'Uhh...nuhh!'
More of the scarf was fingered into her mouth and now Zoe thrashed her head in alarmed protest. Raoul quickly moved to the top of the bench and caught hold of her hair then Sayed resumed feeding the silk into her mouth.
Zoe tried frantically to shake her head free from his grasp. She used her tongue to desperately try to push the material back out of her mouth. She saw Sayed grinning as he kept feeding more of the scarf through the steel ring until the tongue became submerged under the folds of silk. Sayed put his hand between her legs and pressed his thumb against her clitoris. Immediately Zoe felt herself orgasm, her back arched, her legs and arms going taut and she groaned feverishly.
Sayed laughed, lifting his hand to show the glistening juice that now covered his palm. Raoul grinned at his brother then glanced back at Zoe who was urgently forcing the silk from her mouth with her tongue. Her slim body heaved for breath, her breasts rising and falling rapidly.
'You enjoy it, yes?' Sayed pulled the remainder of the silk scarf from her mouth and proceeded to shake it out back into a square. It was soaking wet. Zoe was gulping air and looking dazedly at the two youths. Sayed was tying the silk scarf around itself into a succession of knots. When he'd finished the scarf was like a knotted rope.
'Okay, Sayed give you good feeling now.'
Zoe lifted her head weakly as Sayed fingered the scarf into her anus; the silk disappearing knot by knot into her body until there was just a tiny corner of the scarf left protruding.
As the knotted silk was slowly withdrawn from her body Zoe groaned feverishly, the sensation was so intense it was almost unbearable. As the first knot slipped from her rectum she came, crying out through the gag, so intense was the sensation. As each successive knot made its way out of her body a fresh wave of her climax shook her. As the fifth and last knot, which was larger than the others, forced its way through her rectum, she screamed through the gag certain that if she had to experience any more she'd faint.
Dazed, exhausted and bathed in sweat from her multiple orgasm, Zoe lay, too exhausted to care what happened next. Hopelessly aroused again now themselves, Raoul and Sayed hurriedly unbuttoned their jeans. Standing over their victim they masturbated until their spunk sprayed over Zoe's face.
'We can leave her like this for a while,' Sayed announced, discarding the silk scarf and wiping his palms on the back of his cut-off jeans. 'Let's go and have a cold drink and see what the Englishman wants us to do.'
'What about the weights?' Raoul glanced at the girl's swollen sex lips and the tiny chains that hung taut over the edge of the bench. 'Shouldn't we take them off now?'
'No, the bitch can stay like that,' Sayed replied. 'So much for the English spy! She's just like the other girls, give them pain with their pleasure and they love it! We'll come back in an hour and water her.'
'Bye bye, English girl. Enjoy your rest!'
A warm breeze was blowing off the shallow, crystal clear water, where a handful of fishing boats bobbed gently, tied with long, old ropes of hemp to the crumbling stone wall of the harbour wall. A few seagulls circled lazily above the early morning fishermen and pearl divers who prepared their boats with no sense of urgency. It was already close to a hundred degrees and by midday it would be far, far hotter. In such heat, those who had to work, worked slowly and those who did not have to work sat in the shade and sipped mint tea or treacle sweet, thick black coffee.
Two figures stood on the harbour wall, a dozen yards apart, casting shadows over the sapphire water. One of the figures tossed a date stone into the water and a dozen tiny fish darted towards it. He then turned, and satisfied that no one unwanted was paying him any attention, he walked up to the other man.
'The Honourable Miles Kingston, I presume?' the Arab asked, in a near perfect Oxford English accent.
'Sheikh Auda bin Yasel. I've heard much about you. It's a pleasure to meet you.' They shook hands.
'Just Auda, is sufficient, please. And how might I be of assistance?'
The two men talked for ten minutes, the Arab listening mostly and nodding with agreement as the Englishman spoke.
The Arab was lean and very tall; his face intent and with his hooked nose and intense eyes he reminded the Englishman of a hawk. He wore high leather boots and traditional Arab garb, in loosely flowing black silk. As well as a headdress he had a long cloak of silk that was slung over his left shoulder. A scimitar hung from at his left hip from an ammunition belt that held dozens of rifle bullets. A rifle was slung over his right shoulder and partly concealed by the folds of his tunic, there was a sheathed dagger at his waist.
'Very well, half now,' said the Englishman, 'I don't suppose you can provide me with a receipt can you? We are supposed these days to be accountable.'
'I will write one out for you later. Meantime...' he gestured for the Englishman to give him payment.
'Of course, here's your advance then,' the Englishman drew an envelope from his safari suit jacket pocket. 'You will start straight away? Only time is of the essence, you understand?' As he spoke he thumbed through the money in the envelope, withdrew some then handed the envelope to the Arab.
'Your English expression has an Arab counterpart. Don't worry Englishman, I shall start straight away.'
'There's half. You'd better check it.'
The Arab glance at the envelope then slid it into the folds of his tunic without bothering to open it.
'Rest assured I trust you. That is a great difference between our peoples. We naturally trust until it proves provident not to. You on the other hand are instinctively mistrustful. Besides,' the Arab flashed a smile, 'do they not say that English gentlemen are men of honour?'
'They might, but I wouldn't recommend that you count on such an assumption'
The two men parted company, the Englishman walking back to a parked RangeRover; the Arab going to the end of the harbour wall and calling down to a muscular, young black man who was sat lounging in a sleek sports boat that was tied up to the harbour wall.
'Use some of that to fill the fuel tanks and stock us up on ammunition. Buy enough food for two days as well. I am going to the airport to meet my guest.'
The Arab tossed the envelope that the Englishman had given him down into the cockpit of the boat and the youth caught it. He was bare chested and wore tight, faded jeans and sandals. From a heavy belt around his waist hung a sheathed diver's knife. He grinned and nodded, showing several gold fillings amongst his gleaming white teeth, as he smiled. He wiped the perspiration from his shaven head and swung his legs down from the map ledge where he had them stretched out and crossed.
The Arab had turned and was walking back down the harbour wall when the Negro youth drew silently alongside him.
'What have we got to do?' he asked, not bothering to look at the Arab, his Ray-Ban-shielded gaze fixed on the land ahead.
'The Englishman wants me to find an agent of theirs, who went missing on arrival at the airport. He suspects Major Mosafa and a renegade Englishman, Sir Rodney Stonefield of abducting her. While I am at the airport, I'll see what I can find out. I'll meet you at the souk at six. Look for me around Abdullah's spice stall. You know the one I mean?'
'Yes Auda. I know it.'
The two men parted company at the end of the harbour wall, the youth crossing the palm tree lined boulevard, the Arab turning left and following the paved track beside the beach in the direction of the gleaming steel and glass buildings of the modern quarter of the capital.