Unknown - Amy - undercover

Amy cowered back, as the woman opened the door further and pulled her through.

Amy was led into an enormous room, that she at first thought was a ballroom. There were hundreds of people, all Arabs, wandering about or simply standing still talking. The woman led her up a wide aisle.

Amy's bare feet felt cold on the stone floor, and made little slapping noises as she walked slowly along. Every eye in the place turned to stare at her as she moved down the aisle.

Her old easiness at nudity began to evaporate quickly as the people watched her every move. Some stared hungrily, while others glared, or scowled. Some of them, such as the women simply sniffed, and turned away.

Everyone seemed decorously clothed except her. The men and women covered from head to toe in long robes of assorted colours. The women wore veils to cover their faces as well.

Amy felt her skin redden under their intense and often hostile scrutiny. She was bewildered by all of this. Nothing in her training had prepared her for a situation like it and the confused and embarrassed girl didn't know how to react.

As they reached the front of the room they climbed three steps onto a raised section where a man sat on a huge chair, like a throne she thought. Amy burned in embarrassment as everyone turned to watch her slow approach. "That is Prince Abdul, your master." the woman hissed to her.

She felt hundreds of eyes behind her as she shambled slowly forward, her chains clinking. She lowered her eyes, embarrassed at facing the splendidly dressed group of people gathered around Abdul.

The woman brought her to a halt a few feet in front of where he sprawled indolently on his throne, and stepped back to stand stolid and impassive a few feet away.

The room was oppressively hot, and Amy found herself sweating, not just from the heat, but from nervousness and apprehension.

Her skin crawled from the continuous unfriendly attention payed her by the big crowd throughout the room, she felt their eyes sliding up and down her nude body.

A man dressed in a blue silken robe standing next to Abdul said something to him in Arabic and he answered. The two eyed her closely, talking to each other, and were joined by several other men in their conversation.

Amy had no idea what they were saying except it was probably about her. She kept her head down, trying to ignore them and everyone else. Then a louder than normal voice caught her attention. By it's tone it was an order of some sort.

She peered up to see an angry faced man next to Abdul staring at her. He repeated the order, whatever it was, but Amy could only stare in confusion.

At last he clicked his teeth in annoyance and strode forward, his arm going to her head and gripping a chunk of her golden blonde locks tightly. He jerked her forward, and down to her knees before Abdul, cursing in his strange tongue.

She knelt uncertainty, her knees pressed against the harsh stone, and her back straight as she had been taught. The men continued to eye her with dislike, and talk amongst themselves. Then she was pushed down to the floor with a harsh shove against her back.

Her sweating breasts chilled with contact against the seemingly icy stone. More harsh guttural cries erupted amongst the men, increasing her anxiety. She could hear the murmur of many voices behind her as well.

They grumbled and chattered with each other for several minutes as Amy lay there getting more and more miserable. Then Abdul spoke to her in english at last.

"You! American!" he sneered. Amy dared to look up from her study of the stone floor.

He eyed her nastily. "You will demonstrate your obedience to my people if you wish to live. You will crawl forward on your belly, and place your lips against my heel." he held his foot up.

Amy gulped in dismay, even the limited pride she retained balking at crawling across the cold dirty stone to kiss this Arab pig's feet, especially in front of so many people!

Her conditioning however, fought the very idea of resisting an order, and was joined with her fear at what might happen to her if she did. She trembled in dread, as the menacing looking group before her grew angrily impatient.

Then she slowly extended her right arm a few inches, then her left. She heard the murmur of the crowd quiet, and her skin stood on edge as she crawled forward across the short expanse of floor toward Abdul's chair.

She felt the gritty dirt of the floor scraping across her breasts, and belly as she hesitantly crawled forward until her face was inches from his foot.

She gritted her teeth against the humiliation she was feeling, and forced herself to inch her face forward and plant a kiss against the side of his dirty bare foot.

"Now your tongue woman!" Abdul hissed commanded. Amy licked her tongue out tentatively, hating the dreadful foul taste that came to her mouth as her tongue made contact with the side of his foot.

He lifted his foot then and placed it atop her head, forcing her down against the floor. His foot pressed down against her head, forcing her to turn her head sideways to stop her face getting squished.

She felt his gritty dirty foot against the side of her face as he yelled something to the crowded room.

"Clean my foot woman!" he hissed menacingly. "Use your tongue to bathe my feet and show your abasement."

Amy blinked back tears as the crowd yelled it's approval at whatever Abdul had said. She grimaced and raised her head as Abdul's foot came off it.

She gripped his foot in her two hands and slowly rasped her soft tongue across it. Starting at the sides and working her way down along to his toes. She tried to shut off her sense of taste as she worked her tongue in amongst his dirty toes, and then along to the bottom of his foot, to lick off the dirt and grit there.

When she finished she was forced to clean the other foot in a similar fashion. Then Abdul held his feet up for the crowd to see and said something derisively in Arabic. The crowd roared in agreement and laughter.

Abdul stood up and moved over the little blonde. She gasped as his hand gripped her hair and pulled her to her knees.

He placed her on her hands and knees, her behind facing the crowd and said something else very loudly, again bringing laughter. Then his hand slid up and down her ass cheeks, squeezing them tightly, before sliding between her legs to grip her pubic mound.

Again he spoke laughingly to the crowd who responded in kind with laughter and whistles. Amy knelt there submissive and miserable, for the millionth time cursing her sex.

Abdul twisted her about sharply by the hair so she was facing the crowd, then hauled her hair up and back so she fell on her back. He reached down and unfastened one end of the chain connecting her ankles and kicked her legs wide apart, giving everyone a good view of her exposed pussy slit. There was an increase in laughter and catcalls from the crowd below.

He said something, which Amy at first didn't hear for the laughing.

She blinked up at him uncertainly. "Abuse yourself!" he commanded. Amy still didn't understand.

His foot came forward and rubbed against her cuntslit.

"Abuse yourself American!" he glared. "My people wish to see how sluttish American women behave."

At last she understood.

– "If I repeat once more, I have you raped by a donkey before them!" he hissed.

Amy slowly moved her hands down between her legs. She felt her tender cunt mound, cold and gritty from the stone floor. Slowly she worked her fingers up and down the slit as the crowd quieted and stared mesmerized.

Her legs sprawled apart, she began rubbing and stroking her cuntslit, and clitty. She dropped her head back, trying to ignore the crowd as she stared upward at the ceiling high above.

Almost automatically, her fingers began to dip gently inside her slit, darting in and out as she squeezed her cunt mound repeatedly. Her mind sought to escape as she numbly followed the Arabs orders and fondled herself.