Excerpt for Sheik Husni's Pony-girls - Ship Slaves - Book 8 by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Sheik Husni’s Pony-girls - Book 8


Ship Slaves.


By Amelia Stark


© Copyright Amelia Stark 2017


The right of Amelia Stark to be identified as the author of this book

has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the

Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved.

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this

work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical

or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including

xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information

storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission

of the author. All characters in this book are over the age of 18 and

have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no

relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names.

They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known

or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.


Smashwords Edition 19-05-2017


Published by Stark Books



Chapters


One - Thrown to the wolves.

Two - The peace offering.

Three - Taking his time.

Four - Transported below.

Five - On a knife’s edge.

Six - Mystery solved.

Seven - Prepared for inspection.

Eight - A bargaining chip

Nine - Rough treatment.

Ten - Where there’s a will…

Eleven - Restrained and suspended.

Twelve - Debasing herself.

Thirteen - Silent witness.

Fourteen - Brutal confrontation.

Fifteen - Lies and more Lies.

Sixteen - The final hurdle.

Extract from Part 9

Also by the same Author




1. Thrown to the wolves.


Toni Kane rocked first one way onto her breasts and then the other, onto her belly. She was trying to ease the awful pains resonating from her joints and muscles, but only succeeded in making matters worse. Her back was arched, her head pulled back and the ball gag that occupied her mouth had been securely strapped in place.

She had tried to resist being shackled and restrained, but every time her strength returned, one of the Bazzi security guards prodded her labia with a tazer and callously fired a jolt into her nether region; completely stunning and incapacitating her.

Her wrists were in cuffs behind her back and had been lifted so that the linking ‘T’ could be connected to a 30” spreader bar, which in turn was attached to her ankle cuffs. The devilish contraption kept her feet and arms elevated high above her back ensuring a state of total subjugation. Not satisfied with the efficient restraints, the guards had inserted an anal hook into her rectum and then forced her head back so they could attach a short connecting chain to the back of her collar.

Their methods were complete overkill, but in the back of her mind she understood that thralls needed to be made examples of, if the billionaires were going to keep control of their slaves. The thralls were treated as sub-human and that is exactly how the sadistic guards had dealt with her.

With her thighs vertical and her cunt lifted with her posterior, her labia bulged forth and was too tempting a treat not to spear. The big guy went first, before he hooked her, prising her apart with his thumbs and then piston-fucked her like there was no tomorrow. The second guard bottled out, thankfully, and then she was left to wait for Sheik Salim Husni to show up.

The young Englishwoman had served 5 years in the intelligence section of the SAS, before joining Husni Oil in Mexico, 18 months earlier. Like all SAS soldiers, she was remarkably fit and an expert in hand-to-hand combat disciplines; but nothing could prepare a girl for the treatment she was suffering in Sharjah.

After working as Maria Conchita’s bodyguard for a few months in Mexico, Maria recommended her for the highest post and Salim promptly promoted her to the head of Husni Oil Security in Mexico. She spent a month in Dubai in the guise of a young man, much to Salim’s amusement, for he wasn’t used to the girls around him being covered up! Toni learnt all the Arabic customs and fell in love with Salim’s favourite sport - Pony-girl racing.

The billionaire even found a thrall for her who was discreet about her identity; and had excellent Sapphic skills. The girl went everywhere with her and Toni was sorry to leave the youngster behind when she returned to Mexico. Toni quickly reorganized security in several installations, which eventually led her to the Palmarejo gold mine. It was there that she made a necessary call when she had to eliminate Carlos who was managing the mine for Salim.

Heavy footsteps alerted Toni that a man had entered the room. Her restraints severely restricted her movement, but she was able to twist her head far enough to see that Salim had stopped near the first cage. She patiently watched him in her peripheral vision taking some time to inspect the rear end of the caged thralls. The fact that he hadn’t arrived with anyone and that he made no move to comfort and reassure her, struck terror into her heart.

Then Salim did a curious thing. The refined billionaire leant forward and sniffed the thrall’s posterior. It was more than a sniff, for he took a moment to draw in a lungful of air. It was a given that Salim was a kinky bastard, but pussy sniffing was way off the scale for such a cultured man. When he straightened up, he studied the thrall again before reaching out and, Toni presumed, examining her tag.

He was clearly playing a game, keeping her waiting, in pain, exposed like a common criminal. Perhaps he was going to punish her for stealing the chariot and tricking Masumi; who was probably also in trouble. However, as soon as he had had his fun and released her, she would tell him that she saw Rasha Bazzi being helped over the perimeter wall, before the security guards arrested her.

Salim made no move to come to her aid and instead paced back and forth behind the cages until 3 more Arabs arrived. Toni twisted and spotted Asad, Jabir Bazzi and the security man who had captured and tortured her. The men discussed the collection of the caged thralls and then her world fell apart when Salim addressed the others.

“Good! Then there’s time to get this one marked, prepared for sale and caged,” Salim said, moving along to Toni’s rear end.

“Thigh or neck, Salim?” Sheik Bazzi asked.

“It can’t be hidden on the thigh,” he mused. “Her new masters or mistresses must appreciate the severity of the girl’s crimes.”

Salim’s words shattered Toni’s world into a million pieces. She had only ever been loyal to the sadistic billionaire, she thought bitterly, and in return she was to be branded and sold like a common slave.

“I’ll get the equipment, sir,” the brutal security man volunteered.

Toni started bucking and rocking her body, which caused her a considerable amount of pain, but she was so furious she couldn’t help herself. Because her thighs were vertical and well spread, her inner thighs were an easy target for the branding iron, as was the dimple of her cleft and mons pubis.

Salim walked round, stood in front of her and studied her face with his dazzling blue eyes. The handsome Sheik believed that he could own any girl on the planet, so was she one of the only ones who had rebuffed his advances? Tears clouded her vision, but she could still see an expression of triumph on the man’s clean shaven face.

“Toni, you stepped over the mark in Mexico and you’ve embarrassed me here in Sharjah,” he began. “The example I’m setting here, by marking you as a runner and thief, will maintain the respect my friends have for my judgement. Your crime of stealing the chariot and animal, along with trespass and resisting arrest, gives me no option but to sell you off to a new owner. I’m sure that they will find a use for your rebellious body and keep you fully occupied. Good luck and save some of that energy to keep yourself alive!”

He was addressing her as though she was a lifelong slave, obviously to mislead the others and use the situation to his advantage. Small teardrops became a torrent the moment Salim left her alone to talk to the others. Toni had seen the security man returning with an electronic branding machine, so knew that they were about to start the sadistic act of marking her within a matter of seconds.

Horrified at what was about to happen to her, Toni went into a fit of rage, but her aggression was short lived, for after feeling an object pushing against her tender folds she was given another tazer jolt that once again blew her mind apart and stunned her senses.

Searing pains from her thighs, mons and clit followed, which she somehow managed to absorb without passing out; possibly because her mind was dulled by the tazer. However, as she emerged from her fugue, the pain began to ramp up and register in her brain with a vengeance.

“Muuuuuuuumph!” she moaned, trying to cope with the awful sensations from countless locations around her body.

Toni was vaguely aware that another man had arrived and was talking loudly to Salim as though they were friends. Then the stranger moved in front of her, like a float in a ghastly ‘Day of the dead’ parade. The huge Arab was wearing a long white thawb, which was voluminous to accommodate his portly belly. He wore a red checked keffiyeh headdress and a pair of simple brown leather sandals. He had a jolly round face, dark moustache and radiated rank breath. The man’s piggy brown eyes studied her face and then grabbed her right breast.

“…But there’s no meat on her,” he insisted whilst twisting her nipple and then pulling her gums back to look at her teeth.

Toni glared at him, but he was far more interested in her tits and once he had had a good grope, he hurried away to her rear end, where he began probing her creamy orifice.

“She needs modifying, Salim. You’re selling raw meat with no trimmings. I’ll give you 5,000 Rial and take her off your hands now. She’s a fit specimen, but look…” The Slavemaster drove two fingers into her vagina and left them there feeling her tightness. “She needs breaking in!”

Toni, now only semiconscious, listened to Salim haggling with the man though a red haze of pain and hatred. The men eventually agreed on a price of 9,000 Omani Rial, which hardly mattered to the young Englishwoman, who was way past caring.

As soon as the other cages were removed from the table, they came for her. She made it as difficult as she could for the Arabs, but as soon as she gathered a modicum of strength, the guard zapped her with his tazer, completely rendering her helpless. After removing the collar and cuffs, she was laid on her back on a platform. The ball gag was removed and replaced with a ring gag and then a leather hood was forced over her head. Small eyeholes enabled her to see some of what was happening around her end of the bench.

Several hands lifted her legs up and over until her ankles sat in cushioned semi-circles on one half of a stock, either side, above her head. She twisted and turned to try and avoid being trapped in the devise, but they zapped her again, making it an easy task to close the top of the stock on her neck, wrists and ankles. The holes for her ankles were higher and at the widest part of the stock, forcing her thighs apart and enabling the security man and Asad to easily fit a knotted culit just above her knees.

The guard started at one end of the rope restraint, by winding the loose ends round her thighs, twice. Then he tightened the grip of the rope on her thighs by pulling the loose ends through into the centre section, where they were knotted and padlocked together. The ready formed 12” centre section of the three knotted Culit was rigid, because the rope was wrapped round a metal peg that had an eyelet in the middle. The centre knot was a double knot allowing access to the hole in the centre of the restraint, so it could be attached to a rope to lead or tether the unfortunate girl, or boy.

The ancient rope restraint was designed to slow a girl down and enable her cunt to be accessible at all times. It was often used by the slave traders to ensure their thralls wouldn’t get far if they tried to escape and yet still allow them to walk with a wide, awkward gate. Toni knew that some of the thralls that ended up in the mineral mines of East Oman, spent their whole working life wearing similar restraints on their legs and arms.

Once they had completed that task, she was slid into a tiny cage that was barely larger than her body. Feeling and strength slowly returned to her limbs, but far too late to stop what was happening to her. She could look upward and sideways, but the wooden yoke was like a wall, stopping her from seeing what was happening to her posterior.

“Can you fill these, Salim,” the fat man asked while running his fingers along her perineum and dipping into her orifices. After scissoring her by shoving his thumb in her quim and forefinger in her anus, he callously squeezed her internal walls together, causing yet another pain to surge through her nether region. “I don’t want this thrall soiled before I hand her over,” he chuckled.

Her poor posterior was at full stretch, making the valley of her ass and bulging labia an easy target for the slave trader’s stubby fingers.

“Here, use these,” one of the men suggested.

Toni hoped that once inside the cage the abuse would stop, but moments later a hard rounded object began prodding the entrance to her creamy quim. The awful truth was that the sadistic treatment was igniting her libido to such an extent the huge dildo easily pierced her velvet tunnel. Moments later though, it was gone, only to be driven into her tighter anal star that didn’t stand a chance of stopping the saturated phallus.

Her abuser drove the silicone cock onward and inward, until her rectum was full to bursting point.

“Muuuuumph,” she groaned when the task was completed by impaling her quim with what felt like an identical dildo.

Finally, two hefty young men lowered her cage onto a trolley and wheeled her out of the room, down an alleyway, across the car park to the back of a waiting van. Moments later she was hoisted up and slid in beside the other two cages.

“Have you got a buyer lined up for the original pair, Yacoub?” Toni heard Salim ask.

“Are you kidding me, Salim? These three little beauties will be afloat by midnight on a freighter bound for Tokyo. I hope they appreciate the all-expenses paid cruise…” Both men laughed out loud.

Toni had just enough time to see the hooded figure in the cage beside her look in her direction, before the roller shutter was pulled down, plunging them into darkness. Within a few minutes there was a violent jerk, the van began moving and Toni was on her way to an perilous destination with an uncertain future.

Salim had scarred her for life and enslaved her before throwing her to the wolves. If he thought that he had seen the last of her, then he didn’t know who he was trying to commit to a life of slavery. Toni’s gruelling SAS training had helped her many times during and after her army service, but the greatest test lay ahead for her. The young Brit was determined to escape from her enforced slavery and make Salim pay the ultimate price for his treachery.

Toni recalled Salim’s final words to her – ‘…save some of that energy to keep yourself alive…’ Yes, she would do that and wait, for she only needed one chance…



2. The peace offering.


Salim was having mixed feelings about the events of the turbulent afternoon, but when he looked up, his mood improved and he almost forgot about his irritating troubles. As he dodged between the ropes to enter the competition compound, beside the Bazzi racecourse, he spotted Ismah, his delightful companion hurrying toward him.

The dark haired teenager looked stunning in a purple competition tunic, which his dressmakers had made especially for her. His crest had been embroidered over her right breast, in which 20 diamonds and sapphires had been added to embellish the design. The edges of the garment were trimmed with golden silk threads and tiny tassels had been added on the short sleeves and hem to give the frock a fluidity that the driver’s tunics lacked.

“It’s lovely, Master,” she cried, stopping 4 feet short and giving him a quick twirl.

It was the third outfit that she had worn since arriving at the Gala, earlier in the day, which wasn’t unusual for one of his companions. As she spun round, she flashed her tiny golden panties, which graced one of the finest posteriors he had ever seen. In fact her figure was perfect, from her parallel thighs and shapely hips, to her graceful shoulders and incredibly firm half-hand breasts.

If her body was perfect then her countenance could only be described as stunningly beautiful. Ismah had baby-doll lips, a cute upturned nose and stunning brown, innocent eyes that melted him, even when he was mad at her. He was a man who quickly grew tired of chosen women, but he had a feeling that it would take a rare beauty indeed to replace Ismah.

An image of Rasha Bazzi sprung into his mind for a moment, reminding him that she was caged and being transported to the docks at that very moment. She was a very beautiful woman and an heiress into the bargain, but was she as attractive as Ismah? He wasn’t sure. He needed to make a phone call, so he couldn’t spend too much time with his ebullient chosen woman.

“Ismah, you look delightful. I thought you were going to keep it under wraps until next weekend.”

“I couldn’t wait, Master,” she enthused, throwing her arms around his neck.

The Pony-girl Premier league season was due to start in a week, which to a girl in Ismah’s position could be a lifetime away. One of Salim’s previous companion, Masumi, had lasted for 7 days, while he replaced Carla in less than 3. They hadn’t displeased him, it was just that he was driven to possess the perfect girl and each one had proven not to be so.

However, in the case of both Carla and Masumi, he discovered that both girls were talented Pony-girl drivers, saving them from either a spell in his harem or being shipped off to one of the many slave auctions that abounded in the UAE.

Salim lifted Ismah off her feet and gave her a passionate kiss, before easing her down onto her golden sandals once again. “Tell me what you thought of the last race, Ismah,” he urged, while wrapping his arm round her waist and setting off across the enclosure.

“Cala drove Penny superbly, Master, but Frisky was amazing! When do we get her back?”

“Not for a while…” he said slowly, as they approached the rail, where Frisky and Penny were tethered side by side.

Both fillies were having their thighs and buttocks sponged down by a pair of naked thralls who were crawling around on all fours; while wearing anal bar restraints. Salim was amused to see that one of the girls was the Japanese youngster, Etsuko, who had fallen foul of Aara Jahid’s delectation for rough justice.

The animal’s plumes and tails had been removed, but both Ponies looked particularly impressive even though they were still recovering from the race. The fillies were wearing supple leather hoods, but he was able to see both sets of eyes studying him intently.

Frisky was the more powerful animal. Her shoulders were wider, her breasts larger and her thighs chunkier. Penny was a fast sprinter, but lighter, so she struggled with the weight of the chariot and driver; however Salim was sure he could build her strength so she could compete at the highest level.

“Frisky carries some extra weight,” Ismah observed, trying to cup both of the animal’s breasts in her petite hands and lift the gourds to demonstrate her point. “…which makes her performance all the more impressive.”

“Yes,” he agreed, stroking Frisky’s lower back where her name had been tattooed in fancy blue lettering.

His fingers traced the cunt strap down through her ass valley and after passing over the anal collar, arrived at the point where Frisky’s fat labium lips swallowed the strip of leather, as though it wanted to devour it. Copious amounts of cunt cream oozed from her tight pudendal cleft signifying that she was thoroughly enjoying herself.


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