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   Game Set & Match by Miss Irene Clearmont.

   An adult tale of female domination.



   (C) Miss Irene Clearmont 2012.



   Whoever said, 'It's not whether you win or lose that counts,' probably
lost.  Martina Navratilova No one rejoices more in revenge than a woman. 
Juvenal



   The character `Sheikha Tasnim' was used with permission from Clare Penne
and her wonderful stories `My Passage To Womanhood'.  This story is
dedicated to Clare without reservation!  - Irene

  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------

   Game Set & Match.

   Extracts from `All Stars and Hollywood' magazine, the `magazine for the
followers of fashion, film and sport'.

   05.05.2011 By our Sports Reporter Josie Fladden

   So here we go again as Fazia Muta, the little rich Arab girl of tennis
was spotted outside `Miss Domina's' discothque in fashionable, central LA
with Dave Sharparov.  What a couple!  She is one of the hot three
contenders to take the most silverware in the classics this year.  He is
ranked 50th in the world, but all of us girls have to admit that he cuts a
pretty tasty figure as a fashion model for his own new line of sports and
casual ware, `Highly Strung'.

   The relationship, a match made on centre court, has been rumoured for
over a year now but neither of the gorgeous pair have indicated that
wedding bells are on the horizon.

   08.06.2011 By our Sports Reporter Josie Fladden

   So what was Dave Sharparov doing with Sally Freeman in Freeport in the
Bahamas?  Signed into the resort hotel under the name of Mr and Mrs Herman
Strung they shunned the limelight and refused to be interviewed by your
enquiring correspondent.

   We can all speculate that the tempestuous relationship between Dave and
Fazia Muta is all but over, but we were not able to confirm this as she
refused to comment on why Dave and Sally are sharing a honeymoon suite for
a week in the casino resort.

   So it looks like they are only practicing for the nuptials to come,
still practice makes perfect!

   08.01.2012 By our Sports Reporter Josie Fladden

   Now comes the grudge match, but the prize has already been won!  It
looks like gorgeous Dave Sharparov has chosen which tennis star belongs in
his night sky.  At last he has served Sally Freeman with a ring that is
ace! With no call of `out' from Fazia Muta, that sultry firebrand, the
wedding looks set for June, just after the Dubai Classic.  Here, we are
looking forward to an all star wedding!

   Unfortunately the Arabic princess uttered some angry words that we can
only paraphrase here!  It looks like Paris will be the field of combat that
she has chosen to show her former lover that he made the wrong choice. 
Fazia plans to eject Sally from Paris with a grudge match that most
commentators consider to be the upcoming game of the year.

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

   Chapter 1.  Deuce In Paris.

   "Deuce !"

   The call from the umpire rang across the court and caused a ripple of
applause as the two gladiators sized up against each other across the
court. Fazia Muta and Sally Freeman were well matched in both skill and
experience, with Sally needing just her service game to win the match.

   Of course there was a lot of money at stake, there always is in the
finals of a Grand Slam tournament, but what was really at stake were the
places in the rankings as Muta and Freeman vied for the top seed.

   Sally looked over at her opponent and smiled, she looked exhausted from
chasing every ball and now she was ripe for the master stroke.  Two bounces
of the ball on the ground and the ball was tossed up to be blasted down the
centre line for an ace.

   This match had been promoted as the grudge match to end all grudge
matches.

   For a moment Sally glanced up at Dave in the stands and blew him a
little kiss.  This was so very sweet, the adrenaline left her floating in a
sea of heightened awareness.  Soon she would be the first seed, the
gorgeous Dave Sarparov would be hers and she would have sweet revenge on
the Arab bitch that had spent the last months insinuating to all the
`celebrity' press that Sally was nothing more than a whore who played
second rate tennis.

   Sally's body arched and hammered the ball at her opponent.

   Fazia had scarcely moved as the ball swept by her like a bullet to score
another point for the increasingly confident Sally.

   "Advantage Freeman," came the call.

   The short Arab girl swayed gently.  Her face shone with a sweat that
betrayed her fear.  The fear that she would lose, the fear that Sally had
her on the rails.

   The fear that she would look the fool.

   With match point in Sally's hands she just had to win one more rally and
the title and the prize was hers.  She sized up the desperate light in her
opponent's eyes as vulnerability shopwing its face and paused for just a
couple of seconds to gauge her defence.

   Sally longed to finish the contest with another ace, it would be so
sweet to blast her opponent into kingdom come with the whole world
watching.

   On the other hand this was a delicate matter of tactics!

   She made her serve, an aggressive toss of the ball with the left hand
and a sweeping connect at the tip of the racquet's arc.  The pace was slow,
Fazia reached to return the bouncing ball and then pulled her racquet back
as she saw that the ball had missed the line.

   The crowd went wild as the umpire announced the result.

   "Game, set, match, Freeman," he called.

   Fazia could not believe her ears, surely the ball had been out of play?
She raised her hand and spoke to dispute the call, but the umpire looked at
the centre line umpire and then simply pointed out that she had used all
three of her calls.

   He started to call the points.

   "Freeman in three sets, six, three.  Two, six and six, two".

   Fazia approached the net in a haze of confusion and anger whilst Sally
tripped to the net with a little skip and hop as though she was about to
jump over it in the time honoured manner.

   The noise from the crowd and the announcements over the announcement
system filled Fazia's head with the white noise of sheer anger and
frustration.  At the ultimate moment she had been robbed of the last point
by a line judge who was probably staring at her legs rather than the centre
line and now she had to bite down her fury and congratulate the woman who
had beaten her by a chance of fate and not a fair call.

   A hand extended towards Fazia and a supercilious smile played on the
lips of Sally as they shook and walked to the small podium where the silver
cup on its blocky base was ready to present to the winner.

   "I know that it was out!" whispered Sally with a smile.  "It serves you
fucking right for insulting me last night in that television interview."

   Fazia almost spat at Sally, the racquet felt like a weapon in her hand.
A weapon that she could use to wipe the patronizing smile off that face,
but she resisted the impulse with a clench of her hand.

   There would be better moments for a settling of scores.

   "I promise you that I will have my revenge..." Fazia whispered so
quietly that it sounded like a hiss to Sally. 
===================================================== Chapter 2.  Foreplay
In Dubai.

   Fazia sat in her hotel room and contemplated the smooth sea that lay so
far below the broad hotel window.  Several local fishing dhows were setting
sail, they looked like red smudges on the azure water with their sails
billowing over weather beaten hulls.

   With a sigh she glanced over her shoulder at the mute television that
was displaying its soundless pictures of reporters and stories from around
the world.

   Tomorrow was a big match, all the physical preparation had been done now
only the careful pre-match diet and mental approach remained to complete
before she stepped onto the court against her quarter final opponent.

   Then after the quarter final she would face Sally Freeman in the semis.

   This was the last chance!

   Why?

   Because after the Dubai Classic would come the wedding and the sweetness
of all that victory would be a sour taste after that shit, Dave, had
hitched his wagon to Sally fucking Freeman.

   The screen of the giant television flickered and showed a group of
sports pundits behind a desk.  Fazia switched on the sound and watched the
discussion about the coming tennis matches.

   "So, Bill, what about the American first seed hope, Sally Freeman, and
the quarter-finals?"

   "Thanks Mike.  Well we have to assume that Fazia Muta will defeat the
incumbent Czech champion, Illona Servoanova.  Her form looks good, she is
really piling on the aces and the double faults have dropped right out of
sight.  Of course Servoanova is also pretty hot at the moment, after all
she is seeded at number seven and at these levels there is little between
them."

   "Bill!  I'm thinking that Muta wants to get her hands on Freeman in the
semis and that will provide the crucial difference in motivation!"

   "Right you are, and what a match that will be.  After the Paris scandal
where the ball was clearly miscalled and out and Muta was not allowed to
contest the call, she will be seeking to wipe the slate clean and prove
that Arabic tennis has come far enough to provide a number one seed."

   "So, a touch of revenge?"

   "Certainly Mike.  That's what it's all about, on and off the court!"

   "Who do you fancy for the Dubai Classic Final, then, Bill?  The local
girl who has all the support of playing at home or the American rising star
whose backhand volleys are like cannon fire?"

   "For me, Mike, it's got to be Sally Freeman again!"

   "Why's that Bill?"

   "Well Freeman is three years younger and that means a lot at this level.
She has the willpower and the physical staying power to last until the
bitter end of the third set.  I just don't think that Muta can find the
mental and physical resources and she has no real answer to that backhand
that Freeman uses with such confidence."

   "So you think it'll go to three sets?"

   "Yep, Mike.  I think that fury and temper will give the first set to
Muta before the sheer professionalism of the young American girl will win
out and crush her hopes of being the local hero."

   "Thanks for that, Bill.  Let's move on to the Australian open and look
at how golf sponsorship..."

   Fazia switched off the television with an angry movement of the wrist.
It all hurt so much, because it was the truth.  She knew that the only
person who had no fear to play against her was that cursed Sally Freeman.

   Worst of all Sally would beat her in the semis and Fazia would have to
hang her head in shame in her own country, beaten by the cursed American
slut who had stolen her man.

   A laughing stock.

   That Dave had chosen to go with some other woman was not even the
problem.  After all Fazia had already given him the boot, it just had not
been announced to the papparazzi!  Dave had moved fast and made it look as
if he had kicked Fazia into touch and of all the open legged bitches in the
world to choose from, he had hooked up with fucking Sally Freeman almost
immediately.

   Fazia turned to the window and watched the sun gradually setting over
the shimmering waters of the gulf.  A delicious thought was entering her
head, the sketch of a revenge that would be so final that not even the
thought of Sally Freeman would ever bother her again.

   `Yes,' she thought to herself.  `I'm at home here in Dubai, I understand
the rules here and you will suffer a thousand times for the humiliation
that you have heaped on my soul.'

   There were going to be a few difficulties, but already they were being
side stepped in her mind and the delicious chastisement was taking shape.
She knew the people who could help her, she knew that she would win hands
down in Dubai.  At once she felt lighter of mood and ready to act.

   "Sally fucking Freeman is going to taste more than just a setback to her
professional career," Fazia muttered as she reached for the telephone. 
"I'm going to end it and get that Dave back where he belongs.  Under my
rule!  Then I'll kick him out like the dog that he is, on to the street
where he belongs!  If I want..."
===================================================== Chapter 3.  Breaking
News In Dubai.

   "The latest headlines from Al Jazeera news in Dubai."

   "The continuing crisis with Iran blocking the straits of Hormuz and
attacking an American frigate in International waters has reached a new
milestone as calls by Republicans in the American Senate to attack Iran
reached a new more serious level.  We'll have more on that report after the
strange story of the disappearance of Sally Freedman and her husband to be,
Dave Sharparov."

   "Both the American authorities here and the Ukrainian minister for
foreign affairs have urged the Government in Dubai to give top priority to
solving the strange circumstances that surround what may be a kidnapping.
It has been suggested that terrorists have abducted the American number one
seed tennis star and her Ukrainian boyfriend for political reasons."

   "But, with the ongoing crisis in the gulf and the standoff between
Iranian and American forces in the straits of Hormuz the story is looking
to be pushed way down the list of priorities of the Dubai government as it
seeks to prevent supporters of Iran from demonstrating their politics on
the streets of the capital."

   "So far all that we know is that Miss Freedman was travelling to her
match at the Aviation Club for the quarter finals of the women's classic,
one of the biggest single events on the tennis calendar.  Unexpectedly she
was joined by her husband to be, Dave Sharparov at the last moment.  The
local police report that they have found the car abandoned and signs of a
struggle are clear near the abandoned vehicle."

   "As soon as we have further news we shall be returning to this story. 
Meanwhile we go over to Abdul Sharif, who is on Kumsa reporting on recent
visible signs of the Americans stretching their military muscles in the
waters of the Gulf."

   "Over to you Abdul..."
===================================================== Chapter 4.  In The
Net.

   Fazia slipped into the dark limousine and the door cluncked behind her.
There were no reporters, no paparazzi and no fans to see her go.  Firstly
no rumours had been dropped, secondly the press had not been warned and
most important, when a higher agent of the General Department of Punitive
Establishment in Dubai wants privacy then that privacy is guaranteed.

   After a few moments Fazia's eyes adjusted to the dark leather interior
that was lit only through the smoky glass of the windows.  A woman sat
opposite her, ensconced in the soft upholstery, legs crossed and a slim
cigarette in her hand.

   "Good Evening Fazia," she said in English, but with overtones of a
German accent.

   Fazia was a little puzzled.  She had been expecting to meet her cousin
Abdhel Mummed, after all he was her contact with the Punitive Police in
Dubai.

   "Who are you?" asked Fazia as she decided that perhaps not all was going
as she had planned with Abdhel.

   The woman smiled and pulled back the shawl that covered her long hair.

   "My name is Gudrun.  You could say that I am a specialist helping the
Emirates to solve some of the `people' problems that they have!"

   Fazia sat back and tried not to show any concern.

   "Well, I guess that you know who I am then!" said Fazia.  "So, tell me,
what aspect of this business requires the specific help of a beautiful
foreign expert from the government?"

   "About six months ago I was hired by the Omanis to train some of their,
let us say, more discrete correctional institutes."

   Gudrun let a small laugh escape at her use of the euphemistic approach
to her explanation.

   "After completing that overhaul of two institutes I was asked by the
chief of the Dubai Punitive Establishment to help them with similar
problems in one of their correctional establishments," she continued.

   "I don't understand..." said Fazia.  "I mean what has this got to do
with Abdhel?"

   "My dear girl, you really are just a little naive, are you not?  If you
ask one of the senior officers of the Dubai fifth directorate to help you
solve a personal problem and if that person consents, then your personal
matter becomes more than just a private problem!"

   Fazia gulped as she realised that her idea to have Sally Freeman
abducted for a couple of days and then released just before the match was
starting to get beyond her control.  If indeed it had ever really been in
her control!

   "Where are we going then?" asked Fazia.

   "To the little establishment that I have been organising for the last
few months.  It is there that you will meet a couple of acquaintances of
yours, because decisions have to be made about their future."

   Through the darkened windows of the limousine Fazia could see that they
were heading out of the city area of Dubai and were heading into the desert
hinterland that stretched for hundreds of miles to the west of the city.

   For ten minutes there was silence as Fazia tried to weigh up her
companion.  With her slight tan and the insignificant touches of makeup she
could be taken for perhaps an Iranian or Eastern Arab woman, especially as
she wore both khim?r and hijab.  Otherwise there was no sign, but the
single dull metal ring on her ring finger and the obvious care of the
manicure that adorned her finger tips with black and silver.

   On the other hand, Gudrun knew all about the small girl who sat opposite
her.  She had read both the files and the cuttings and knew that Fazia
represented what the authorities feared most of all in a woman. 
Successful, driven, temperamental and unlikely to be subdued and obedient
like a woman of the Emirates should be.  Worst of all she was intensely
popular in the world outside the Gulf States.  That made her an object of
pride as well as an object of apprehension.

   "How far into the desert are we going?"

   "Just far enough!" replied Gudrun.

   Another ten minutes and the car turned into what appeared to be one of
the extensive date farms that were scattered in the outer parts of the vast
desert that makes up the Arabian peninsula.

   Then a check point, a raised gate, a short gated tunnel and the car was
in a dusty compound surrounded by high walls and forbidding walkways. 
"This is not exactly Al Aweer jail," said Fazia as the door of the car
opened and she stepped into the intense light that bounced off the walls of
the compound.

   "Al Aweer jail is the public face of Dubai," said Gudrun as she adjusted
her veil and stepped out of the car.  "It is the modern correction and
retraining side of the state system.  This is where personal enemies of the
state and those who have upset the rich and powerful end up, when they have
to fade from public view."

   "You mean that Sally Freeman and Dave have ended up in this dusty
compound?"

   "Absolutely.  What is more, they can never leave the system once they
have entered it!"

   "But the match?  I have to play her!"

   "Fazia, Fazia," said Gudrun.  "Don't be so naive!  Once the two
unbelieving foreigners arrived here, under the supervision of the
correctional police, they have become the property of the state.  Or
perhaps it is better to say that they now belong to whomsoever the state
chooses to be their guardian!"

   "Why have you brought me here to see this then?"

   "Follow me!" =====================================================
Chapter 5.  First Service.

   The dusty outside of the buildings did not betray a hint of the up to
date decor inside.  The doors with their cracked glass windows opened onto
the dusty little office with rusting grilles and furniture.  Once admitted
past the office with a camera-check the two women opened the door onto
another world.  Here was a stark modernity.  A tiled corridor led them into
a door where they had to wait for two minutes for their identity to be
confirmed again.

   "Actually the checks are done in Dubai City," said Gudrun.  "That way
there is no local establishment to threaten or bribe."

   Fazia just nodded and wondered what she was doing here.  After all once
she knew about a place like this then she was forever under threat.

   Gudrun looked down at her and knew what she was thinking.  "You are
being shown this for a reason.  It is a lesson.  Learn well and draw the
correct conclusions!"

   "The only lesson is that, at the moment, I am on the correct side of the
bars.  It could be otherwise!"

   "Well done," came the reply.

   At that moment the gate clicked and Gudrun opened the bars.

   "We are now in the part of the prison where you do not wish to be acting
the role of prisoner!" said Gudrun as she led Fazia into a corridor lined
with doors with small glass windows set at eyelevel.

   Fazia could feel a nervousness overcome her.  A slight weakness in the
knees and a light-headedness that left her a little breathless.

   The German woman, still in the long robe but with the silk black
headscarf around her shoulders, paused by one of the doors and glanced into
the window.

   "Good, very good.  They really know how to organise a proper environment
for training here," muttered Gudrun as she turned from the darkened glass
and continued.

   Fazia took a quick peek through the glass into the cell beyond.  She
caught a glimpse of a man wearing a hood lying curled up on the floor
asleep.  His body criss crossed with bruises and livid stripes that showed
where he had been whipped or caned.

   Two steps, and she had caught up with Gudrun who was just fitting a key
into the next door along.

   The door swung to reveal a cell like the previous one, but this one at
least had a small bed, a cabinet and a couple of pictures on the wall.

   Sitting on the edge of the bed was Sally Freeman.

   She was wearing a short summer dress that was a luminous orange colour
like the uniforms in American prisons.  Around her neck was a plain metal
collar, her feet were bare and there was no sign of the engagement ring
that she had been wearing for the past few months.

   Sally looked up and there was clear surprise when she saw Fazia looking
into her cell.

   "Fazia, what the fuck?" she said in shock.

   "Mind your manners," retorted Gudrun and raised her hand a little as
though she was considering slapping Sally's face.  "Fazia is here to help
decide your ultimate fate so it might just be a little politic to help her
come to a decision that is in your interest as well!"

   Fazia could see a tear gathering in the corner of Sally's eye and her
compressed lips showed that she was almost at the point of tears.

   "As far as I am concerned Miss Sally Freeman should never play tennis
again.  Otherwise I don't give a flying fuck what happens to the slut,"
said Fazia.  "It is Dave Sharparov that I want to get my hands on!"

   Sally looked up at Fazia and then at Gudrun.

   "What happens to me now?"

   Gudrun reached out and patted Sally on the head in an almost proprietary
way.  Her fingers pushed a few strands of hair back and then drifted down
Sally's cheek to end cupping her chin.

   "My dear girl, I have had so many requests for you that I may well have
a problem deciding exactly where you are to go next.  At any rate you will
soon find out who is the lucky man or woman who will be your owner."

   A small shiver past through Sally's frame and the tear finally loosened
and ran free down her cheek.

   "Don't cry little Sally!  Don't cry!  If you are lucky you will find
yourself a good owner who will look after you and see to all your needs."

   Fazia was taken aback.  She had imagined that this was only a temporary
situation, nothing like this had ever entered her head when she had spoken
to Abdhel about the possibility of making sure that Sally missed the
semi-final of the tennis open.  Suddenly Sally had disappeared into a
parallel universe and Dave was sure to be here too.

   Worst of all were the hints that this could be her fate if she failed in
some way to please the government or who ever it was that controlled these
prisons.

   Sitting abject on a bed that was screwed to the floor.

   Waiting for a fate over which there was no control.

   A fate that was sealed by others.

   Others like this German bitch, Gudrun.

   Who knew what destiny would bring?

   Gudrun glanced at the shocked face of the young woman who had
accompanied her to this well lit dark place.  `Most satisfactory,' she
thought as she soaked in the fear that emanated from both women.

   In one the fear of what the future would bring.  The fear of being
trained, of being broken and recreated in the mould of a servile, obedient
slave.

   The other had the same fear, but the uncertainty that the high life
could suddenly invert due to some unintended slight, some misspoken word,
some unguarded action.  Then she would be the one in the collar, the one
who feared the evil lash of Gudrun's tender loving care. 
===================================================== Chapter 6.  News
Update.

   "The latest headlines from CNN news service, brought to you by our award
winning presenter Ivan Smirnovin Washington."

   "We go over live to our correspondent in Kuwait, Jim Devenier.  Is there
any new news from the Emirates about Sally Freeman, Jim?"

   "Well, Ivan, the crisis with Iran has really put this story on the back
burner, but with Sally's parents arriving at Dubai yesterday the story has
regained some traction."

   "Relations between the USA, NATO and Dubai may well hinge on the result
of this investigation, it really is that important.  But, Jim, we are
hearing rumours that the Americans have requested that an FBI team of
investigators be allowed to carry out an investigation on Emirates soil."

   "That's right, Ivan, an American Air Force C5 landed here in Kuwait just
a few hours ago.  It's being said that they are waiting for permission to
fly up to the Emirates and that there are some CIA, FBI investigators and
two of America's best translators on board.  But, at this stage, Jim, I
have to say that these are not official facts but speculation based on the
fact that the plane is known to have come from the Ramstein base in
Germany, matching a flight from the USA that is known to have CIA markings.
So it's all just speculation at the moment, Ivan, but we think that there
might be some more breaking news from Dubai."

   "What's the latest breaking news from Dubai, Jim?"

   "A news conference held by the most senior of the police anti terrorist
squad has announced that there is some evidence that al-Qaeda are involved,
apparently the Yemen is the source of this new intelligence.  Sally's
parents have greeted the intervention of the American government as a
positive sign and they have begged the terrorists to, at least list their
demands and make it plain what must be done to free their daughter."

   "Sounds like there is a little movement there, Jim.  What's the reaction
from the Ukrainian government?  After all Dave Sharparov is being held as
well."

   "Quite muted, Ivan.  Quite muted.  The government of the Ukraine is
pretty quiet about all this because they fully occupied with the cutting of
the gas line to Kiev by Russian energy giant Gazprom after they failed to
agree to the price hike last week.  They don't want to provoke the Gulf
States at all because of their imports of liquid gas from Oman."

   "It's a pretty tangled web then Jim.  Let's all hope that Sally Freeman
can be found soon.  She is one of America's greatest athletes."

   "Well the tennis goes on.  Just four days after Sally Freeman
disappeared Fazia Muta looks certain to take one of the top prizes in
women's tennis.  The Dubai Open.  She faces the number fifteen seed, Sonia
Angelovna tomorrow, but most of those in the know are saying that Fazia has
never played better than she is at the moment.  Still...  we are all the
more focused on the plight of Sally Freeman at this time."

   "That's right Jim, the yellow ribbons are out for Sally all over the
USA. Right now, after this commercial announcement from the holiday
paradise of Israel, we move to Tuvalu for the world hula-hoop championships
where the American team is in with more than a great chance of carrying off
the trophy for the fifteenth year in a row..."
===================================================== Chapter 7.  Winners
and Losers.

   The music was loud, in fact not just loud, over the dance floor it was
deafening.  That was not going to stop the celebration that had taken over
the private club.  It was like petrol on the flames.

   In this place, far from the stiff mores and morals of the official
Dubai, a party was underway that would run until the sun was up again and
perhaps longer.  The alcohol and other more potent substances were imbibed,
and locals and foreigners who were in the know and on the list joined to
celebrate the local girl's victory.

   A victory just a little overshadowed by the disappearance of Sally
Freeman.  On the other hand there were at least five people in the room who
knew where Sally was, or at least had a good idea of what the future held
for the American bitch who had had the nerve to come into conflict with
Fazia Muta and then dared to play her in Dubai.

   And Fazia herself?

   Well, she was dancing with the crowd to the throb of the electronic
pulse that raced through her body with every beat of that music.  Her face
was ecstatic.  Her mind was filled with the power that she had gained, the
respect that was hers.

   Her mind buzzed with the fear of that revelation...

   When she had found out that Dave Sharparov was the figure curled in the
cell next to Sally she had almost orgasmed with delight.

   Fazia had entered the cell and run her fingertips over the stripes of
the cane that covered him from his powerful prick to his broad shoulders.

   "Have him if you want!" was the offer from Gudrun.  "No one else has any
interest in him.  It is Sally Freeman who will have no trouble finding an
appreciative owner!"

   "I would own him?"

   Gudrun smiled and explained the details to Fazia.  "Of course, if you
like I will help you with him.  The first one can be so difficult to get
right."

   Fazia had agreed, what else could she do but agree to the proposals of
this German lamia?

   "But what about Sally?" she asked.  "What happen to her?"

   Gudrun smiled slyly.

   "It just so happens that a sort of friend, or rather an acquaintance of
mine is her in Dubai on business.  She is always looking for young ladies
of quality to add to the harems and seraglios, her business and pleasure
nicely compliments my own interests..."

   "God, have you sold her?"

   "My dear Fazia, I prefer to use the term `offered her a new viewpoint on
life'; it sounds so much more consensual!"

   "Who is she, this friend?"

   "Do you wish to meet her?"

   "None of this has turned out like I expected," mumbled Fazia as she
realised that the help that she had called in to enable her to win tennis
match had turned into something quite different.

   "I know!" said Gudrun as she placed a comforting arm around the tennis
star as though they were long friends.  "Things never do turn out like we
expect.  The trouble is that you started a ball rolling that no one had any
interest in stopping!  For instance you contacted Abdhel and the ball was
no longer on your side of the court."

   Fazia sighed and wished that she was anywhere but in the grip of this
German woman who seemed so in control of events.

   "To answer your question, the woman who has asked to be allowed to take
possession of Sally Freeman is one of the most proficient preparers of
women for the harems of the Gulf States, Tasnim, or to call her by her
honoured title, Sheikha Tasnim."

   "I thought that seraglios and harems were banned now..."

   "Ahh, that is a mistake that many make when they see the laws that are
passed and imagine that they are binding on the prices and sheikhs who
control these small kingdoms.  If that were the case there would be little
need for people like myself or the Sheikha!"

   "I am not sure that I wish to meet her after all..."

   "That's probably just as well my dear.  She is, shall we say, more than
formidable and a redoubtable business competitor of mine because her
contact in this part of the world are so much deeper than mine are!  She
might take a shine to you and where would you be then?"

   The arm on Fazia's shoulders tightened to force her to look up into the
taller woman's eyes as she spoke.

   "I think that you might well find yourself in that stainless steel room
where I have seen her train men and women in the accepted ritual of
submission.  I have never seen a woman wield a cane with more subtlety than
Tasnam, it kisses the flesh with lips of anguish and yet the pleasure is
irresistible."

   Fazia shuddered, a small quiver of fear and excitement.

   "So I think that you really do not want to meet Sheikha Tasnim, do you?"

   Fazia shook her head.

   "But, what do I do about Dave?"

   "That's more like it!  You have plenty of money don't you?"

   "Of course, but?" answered Fazia.

   "What is money for if you cannot use it to enjoy yourself?  Use that
power, you will find that money is not about things, possessions and
belongings.  Money is all about power."

   "So I need to find someone?"

   "Exactly that!  Of course it is so much more satisfactory to do these
things yourself.  You know, if you want something doing well, do it
yourself!"

   "Can you help me?  I mean, I really want to learn."

   "I really haven't time, my dear.  But, I can send someone who will help
you and that you can trust."

   "What will it cost?"

   "You'll never know until you're finished, but you can be sure the cost
is high but the corresponding pleasure is almost unbounded!"

   That had been then; this was now, in the discotheque...

   Fazia's body thrummed to the heavy beat and gyrated to the music in
imitation of a slow fuck.  A sliding, thrusting of the hips and a smooth up
and down motion that suggested that the tennis star was fucking an
intangible partner.

   That was it!

   She was.  ===================================================== Chapter
8.  Second Service.

   Vanya arrived.

   The airport at Garhoud, Dubai City, was packed as usual, but Vanya stood
out from the crowd as she emerged through the arrivals doors.

   She was not at all what Fazia had expected.  Skinny, almost painfully
thin, about forty years and plain in an almost old-fashioned way.

   When they met at the airport Vanya offered Fazia her bony hand and
smiled in a thin way, lips compressed.  The grip of those long fingers was
formidable, even Fazia who had trained to improve her grip found that she
had to resist to stop her hand being crushed.

   "Gudrun said that you'd be here to meet me," said Vanya in an accent
that betrayed her unfamiliarity with spoken English.

   Fazia tried to smile, but she was almost taking a dislike to this woman
before she knew her for a more than a minute.

   "The limousine is this way," she muttered and turned to lead the austere
Czech woman through the crowds that filled the marble flagged hall.

   In the spacious and cool leather interior of the limousine the two women
sat opposite from each other.  There could not have been more contrast
between the young tennis player and the pale bony woman who had such
ghostly grey eyes that her black irises seemed like holes to nowhere.

   Self control and control of others was Vanya's imperative, hands in lap
she studied her employer with a cool gaze that made the young tennis star
wonder if she could find the strength to order this woman to do her
bidding, no matter what she was paying.

   "You are filled with self-doubt, I can see it in every line of your
body," said Vanya.

   "I know what I want..."

   "Do you?  Are you sure?  Tell me."

   "I want Dave Sharparov to be my toy.  I want him to do as I tell him.  I
want..."

   At this point Fazia's mind went blank.  It was true she did not know
what it was that she wanted, or how she was going to achieve it.  She felt
like a fool.

   `What am I doing?' Fazia thought to herself.  `I have mixed myself in
things that are beyond my imagination, but like night follows day there
seems no way out of this.'

   "Gudrun said that you needed help and that she would consider it a
favour for me to teach you how to make a man or woman conduct themselves as
their owner wishes.  I am happy to offer that help because Gudrun is very
dear to me.  When we have finished not only will Mr.  David Sharparov be
your plaything but he will allow you to do anything to him that you wish.
Be it making love on a bed of roses or a whipping on a bed of thorns, he
will obey you out of fear of pain and your displeasure."

   "How long will it take?"

   "Weeks, months?  Difficult to say.  Once I have seen your new
acquisition I will be able to guess."

   Vanya smiled, but it passed unnoticed by her employer.  She knew what
the next question would be.  It was always the same.  How much and how
long.

   "How much money is it going to cost me?"

   Fazia held her breath anticipating some incredible sum.

   "That depends on a number of things.  It is not just me that you have to
pay for.  I will need a few things and a place to live.  It depends on how
long it takes and it depends on how fast that you learn the intricacies of
your slave's mind."

   Vanya held up a hand to stop the words that were forming on Fazia's
lips.

   "I guess that it will cost only a couple of hundreds of thousands. 
Maybe three or four, but the first is always the most expensive and the
most difficult." =====================================================
Chapter 9.  Line Call.

   The Daily Sentinel, London.  (iPod App version)

   03.06.2011 By our Middle-East correspondent.  Claudia Shapelli

   There is still no reliable word on the whereabouts of Sally Freeman or
her Ukrainian boyfriend.  In fact it seems that she has just disappeared
completely from the face of the earth.  Police in Dubai finally allowed an
investigative team from the U.S.A.  to help with the search for the top
tennis star a month ago, but they are no closer to finding out what
happened all those months ago.

   It was expected that there would be ransom demands or perhaps political
demands but not one ripple has disturbed the pond since three Tunisians
were arrested for faking a ransom demand of twenty million dollars three
months ago.

   So what has happened?  The desert is a huge place and, like Las Vegas,
there are many secrets buried there.  The Dubai squad that was assigned the
job of finding Sally Freeman inside a week spends its time questioning
suspects and checking alibis but to no avail.

   Some of the rumours that are passing for fact in Dubai and Abu Dhabi are
strange to say the least.  So far there has been no mention of U.F.O.s but
the idea that the young American is now part of some harem in Saudi Arabia
or Oman can be discounted as being the stuff of imagination.

   So the yellow ribbons remain tied and weathered around that old oak in
New England and family and friends feel the withering of their hopes as
that precious time slides by with no word of sister and daughter, Sally
Freeman.

   The F.B.I report that they are still giving top priority to the search
and that they have the full cooperation of both the authorities in Dubai
and the American military.  They are listening to every transmission in the
Middle-East whether it be propagated by Somali pirates or Yemeni
terrorists.

   While there is life, there is hope.

   Is there life?  =====================================================
Chapter 10.  In The Net.

   Dave Sharparov had come to fear and dread the sound of the door opening.
The ordeal had begun in a small cell as a woman with what seemed to be a
German accent had caned him, he was naked and helpless.

   She had been dressed in a full chador in deep red.  Face masked and
hands gloved she had left her mark on his flesh in lines of violet bruises.

   Thereafter had followed days or maybe weeks when he was fed and watered
and the bowl that was his toilet was taken and returned empty.

   How was he to know that these two weeks were the best of times?  How
could he know that this waiting that he was enduring was just a space that
would soon be filled by a woman who had broken stronger men, stauncher
women than him?

   So they moved him.

   In a limousine that travelled in a swirl of dust across the desert
whilst a surly and resentful guard in police uniform watched his every
move. The trip took almost a full day, a trip that crossed at least one
border control that Dave noticed.

   Was he going into Oman or simply crossing some internal checkpoint in
the plethora of Emirates that laced this coast of the Persian Gulf?

   Ar-rustaq is surprisingly green, a place of date palms and lush
undergrowth.  David had a fleeting glimpse of those spindly trees before
the car entered a compound and he was hustled to another cell.

   The third that he had been in since his abduction.

   Every time that he had attempted to question his captors he had been
beaten so he remained silent and did not resist being pushed into a tile
lined cell.  He was still alive, that meant, as far as he was concerned
that he was still worth something.  As a political pawn, as ransom
potential or perhaps as terrorist pressure on some government somewhere.

   He sat on the edge of the bed that jutted from the wall and waited.  He
was thirsty and hungry.  His bladder was full and he could smell the sweat
and dirt that caked his body.

   An hour passed.

   The door opened.

   A tall woman, painfully thin, stood in the doorway and regarded him with
the greyest eyes that David had ever seen.  Standing behind her was the man
in police uniform that had been his guard on the trip.

   "Undress!" she said.

   He hesitated.

   "I do not repeat myself often.  When I do you will have cause to regret
it."

   The accent was Slovak, or may be Czech he noted.  She was from his part
of the world.

   David started to undress.  Shirt, trousers, shoes and socks came off.

   "Naked," she said.

   He slipped off his pants and stood naked before her piercing and
thorough gaze.

   "You'll do," she remarked as she beckoned for his clothes with her long
fingers.  "Pass me all of that shit."

   He passed her the clothes and risked a few words in Ukrainian.  She
smiled and shook her head.  Even if I spoke good Russian I would not use it
here.  Trust is understanding and they only speak English here."

   Vanya nodded at the guard as if to underline her point as she passed him
the pile of clothes and took the cane that he proffered.

   "You and I are going to get to know each other very well," she said. 
"My job, no my calling, is as a trainer.  I train men to obey their owners.
Sometimes men, most times women.  In this case you have been acquired by a
woman, though she may decide to lend you to male friends, I do not know."

   "I do not understand," he said.

   The cane became a blur of fawn dust and the last three inches caught his
inner thigh leaving a bright red stripe that pointed with implied threat at
his flaccid cock.

   "From now on all flippant comments will be rewarded with the cane.  I do
not require you to understand, I require obedience.  If you deviate from
that clear path which I set you will be punished according to my whim. 
That may depend on how far from the path you have strayed or it may just be
a sign of my mood."

   David struggled to stay on his feet.  He could feel the burn of the cane
and watched the tip as though it would help if he could anticipate the next
blow.

   "So it begins," she said.  "Soon you will meet the woman who owns you.
She is your goddess.  She is your Queen.  You will be perfect for her
because my reputation and disposition demands it of you."

   The cane lashed out again and caught his upper arm with a blow that made
him cry out with the shock and pain.

   "For the moment I will allow you to scream or cry out," she said. 
"However, when I tell you that the phase is complete you will be silent,
even when you are beaten.  It is the owner's right to decide if she wishes
to hear your suffering or if she wishes you to be silent in your pain.  Do
you understand?"

   "Yes, I do."

   The next blow had the outside of his thigh as a target.  The bamboo
almost whistled as it swept through the air before the slap of contact.

   "A nod will suffice.  Do you understand?"

   David's thighs shook and trembled.  The guard standing behind this evil
woman just smiled as if David's pain was cheering an otherwise boring duty.

   David nodded.

   The first lesson had been learned. 
===================================================== Chapter 11.  First
Set.

   Australia was missed.

   Despite the best efforts of her tennis agent who spent all his time on
the phone trying to convince Miss Fazia Musa of her invincibly on court,
Fazia was learning that she was gaining another kind of invincibility.

   Vanya was so austere, but she was an excellent teacher for both the
nascent dominatrix and the reborn slave.  That was her credo.  Break the
slave's ego into small pieces and rebuild him in the image that is
required.

   Every day David had to learn to serve.  It might be that he had to learn
a poem.  It might be that he needed to lick some shoes clean and polish
them until they shone.  It might be that he had to sit still for hours at a
time or wank for his Czech teacher.

   Sometimes the tasks were trivial, sometimes difficult and sometimes
impossible.  That was the idea.  Each failure was punished almost at
random. Occasionally a slap or a light blow.  Then a whipping that left the
blood running down his thighs.

   His food was adulterated with strange tastes.  The shutters on the cell
were opened and closed at random.  Sometimes there was silence and then
noise that left him disorientated.

   And all the while Fazia watched the Vanya the master at work.  Fazia
knew David intimately.  She knew his every kink and secret and her
knowledge was used to break him down, until at last the day came when the
new mistress could become part of the program and start to create the man
she wanted.

   *****

   Five weeks it took in that cell before Vanya finally had David mewling
at her feet.  The metal cage that contained his prick was the only clothes
that he wore as he kneeled awaiting her pleasure.  For a moment she lifted
her long robes to expose her high heels and legs.  The white flesh of her
thighs contrasting with the sheer black of the stockings.

   David tried not to stare but this sight was one that he had longed for.
Finally, all that had gone before was over.

   This woman, this female mother figure, this queen of his thoughts was
showing approval.  His mind was full of splintering thoughts, the endured
beatings and the words of praise.

   He waited.

   "Good!  Well done," she said.  "You have done so well in the last days
that I think that we have reached the moment when you can meet and adore
your new mistress.  Would you like that?"

   He nodded.  It was forbidden to speak unless the order was exact.  It
was forbidden to ever say or indicate `no'.  The only possible answer was
`yes'.  His heart fell that he might lose Vanya.

   She knew what was best for him.

   She was stern but she ruled his world.

   Her hand relaxed and Vanya allowed the robe to drop and brush the floor
with its hem, the vision of `what might have been' was over and David would
have to adjust to Fazia and her needs. 
===================================================== Chapter 12.  Practice
Service.

   17.01.2012 Reuters, Oman.

   The police in Oman yesterday announced that David Sharparov was found
and freed from captivity by police who had been watching a known terrorist
hide-out for three weeks.  This sudden development creates new hope that
Sally Freeman who was kidnapped at the same time as David Sharparov seven
months ago in Dubai.

   The government in Dubai has issued a statement welcoming the news and
are flying Mr Sharparov's parents to Dubai to greet him.

   In a full statement to the world's press agencies, the Minister for
Internal Security for Dubai announced that Mr.  Sharparov would be spending
some time in Dubai, with the support of the government, to get over the
trauma and shock of the events of the last few months.

   As far as we can ascertain, Mr Sharparov was not mistreated or tortured
in captivity but full details of his time in Oman must await his own
statement in the next few days.

   *****

   David stood on the balcony of the apartment block and stared down into
the street below with vacant eyes.  Now that he was back in Los Angeles he
should have felt better, but something disturbed his peace of mind.

   Those long months in captivity!

   He thought of Sally, but the picture in his head was distant, faded. 
The affection that he had felt for her was gone like a dried up river.  The
course that it had taken was clear, but the water had long since dried up
and the power of its flow was just a memory.

   He knew, intellectually, that Sally was now in a harem in Kuwait. 
Serving her mistress as she had been trained to do.  Vanya had showed him
the pictures and short film of her, but it had not even caused a moment of
regret to him.

   His eyes saw Sally being trained to pleasure her mistress.  His ears
heard her begging for mercy as she was thrashed.  His heart told him that
she deserved her punishments and chastisements.  She had been so wrong for
him on so many levels.

   Some severe discipline would do her good and teach her that she had been
so iniquitous to tempt him from his true love, Fazia.  If she would not
obey her rightful owner her due was to suffer for her misbehaviour.

   Sally was of no interest, she was the desiccated past.

   Fazia!

   The thought made his prick stir with desire.

   It swelled and hardened to be, at last, stopped by the steel tube that
reminded him of his mistress.  She was his key holder.  Fazia was the woman
who allowed him, sometimes, to show his ardour.

   He wandered into the apartment and glanced at the clock.

   In just half an hour Fazia would return from her shopping expedition and
he would be ready for her as usual.  His cock pressed in its constricting
metal restraint, reminding him of all he owed to his lover.

   With any luck she would be in a good mood and he would be allowed to
please her in all those little ways that she so loved.

   Flowers decorated the apartment and filled the rooms with their perfume.
Everything was in its place and perfect, just the way that she liked it.

   Her trophies were polished and all the domestic tasks had been done.

   David had been a good boy, now he hoped for his reward!

   He sat on the sofa and drifted into a reverie.

   The last three months had been hectic and stressful, but the rekindling
of his affair with Fazia had helped him recover from the terrible months of
torment.  In his mind's eye he pictured Vanya, but it was a fading memory
in which the woman who had crushed him was more of a mother figure, a
stern, but fair instructor and teacher.

   Suddenly he heard the keys in the door and his heart leapt with elation
that she was back, his true love and guiding mistress, Fazia.

   She entered and smiled at him as she laid all the clothes that she had
bought on the sofa as he stood unselfconsciously to attention, ready to
help should she demand it.

   "David," she said, "I have some good news for you.  In fact good news
for both of us!  I have decided that we are getting married in the next few
months."

   "Thank you," he said.  "I will do my best to please you."

   "I know that you will, darling.  You try so hard to please me..."

   David noted a slight undertone of disapproval and wondered what he had
done to upset her.  What had he said that might have disappointed her?

   He waited.

   Fazia came and put her arms around him.  He smelt her perfume and skin,
a slightly flowery, musky smell that left him spell bound with enticement.

   "You really will be a perfect husband for me, darling.  But sometimes I
feel like a little more attention than even you can manage!"

   "I try to please you."

   He felt tears well in his eyes and he blinked to stop them trickling.

   `What could he do more?' he wondered.  `What else did she need?'

   "I know that you try so hard for me," she whispered, "but even you
cannot fill all my needs as a woman."

   Her hand stroked his thigh making him strain again at the cage that
contained his manhood.

   "What would you like me to do?" he asked plaintively.  "I so need to
make you contented!"

   "Sometimes I need a little more.  You know that you cannot be allowed to
make love to me for another three months, darling.  It would be so wrong of
me to go back on my decision to punish you for your little indiscretion a
week ago.  I mean, you would lose all respect for any orders that I give
you if I went back on every decision that I made for your good."

   David nodded.  She was so right!  That he had allowed himself to
pleasure himself.  What had he been thinking when he succumbed to that
gross temptation?

   "So," she said heavily with a sigh, "what I have decided is that I will
occasionally find a man who pleases me.  That means that you do not have to
worry about serving me in bed continuously without being able to share in
my pleasure."

   She looked up at him and allowed her hand to feel the hard metal that
was concealed in his trousers.  Her fingers ran over the restraint and
found the little padlock that symbolised her power over him.

   David adjusted to the new reality with little displacement.  His
argument was not that she should not find new partners.  It was not that
she was declaring love and then telling him that she was going to share
that love.

   "Please," he begged, "I will do whatever you ask.  Whatever you need I
will do for you."

   "I know that you will, darling.  When we are married and you belong to
me fully I will let you serve me and the new man in my life to you fullest
ability.  That will please me so much.  But, now you are being a bad
boy..."

   "Please!"

   "You argued with me so I have to punish you.  Surely you can see that
you push me to discipline you when you argue?"

   "I did not mean to argue.  I just wanted to tell you that I will do
whatever you want.  You know that I love you so much!"

   "See!  You are doing it again!  You are questioning my decisions about
your guidance.  The punishment I have now decided is that you will have
another three months of chastity on top of the first punishment.  That
means that you will still be locked up when we get married!"

   David sighed with disappointment.

   "I am so sorry.  You are right, I really must try harder to agree with
you.  Sometimes I just cannot help myself from straying from the path of
your guidance."

   "There, there," she said.  "I will break the rules a little for you,
since you apologised so well.  You can please me a little now and we will
see how it goes.  But," she added in a firm voice, "you will just have to
accept that I have needs that you cannot fulfil while you are in chastity.
I have the right to be pleasured by any man that I choose and I will
reluctantly assert that right!"

   David felt her hands on his belt.  The strong fingers worked to strip
him and ready him to serve her.  He stayed, still waiting to see if she was
going to order him to undress her, but she stripped him and then circled to
admire this husband to be.

   He had a rangy physique.  Muscular but not ripped.  Tight frame and
loose limbed, strong but not muscle-bound.  Her name was emblazoned on his
back in pink roses.  A tattoo that she had bought him when they first
returned to Los Angeles.

   His prick was at least nine inches, but bound in the shiny chromium
plated tube it was no more than four.  She admired the fixture on his groin
and inspected the lock and the small cage that contained his balls.

   Soon he would have accumulated so much chastity punishment time that it
would stretch to years and decades; then she could have the lock removed
and a weld substituted.  So much more practical!

   Her fingertips played around his flat stomach and fluttered down to the
metal that enclosed him.

   "Such a shame," she whispered.  "I so need some cock in me!  You have
spoilt my fun!"

   David hung his head in shame.  It was his fault that she was unhappy. 
Now she had to suffer for his bad behaviour.

   "So what am I going to do?" she said in a soft voice.

   "Fazia, my love, I cannot decide for you.  Please don't ask me to do
that, I am so scared that I might make a mistake."

   "I think that I should let you have a chance to please me and we will
see if that suffices..."

   She took his hand and led him to the bedroom.  With slow movements she
commenced the strip tease for her captive audience.  Top and bra, she
revealed her smooth well formed breasts.  As she did so she tweaked her
nipples and sighed with lust.  Then her hands slipped her skirt off to
reveal the stockings and lack of cover for her pussy.

   Her naked cunt was stripped of all hair.  A thick trickle of semen came
from that gaping flower and soaked into the lacy top of her stocking.

   Creamy white, mixed with the juices of her excitement, it told of her
excitement and fulfilment just half an hour before.

   David kneeled before the goddess that he loved and waited for her
signal, but she delayed to allow him to appreciate the meaning of that
scene.

   "See if you can please me half as well as my new lover," she whispered.
"I still need your tongue, darling.  Clean me and please me; to show your
love!"

   He bent forward and gently lapped at that glistening liquid.  Her scent,
so familiar, mixed with the heady flavour of the last man that had fucked
her.

   At last the tip of his tongue entered her and released another flow of
liquid.

   "Darling, that is so good for me," she gasped as he pushed into her and
massaged the bud of her clitoris.  "I think that you are so good to me that
I might allow you to touch my breasts..."

   His arms extended upward and his fingers found her swelling nipples.  As
he sucked the cordial of her satisfaction from her slit he teased her
breasts with his strong fingers.  Once again he could feel the swelling
that was limited by steel.

   He longed to fuck her.

   It would be the ultimate pleasure.

   At last she climaxed with a scream of fulfilment.

   Her thighs trembled and his hands came down and around to clasp her ass.
They held her steady as he pushed her to further heights with his lapping
tongue, until at last she was fully satisfied.

   Cleansed and trembling.

   "I cannot wait for your chastity to be ended," she lied in a gentle
voice.  "Until then I have decided that you should always pleasure me after
I have made love to the man that I have chosen to service me."

   David looked up at her flushed face and nodded.

   "You know that I would do whatever you want."

   "I think that it might be better if you met him," she said, "if I decide
to allow you the favour!  It might be nice if you were there when I am
fucked so that you can help us both to more enjoyment.  Do you think that
you could do that for me?"

   "If you think that I would not be in the way of your pleasure."

   "Darling, of course you would not be imposing!  I am sure that a tongue
that tickles me while his huge prick impales me would be such a lovely
idea. Of course we cannot allow the huge cock of my new man to go unloved!"

   David watched her face in rapture as she laid out his new duties.

   "I would love it if you helped.  I can feel another orgasm coming on
just by imagining you milking my lovers so that they last longer for me as
they fuck me to orgasm after orgasm.  A suck, a lick and a slow hand.  You
could be such a help and bring so much pleasure.  Just think, you would be
giving me so much satisfaction."

   "I am not sure if I can suck a cock!"

   "Are you arguing again," said Fazia threateningly.  "I would hate to
have to prolong your chastity again..."

   "No, I meant that I am not sure that I would not make mistakes.  I just
want to please you."

   "Good!  Then it's all decided!" she smiled down at him.  "I will train
you and we will see how it goes.  There is always more to learn.  Tomorrow
we will start your training and in a trice you will become the best cock
sucker in Los Angeles."

   "There is always more to learn!" he repeated.

   "There is so much to try and experience and I promise that we will try
everything." ===================================================== Chapter
13.  Out.

   17.09.2012 `Hollywood Stars' on the `E' Channel.

   "Welcome to the wedding that has had the tennis world holding its
breath. Finally, Fazia and Dave are tying the knot.  Of course there is a
tinge of sadness, even on this happy day for the perfect couple, because it
reminds us that Sally Freeman has still not been found.  But, I am sure
that wherever she is she will be so happy that Dave and Fazia are tying the
knot!  We now go over to our live reporter in LA, Josephine Richter."

   "Hi there, Hollywood fans.  Josie here!  As you can see, behind me, all
the finest tennis stars are here as well as many faces that you will
recognise from stage and screen..."

   Sally Freeman sat in her mistress' boudoir waiting for her owner to
arrive.  She had run the bath, laid out the clothes and prepared everything
for her arrival.

   The television ran in the background and whispered its droning mish-mash
of news and entertainment.  She heard her name and glanced to see the live
pictures from the USA.  A location so far away and strange that she barely
recognised the faces and places.

   She glanced again to see the happy couple leaving for their wedding
reception.  It scarcely registered that the story had to do with her.  In
fact her head was so full of a checklist of tasks and punishments that she
did not even recognise Fazia.

   The door opened and Abdahlla strode into the bedroom and switched off
the television with a snort.

   "Tonight I will be needing you to attend to me," she said in Arabic.  "I
expect you to be ready for punishment at nine and afterwards I think that
you will be allowed to bring me a little pleasure.  My ass demands your
service and my cunt needs to be soothed."

   "Yes mistress Abdahlla," said Sally as she watched her mistress undress.

   Sagging, but huge, breasts.  A gaping cunt that rent her groin amidst a
mass of henna red curling pubic hair.  She would want a probing tongue in
every orifice tonight.  That would be after the punishment caning that
brought this sixty year old woman to a climax before the personal service
began.

   "You are much too defiant, my little slut!" said the large woman as she
plunged into her bath.  Water slopped onto the floor as she did so.

   "The bath is too full and too cold, bitch."

   Abdahlla cast a hateful look at her American slave and smiled a crooked
smile.

   "I think that I should have a little work done on you.  A good Muslim
woman is clipped and sewn, I think that you would benefit from having those
urges removed permanently, for my delectation."

   "Yes mistress."

   "That's settled then.  I think that thirty strokes of the cane will be
enough to get me in the mood for your rather low quality service.  Today I
have decided that you need stricter supervision so I am going to start
being rigorous in your training.  After sex I may wish other, more personal
services!  `What is more personal than the service that I already render?'
thought Sally with resignation.

   "I have determined that you would make an ideal slave to attend to all
the functions of my body.  Already I feel that my bladder is full to
bursting, so you can make a start when I have finished my bath!  Make sure
that you are ready to do exactly as you are ordered, first time, without
any hesitation..."

   "I am yours, mistress."

   THE END

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

   Copyright (C) Miss Irene Clearmont 2012(Feb)

   More of Miss Irene Clearmont's WWW writing can be found at:
http://www.missireneclearmont.com

   contact me at: Irene@missireneclearmont.com Most E Mails get a reply.
   
