We made camp that night near a well. My captor built a fire and we both settled in for the night. I struggled to find a position which was comfortable in my restraints.
“What is your name” I asked. “Alia” she said. “Why have you kidnapped me?” I asked forcefully. She glanced at me darkly for a moment before her features softened. “I suppose you have the right to know that much at least,” she said. “You, Prince Amir, are a bargaining chip for my people. We are a poor and ragged tribe of the yazeedi. We don’t have much but we value our freedom. Your armies took that away from us. We were driven to the caves and wastes of the desert just to survive. Your sultan wanted our men for labour and our women for his harem. He thought we would be easily crushed, a poor and weak people. We may be poor, but we are not weak. The desert tests and hardens all who are born in its vast expanses. We will bite your heel even as you grind us to dust. If your father does not consider your life worth our freedom, we will take our last revenge in your death.”
I nodded my understanding. “I know you are a warrior.” she said. “I know you are dangerous, and so i will break you to my will. I will not allow my mission to fail. If you do not obey my every word, the djinn themselves will flinch at the humiliations and punishments I will conflict on you”
I stared at her a long time, resentment, shame, and a sort of admiration in my eyes. “Rest” she said softly. “We will rise at dawn.
I wiggled to bring my bound limbs into a comfortable position of sorts and relaxed my sore muscles. Alia snuggled up in her own corner of the fire.
I stayed awake a long time thinking of a way I might get escape. I realized though, bound as I was, I would die before I could make it out if the desert. Grudgingly I thought, “this desert girl is the only thing keeping me alive out here in the wastes.” I did not know the paths to the secret wells and edible plants here in the inner desert. Even so I came close to trying to hobble away in my chains. I remembered the bite of her whip and the taste of her boot though, and thought better of it. Her unrestrained feet would doubtless come upon me before i could make it far and I shuddered to think of what painful, humiliating punishment she would mete out on my royal flesh if I dared disobey her again.
So it was I spent a restless night under the stars.
I woke to a heavenly sight. Alia had stripped off her outer robe and was bathing herself with a bucket from the well. Her bare breasts were wet in the light of the dawn. She glanced at me and saw I was awake. However this didn’t seem to inhibit her in the least. She continued to wash herself for a few minutes while I ogled her smooth skin. At last she dried herself off supplely and dressed. “Haven’t you seen a woman before, majnun” she scolded me. “Lets get going.”
My head was filled with confusing thoughts and feelings as I marched that day. This girl, this infuriating, desert girl had me in her clutches, mind and body. I wanted her, I wanted her flesh writhing with my flesh in the sands. I hated her, I wanted to see her killed by the sword or enslaved by my armies.
We continued on our way for many days. I did indeed try to escape several times, but I will not recount the humiliations alia revenged upon me. Suffice it to say that by the time we reached our destination I had a great many lash marks across my buttocks and I was used to the taste of boot leather.
We finally arrived at her desert stronghold, her striding seriously and me crawling on my hands and knees(Alia’s idea of a gesture of humility.)
The people spat on me as I crawled past. Girls who would have been my slaves in the city jeered at me and slapped my ass, calling me a pretty beast of burden. My old anger, buried under the many humbling episodes I endured, flared back up. Alia sensed this and gave me a preliminary boot in the ribs, this silenced me for the moment.
I was brought to a crude cage in the back of one of there caves and locked in. My hand were again locked behind my back. Alia looked back at me one time before returning to the fellowship of her people.
Author: dis1767
A Prince of Arabia part 1 [BDSM]
The sand was hot on my bare feet as I walked two steps behind my captor, a fatatan assassin of the rimal. I was naked but for my chains. My wrists were locked behind me while my feet were hobbled by a short set of links. An iron leash connected my sunburnt neck to my enemy’s hand. I was a prince of the Levant but now I was also a prisoner.
The girl who held me in bondage was not imposing. She was short and slim but I knew she carried the sting of a scorpion in her frame. The bruises on my body were proof of that.
That had been my mistake, underestimating her. She had come upon me while I bathed in an oasis. She dazzled me with her alluring voice. Trained in the arts of seduction her whole life. I had no reason to suspect. Girls often threw themselves at me for the privilege of a night with a prince. I should have known the moment I tasted that spice on her lips, like cinnamon and dates. It was a sleeping drug often used by the females of the caste of assassins to incapacitate their prey.
A Prince of Arabia part 1 [BDSM]
The sand was hot on my bare feet as I walked two steps behind my captor, a fatatan assassin of the rimal. I was naked but for my chains. My wrists were locked behind me while my feet were hobbled by a short set of links. An iron leash connected my sunburnt neck to my enemy’s hand. I was a prince of the Levant but now I was also a prisoner.
The girl who held me in bondage was not imposing. She was short and slim but I knew she carried the sting of a scorpion in her frame. The bruises on my body were proof of that.
That had been my mistake, underestimating her. She had come upon me while I bathed in an oasis. She dazzled me with her alluring voice. Trained in the arts of seduction her whole life. I had no reason to suspect. Girls often threw themselves at me for the privilege of a night with a prince. I should have known the moment I tasted that spice on her lips, like cinnamon and dates. It was a sleeping drug often used by the females of the caste of assassins to incapacitate their prey.
“Hurry up behiima!” she taunted. “We must make it to the hills before sundown if we are to assure that there is no hope of your rescue.” It was maddening. With each bitter step I lessened my odds of freedom.
For a moment I struggled against my fetters and pulled on my leash. Seeing the look of fury in her eyes I felt instant regret.
She wheeled on me like a viper snapped her leather whip in the air. It was the type used to break unruly horses. Next it crossed my quivering skin. An angry red streak marked the path of her vengeance. She pulled me forward by my leash and grabbed the rear of my hair. I felt her knee in my back and dropped to the ground.
“You are a dog!” she spat. “And I will bring your fakhur spirit to heel or you will regret the first day you saw the sun rise.” She dug her knee into my kidney and waited. “Please!” I sputtered “no more.” She relaxed her grip a bit. “You will show me your regret” she said. “Lick my boots shariha!”
As the son of a sultan I could never submit myself so brazenly before an assassin, an outcast! My muscles twitched with rage and humiliation. She brought her whip down once upon my buttocks in a snap of pain and shoved my chin into her foot. With all the hatred man has ever felt i licked her boot. More ignominy and disgrace no prince since the days of Abraham has felt I am sure.
She hauled me up and steadied me, seeming calmer after bending me to her will.
She looked deep into my eyes. Her unusual venom green irises peering into my soul. “Come o ‘asir” she said not entirely without warmth. “We must make camp before sunset.”