SEX SLAVES OF EAST LONGSHOTT DOWN - PART II
by Infidel Dog


Authors' note: This story is a fantasy, involving the kidnapping of
young teenagers for the pleasure of a Middle Eastern Pasha. The Pasha
is not a cruel man, but his sexual appetite is not easily satisfied,
and, when it comes to girls. he has a number of preferences as to
their physical characteristics. He is rich enough to carry out a
program of enhancement to the girls in his harem to make them meet his
requirements.

To Western minds, the Pasha and his tastes would be seen as perverted,
kinky and sick. We prefer not to judge the man by Western standards,
but offer this account as a semi-fictional documentary record of the
doings of such a man. Please remind yourself constantly, in his land,
his behaviour is considered normal and reasonable.

If you object to scenes showing young girls being exposed to
situations which Westerners would find intolerably humiliating, read
no further. If you are below the age of consent in your community,
delete this material at once.

As this story is a semi-documentary, and much of the material comes
from a Middle Eastern employee of a harem, there is a great amount of
information about weights and measurements. This is unavoidable, but
can easily be ignored by the reader who is more interested in the
narrative. Weights and measurements in this story are presented in
metric units (metres, millimetres, kilograms and litres etc) as they
were presented to us by our correspondent in the Middle East. If
readers wish to convert these to US or Imperial units, we advise them
to have a means of conversion or a pocket calculator handy. We have
not included the equivalents in inches, pounds and fluid ounces, to
avoid unduly cluttering the text.

1 centimetre (cm) = 0.3937 inches
1 kilogram (kg) = 2.205 pounds
1 litre (l) = 2.113 US pints, or 1.76 UK pints
1 metre (m) = the length equal to 1,650,763.3 wavelengths in vacuum of
the radiation corresponding to the transition between the levels 2p to
base 10 and 5p to base 5 of the krypton 86 atom (as every French
schoolboy knows)
Also, as every British schoolgirl knows, one stone = 14 pounds


=========================================================================


SEX SLAVES OF EAST LONGSHOTT DOWN - PART II
by Infidel Dog


Chapter 5:- Hassan's Story - Part Two 

Let me now return to the story of my capture. When our group of
captives had been taken from the village, we rode for several days,
making camp at sundown. None of us had any idea where we were being
taken, nor for what purpose. At last, we were brought to an encampment
where dusty brown tents stood in an apparently haphazard group. A
clump of trees told of the presence of water. Camels and horses were
being tended by men and boys in loose robes and headdresses.

One or two people looked up at us curiously as we dismounted and were
led to a larger tent with a broad canopy offering shade from the rays
of the afternoon sun. Here, for the first time, we learned of our
fate. A heavily robed man addressed us in our own language.

"You are very fortunate, although you may not feel so lucky at this
moment. You have been selected to serve a great master, and there is
no higher service you can perform. Soon, you will be examined by our
physician, and a further selection process will take place, during
which some of you will be chosen for one master, and some of you for
another."

"The great Pashas have different and highly individual tastes. Once
they have found perfect examples of the servants they seek, they will
look after them, protect and feed them in a manner which will seem to
you to be the finest luxury. It is no more than you deserve, for you
are the chosen ones. Now, you will go to be chosen. Go in peace. I
wish you all well."

Straight away, the girls and young women were led away separately. I
now know what happened to them, although I knew nothing at the time.
We, the boys, were taken into a tent, where for some time, we were
unable to see, after the glare outside. As our eyes became accustomed
to the semi-darkness, we saw that we were standing in a long, curving
line, waiting to be seen by a physician.

We could not see what was happening to those in front of us, so it was
only when I rounded the corner into an inner chamber that I saw that
there were two men and a woman before me. Straight away, I was made to
stand on a raised platform. One of the men raised my little apron and
grasped my flesh, raising it to feel its weight and girth. He called
to the other man, who came over and they discussed me is if I was a
hunk of meat. Finally, he dropped my tool, almost squashing my balls
with it, then hoisted it roughly aside to catch hold of my balls. He
weighed them in his palm for a while and then squeezed them, letting
each one slide through his fingers. This time, when he spoke, his
voice sounded harsh and dissatisfied, and he shouted something in a
sharp tone to the woman, who made a mark on a board.

And that was it! I was pushed out into the daylight again, and stood
with a small group of boys. There were two other groups out there, but
we were not allowed to talk to the others, nor to stand with them.
>From then on, until I arrived at the harem, I saw only the other three
members of my own little group, and no others.


**********

I have mentioned that the girls were taken away, and that I did not
know what treatment they would be receiving. As I later learned this
information, let me now tell you the immediate fate of the girls and
young women, in case it might be of interest to you.

The girls went through a selection process, for the slave dealer
wished to be able to offer the right girls to each of his customers.
The dealer carefully inspected each girl between her legs to ensure
that she was a virgin, both in front and at the back. Some would have
been rejected at this stage, and their fate was of no further interest
to the dealer. The chosen ones proceeded to the next stage of
scrutiny.

Their breasts were subjected to the most intense scrutiny. The dealer
might have in mind as a customer a Pasha such as our master here; and
for such a master, he would desire to offer only the most
hugely-breasted girls. Just as the boys had been, the girls found
themselves divided into separate groups, and as they looked around at
each other, they would have observed that they were part of a group
with the largest breasts, or the fattest bellies and buttocks, or the
most noticeably prominent sexual parts.

All traces of body hair were removed, for body hair is unhygienic and
deeply offensive. The barber would leave a small token strip of body
hair above each girl's sex parts, as proof that her hair colour was
genuine. As the barber was, in fact, a barber, he made it look just
like a moustache, and that is what it was called, 'the moustache'.

Finally, the ornaments of all the girls, their external sex organs,
were inspected with great thoroughness, being carefully pulled out to
their fullest extent and examined by the physician. He would note the
coloration of the labia, he would measure their length, and thickness.
No detail would go unrecorded! This examination would have been
carried out on all the girls, not only those who had been chosen for
the quality and development of their sex parts.

Tremendously detailed records were kept of all the girls, during the
period before they were finally sold, as well as afterwards.

As our master, the Pasha, prefers only the most huge-breasted girls, I
should describe in more detail the attention which is taken to ensure
that none but the finest, most suitable girls are offered to him. The
girl's breasts would be measured, and every conceivable dimension
recorded in her personal file, which would then accompany each girl
wherever she went from that time onwards.

Her breasts would be weighed, not an easy operation as the breasts
are, of course attached to the girl. Very long hanging breasts could
be weighed by laying them on a pair of scales, but firmer breasts can
not be weighed in such a way. Instead, each girl is taken to a
container of water, which stands in an outer, surrounding vessel. The
girl's breasts are lowered into the water, one at a time, and the
water overflows  from the inner container. The amount of water needed
to top up the inner container again is carefully measured. Thus is
known the volume, and therefore, the weight of each breast. With our
Pasha's particular love of huge breasts, both the inner container and
the outer vessel need to be extremely large!

With more than a hundred young girls to be monitored constantly, and
new ones being added all the time, modern technology is coming
increasingly to the aid of harem physicians in their task of recording
the vast amount of data involved. Later in my narrative, I will
describe some of the methods and equipment in fuller detail.

Having taken so much trouble finding, selecting and measuring the
girls, it would be disastrous if any of them was to be ravished by a
male before she was safely under the roof of the Pasha. They therefore
undergo a process to make them truly safe from intrusion. It is called
infibulation. Tiny holes are punched in the labia of the girls, to
accept a suitable closure device. This might take the form of a pair
of clips, or a fine thread joining the labia like a shoelace. The
closure is secured with a padlock, making it impossible to penetrate
the girl with anything even as large as a little finger.

Some of these closure devices were extremely intricate and beautifully
made, truly works of art. Nothing but the best is good enough for the
protection of the Pasha's chosen girls. The girls would remain
protected from now until they arrived at their final destination, to
avoid penetration either by a male, or by the fingers of a female,
including the girl's own fingers.

Infibulation was and still is very common in the Middle East, and is
considered to be the most effective protection of virginity. The
operation is usually performed by a highly experienced Arab matron:
the infibulatrice. Some girls also get a tiny silver plug inserted and
secured into their anal opening. That is for those destined for harems
where anal virginity matters greatly.

As I say, each Pasha has his own specialities.




**********

It was late afternoon when the Lashmores' camper van rocked slowly
over the grass and pulled up beside the children's tent. Surprisingly,
nobody rushed out of the tent to greet them. Dawn opened the tent
flap, but there was no sign that the kids had been back from the
beach, no swimwear or towels hanging out to dry.

"They must be enjoying themselves", she called to her husband,
"they'll be starving when they get back!" And she went back to the
van, and took out the four sweatshirts she had bought, medium for Caro
and Piers, large for young Cinders, and extra extra large for Candi.
Smiling, she laid them out on each of the beds. It would be a lovely
surprise for them when they came in. Then she went off to start
preparing dinner.

By six, it had turned cool, and Dawn and Basil were getting distinctly
worried. Basil pulled a sweater on and set off down the path to the
beach, only to find it almost deserted. He walked half a mile in each
direction, his search eventually taking him to a small fishing
village, just an hotel, a garage and half a dozen brightly-painted
boats pulled up out of the water.

No sign of the kids. The proprietor of the garage, who spoke a little
English, swore he had seen no unaccompanied children at all that day.
When Basil described them, using his hands, the garagiste was evn more
certain. "Non!" he insisted.

Basil trudged back along the narrow lane leading to the camp site.
Marcel's little truck was absent, and his shack was empty. Already,
lights were on in many of the tents and campers. Dawn looked up
anxiously as he opened the van door, and he shook his head.

"We'd better call the police", he said, softly, "I know it's only a
couple of hours, but I don't like it at all."

Dawn put down her kitchen knife. "I'll do it, darling, they'll
understand my French better. Here, carry on with making this dinner,
there'd better be somebody here to meet them when they get back." She
kissed his cheek lightly. "I shan't be long."

With Marcel away somewhere, it was another twenty minute walk to the
telephone, and although the police, patient and understanding, took
careful notes of names and descriptions, they seemed somehow
dismissive. Not something she could put a finger on, but just a
feeling she had. It grew as she walked back to the site. By the time
she sat down in the van, it had become a feeling of dread.


**********

"What do you make of this, sir?" Sergeant Matisse showed Dubois the
message just received from Control. The Inspector scanned the note and
spun round on his chair.

"Marcel's site, English family. Damn it to Hell, what time did this
message come in, Sergeant?"

"Just now, sir, it's just printed out."

"But they were reported missing at eight! That's two hours they've
been sitting on it! I'll have their balls for this." He leapt up,
grabbing for his coat. "Come on, Matisse, duty calls! Although I think
the English birds have flown."





Chapter 6:- New Friends.

The motion was different. For hours, they had been cruising at what
sounded like a fast pace, the powerful engines roaring. Carolyn tried
to get her thoughts together. It was totally dark. She had no idea of
the size of the space she was in, nor if the others were with her.
There had been something over her face when she woke up, recovered
consciousness, and she had managed to get it off, some sort of a sack.
It had been easier to breathe after that, but there was still nothing
to see.

She felt about her, frightened of what she might find. There!
Something soft. She explored further, a leg. And a shoe. She shook it,
but the was no response. She was in the dark with a dead body. She
gave a little cry that turned into a sob. Almost at once, she felt a
movement behind her, and something touched her bottom.

"Who's that?" she gasped.

"Me, Piers. Caro?"

"Oh, yes! Thank God. Where are the others?"

"Dunno. I just woke up. Where are we, do you know?"

"On a boat somewhere. Not a big one, but fast. Powerful. We seemed to
have slowed down in the last five minutes."

"What's this on my head, it won't come off?"

"Sack. Here, where are you?" And she found the sack and tugged it off
her brother's head.

"Thanks. Shit, that was stuffy in there. Are Cinders and Candi here?"

"I dunno. I ... I hope so" and felt a sob cracking her voice again.
There was a muffled groan from over on her left.

"Who's that?" they both asked, together.

"Me, Candi. You okay? Caro, Piers? Where's Cinders?"

"I'm here!" came a little voice from the floor.

At least they were all here. They didn't know what had happened to
them, where they were, where they were going, but at least they were
all there, all together.

"Listen", Piers said, "we're stopping." And the engines had slowed to
a rumble. Water was sluicing along the sides of the boat, close to
their heads, and the motion was now a steady rolling from side to
side. They heard shouts and a bump. Then another, louder and more
violent. More shouts, although no words they could recognise. Then the
engines stopped, 'Tocka-tocka-tocka-tock.'

Absolute silence apart from the lapping of the water against the side.
Occasionally there were footsteps above their heads, but no-one came
to set them free. They tried talking to keep their spirits up, but it
always flagged after a while. It was not knowing anything that was
worst thing.

Suddenly, there was a scrabbling noise above their heads, and the
hatch was flung open. The sky was dark, but a hunched, shadowy figure
loomed in the hatchway. Damp, chill air wafted down. Fresh air, with a
warm tang of rotting vegetation. Something else. Wood smoke, sweat,
something spicy cooking. They realised they were hungry. And thirsty.
They'd missed lunch, and dinner.

The beam of a torch struck Carolyn between the eyes, dazzling her
completely. It moved on, instantly, flickering over the others.
Lucinda gave a little cry as it dazzled her, and Candi clutched
reassuringly at the young girls' hand.

More shouts, closer this time, and the hunched figure spoke to them.
"You will come up here. One at a time. You first." Some sort of
gutteral accent. Not German. He thrust out a hand to Piers.

Carolyn's turn. They were at a wooden landing-stage of some kind. The
only light came from a lamp on a tall post perhaps thirty metres away.
It cast long shadows but seemed to conceal more than it showed. She
stood shivering in the faint, none-too-fragrant breeze on the
just-swaying deck, watching as Candi and Lucinda were pulled up to
stand next to her. Piers had been hustled away and stood some distance
off, watched by a man in a dark robe of some sort.

"Come on", barked Gutteral Voice, and he pushed all three of them
together along the deck and down a narrow gangplank to the dock.
Lucinda didn't want to go, bringing a sharp order from the man, and a
helping hand from Candi. The girl clung to Candi as they stood
together on the mossy boards of the landing stage. Not for long.

"This way", and he drove them ahead of him off the dock, across a
patch of hard, scrubby soil to a building. He pushed past them and
opened the door - it was pitch dark inside - then shoved them roughly
inside. The lock sounded pretty final. Immediately, they heard the
boat's engines start up, and with a mighty roar, it left the landing
stage and faded away into the night.

"Well, what now?" asked Carolyn.

"God knows", Candi sighed.

"Who is that? English?" it was a voice from the other side of the
room. A girl's voice.

"Hello? Yes, we're English", said Carolyn, eagerly, "who are you?"

"We're Swedish. Three of us. Our two friends, have you seen them?
Anna? Maggie?"

"No, nobody else. Just three of us, two sisters and a friend. Is Piers
here? My brother?"

"Just us. Wait, there's water over here, some bread. You are hungry?"

They tried to find out more from the three Swedish girls, but they
knew nothing. At last, one of them said, "We should sleep now, they
come for us in the morning, and take us away."

That didn't sound like good news.


**********

The dim light gave them some idea of their surroundings, and some idea
of their companions. The three Swedish girls were all blonde and
striking in appearance. The oldest, Erica, was fourteen, the others,
referred to as Frida and Kitty, said nothing at all, and were twelve.
Apparently the two missing friends had been taken away when the girls
were kidnapped and thrown aboard the boat. They had, it seemed, been
lined up and inspected roughly by a man and a woman, who had
apparently been interested mainly in their breasts.

Their friends, who were both less well-endowed, had been roughly
dragged away, screaming and crying, and these three had been brought
here the night before. Carolyn looked at them, realising that if these
three had been selected for the size of their breasts, those doing the
selection could have had little difficulty making their choice.

Erica was tall and very slim, with full breasts, about the same size
as Lucinda's. Frida was shorter, and just as slim, with thrusting,
pointy breasts which were completely unsupported beneath her soft
shirt. But her friend Kitty's bust was freakishly large. All the
English girls looked at her with disbelief when they saw her for the
first time. She was about five feet two, and her waist and hips were
perhaps an inch or two larger than Lucinda's. But her bust must have
been something in excess of sixty inches! Her breasts swelled out from
her chest just below her shoulders, and continued outwards and
downwards in great, swaying, quivering masses, far wider than her
chest, and overhanging the belt of her short skirt by several inches.

The Swedish girls' story made Carolyn apprehensive. If they went
through a further selection process, she would surely be the one to be
thrown out, having easily the smallest breasts of the six of them.

Not knowing anything. That was the worst thing. Where were they? Who
had captured them? What sort of organisation was it that collected big
breasted girls? And where was Piers? Their parents would be going
ballistic.


**********

Dubois interviewed Dawn and Basil in the camper van, while Matisse
took notes. They went over the story several times, but it was obvious
the parents knew nothing more than they were telling. They'd gone off
for the day, the kids had gone to the beach on their own.

Dubois raised an eyebrow. "They're good girls, Caro and Candi. Really
grown-up", Dawn said, then remembered what she'd said to Basil the
night they arrived. Grown-up, all right, she thought.

The Inspector wished them good night. He would see them in the
morning, he had said. One of the nearby tents had a light on, and
Dubois knocked on the flap, feeling foolish. A woman's startled face
appeared, followed by a naked pair of shoulders. He asked if she
remembered the kids in the large tent. She confirmed seeing them
setting off for the beach earlier, in the morning.

Why, she wanted to know. English, weren't they? Were they in trouble?
Vandals? Thieves?

"No trouble, Madame", said Dubois, "you can sleep soundly in your bed.
Sorry to have troubled you."


**********

It was early in the morning, although they had no idea of the time.
The sun was up; they could see each other more clearly now. The three
Swedish girls had blonde hair. All the girls stood up and stretched
themselves, and they stared at each other nervously and curiously.
Candi looked over again at Kitty, who had sat down, sliding down the
wall until she was sitting in an attitude of despair with her head in
her hands. Candi went and squatted next to her, and as Kitty sensed
her closeness, she took the busty youngster's little hand in hers.

"Kitty, darling, you're going to be all right. Whatever happens, we'll
look after you. Look, I'm Candi, like sweets, yes? Like Dime bars and
Snickers. Okay?"

The child smiled nervously, and nodded. Candi placed an arm round her
shoulders and hugged her tightly to her, and they sat close together
on the floor.

"Any idea why they've captured us, and who they are?" asked Carolyn.

Erica replied. "I don't know who they are, but we're probably bound
for a harem somewhere."

"A harem?" Lucinda sounded horrified. "I saw some pictures of one
once. They get up to all sorts of rude things ..."she subsided,
blushing deeply at the thought.

"We've obviously been chosen with particular features in mind", Erica
said. "When they took us, a man and a woman came and felt us up here,
our chests, and they looked up under our skirts. They said something
to each other, I think it was Arabic, and when they looked at our
friends' bottoms they seemed to get very excited. Then they took them
away and we haven't seen them since." Her voice was choking as she
ended.

"I can understand if they've chosen the rest of you for the size of
your chests", said Carolyn, "but not me. I'm much smaller than the
rest of you."

"That one is your sister?" Erica pointed at Lucinda, and Carolyn
nodded. "Then perhaps they feel that you will be big the way she is
one day. It is just an idea I have."

Candi spoke up. "Look, they're going to move us soon. Whatever we do,
let's stick together. They obviously want us, or they wouldn't have
gone to such trouble to catch us and bring us here. We're no good to
them dead ..." Lucinda gasped in horror at the idea. "... and we're
not much good to them if we're maimed or damaged, either. I think
they'll have to take good care of us. Let's play it carefully, and
just be as awkward as we can, all the time."

Candi's advice was the last in the discussion. Footsteps were
approaching their prison. The key grated in the lock, then the door
was flung open. A man and a woman stood at the door. The man spoke.
"You will come with me, please. We are taking you somewhere more
pleasant."

They all gathered unwillingly by the door. Kitty stood close to Candi.
"Candi", she whispered. "Hold my hand, please!"

They came out into the harsh sunlight, blinking. It was their first
view of their surroundings, and of their captors. The landing-stage
was smaller than it had appeared in the darkness. A large inflatable
craft with a powerful-looking outboard was tied up at the nearer end.
There was no other boat or ship in sight.

The scenery was flat, scrubby sand stretching away into the distance.
>From the direction of the sun, Carolyn realised that they were on a
North-facing coast, although looking away in the distance, perhaps ten
miles away, the land curled round like two horns to form a large bay.

Apart from their shed, which they now saw was a clean, whitewashed
concrete structure, there were a few buildings partially sheltered by
dusty-looking trees about fifty metres away. It was toward these
buildings that they were now being taken along a pathway which was
little more than a track between the weeds and whitish grass.

The nearer building was apparently some sort of living quarters for
their captors. A plain wooden table was littered with cooking utensils
and pots. They were led straight through and out of a back door, which
led to a larger building. A large 4 x 4 vehicle was parked outside,
beneath a water tower. A lean, hungry-looking cat looked up at them
briefly, before scurrying beneath the truck, from where it glared out
with a hostile expression.

They were now in a corridor, which smelled of blocked drains. The
woman indicated that they should go into a door at the end, and when
they all headed in that direction, she barked an order at them,
repeating the same words over and over, getting more and more
irritable, and held them back, allowing only Erica to go through the
door alone. The others gathered they would have to wait their turn.

Erica emerged some minutes later, looking relieved and at the same
time, somewhat disgusted. "Toilet!" she told them, "dirty!" Dirty or
not, they all had to go, and arranged themselves in no particular
order. The desire to be first was not great enough to overcome the
faint hope that it might somehow prove unnecessary to go at all!

It was all of twenty minutes before they had performed their necessary
functions, and stood again in a group in the increasingly hot and
foetid corridor. The man appeared from his living quarters.

"Food. You will eat. You drink", he accused them, and led the way into
a larger and refreshingly slightly cooler room where there were a
number of chairs round a stained table strewn with bits of dry bread.
They sat down, not saying a word, just staring at each other.

The woman came in with a pitcher of water, a large loaf of bread and a
hunk of sweaty-looking cheese. She plonked down a basket of unfamiliar
fruit. "You eat", ordered the man.

They ate. They realised they were hungry, and thirsty. They tore at
the bread and cheese, and investigated the fruit, finding it slightly
sharp-tasting but refreshing. By the time they had finished, their
spirits were rising. They didn't know where they were, but they were
ready to face whatever their captors could do to them.

Their two captors both wore long robes, loose fitting, dark coloured
and heavy. Their faces were deeply shaded by headdresses secured by
striped bands round their heads.

The woman now approached, and walked around the girls, inspecting them
as if she had not seen them before. She paused before Candi, nodding,
and raised the girl's shirt, sliding a soft hand across the rolls of
flesh round her waist, cupping the heavy breasts one at a time. Her
attention returned to Candi's belly, then she slipped a hand down to
the girl's well-rounded buttocks, giving each a lingering squeeze: she
was obviously very much into plump young girls. She moved on, leaving
Candi to rearrange her own clothing.

The woman's eyes widened when she saw Kitty. A smile spread over her
face, and she said something to the man in a gutteral language,
obviously something approving, judging from the tone of his reply. She
ran her hands down the sides of the Swedish girl's bust, noting the
absence of a brassiere. With some difficulty, she tugged the thin
sweater she was wearing out from the waist of her skirt, and the
child's breasts plunged freely downward.

Candi, standing beside the girl, felt her jaw drop open as the size of
Kitty's long-hanging breasts became evident. Now they were liberated,
they were far less rounded and full, and shaped more like vegetable
marrows than pumpkins. Prize marrows. Fatter at their bottoms, they
hung massively about six inches below her navel, and they were each as
wide as a school ruler. The overall impression was crowned by the
biggest areolae imagineable, each one as big as a saucepan-lid, an
impression heightened by the knob-like nipples in their centres.

They were the biggest breasts Candi had ever seen, which was hardly
surprising, as they were probably some of the biggest in the world.

The woman shook her head in disbelief, turning Kitty round to look at
her from every angle, while murmuring encouragingly to her. The man
stood in silence, watching, wringing his hands as if mentally counting
enormous sums of money.


**********

Back in the South of France, the police swooped on Marcel's camp site
office at dawn. They found nothing, no incriminating letters, notes or
phone numbers.

They didn't even find Marcel.





Chapter 7:- Journey Into The Unknown.

It was all too much to take in: their capture, the boat trip, the
night in the shed, and the rough examination at the hands of the Arab
woman. Now the man was barking at them again. What was it this time?

He wanted them outside. He had opened the door, and was shooing them
like geese out into the open. Even in the scrubby shade of the trees,
it was now scorching hot outside. It was even hotter in the 4 x 4 when
they were herded inside it, and bucking and lurching across the uneven
ground.

But in a mile or so, they came over a hill, and descended toward a
road of sorts. At least it was surfaced, a narrow strip of tarmac,
only a single lane, with a graded strip of hard-baked stony soil on
each side. The air-conditioning had reluctantly started to work, too,
and the girls could feel the sweat chill against their bodies where it
had trickled down their underarms and between their breasts.

The engine's roar in low gear gave way to a subdued burbling once they
reached the road and turned Eastwards. There was more noise from the
air-conditioning fans and from the chunky tyres on the roadway than
from the engine.

They drove on for hours across miles of featureless land. There was no
longer any sign of the sea on their left, and as the sun was so high
in the sky there was little indication of the direction they were
travelling. They stopped once, at a collection of shacks and a filling
station, where the man refuelled the vehicle and the woman passed them
a bottle of warmish water.

By the time the sun did start to dip toward the West behind them, the
girls were stiff, their eyes sore and gritty. They passed through a
wayside village or two, then abruptly turned off the made-up road on
to a track along which the 4 x 4 lurched and rolled at greatly reduced
speed. The passengers clung to each other helplessly, praying for this
nightmare to end. When it did, it was completely unexpected. They
rounded a bend where the road avoided an outcrop of rock and climbed a
hill. As they came over the top, there, spread out before them was a
small town.

At least, it looked like a small town in the fast-fading light. As
they got closer, it became clear it was a collection of shacks and
tents around what the girls assumed must be an oasis, or at least, a
well. Clumps of trees drooped their heads around a central clear
space. Around its edges were dozens of vehicles: 4 x 4's like their
own, Japanese vans, shiny black limousines, mean-looking trucks and
multi-coloured buses. In the distance there were even a couple of
helicopters, their rotors stark and black against the sunset.

They drove straight round to a more or less permanent building just
off the main centre of the shanty town, and squealed to a halt. The
silence was deafening, although as soon as the roar of the vehicle had
died away, they became aware of other sounds outside; the hum of a
small engine (a pump, a generator?), shouts and voices, and the
constant, unceasing, chattering whirr of the cicadas.

The man led the way, the woman walked behind them, and they were
hustled into the building, blinking at the light from a row of bare
bulbs hanging from the roof. A group of matronly Arab women looked up
as they came in, and greeted the Arab couple in a cackle of voices.
The man opened a side door leading off the main room, and disappeared
inside. There was a smoke-hazed glimpse of other men in there, and
their voices were raised in greeting.

They were left with the matrons, who said nothing, just moving them
into a line against the wall. Another woman had appeared, taller than
the others, with a commanding presence and an imposing figure. She
looked them up and down, then said, "You speak English, of course?"


**********

'What's the time?' Candi rubbed her eyes and sat up. Kitty, whose head
had been on her shoulder, flopped into her lap, one mammoth breast
plunging out of her T-shirt. Candi could smell the sweat of the girl,
and the muskiness of her crotch, where her skirt had ridden up. Kitty
wore no knickers, and despite her tiredness, Candi felt a lump forming
in her throat as she gazed at the busty child's hairless crotch.

The sight brought it back to her; the shaving last night. Their bodies
had all been shaved by a barber, a man in a striped overall, who had
removed every trace of hair from between their legs, from their
pussies, from beneath their arms - and in Candi's case - from her
inner thighs and beneath her plump and well-rounded buttocks. He had
left only a tiny moustache of dark hair. She ran her fingers
cautiously around the contours of her strangely smooth crotch, still
buried under the warm, yielding mass of Kitty's breast. Within
seconds, she was aroused and wet. 'Not now!' she thought.

Carolyn was sprawled face down on the floor, still asleep. Erica was
on her back with Frida's head in her lap, the younger girl, without
her shorts or knickers, was revealing even more of her bottom and
crotch than Kitty. Lucinda had woken up and was staring about her
nervously. She looked at Candi and the big girl smiled at her
reassuringly.

"Sleep okay?" Candi spoke in a whisper, partly to avoid waking Kitty,
partly in case any of their captors should hear her.

"Not really. This floor's hard. My bottom itches. It feels funny."

"So does mine. It's because they took our panties away when they
shaved us. I'm surprised they gave us any of our own clothes back."

"Why did they shave us, Can?"

"Well, they'll have got so much hair off me, they could use it to
stuff a mattress, but I doubt if that's why they did it! I feel
practically naked without my brush!"

Lucinda blushed. Candi had never spoken to her like this before. She
looked at her sister, who snorted in her sleep, stirred and suddenly
opened her eyes. She lay still for a moment, then her eyes closed
again with a hopeless expression on her face.

"Sis! Caro, you awake?"

Carolyn moaned, then opened one eye. "Hi", she whispered. Her hand
strayed down to where her shorts should have been, scratched briefly
at her crotch, then she closed her eyes again as she felt the prick of
tears.

"Caro? Come on, time to get up." Candi reached down and grasped her
friend's shoulder. "It's morning." The others were stirring, too, now.
The floor of the room was about the size of a double bed, and the six
of them lay in a tangle of limbs now they were awake. There was no
furniture, perhaps fortunately, as it would only have taken up more of
the space. The only light came from a space above the door where a
window might normally have been. They became aware of sounds, engines
running, shouts, animal noises and gutteral voices. The only smell was
of their own bodies, and they realised that if they could be aware of
their own smell, it was probably quite overpowering to others.

There were footsteps outside the room. They stopped, and the door
creaked open. They recognised one of the matrons who had shaved their
bodies, last night, was it? She held a cardboard box which she placed
on the floor, then she beckoned them to come out. They got up stiffly,
stretching, and the woman waited patiently for them to file out of the
room before picking up the box, then ordering them to go ahead of her.
They somehow knew what she wanted them to do, even though she spoke in
Arabic.

The room where they had been shaved was ahead of them, a large room
with a number of tables scattered about. The matron told them to stop,
and placed her box on a table, then she signalled them to gather round
her. Curious, they came closer, and she opened the box and took out
several white cotton bundles. These she handed to each of them with a
little nod. They took them and stood holding them, unsure what to do.

The woman snapped something, sounding cross, but she had a smile on
her face. It was so confusing. Candi held up her bundle, it was a
simple sort of dress; loose sleeves, a high neck, made of very light
linen, soft from years of washing. It appeared to fasten with one
hook, at the back of the neck.

At any other time and place, Candi would have found trying on a new
dress exciting. Here and now, if filled her with apprehension, even
dread. Men were going to be staring at her through this shift, staring
at her straight through the light material, as if it wasn't there.
Normally, she enjoyed swinging her hips and letting her big breasts
bounce to excite boys and men. This was very different, and she didn't
know how she was going to handle it.

She held the dress up against herself. One size fits all, she thought,
and grinned over at Kitty, who was also standing with her dress held
in front of her, looking down at herself doubtfully.

The senior matron had appeared, the one who spoke English. "You will
have a bath", she told them. "Come with me, please", and she led them
into a bathroom where a huge wooden tub was shrouded in steam. Matrons
were waiting for them, and fussed about while they took off the sweaty
clothes they had been wearing for three days. They had a sinking
feeling as they saw their clothes gathered up into a basket and
carried away.

"That's the last we'll see of that lot", said Candi, and she really
believed it as she said it.

"You will not be needing those clothes again", confirmed the matron,
her eyes meeting Cindy's. "Now, a word before you bath. I can see that
some of you ..." she reached down and gently wiped a finger between
Candi's moist inner thighs, then raised it to her nose with an
expression of distaste, "... some of you have developed a few nasty
habits. This is not good for such young girls. Let me warn you, from
now on, if I find any of you *touching* yourselves ..." she almost
spat the word out, "... or playing with your sex parts ...", Candy and
Kitty looked at each other and snorted, trying not to laugh out loud,
"... I will cut them off! You will have only one warning!"

Kitty suddenly looked pale. Candi wasn't laughing any more.

"One warning! Touch yourself again, and you will be cut by the doctor.
Once more after that, and he will take away everything. Everything!
All your pink, girlish wrinkles will be gone. Gone! Do you
understand?" And she glared straight at Candi, who lowered her head,
tears in her eyes.

But the bath water was warm and soft, scented and comforting. It eased
away the pain of the journey, the stiffness of the night on the hard
floor. One matron, a powerfully-built woman with thighs as big as
Candi's waist and huge breasts almost as big as Kitty's, waded into
the water with a bar of soap which she brandished at the girls. For
some reason, this huge woman had apparently forgotten to get undressed
before getting into the water. She wore a white linen shift, which had
become transparent once it got wet. It clung to every enormous curve
of her body.

Everything about the woman was huge. Her bare arms were plump yet
muscular. Where her massive breasts overhung her plump rounded
stomach, the dress had become trapped underneath, outlining the
gigantic purplish-brown haloes and nipples as big as wine corks
decorated with enormous gold rings. You could only just see where her
navel was, beneath those gazongas, but the dress seemed to get sucked
into her navel, which was at the bottom of a hole you could lose your
hand in.

And further down, between her massive upper thighs, where the
transparent linen showed her to be as hairless as the girls were
themselves, the dress clung to the biggest, fattest mound Candi had
ever seen. Even though she was in no mood to appreciate Arab matrons,
Candi had to admit, the woman was magnificent.

Caro was closest to her, and she was seized and vigorously soaped all
over; her whole body, with special attention to her nubby breasts and
between her legs. She squealed and wriggled as the woman grasped her
with a huge hand round her puffy pudenda, then slid a soapy finger
between her taut buttocks. She blushed in shame and humiliation as the
woman penetrated her tight anus, shouting something to the senior
matron, who nodded vigorously in agreement.

In turn, they all received the same treatment. Yet, despite the almost
ritual cleansing, the degrading treatment at the hands and fingers of
the huge matron; they splashed each other, and even laughed, and
frolicked and romped in the scented water, their young spirits
unquenchable, watched eagerly and critically by the senior matron and
the rest of the Arab women.


**********

The towels were enormous and thick. You could wrap yourself completely
in one. They did, drying themselves thoroughly. But assistance was on
the way. The Arab women came over, taking the towels from each of the
girls, drying them carefully between their legs and running questing
hands across their recently-shaven pubes. They inspected the girls
from all angles, obviously looking for any traces of hair the barber's
razor might have missed.

The women talked amongst themselves, discussing the girls' bodies in
intimate detail. One of them took hold of Candi's left breast by the
nipple and hauled it upwards as far as it would stretch, bringing an
indignant screech from the girl. The woman cackled, gave the breast a
twirl while holding the nipple like one end of a skipping rope, then
let go. Candi whimpered and clutched her breasts tightly to her chest.

Another matron whipped Caro's towel away to reveal her much smaller
breasts, then grasped both nipples firmly, twisting them as if she was
tuning a radio. Lucinda's matron stood behind the little girl's back,
cupping her full young breasts one in each hand, or as much as she
could hold in each hand, and crowed in triumph, the other women
joining in with enthusiasm.

And so it went on, the women picking over the girls as if they were
hunks of fresh, tender meat. On one thing they were all agreed; don't
mess with Kitty! The twelve-year-old was allowed to dry her own
monster breasts. The matrons gazed at her in awestruck silence, and
made just the occasional remark. Kitty, you could tell, was Something
Special, even to these women who handled dozens of beautiful,
bountiful teenagers every week.

At last, they seemed satisfied and the senior matron spoke.

"That's enough, girls!" She sounded like a sports mistress. "You!" She
pointed at Carolyn. "Over here!" She searched with her eyes again, and
pointed at Erica. "You, over there!" A matron stood waiting for each
girl as she was singled out. This was a new and frightening
experience. Until now they had been in this together. Everything that
had happened so far, had happened to all of them.

Quickly, they were taken out of the bath room, into a series of small
chambers, each one little more than a stall. In the centre was a small
table. Carolyn, having been called first, found a second Arab matron
standing by the table, ready to assist. Using their curiously
effective sign language, the women indicated to her that she must get
on to the table and lie on her back. She had no sooner sat down and
leaned backwards than she felt strong hands grip her wrists and
ankles, forcing them down on to the table top. Straps were wrapped
round each wrist and ankle, and she heard the rasp of velcro as they
were secured.

It was useless to try and move, she was tied down tight, effectively
crucified on the table top. She cried out, and heard answering cries
from the others, obviously in the same predicament. One by one, the
cries of the others were snuffed out. The face of one of the matrons
hovered above her - she was chewing something - and a strip of
adhesive tape was slapped firmly across her mouth. God, it tasted
vile, and she wished they had let her close her mouth first.

The women were busy down at the bottom of the table, where she could
not see them. The only indication that they were even there was a
gentle stroking of hands, where her body hair had been shaved. What
were they doing? She felt a tugging at her pussy lips. Sweat broke out
on her forehead. She felt it trickling down into her ears, and down
her neck.

The Arab women were talking to each other now, making coo-ing noises
as they worked on her. She felt a finger penetrate the lips of her
pussy, then another, and she could feel her own moisture on the alien
fingers as they slithered up and down her little slit. This was
terrible! These women were playing with her, and she was actually
starting to enjoy it!

It felt nice. Incredibly nice! Her little love button was being
caressed by cool, knowing fingers. It seemed to go on for hours, but
it could only have been minutes. She panted inside her adhesive tape
gag, then the waves of pleasure built up and up and up and she panted
some more until she was coming, and it felt so goood! Christ! Gosh!
Aaiieee! The yell was muffled behind the tape, but she felt it all
right. She felt wet and throbby and tingly all over right down to the
tips of her nipples.

They hadn't finished! One finger, two fingers, was it? They were
inside her now, probing in a new direction. Oooowww! What was THAT? A
whole brand new sensation followed the gently moving fingers, and she
gave an involuntary shudder. She heard a little cry of satisfaction
from one of the women, then the feeling became almost unbearable. She
was going to piss herself! What were they doing to her? Ooh, yes, yes
YESSSS! And both Arab matrons gave a yell of pure joy, "Wheeeeeee!!"
as what felt like gallons of water pissed out of her, not pissed - not
the right word - not gushed - sprayed, *squirted*, up in the air and
down again like rain on her thighs and her belly and on the two Arab
women. Whatever it was, it had never happened to Caro before. As far
as she was concerned, it could happen again any time it liked!

The after-glow of pleasure gave way to a sharp pain. It was a pulling,
stretching sensation, with a needle-like pain somewhere down there,
although she couldn't identify exactly where. Then there was no pain
any more, just a dull ache, and a chill wetness. But still they hadn't
finished. The women's conversation rose to a babble. They laughed a
lot but carried on with their work without stopping.

If only she could understand what they were saying ...


**********

"... this one's the best squirter we've had for ages!"

"It's all over my poxy dress! The others are going to just *love* me
tonight!"

"It's all right for you, some of it went in my eye, if I hadn't got
out of the way, I'd have copped a pissing great mouthful of Ingleesi
girl-cum! Got any of those Turkish Delight left? Right, have you got
the needle?"

"Coming right up. Hey, this one's got big fat lips, but nowhere near
the size of that other one, the Swedish kid!"

"Put it straight in my mouth, I haven't got a free hand! Yeah, one of
Pasha Hakim's Specials, that one! Right, now the other side as well.
Great!"

"Oh yes, it would be fun to see her enter Hakim's harem. But do you
know exactly what he does with them?"

"Well, he only buys girls with above-average sized ornaments. Once
he's got them, he enlarges the labia and the clitoris to an obcene
size, something unreal. Then he circumcises the girl, bit by bit.
That's his particular kink; watching a giant set of equipment being
removed in stages. Throw me another Turkish Delight! Thanks."

"Oh, yeah, interesting taste. I'd heard lot about his kinky practices,
but never knew exactly what he got up to. Have you finished with that
needle?  Thanks. So, his harem is completely circumcised?"

"Yes, but I don't see any great problem with that. I was pruned myself
when I was fifteen. I was sooooo randy and I'd corrupted quite a few
virgins younger than me. So, my master decided that I should be cut.
When he pronounced the sentence:
'... and the girlish toys of temptation will be removed from you once
and for all ...' I didn't even know what he meant! Then the chief
eunuch of the harem took me to a circumcision shop. This great fat
matron snipped out my clit and shortened my lips in couple of minutes.
Talk about while-you-wait service! The eunuch sat and watched while
she did it! Even at that age, I was so developed: my clitoris was
huge. But snip, snip, and I was clean-shaven. Oh, look, you've eaten
them all!"

"No I haven't, there's a whole new box here. Here you are. Catch ..."

"Shit! Dropped it. Yeeuugh! I'm not eating that one, now, look where
it's been!"

"It'll wipe off. It's only girl-juice! There!"

"Mmmm. Not a bad flavour, really. Here! Dip yours in it and try!
Anyway, just a couple of cuts and she had my clit and my beauty lips.
If she hadn't circumcised me I'd have had an enormous set of toys by
now. But they've all gone and my pudenda is nicely clean shaven.
Nothing left to play with. I lost a lot, but later on I found plenty
of different ways to achieve satisfaction."

"But did it work? Did it stop you corrupting nubile all that young
flesh?"

"It did, for a while, as you'd expect. They gave me plenty of training
in anal sport, and I came to really enjoy having my master's throbbing
dong in my back door. But the older I got, the more the interest in
young meat came back. I like them best about ten or eleven, when their
ornaments are just starting to grow and get mature. But my biggest
thrill of all is huge tits on a small girl. Not like this one, more
like the other three out there!"

"Yeah, funny, that, they gave us the one with the smallest tits. Do
you reckon they're trying to tell us something?"

"They probably thought we'd never get any work done at all if they
gave us a big one. Like that little blonde bint. Have you ever *seen*
a pair like that?"

"Only in a zoo! Funny about you getting cut when you were fifteen,
though. I was turned forty when they did me."

"Phworrr, they left that a bit late, didn't they?"

Yeah. It was in another harem, and I had a set of ornaments you
wouldn't believe. They hung halfway to my knees!"

"Oh, come on...!"

"Well, nearly. Anyway, one night, our Pasha found out that one of the
concubines was infidel with a eunuch. He went absolutely ape-shit, and
when the culprit wouldn't confess, he said, 'Right, that's it', and
had all the harem inmates circumcised at once. It took the old matrons
and the eunuchs all night, but by morning, there wasn't a single
clitoris in the harem. All the females, from 7 years old pussies to 50
years old matrons, lost their little girlie bits. But same as you, I
found ways round it!

"Toss me just one last sweetie, I don't want to get fat. I suppose
we'd better get on with it, this is a big day for pussies, with the
sale coming up."

"Look at the clit on this one. What do you think?"

"I'd like it a lot more with the hood snipped back. Let the bugger
grow a bit. See how big and thick this clit hood is. I'd have it off
right here. I have done it a couple of times already. It's dead easy.
Once I even did a complete circumcision on one randy bint."

"Maybe they'll do this one when she gets to the harem: they know a
good thing when they see it."

"They'll see it, all right! Especially when we get this golden ring
fitted! It's the thickest one we've got, so it'll push the love-button
right out of her slit! Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. Hold still, little one ...!"


**********

There were strange noises she couldn't identify, and a numb sensation
down below, and still the tugging as if someone, or something, was
holding the lips of her pussy together. She imagined a number of
spring clothes-pegs being clipped on to her flesh, that was how it
felt. Then suddenly, the tape was ripped off her mouth, her ankles
were freed, then her wrists, and she sat up, the sweat trickling down
and dripping on to her breasts. It was a few seconds before she
recovered her composure and thought to look at herself to see what the
women had been doing to her.

She saw a tiny silver padlock! Nestling between her freshly naked and
hairless upper thighs, there was this silver padlock, and some kind of
bright metal clips to which the padlock was attached. What was this?
She looked away, then sat up straight and looked again, leaning
forward. The Arab women laughed at her expression, but she was
completely flabbergasted at what had happened to her. Her pussy lips
had been clipped together, and a padlock placed through the clips. But
why? Why?

They were telling her to stand up. She did, and the tiny lock, which
could have weighed hardly anything, hung down between her thighs
feeling about as heavy and as bulky as a lump of lead. It pulled and
stretched her lips, and she was aware of something else, something
exerting a slight but decidedly noticeable pressure on her clitoris.
She ventured to feel with her fingers. She found a ring, a golden
ring, inserted into her flesh behind her clitoris. Her clit was
sticking out miles! And it felt like she had an entire ironmonger's
shop dangling down between her legs.

Every little movement she made caused the padlock to swing gently from
side to side. Every movement caused little tremors to run through her
clit, making her want to touch it and pinch it and scratch it. She
almost reached down there, but remembered the stern words of the
Senior Matron. She snatched her hand away. Maybe later, in bed.

She was pushed and shoved out into the main bathroom again, at the
same time as Erica emerged, closely followed from different doorways
by all the others. All were locked up in the same way. All had the
same expression of bewilderment and outrage on their young faces.


<End of Part II>