a Lamborghini drove up to them. A checkered rug was pressed into Delilah’s hand. The racers shook hands. Then, they kissed their fingers and slapped Delilah on the butt for good look. Delilah shook her finger drunkenly at them. She totally wasn’t aware that she was in Bahrain. She behaved like back home at a frat party.
 
The drivers roared their engines. Delilah could feel the vibrations in her body. She stood between the two hoods. It scared her and made her think of her vibrator at the same time. She raised the checkered rag. Let her arms fall down. The roadsters screeched ahead. The drag wind made the tipsy Delilah tumble left and right.
 
She caught herself. The next set of cars pulled up for a drag race. This time, Delilah cheered in abandon for the start of the race. The drag wind of the cars left the vulnerable, skimpy dressed Delilah again tumbling in the middle of the road. The crowd of men starred and leered at her.
 
A particularly boisterous young men tried to make his BMW drift along the desert stretch. He lost control. His car tumbled. The doors, broken windshields, and inside of the car flew out sideways, as the car rolled over on its side at high speed. A group of six young Arabs that had been drinking in a circle were flattened before the car crashed into parking luxury cars. Everyone ran for their cars to take off. The police came with a single compact Nissan. The siren blared lonely.
 
Da’wud speeding away with Delilah and his friends said, “Don’t worry. That happens every few months.” Delilah was sobered up by adrenaline. Luxury cars raced them left, right, on the street on the desert. They drove with abandon of the median. Some cars wobbled with the drivers clearly out of control of the power of the exotic car they were driving. A few minutes out, everyone distributed. The driving went calmer.
 
“Da’wud, that was a good night. You got a lot of cred for bringing the American out.” Da’wud proudly leaned a bit deeper into the Mercedes seat.
 
“That Delilah girl doesn’t protest like all those Indian women. We should take advantage. Let’s pull over to my house. My parents are in London.”
 
The friend’s villa was equally opulent. They pulled her into the bathroom. The bathroom was a huge room. It had a free standing bathtub, a separate shower, a sauna, and even a couch. The two friends sat on the couch. Da’wud sat on the large sink.
 
“Take your clothes off.”
 
Delilah pulled her black dress over her head. She let the bikini bottom fall to the floor. She dropped the bikini. She stood naked in her stripper high heels in the middle of the lit up bathroom. The big mirrors revealed her naked body to herself.
 
One of the guys on the bench pulled his pants down and showed his limp penis.
 
“Suck it.”
 
Delilah was pushed forward. Yet, she struggled against going down on him. Her face was a foot away from the limp penis. She pushed with both arms. Her eyes and mouth was pressed shut.
 
“Hold on,” said the guy next to her. “We gotta do this with smarts. I read this book from Marquis de Sade. He was one sick French writer. Put her in the sauna, and turn the thermostat all the way up.”
 
Delilah was pushed into the Sauna. One held the door closed with his foot. She tried to open it. It didn’t move at all. The dry air was burning hot. She could barely keep her eyes open. Her lungs were revolting against the heat. She covered her melting face with her hands. She sat down, leaning forward. Within a minute, the first sweat drop ran down her nose. Two minutes later, her skin was covered by an army of a thousand equally sized sweat pearls. Another minute, one sweat pearl got critical mass, rolled down, and set off a chain reaction for other sweat pearls to follow.
 
She was drenched in sweat. After ten minutes, one normally exits the sauna. Staying longer is not good for health. The heat, sweat, and liquid loss made her a bit drowsy. Her throat was parched. It felt like her throat was turning into dust. She banged against the door, pleading to be lead out. They kept her in another five minutes to the point, where she thought that she could no longer take it. 
 
Free, out again in the big bathroom, her skin felt super-heated. It radiated out the excess heat.
 
“I’m so thirsty. I need to drink.” Her eyes were half closed when she whimpered her plead.
 
“Sure, we got it right here.”
 
One of the friends on the couch had his pants pulled down. His penis was limp. He held his penis tightly. The reason was that he held a little hose, the size of a straw to his penis. Connected to the hose was a camel pack. “That’s the only way that you are going to get liquid. You can die or drink. It’s your choice.”
 
Delilah got on her knees. She put her arms on his dressed thighs. She put the limp penis in her mouth. She sucked hard. Her primal needs for water were so strong. The other guys cheered in excitement that their plan had worked. The guy getting the blow job was in trance, because she sucked on his penis so had. Her tongue swirled around the penis oblivious of the blow job, only concerned with getting more water. The water tasted so sweet, because she was so thirsty.
 
The guy pushed her head back forcefully. She was so hungry for the penis that she was like a vampire under bloodlust. The guy handed over the hose to his friend. Delilah quickly moved over and started sucking his cock. The hose was on purpose tiny, so that only a small jet of water came out, even though Delilah pulled as hard as she could. The friend’s face was immediately distorted by the intense sensation on his sensitive penis. The penis hardened in her mouth. She instinctively stared it massaging it with her lips and tongue. Da’wud explored her dry vagina from behind.
 
When her belly had filled with water, she paused, let the erection drop out of her mouth, looked at the three guys, and contemplated her situation. The first guy immediately called out, “let’s put her back in the Sauna. She is no longer thirsty. If we train her long enough, she’ll ask for cock, each time she is thirsty.”
 
Delilah sat in the sauna again. Her belly ached a bit from the rush of water. Her belly felt cool. The sauna was more bearable now that she was used to it. She felt like a hamster in a wheel. There was no getting away from the parching sauna and sucking cock cycle. In the sauna, she had nothing to do and think.
 
There was a commotion outside the sauna. “Oh, no my dad heard about the accident on the strip. He wants that I come back right away. The police are doing raids.”
 
“Delilah, get your clothes. We have to go!”
 
Delilah fell asleep on the way home from exhaustion. They put her in her dog house to sleep.
 
The next morning, she had a heavy headache from the drinking and dehydration. The family members had left for work. She had the big house and all the high tech cleaning toys to herself. She ate and drank well. She started cleaning the house again. She prepared a rice dish for dinner. It was comforting to be left to her thoughts and freedom in the house. Two days had passed. That’s six percent of her tenure. The first days were often the hardest.
 
“You think that you are going to get away eventually. I can see your spirits are rising by the minute.”
 
Delilah turned around startled. An old man with pepper and salt hair addressed her. He wore an old suit. His chin was resting on a walking cane. Her lips trembled.
 
“Of course, they forgot to tell you about me. I am Faaz. I am the grandfather. Don’t be afraid little girl. I was sold as a sex slave like you were.”
 
“I am not a sex slave. I am on a household contract for a month.”
 
“That’s how they lured you here. You gave your family and everyone fake papers. Nobody knows that you are here. You were sold as a sex slave. Just like I was, when I was young. Trust me. It is a lot harder for boys.”
 
“They lied to me.”
 
“Yes, they did my child. Did you ever ask where the previous house hold help went or the one before that?”
 
“They went back home to their country.”
 
“If everything was so awesome, why would they not come back?”
 
“You are scaring me!”
 
“You should be scared.”
 
“What should I do?”
 
“I told you that I used to be a sex slave. A slave can be very powerful. Many leaders have been influenced by their slaves. Slaves have made many war and peace decisions through influencing their masters. It may not seem like it. However, slaves can have higher careers than any college education. A slave can reach into the upper crust that is closed to anyone with merit alone. I can teach you how.”
 
“Why should I trust you?”
 
“I have a plan for you. You are the type for someone at the highest level of government. However, if you remain an average slave, those die very quickly here and get dumped into the desert. I would teach you in exchange for a favor that I will call one day.”
 
“What do I do?”
 
“Your first priority is to make Badra like you. She is like a poisoned dragon. She hates all the women that Aafiya brings. To do this, you are going to offer her a massage, a special massage. Let me tell you...”
 
 
That evening, Aafiya returned with a special smile on her face. She placed the headdress and veil down in the entrance hall. Delilah stood with her head low in reverence. She held out a plate with home baked cookies. Badra ruffled in a noisy plastic bag. She pulled out a riding crop.
 
“Put the cookies down. I got a new riding crop. I want to test it on you, before I use it on my prized horse.”
 
Delilah without hesitation trained by Faaz turned round. She pulled her bikini bottoms down and raised her little black dress. Badra was stunned by the obedience. Without paying a second though, she swatted Delilah’s butt cheek. The skin gave made a loud snapping sound. “Thank you, mistress.”
 
Badra’s face was blank with amazement, “No, no, I want you to squirm and run.” Delilah started gently jogging. Badra ran after her. Her riding crop swats became less accurate during the race. Occasionally, the crop licked a tender spot, and Delilah yelped. Badra let our cheers of excitement, “You are the best house slave, yet.” They ran around the furniture in the living room. Both started panting.
 
When Badra had enough, she cut around the other side of the table. She stopped Delilah face to face. The riding crop pressed against Delilah’s cheek. Her face was distorted. Delilah turned her head and kissed the fat leather piece at the end of the crop. “Thank you, mistress.” Badra was floored.
 
“Badra, I would like to offer a gift of Western massage. It feels very delicious.”
 
The flabbergasted Badra agreed. Delilah let Badra up to the master bedroom. She softly laid Badra down on the bed. She placed a white linen sheet over Badra. Then, she pulled off Badra’s clothes under the sheet. “Don’t worry, the sheet will cover you. This is how we do it in America.” Then, she folded the sheet off Badra’s back. She reached for the bottle of oil that she had place on the bed stand in preparation.
 
In long strokes, her arms glided over her back. Badra relaxed, “oh that feels good.” The muscles were supple and fluid in Delilah’s hands. Badra drifted into a sweet sleep intoxicated from the dreamy massage. Delilah covered her back again and switched to massaging one leg at a time. By the time it was time to turn around, Badra was mushy and pliable like a lamb. The permanent look of scorn had eased out of Badra’s face.
 
Now, Delilah dared to reach her fingers a bit under the sheets. She softly massaged Badra’s top part of her breast. With each stroke, she invaded deeper onto Badra’s breast. Badra’s resolve to say anything had melted with each stroke, “oh let the girl get a little closer, it’s only one clumsy stroke.” Thus, Badra was now full handedly massaging Badra’s breast across. She’d turn her palms on the nipples. She could smell the sex moistening between Badra’s legs. The seduction was working.
Delilah covered the torso again and went to work on the thighs. Her palms stroked in circles over the thighs. The strokes got each time a quarter inch closer to the groin. Badra thought to herself that Delilah surely wouldn’t touch her sex. Badra could safely let the American come close. However, Delilah kept going until her fingers ran up on down Badra’s pussy. Badra though to herself, let her touch there just once. It feels good.
 
Delilah started circling her clit. When Delilah’s mouse kissed Badra’s sex, Badra kept her eyes strictly closed. She did not want to ruffle a thought of her own. She wanted to stay in this dream, make herself believe that she was merely getting a massage. She did not want to stop the good feeling. Delilah’s tongue started licking toward the clit like a kitten licking up milk.
 
Two fingers entered Badra’s pussy. Delilah’s mouse sucked hard on Badra’s clit. Badra’s entire body was so relaxed from the massage that she did not struggle against being full on mouth and finger fact. Badra’s mind was absorbed by the waves of pleasure that coursed through her whole body. Warm lights flickered behind her closed eye lids. A wave of goose bumps chased over Badra’s body. A warm orgasm followed. Delilah’s tender, youthful lips kissed her body all over.
 
Badra sunk into a post-orgasm slumber. Delilah continued with a normal massage. Then, she tapped Badra’s shoulder to rouse here. With a cheery voice, she said, “you are all done.”
 
“You raped me!”
 
“No Badra, I gave you a massage. You fell asleep. You must have had a lovely dream. You smiled like an angel.”
 
Badra looked distrustful at Delilah, “I have a special treat for you. You have to meet our dog.”
 
Badra made Delilah walk down the back garden ahead of Badra. She made Delilah strip naked in the still bright afternoon sun. Thus naked in the garden, she felt almost like in Garden Eden. There was an innocence about it. Badra whistled with those flutes that emit a sound inaudible to humans. A pit bull came running. The powerful, muscular body of the dog terrified Delilah. The dog immediately jumped up on Delilah. Delilah instinctively pushed away the dog. “Don’t do that. It agitates him,” said Badra sharply.
 
Badra pushed the naked Delilah onto the floor. The dog was over happy and licked Delilah’s face. The eager tongue slobbered over eyes, ears, and hair, whatever it found. Delilah froze up in terror. Badra snapped a cotton collar around Delilah’s neck. She fastened Delilah’s collar to the dog collar with a three foot long leash. Badra grinned demonically.
 
“Here doggie,” Badra called out holding up a yellow tennis ball. The dog completely focused on the ball. Delilah got up on her knees. She could not stand up, because her neck was chained to the dog’s neck. Badra threw the ball with glee.
 
The dog tried to chase for the ball eagerly. Delilah fell over. The dog tried to drag the heavy human body to the ball. Delilah chocking her on her collar tried to get back on her knees. She half got on her hands. Her legs were lanky in comparison to the dog. Every half move Delilah made forward was immediately taken up by the dog. She never had a chance to get fully into balance. Her legs flung up. Her butt reached high. Her sex was exposed in between her legs. She fell and was dragged a foot, before her body was completely flat and too heavy for the dog.
 
“Haha, I can play this game now all day! You are such a goof!”
 
By the time, the dog returned the ball happily to Badra, Delilah had rich green grass stains on her knees. There was even a green stroke on one of her full boobs. Delilah’s blond hair was completely disheveled. She was painting hard. Badra threw the ball a few more times. Then, Badra left the two in the yard. Delilah had to follow around the dog, wherever it roamed in the yard.
 
After dinner, Badra re-appeared. The dog whistled summoned now the dog, as well as Delilah. Badra had an almost worried, tender face. “Could you give me another one of those American massages?”
 
This time, Badra was absolutely sure that Delilah was eating her pussy. However, she had developed a taste. She’d sneak during her lunch breaks home to get Delilah’s massages. After a week, Badra was completely addicted to the swirl of sex hormones that Delilah could stir in her.
 
Eventually, Aafiya was curious to try a massage as well. She warned him not to be startled, because she was advanced. In addition to using her hands, she’d use her elbows, knees, and other body parts. Once he was under the trance of massage, she outright fucked him. She’d dip her pussy on his staff, then her ass, and her pussy again. The Arab man was out of his mind to experience such treatment. To finish it off, she would suck the ass taste of his dick. She’d continue to massage him. He’d fall asleep. She told him that he must have dreamt. Everyone knew the ruse of the dream. Yet, they held dear to it, so that they could dream again and again, a few times each day.
 
Delilah’s power grew in the household. They showered expensive clothes on her. They had handmade chocolate delivered to her by a courier that flew to Brussels’s to retrieve it. They bought her a cute BMW with a pink bow around it. They set up a trust fund account in the Bahamas for her in case that anything happened to them.
 
After three months, grandfather Faaz invited Delilah into his stretch limo: “Child, you aren’t going home anymore. Arrangements have been made to sell you. Aafiya fought hard to keep you. However, nobody says no to the prime minister. You have learned well. Now, it is your turn to work your way up to become slave number one of the prime minister. You will have a staff of ten to start out. This is a whole different game. And, remember one day, I will come to call in my favor.”
 
The stretch limo drove into an underground structure in an abandoned and demolished part of the city. She instantly recognized that it was the place, where she was sold. Her face frowned in terror. “Don’t worry child. We are here to buy you a staff of ten.”
 
Delilah stood in the gaggle of men. Faaz was holding a suit case full of money. Girls were brought in with many vans. Delilah picked a good variety. She’d touch their boobs to check, if they were fake. She’d check their teeth for quality dental work. She’d swat them to find out, if they were good squirmers. Squirmers were worth a premium.
 


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