Captive In The Desert Pt 01

Ch 1

She walked to the opening of the tent, lifting the flap to gaze out across the sandy plains. There was a sound in the distance, but nothing yet to tell her if it was friend or foe. Considering it might be her so-called master, foe would be a correct word to use. Since he did not whip her as often as he used, or importune her with his body as often as he used to, she did not feel as strongly. Of course, he had learned to keep his distance after she had learned grab the whip from him, and to get a salve from the village wise woman to make his manhood burn for hours if he entered her.

It had taken years, though, to get to a point of almost neutral hostility. She remembered her dreams of happiness, of independence, back in the times when they were not synonymous things. She had hoped to be a cherished part of a group, respected for her values and intelligence as well as for her stunning exterior. Instead, she had been sold off to the first person to come through their village with enough beads and goats, and was not even a first or second wife, but a fourth. The man came to her when he was denied by the other wives, and so was rutting, angry or filthy, or all of the above. She tried not to consider what a waste this was, of her beauty and talent. Instead, she looked about her and learned, bided her time. In the desert, one could be rescued, escape or die in an hour. There was no sense in being concerned with the far future.

The sound grew louder. The other wives rose and joined her to look. Across their encampment, others stopped to gaze out and try to see if they should take up their weapons or go about their business. Nearly half of the men were out scouting for a new location. This one was too prone to flooding and winds.

The women spoke excitedly among themselves. They ranged in age from their sixties- the master's age, to the newest one, barely twenty. The newest one had been acquired on the last trading trip, and had an exotic look that was very interesting. However, she talked too much and the women often resorted to adding poppy water to her beverages for their own peace and quiet.

Soon it was apparent what was happening. She looked around for her small chest of belongings, even though she knew it would be futile to imagine she could get far, with or without it. There was a large company of men on horseback coming from the side. Before them walked the men of the village, on foot, most of them bloody and staggering. Doubtless their horses were now part of the train of wagons that appeared in the distance, stretching for what seemed miles. She looked among the men for the master and id not see him. Her first instinct as to smile slowly, hoping that he had died- or would die- slowly in the desert. Then she remembered that she needed to be concerned with her own death or life.

People in the village attempted to run, and were soon rounded up by riders who pursued them and mercilessly cut them down. Others stood in front of their tents, waiting. After some time, the caravan came to a complete stop. There was only heat and quiet. She knew it was a moment that forever would be noted as After.

A figure on a tall black horse rode down the main avenue between the tents, followed by two other men. Now it was becoming clearer what and who was in charge. The first man went to the center where the fire burned at night and gestured to one of his lieutenants. He asked, in various dialects, what language was spoken by the tribe. One of the elderly women answered him. He nodded and began to address the group.

"Gather! You are now property of the His Excellency the Sultan Kaveh. Kneel!" People looked around and hastened to follow his instruction, except for two of the men. The lieutenant went to the first man who remained standing and asked, "For your insolence you will die, or become a eunuch. What do you choose?"

She knew this man. He was proud and a great warrior. He would never submit to another. "I will die," he said.

"So be it."

The man they now knew to be the Sultan stepped over and removed his jeweled scimitar from his waist. Before anyone realized what was happening, the man was dead. The Sultan handed his scimitar to the lieutenant, who cleaned it off with a white cloth hidden in his robes. They walked over to the second man, looking around at the villagers as they did so. For a moment, the Sultan's eyes met hers. She almost stepped back. This was a man, this was a will.

They reached the second man and he was given his choices. She hated this man. The Sultan looked around again. Perhaps he was wondering what the people thought of this man. She knew that he would see disdain and contempt in her eyes. The man about to face his destiny was a thief and a liar. He'd only been allowed to stay with them because he was married to one of the elders' daughters.

"Your choice?" She hoped he'd choose to be a eunuch just so that she could watch him suffer, but on the other hand, if he lived, he would make others suffer even worse. The silence lengthened as the man pondered his fate.

"Any longer and I will decide for you," the Sultan said, in a low but carrying tone. She felt a strange thrill.

"I shall die, and curse you as I do."

"Curses from low born vermin as yourself carry no weight," the Sultan said, as he raised the scimitar again.

Next the villagers were gathered and separated into groups- the elderly and very young, women and men. Mothers of very young children were allowed to stay with their children. From what she could see, it looked to be an orderly and well organized operation. The elderly and others were walked back toward one of the wagons. The men seemed to be undergoing assessments of their physical fitness and abilities. As the day wore on, and she sat with the other women, they felt a foreboding of how they would be assessed. Many of the women were sad to have been separated from their men. Some were not. In her mind, whether to be sad or not depended on what the outcome would be. She knew that to most she was considered eye catching and alluring, with her porcelain skin and dark hair. More than that, her voluptuous body was enough to make most look two or three times. She had seen women in the tribe eye her as well. But who knew? Perhaps the Sultan or the man she was intended for preferred tall, slender fair haired women. Most of the women had olive or dark skin and were more athletically built than she, though the "new wife" (as she was called) was very slim even compared to the other villagers. A few of them women were very rounded indeed. Truly, there would likely be something for every taste.

Around midday the Sultan and his two men went into the tent of the former chieftain and set up headquarters. Food and water was brought to them. Food was brought to the women in the tents. Before much time had passed, the other lieutenant came into the women's tent and randomly gestured for the woman closest to the door to follow. After she departed, there was much discussion. Every so often the routine would repeat itself. The women did not return to the tent after they left. About halfway through, it was her turn.

She moved to cover her face and the officer shook his head. She stopped for a moment and then kept going. They entered the tent, and the officer left her there alone with the Sultan. She could see he was a mature man, dressed simply but richly in linen armor. He held a goblet of water in one hand, which she noticed had long elegant fingers. He watched her for a moment.

"Disrobe," he said. It seemed casual but she knew it was not. She took a breath and began. She could not remember the last time she had been fully unclothed. As she removed layer after layer, she watched him watching her. He had lighter eyes than she'd expected, with amber glints amidst the dark. She felt each layer fall at her feet, and made sure to keep standing straight and proud. He showed no expression.

"You will not meet my eyes unless you are given permission," he murmured. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, and did as instructed. She bowed her head and kept her eyes down as he perused her lovely form. He instructed her to turn around. She did so. He instructed her to come closer, she did so. Still keeping her eyes down. He reached over and took one of her full breasts in his hand and cupped it. Even though she expected it, she was still startled. He put down the goblet and ran his hand down her side and then before she knew it, he had a finger inside her. Her eyes widened but did not meet his. She could quickly feel herself getting excited, and did not quite understand why. From her vantage point she could see his large masculine hand reaching between her legs, and the contrast of his skin against her pale body was striking and made her swallow a little hard. He adjusted his hand a little and she felt a finger enter her backside. She stood still, accepting it. If she entered into his service, surely it could not be too onerous, so therefore she must appear biddable and willing. She knew that if she had the choice in another circumstance, she would be more than willing to pleasure this man.

He sighed and gestured to her. She hoped that she understood him properly, and knelt down and moved his robes aside. As she expected, there was a quite noticeable erection waiting for her, She knelt to take him in her mouth and he said, "Stop." Just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. He moved the robes to cover himself and called "Omid!"

The lieutenant who had escorted her there entered the tent and beckoned her. She moved to retrieve her robes and he said," You won't need those." She was walked nude from the tent to another, formerly used to store grain, where perhaps a third of the women of the village waited, all nude as well. She went over to the corner to think. Occasionally Omid returned with another woman, until finally there were about fifteen women. No one knew what had become of the others.

At the end of the day, Omid appeared with soldiers who chained the women together at the wrists and escorted them to a large wagon strewn with pillows. They would head out immediately back to the capital city.