Arabian Nights
By
Michele Nylons

Part Two – Training

Michele remained tied to the chair, covered in semen, defiled and confused. She isn’t stupid; she knows that she has been kidnapped and is being held as a sex slave and knows that there is going to be worse to come. The door opens.

A voluptuous dark-skinned woman enters; her heels click-clacking on the tiles. She is tall, at least six feet, she wearing a black chiffon tight pencil skirt that emphasises her small waist and clings to her thighs, the hem rests about six inches above her knees. He legs are clad in dark shimmering hose, her feet in black patent-leather pumps. She is wearing a green satin blouse open to the third button and her large firm breasts are barely contained in the lace cups of her black satin brassier.

Her jet-black hair has been straitened and hangs to her shoulders, her eye makeup and ruby red lipstick lips accentuate her blue eyes. Her gold jewellery glitters in the lamplight. She is sneering; looking at Michele with curiosity and contempt.

“You liked it didn’t you?” she grins.

“They all say they don’t; but I can tell if they do?” she saunters over and stands directly in front of Michele.

Michele inhales her scent; her perfume is strong, exotic, almost cloying.

“Don’t be so fucking stupid! I have never been so degraded in my life!” Michele spat back.

Sarina slaps Michele across the cheek and she reels at the unexpected force of the blow.

“If you didn’t like it why can I do this?” Sarina grins and reaches out and caresses Michele’s thigh.

Her hand slides along Michele’s thigh and she watches horrified as Sarina’s hand slides under her skirt, along her sleek stockinged thigh and grips Michele’s semi-tumescent penis.

Michele didn’t realise that she was partially aroused; she is so shocked at what the Arab man has done to her that she would never have believed that her body could respond so incongruously. Michele feels Sarina’s fingers gently caress her penis through her satin panties and feels her cock stiffen.

Sarina grins.

“Leave me alone!” Michele begs.

“Leave me alone!” Sarina mimics her.

She grips Michele’s penis through the diaphanous panty material and squeezes. Michele’s cock hardens even more and pulses, a drop of pre-seminal fluid escapes her glans and soaks into the gusset of her panties and Sarina uses her thumb to gently massage the wet satin against Michele’s fraenulum.

Michele gasps and Sarina laughs out loud.

“You might look like a woman but you are as weak as any man. You can’t help but respond when I touch you there.”

“It’s just a response to stimulus; I can’t help it,” Michele blushes.

Hasn’t she been humiliated enough for one day?

“Well let’s see about that,” Sarina grins.

She lifts Michele’s semen stained skirt up her thighs exposing her creamy thighs framed by the smoky silken welts of her stockings; Michele’s cock is hard, straining against the flimsy satin panties. She squeezes the pulsating penis and lowers her face and forces her lips against Michele’s. Their lipstick lips crush against each other and Sarina forces her tongue into Michele’s mouth as she slowly squeezes and strokes the transvestite’s now tumescent organ.

“You fucking bitch!” Michele gasps into Sarina’s sweet moist mouth and kisses her back.

Michele can’t hold back against the exquisite stimuli as Sarina strokes and caresses her panty-clad cock. She ejaculates and floods her panties. Hot semen erupts from her quivering member and soaks through the silky satin material forming a huge blob of white sticky coagulate that Sarina massages into the throbbing member; milking Michele of her spend. She kisses the sexy transvestite harder and squeezes, milking the last drop of Michele’s seed from her pulsating organ.

Michele groans and writhes, straining against the bonds holding her into the chair until she is sated and then falls back exhausted and spent.

Sarina disengages her fingers, sticky with Michele’s emission.

“See, I knew you liked it!” she says, her voice hoarse with her own desire.

“Now let’s untie you and get you cleaned up. You have a lot to learn,” she says, wiping her sticky fingers on Michele’s blouse.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Michele asks and is rewarded with a stinging slap across the face.

“I talk! You listen!” Sarina scolds her.

“I thought you might have figured that out by now.”

“There are some very specific rules here that I am going to explain to you very shortly but the first and most important is SHUT THE FUCK UP unless someone asks you for a response.”

Sarina strides over to a cupboard recessed into the wall and opens it. Michele stares horrified at the contents: ball-gags, restraints of all kinds, collars, leads are menacingly arranged in order of thickness, half a dozen canes and a riding crop.

“So far we have been gentle with you because you are new but that changes now. Any further transgressions and you will find yourself being disciplined with one of these,” Sarina waves at the canes.

Sarina unties Michele who is immensely relieved to be free of her bonds. Sarina takes one of the collars from the cupboard and secures it around Michele’s neck and fastens a leash to it.

“You will follow me. You will keep your eyes averted; look down at all times. Most of all keep silence!” Sarina leads Michele to the door and they start to walk down a dimly lit corridor.

Their heels click-clack on the tiles and although Michele keeps her eyes averted as instructed she can tell they are passing several recessed doors from behind two of which Michele can discern moans of pleasure from one and the sobs of despair from the other. The corridor is not that long and Michele estimates there are probably ten or twelve doors.

“Look up! This is your room; remember where it is,” Sarina orders.

The door is dark wood; it looks heavy and thick. There is a modern security lock set in the mortice that Sarina unlocks with what appears to be very high-grade passkey. Sarina then scans a security card against a card reader set into the wall and the door clicks. Sarina opens it and leads Michele inside.

Sarina leads Michele through the room and all Michele can make out is a large bed, a large wardrobe and vanity table and chair. A few floor lamps shed dull light onto what are obviously expensive rugs thrown here and there over the grey slate tiles.

She is led to the bathroom and it looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel; all sparkling white and black marble with gold fittings. There is a bath big enough for two, a glass shower stall with two shower roses, a toilet, a bidet and a long marble bench with two sinks. Every toiletry one can imagine is provided. Michele can’t help thinking that if she has to be held prisoner that this is far better accommodation than any captive would normally expect.

“Strip,” Sarina orders and unclasps the leash from Michele’s collar.

Michele shucks out of her skirt, blouse, lingerie and hose. She holds onto the counter to take off her heels.

“Put the jewellery here,” Sarina holds out an ornate box in which Michele deposits the obviously expensive items.

“You can take off the wig while you bathe but the second rule you need to learn is that Michael Nyland is gone forever from this place. While you are here you are Michele and only Michele. You will dress like Michele, talk like Michele, walk like Michele and behave only like Michele!”

“You may only take off your wig and makeup to bathe. We might see what we can do with your own hair when it grows out, but for now there is a selection of wigs for you in the chifforobe.”

“Do you understand? You will answer yes Mistress. From now on I am always to be addressed as Mistress and any man in your company is to be addressed as Master.”

“Yes Mistress. But if you intend to style my hair when it grows long, how long am I to be kept here?” Michele asks dreading the answer.

“Impertinent bitch!” Sarina raises her hand and Michele flinches.

“But a fair enough question,” she smiles wickedly.

“Until they are finished with you, until you bore them, until you are of no further use!” she laughs.

Sarina whips off Michele’s wig and unbuckles the collar. Michele is naked except for her makeup and the ruby-red false fingernails.

“Go! Scrub yourself clean! Remove all that makeup too, I will help you prepare yourself once you have bathed,” Sarina spins on her heels and strides out of the bathroom leaving Michele alone.

Michele breaks down in the shower; she sobs uncontrollably until she can cry no more. Then, as she scrubs the makeup from her face, she makes a pact with herself. Whatever happens to her, whatever they do to her, she will not break. She will not cry again. She will learn as much as she can about this place whilst obeying every ‘rule’ they impose on her. Then she will seek her revenge.

She finds a silk robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and slips into it. It feels very sensual on her bare skin. She has obviously been professionally shaved whilst she was unconscious because except for her eyebrows, which have been plucked and shaped, and her scalp, her body is hairless. She slides her feet into a pair of sandals and notices that her toenails have also been expertly painted. She assumes that it was Sarina who prepared her for Saheed whilst she was unconscious.

Michele finds Sarina sitting in an over-stuffed lounge chair smoking a cigarette and talking on an ornate telephone, an opened bottle of expensive French chablis is on the side table and two glasses have been poured. One of the glasses is half-drunk, Sarina’s red lipstick evident on the rim. Sarina points offhandedly to the full glass and indicates to Michele that it is hers.

“Don’t worry; there is no longer any need to spike your drinks darling,” she smiles sarcastically then carries on with her conversation.

“Yes Jamhal, she will be ready. No Jamhal, Saheed did not penetrate her, she is still a virgin. You know I wouldn’t let him do anything so foolish. The Cabal will get their ‘jus primae noctis’ as promised,” Sarina continues talking as if Michele is not in the room.

Michele picks up the wine and sips it cautiously but it tastes fine. It tastes wonderful in fact. Michele has picked up enough from Sarina’s conversation to guess what is going to happen to her. She is technically a virgin she supposes, in that no penis has ever penetrated her and she knows exactly what ‘jus primae noctis’ means and it does not bode well.

Sarina finishes her conversation and turns her attention to Michele.

“Sit and I will tell you why you are here. It will save me having to answer your unending questions. You may smoke in your room unless you are entertaining. We have your brand.”

Sarina points to a pack of Marlborough Menthol Lights on the table and Michele lights up and sits across from Sarina sipping wine and smoking. She is very conscious of how absurd the situation is. She is in a voluptuous apartment wearing a silk robe, drinking expensive French wine and smoking cigarettes, sitting across from an extremely attractive Negress who is about to tell her why she has been kidnapped and taken against her will by a group of Arabs.
Sarina tells Michele about the Cabal. Not everything of course but enough to let her know that she is in the clutches of an extremely wealthy group of men, being held in a country where the Cabal can do as they wish and that there is no chance of escape for her.

“You are not the only, shall we say guest, I hate the word captive, here. But you are the only mukhannath,” she finishes her explanation.

“Mukhannath?” Michele asks.

“Transvestite,” Sarina replies.

“You have been selected because you are an extremely attractive mukhannath, because you are unsullied, and also because your disappearance will go largely unnoticed. You are estranged from your family and everyone else who knows you knows that you have gone to the Middle East to work. You have few friends to miss you. You are in fact ideal for their purposes.”

“Everything you say is true Mistress but surely the captives must complain when they are released?” Michele enquires.

“Some grow to like their work. Most grow to like the money. And none know where they have been held captive and they find it hard to explain to the authorities why they are healthy why have amassed large amounts of cash and property during their so-called disappearance,” Sarina explained.

“And you Mistress?”

“Oh me Michele? I quickly came to realise that not only do I like the work and the wealth but that I also like the power. That’s why I am in charge of the shermutaun. The whores,” she smiles.

“Enough now! Let me show you around your apartment and then we need to prepare you for your debut.”

Michele is amazed at how well appointed her ‘apartment’ (she notices the word cell is never used) is. A king sized bed, expensive furniture, a well stocked bar including a fridge and wine conditioner, a chifforobe (as Sarina refers to it – betraying her Southern American roots) full of clothes, lingerie and shoes. A large vanity table with every cosmetic imaginable including expensive perfumes. A selection of wigs of every colour and style are mounted on wig-stands in the chifforobe. Nothing has been spared and nothing is cheap.

“Under the bench in the bathroom is a washer and dryer. You are responsible for your own laundry except for items requiring dry-cleaning which you are to place in that hamper,” Sarina points it out.

“You will find that your lingerie and hosiery will require replacing quite frequently, just let the maids know what you need,” Sarina smiles, amused by Michele’s puzzled look.

“Now, shave your face closely, brush your teeth, gargle with mouthwash and return to the vanity so I can watch you prepare. I have seen your Flickr profile so I know you are adept at makeup but tonight you must be prefect.”

Michele returns freshly shaven and sits at the vanity. Sarina nods approvingly after she runs her fingers over Michele’s face to ensure there is no hint of stubble. Michele’s glass has been refilled and she takes cautious sips; she lights a cigarette but Sarina stubs it out.

“Some of the men don’t like smoking and your breath needs to be sweet and clean,” she explains.

Michele takes time applying foundation; she has selected a foundation that closely matches her skin colour and covers up the few blemishes that mark her face and liberally coats her face and neck with matching finishing powder. Michele now has the blank canvas on which to apply the rest of her cosmetics.

Michele applies jet-black kohl next, from the inner corner of her eyes to the outer corners, gradually thickening the line. When she has a thick, even, black line running along the edge of her eyelashes she reaches for the eyeshadow.

She selects indigo blue, which she applies to her eyelids and blends it with a shade of dark grey, which she brushes onto the upper part of her eye sockets.

“That’s good; they like their women to wear bold coloured makeup,” Sarina remarks.

Michele applies black mascara to her lashes. Although she is being held captive she finds that the concentration required to get her makeup perfect distracts her from her fate. She rouges her cheeks, defining her cheekbones.

“Here use this; it will set and highlight your makeup,” Sarina hands her a jar of 'Skin-Glow' finishing powder.

Michele applies it and is impressed with the subtle radiance it gives her face.

Michele is pleased to see they have her favourite Covergirl 'Outlast' lipstick in ‘ever red-dy’, which is the bright red colour she prefers. She applies the base coat carefully just outside of her lip-line so that her lips appear fuller. She leaves it to dry then bites down on a tissue to soak up any residue, then she applies the clear topcoat.

“My god you are better at this than most women,” Sarina laughs and sips her wine.

“Here, they like this,” Sarina offers her a bottle of ‘Poison’ perfume.

Michele sprays herself liberally with the scent and looks up to find Sarina holding up a shoulder-length, black bob wig with cerulean highlights. Michele takes it from her and brushes it to improve the sheen of the hair. Sarina stands behind her and helps Michele position the wig on her head and adjust it so that the fringe is straight and level with her eyebrows.

“Ok. Now we select your clothes,” Sarina says.

“The Cabal debated hotly as to how you are to present yourself. Would you believe one of them even wanted you dressed in a stupid ‘I Dream of Jeannie’ outfit, but after studying the pictures of you that Jamhal presented, a consensus was reached.”

“You are to dress like a businesswoman. Some of them see the irony that a businessman got on the plane to Dubai but a businesswoman will arrive in their midst,” Sarina is smiling sarcastically herself.

Michele stands up and steps into a black satin and lace suspender belt that is fitted with three garter straps on each leg and then Sarina assists her into a matching brassiere.

“Breastforms Mistress?” Michele inquires.

“No they will want to play with your tits, small as they are,” she grins wickedly and Michele shivers with disgust.

Michele sits back down in front of the vanity and slips a pair of taupe nylon stockings up her legs. She stands so Sarina can adjust the dark back-seams so they are straight while Michele fixes the dark welts of the stocking-tops to her suspender straps. Michele runs her hands up and down her legs to remove any wrinkles and can’t help enjoying the sensuous feel of the nylon on her freshly shaved legs.

Sarina hands her a pair of black satin full-cut panties and helps Michele slide them up her legs and smooths them around her buttocks and over the suspender belt. She reaches round and strokes Michele’s flaccid penis and it begins to engorge.

Then she cruelly squeezes Michele’s scrotum and she yelps in pain.

“Don’t get hard. You probably will when they fuck you but not now,” she orders.

“Unlikely Madame,” Michele responds.

“We’ll see. Some of the little strumpets around here screamed with pain when they were first taken that way and now they beg for their Master to put it in their tight little poopies,” she says scornfully.

Michele looks disgustedly at Sarina who just shrugs.

“I don’t mind it up the shitter now and then either but I have been told that men have a special place up there that drives them wild with desire; like a woman’s G-spot.”

Michele tries to think of anything but sodomy by concentrating on dressing.

She steps into a black satin half-slip. The lace hem flutters against her stocking tops. She pours another glass of wine and sucks at it greedily trying to erase the images in her mind of what is about to befall her.

“Enough wine! We don’t want you sozzled when you make your debut,” Sarina demands.

Sarina has returned from the chifforobe and holds up a navy blue women's business suit and then lays it out on the bed and beckons Michele over. Michele steps into the skirt and admires it. It fits her perfectly; taut at the waist and tightly moulded to her thighs. Without the kick pleat at the rear she wouldn’t be able to walk in it but it looks both professional and sexy, the hem rests mid-thigh.

Next she buttons herself into a mauve, long-sleeved, satin blouse and tucks it into the waistband of her skirt and closes the zipper. She adjusts the waistband and hem of her skirt, ensuring the hem of her slip is covered. The skirt is tight around her buttocks and thighs and the hem sits high up on her legs.

Sarina struts over to the chifforobe and selects a pair of black high-heeled pumps and kneels down in front of Michele who is seated back at the vanity and helps her put them on.

Michele thinks momentarily of how easy it would be to kick Sarina in the head or spike her with her heel but what good would it do? Even if she got out of the cell she wouldn’t know where to go or what to do next.

Sarina opens a jewellery box and mooches through the collection. She slips a gold anklet on Michele’s right ankle and adjusts it so that it sits just above her anklebone. She slips on a pair of gold drop earrings; Michele has both ears pierced so no need for clip-ons. Sarina places two gold bangles on each of Michele’s wrists and a matching gold chain necklace around her neck.

“Stand! Look!” she commands.

Michele looks at herself in the full-length mirror fitted to one of the chifforobe doors.

Even she has to admit that she looks magnificent; femme, attractive, and most of all, sexy.

Sarina has retrieved the collar and leash while Michele was admiring herself in the mirror and Michele obligingly lowers her head and allows Sarina to affix them to her neck. Sarina picks up the phone and dials.

“She is ready,” she says and hangs up.

Michele is led down the dim corridor by Sarina, the only sound now the click clack of their high-heels. Michele is shivering with dread at what lies ahead of her.

To be continued.