The Sheikh's Virgin Mistress 2 (Jatar Sheikh Series Book 2) Page 7

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  We drunkenly made our way home and I leaned on Omar for support. Between the alcohol and the shoes, and I was not that stable in an upright position. He helped me and together we made our way to the pool room. I’d declared I wanted to swim, and so, we were going to do just that. I kicked off my shoes and then without much thought, I stripped for him. He was sitting so he could remove his shoes, and so I turned it into a bit of a show.

  By the time I was down to my bra and panties, and was barefoot, Omar had slid off his slacks and was as jutting and hard as I’d ever seen him. He strode to me and helped me remove the last remnants of lace that covered my body and when he freed my breasts, I sighed. He picked them up, and rubbed them in his palms, muttering, “I love the weight of them.”

  He slid his hard cockhead up against my belly and skidded it along my abdominals. I cupped his balls and fondled his sack and danced my fingers along his length. We touched and stroked the other, tracing muscles and ligaments and on me he continued to run his thumbs over my nipples, and then my collar bone and my lips. It was as if he was blind and he needed to tactilely feel all of me.

  He found and touched every bruise or mark he could find and he kissed each with a tenderness that made me tremble and shiver. “Rest assured my love; I will never hurt you worse than this, ever! You have my word on that! Your pale, soft flesh, offers me all the satisfaction I seek when I am able to pinken your cheeks and decorate your skin without causing you true pain.”

  “It never hurt the way I would have thought. I was shocked at how it heightened everything. Even now, all this does hurt, but it’s a sweet ache, and I’m relishing it.”

  He pinned our lower bodies together and rubbed himself roughly against me, “It’s an art Anna.”

  I threw my head back and mocked him a bit. “Whatever you say, master.”

  We eventually did romp in the pool, continuing to explore the others body in the most intimate of ways. I often would hold him or stroke up between his thighs, dancing my fingers over all of his manhood until he would moan and his hips would buck and he would swear because he’d vowed that we would not make love on this night.

  “What if I want it?” I said in the sexiest voice I could muster.

  “No, you evil temptress. You need a day to heal, or more, although I cannot deny my need for more than a day.”

  I pretend pouted, but I really did agree. So we ended up in bed, naked and tangled together like pretzels. We kissed often and snuggled like exhausted puppies with full bellies after playing too hard. During the night, we would wake occasionally and reach out to touch the other, making sure that some parts of our bodies were always connected.

  In the morning he stroked my hair and kissed me and then quickly left the bed with a whispered exclamation, “If I stay, I will never leave.”

  When he returned, dressed to the nines, he announced, “I must tend to some matters. I will not return until tomorrow evening. Everything you could need is here, do not leave the residence.”

  I sulked as I sat up in bed, exposing my breasts and momentarily distracting him. He licked his lips. “Must you go? “ I offered.

  He knelt on the bed, “Yes, I must go, it is part of being a ruler in this country. Rest assured my goddess, when I return, I intend to hurt you in the most pleasing of ways.” He touched my neck and then he traced a finger across the largest bruise on my chest. “These are my marks of ownership on your body. You will feel me on you until I return. Never forget who you belong to.”

  He kissed me back down into a prone position. I sighed and he lingered longer than I knew he’d intended. When he left, he did so with a groan of displeasure. I laid there after he left, wondering how I could be so besotted with him. I stroked over the warm, smooth surface of the one carat sapphire on my pinky finger, and I eventually fell back asleep.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  When I woke up, it appeared to be midday. I had an idea, so dressed in jeans and a long sleeve white blouse I found in the closet. It covered almost all of me apart from my upper chest. I put on a restrictive sports bra so my breasts were tight to my sternum. I then donned a ball cap and pulled my hair through the hole in the back and into a big pony tail. I found my old pair of vans sneakers that were pink polka dots, and then dug around in my purse for my sunglasses. I put those on the brim of my hat and then checked my reflection. The bruises on my neck stood out in stark contrast with my pale skin and I decided it would be really hard to cover them up with makeup, so I grabbed a scarf from the collection of silk hanging in the huge closet I was still afraid of, and I departed the suite.

  I was all the way to the elevator doors when the female servant from the first day, hustled to block the doors from closing. “Mistress, you are not to leave.”

  “Sorry, I don’t take orders that well. I’ll stay in the building. Just going down to the galleria.” Another servant came rushing in, and it distracted her long enough for me to push the close button. She squeaked out a protest, but it was too late and I was free.

  I hit the lobby button, and it felt like it took forever to get to the bottom floor. On the way down I pulled the scarf over my head and around the sides of my face, and then tied it in a knot at my throat. I was now almost completely covered and the sunglasses provided that last little bit of camouflage. I was confident I could mix in and not be noticed. It wasn’t like anyone knew me anyway.

  Once free, I sprinted for the double doors and a doorman quickly opened them. I burst out into the hot air and made my way towards the lake and the larger crowds. Within seconds I was lost amongst obvious tourists and local natives dressed in burkas and the men in turbans and sheets.

  I felt reborn as well, like Omar had said that first weekend we’d spent together. I felt brave and invincible and as if I could do anything I set my mind to. I was empowered now, magically bolstered by his affection and attention and that odd feeling that I was strong and tuff because I could take, and also enjoy what he liked to dispense. I pleased him, and he was a King! I felt as if I had wings and could fly.

  I relaxed and settled into a leisurely walk around the enormous man-made lake that spread out for acres inside the park that surrounded our building. I again craned my neck and was enthralled with the architecture. Even in all the outlaying shops and other buildings, the other high rises, even the places that I think were fueling stations or simple convenience stores; everything seemed as if the entire place was an art installation for a giant. I could picture it as if it were nothing more than a museum gallery meant for the deities to appreciate.

  I soon got lost and had no idea where I was, but it didn’t matter. I was enjoying being outside and even though it was hot, I was okay and I felt as if I were seeing the world through different eyes. My entire perspective was now skewed, and I thought of Omar every second of my time away from him. If I let my mind wander, I could feel his marks on my skin as they flared to life. I wondered if he realized it would work that way. If whenever his marks reminded me of him, my body would twitch and my breaths would hitch. The marks themselves would throb and pulse and it was almost as if he were touching me again.

  I was a bit out of it, kind of floating along and not really aware of where I was or the people nearest me. Nothing seemed capable of invading my little bubble of bliss as I strolled without thought and ended up quite a good distance away from the tallest building in the world. I could still see it, so I didn’t fret. I could always make my way back if need be.

  I didn’t have any money other than what I’d had in my wallet in San Diego, but a nice woman in a full burka said she would take it. I got a shish kabob and a soda and continued my walk. I wandered into what must have been the outskirts of the city, where the servants apparently lived if they didn’t live on premises like Omar’s did. It was then that I felt as if I were being watched. I did a slow turn to get my bearings, and directly behind me about twenty yards away, four large men dressed in traditional white flowing robes and full headdresses
met my eyes.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Omar Khalil’s plane landed and he was rushed to his car. They sped through the city and Omar finally arrived at his home.

  Armand, his second and his right hand man, was with him and quickly dashed to the command room to follow out Omar’s previous orders. No one said a word as Omar entered the penthouse.

  “Who was the last to see her?”

  “I, Sir.” Said the female that handled all of his wait staff. “I tried to stop her Sir, we all tried Sir. We went after her—She was just gone, Sir.”

  Armand returned with a grim expression, “Your Highness; we’ve been sent a video.”

  Omar’s heart sank and he rushed after Armand to the large command room. Anna was blindfolded and sitting in a cinder block enclosed bunker. There was today’s paper in her hands. The infidels held up cardboard placards that read; she dies tonight. Free our people. Share the wealth.

  “What do they want? There are no demands?”

  Armand pushed more buttons and shook his head, “Not yet Sir. I assume soon though.” Omar stared at the blank screen and a lump formed in his throat. Armand offered, “We can find her, I’m certain of it. Give me an hour and I will secure her location.”

  Without thought Omar nodded and stated flatly, “I shall accompany you. One hour. I am heading to the armory.”

  Armand gave his leader a slight bow and then went back to his study of the computer. Omar motioned for his men to follow him and on the way he barked orders for ten more men to be brought in and the helicopter fueled and ready to take off in one hour.

  They gathered at his well-stocked armory and everyone loaded up on both ammo and weapons of every imaginable kind. Forty five minutes later and they were fully dressed in combat gear and had gathered in the foyer, waiting for news of her location.

  Armand buzzed him on the walkie, “Sir, I know where she is.”

  Omar replied, “Roof now.”

  Omar could not believe the situation he was facing. How dare they steal his female! How dare they barter with her life as if it meant nothing?

  He was silent as he clenched his teeth and waited for Armand and the other men to join them. All twenty soldiers loaded into the large helicopter and they took to the skies without a word. They’d drilled and practiced extensively and even Omar himself was a trained warrior in multiple disciplines. He’d seen hand to hand combat on the rare occasion and had never flinched away from a threat or a challenge to either himself or those that were closest to him.

  Anna was now a living part of him, part of his very anatomy and he planned on killing every single soul that had touched her and used her as a pawn in their petty jihad.

  The chopper banked sharply left and headed out into the desert. Oil rigs serenely continued their methodical see-sawing, looking like lazy trebuchets’, tossing invisible cannon balls out into the blank canvas of white sand, but never ceasing their hypnotic sway.

  They landed behind a dune, and all but Omar departed the chopper. They went back up into the air, and he watched from his vantage point as the men silently crept across the desert and towards the innocuous farmhouse surrounded by a high barbed wire fence. They used hand signals to communicate and they were soon at the far back wall of the cinder block barn. Omar was in direct communication with Armand throughout the process. They had told Omar to wait, for he would be placed in great danger.

  His men surrounded the small deserted looking building, and Armand took point. He rounded the corner first and shouted a warning before firing his gun. The area erupted into a volley of gunshots and men began running and ducking for cover.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I can’t believe I was so stupid. Even at home I rarely left my apartment alone, and I never went on walks through cities I didn’t know. And here I am now, like a cliché hostage in a terrorist movie. They even had me hold a newspaper. Thank god they haven’t really hurt me yet. Yet. It’s not like they were nice though, and my arm feels like it might be sprained from where I struggled and fought their grip. My ankle hurts too where someone kicked it so I would crumple. Yeah, that worked.

  I need to pee. “Hello? Anyone there?”

  “What do you want?” A very gruff and accented voice answers from the corner of the room.

  “I need to use the restroom.”

  “No.”

  “But Sir, I don’t want to urinate on myself.”

  His deep chuckle seems full of evil amusement, “You pee all you want, that is the least of your problems.”

  “What does that mean?” Oh shit, I hear his footsteps coming closer. Slap! Oh god that hurt. “Why? What did I do…?” Slap! Ouch! Oh crap, I taste blood, I hope –shit, loose tooth. What am I going to do? Will they rape me? I wonder if they are going to ransom me. SLAP! “STOP slapping me!” Now I’m just plain mad. How dare they?!

  Hard yank on my pony tail, “You will cease the noise this instant. No crying, no sounds! If you make another sound I will give you something to cry about.” His lips are at my ear, and I can smell his hideous breath. My stomach roils and I gag, but I think I remain as quiet as I can. I think. Harder yank on my ponytail and I grunt.

  My scarf has just been ripped off and I hear snickers from whoever just saw my bruises. They speak in Arabic and then they all laugh. Next I feel cold steel at my nape, and within seconds someone has sliced off my blouse.

  I can hear the men standing around, looking at my pale skin and bra covered breasts. I am mortified, and now the real threat of rape seems probable. The heated air of this room burns my exposed flesh. I am sobbing uncontrollably now and when someone grips roughly at my right tit, and then they squeeze it until I scream out, I end up peeing my pants. Oh god, please god, please don’t let them rape me.

  “Why can’t I? Does it matter? She will be dead by tonight.”

  No, no, no, no, no. Why is this happening? How is this happening?

  “Later, we will take turns. We will make video. Khalil will see and hear her screams.” They all chuckled in amusement.

  I felt cold steel against my neck, and then the leader of the group whispered at my ear in a much accented English, “I hope you enjoy being tortured, young lady!”

  I continued to sob and sniff and sit in my wet jeans. Oh Omar, please find me. Hurry. I prayed.

  I don’t how long it was, or even what time of day it was. It was significantly cooler than earlier, so I guessed it was evening or early night. I was still in the chair, my wrists tied behind my back and my ankles to each chair leg. The chair itself must have been secured to the floor because I tried to move or rock it when I thought I’d been left alone, all to no avail.

  My head ached from where someone had conked me with what I think was a rifle butt. My left eye socket throbbed too and even without the blindfold, I wouldn’t have been able to see out of it. I was pretty sure that eye was going to remain swollen shut for days. Who punches a girl in her eye? Who does this shit?

  The leader returned numerous times and even went so far as to begin cutting off my jeans, until someone barked orders and he fled in a hurry. He’d commented on the lingering bruises from my love, the ones I was proud of and had worn with pride. They were the marks of my lover and future husband, and I could still feel him on my skin longer after we parted ways earlier that morning. I like those bruises, but to the onlookers, it told a different story, and to men such as these it spoke of abuse. Little did they know or understand.

  I wish Omar would find me, but I am beginning to give up hope. I am also severely dehydrated and my head continues to swim in and out of consciousness. I feel battered and everything hurts.

  Someone startles me when they speak, but this man has less of an accent and seems educated. “Do you understand why you are here?”

  “No.”

  “We are sending a message to Khalil. We are not happy. The division in our classes is dramatic and severe. Our poor are still living in huts with dirt floors while the royals live in buildings that touch heaven
. Your death will bring notice to our cause.”

  “He will kill all of you.” I declare with certainty.

  The man made an amused sound, “I don’t believe so. From the looks of it, my men simply brought back a whore that Khalid would eventually grow bored with. You are nothing other than a symbol—or perhaps you would prefer the word, pawn? He would not start a civil unrest for the likes of you.”

  I chuckled sarcastically, “Okay, go ahead and think that.” And then I have a thought. “You do realize that Khalil supports his people in a lavish lifestyle? Even all of his servants live better than I do in the states.” There was no reply, but I felt my debate training kicking in so I continued to argue my point. “In fact, I would venture a guess that Khalil alone is responsible for the employment of thousands of people, not just hundreds, but thousands! He is a generous man. Perhaps you have targeted the wrong man?”

  My captor’s voice held nothing but ignorant disdain, “It does not matter, he is our current ruler, and only through birth does he hold that title. He has the power to change the class divide, and yet he turns a blind eye and ignores our pleas. Killing you will bring us the attention we deserve.”

  “It’s too bad you are so stupid.” I said with equal contempt.

  “I’ve given the men permission to use you as they wish. You will be dead within five hours.” He walked away and I again began sobbing.

  Again the leader returned, and he proceeded to cut off what was left of my jeans. I was shaking now and I couldn’t stop wailing as his hands roamed over me. When the cold steel of his knife sliced up through the denim covering my thighs, it caught my skin at my hip, and I could feel the warm trickle of blood as it dripped down my leg. He departed quickly, and then returned to gag me with a rag that tasted of dirt and grease. He cut my hands free, and then all the restraints on my legs and he picked me up and flung me over his shoulder. I peed again, and this time I didn’t care that it soaked down my legs and onto his chest.