Blonde Needles in a Giant Haystack 19

»Time to get you ready for the ride!«

The Phantom stepped towards Dalanda who had just managed to catch breath and raise her head. He pulled her a few yards away from the drying puddle in the sand, an embarrassing reminder of how she had lost control over her bladder due to the tickle attack.

»Soo, it will be iron shackles for you, but for the moment, leather will have to do the job!«

A stiff collar about four inches wide was buckled around her neck, snug, but not so tight it blocked her breathing. Nevertheless, Dalanda gulped when he secured it with a small padlock. The collar had a few metal rings sewn to it, and she knew they would come to some terrible use. She glimpsed at the well, now covered with the lid again. Though no sound emerged from its deep, knowing that Babette was down there, helplessly trussed up, made her shiver.

The Phantom grabbed the chain of her handcuffs, and surprisingly gentle, he bent her arms, until her wrists were close to her nape. With another padlock, he secured the chain to her collar, forcing her to keep up the inconvenient position that also forced her to thrust out her boobs.

The girl had to get on her knees, and the ankle ties were replaced by the second pair of handcuffs. Through each shackle, a narrow belt was threaded, and when she had sat down on her heels, her ankles were buckled to her thighs, forcing her to remain sitting. In addition, Dalanda had to open her thighs to keep balance.

The phantom now produced a strange object. It had the shape of an egg, but was bigger, about the size of a pear, and on each end, a nuzzle of about half an inch protruded. When the man held it to her eyes, Dalanda could see that a pipe with just a few millimetres diameter went through the whole thing.

»It’s not my invention, but at least, I built it myself!«

He undid the knots of her cleave gag and plucked the panties from her mouth. Dalanda panted, unable to scream as he wrapped the sodden garment around the leather object. Then, the now quite sizeable ball was shoved back into her mouth, and he pressed his thumb and index finger into her cheeks, so she had to open wide. The gag filled her mouth, and the nuzzle, now wrapped inside the panties, touched the back of her throat, triggering her gag reflex.

»Gllggg!«

The Phantom cut a small hole into the scarf, put it over the nuzzle protruding from her gaping mouth and tied the ends tightly at the girl’s nape again. Above came a mask made of wet leather, similar to Babette’s. It had an opening for her nose, and since it also went under her chin, it would force her jaw close around the gag once the leather had dried. The only change was that it had another small hole for the nuzzle. The man now held a water hose to her gag, and when he squeezed it, some water ran down Dalanda’s throat.

»Like that, I can give you water and even some soup, and I don’t have to ungag you every few hours!«

»Ghmmm! Uuhhmmm!«

The next step of her ordeal was an elaborate blindfold. Two pads of cotton wool were placed over her eyes, secured with a silk scarf, and finally, another wet leather band was tied over them. Obviously, she would also not be allowed to see in the near future.

Dalanda cringed when something touched her flank. It was a belt that was buckled tight around her waist. The girl’s chest heaved with fearful anticipation when a rope was threaded through it at her front.

»A crotch rope! And he sure will make it extra tight!«

The ends were pushed under her, and the man pulled the slack out, but to Dalanda’s surprise, he led the rough hemp not directly between her labia, but made the ropes more or less flank them. It felt irritating, but at least, no rope was trying to bisect her.

»Now, let’s take care of your posture!«

He threaded the rope ends through her bent arms and pulled. Dalanda mewed and reared up, thrusting out her boobs even more as her elbows were pulled together and downwards. The tie put extreme pressure and strain to her shoulders, and she ached when it was knotted off.

The man bent her forward, and Dalanda, still coping with the tight rope and the pressure on her neck, shoulders, arms and between her legs, took some time to realize the other irritation, not painful, but humiliating: the Phantom greased her cleft with oil and then inserted a pebble the size of a walnut into her rear, followed by two more.

»They are smooth, but during the ride, they will grind to each other, and with a little bit of luck you will sense the vibration! After some hours, you will be grateful for any kind of distraction!«

Dalanda groaned when he lifted her and placed her on the saddle of his horse. With her bent legs, the girl had to balance, and she leaned forward, the pommel pressing against her abdomen, not to fall over. She heard the rustling of the man packing his belongings, and then, he grabbed one of her arms and gave a command. The horse went on its knees, and only his grip prevented her from falling off the saddle.

A light djellaba was draped over her shoulder. It was one that could be buttoned at the front, and the Phantom tested that the gaps between the buttons were big enough  he could push his hands through them. He then produced two scarves and tied one over Dalanda’s mouth and nose, the other over her head, knotting it under her chin.

»Ghhmmm! Mph!«

She weakly squirmed and protested when he sat in the saddle behind her, and when the horse rose, she felt wedged between the man and the pommel, the latter grinding over her pubic mound whilst his manhood pressed against her rear.

The horse began to walk in a slow pace, and Dalanda’s scream was muffled by her tight gag and stifled by the sound of the hooves and the rustling of the stirrups.

***

In the Sheikh’s tent, Johanna and Gabriela stood side by side. They had been freed from their bonds, and so, both had their arms crossed in front of their boobs whilst they tried to look calm and confident. The Sheikh sat opposite to them on a divan, and two guards were leaning by the entrance. Now, a shadow fell inside, and a young man entered.

»Chalid, my son!«. Sheikh Mansur introduced, and the young man stepped beside his father, looking at the two girls with an indifferent look. Though none of the girls understood the following conversation in Arabic, they could conclude that the Sheikh was offering them to his son, and the young man seemed less impressed than expected.

»If the son’s too picky, his old man will take care of us!«, Johanna thought with some bitterness. She was reminded of her future fate when she was ordered to put her hands behind her head, allowing the men to admire her breasts. Still, the young man showed only cursory interest, and when he approached her and touched them, it looked as if he was doing so just to please his dad.

»Maybe, he’s more into brunettes?«

She glimpsed at Gabriela, and she wasn’t sure whether it would improve their fate if Chalid showed interest in her. It would spare Gabriela to be given to the men, but it would condemn Johanna to become the Sheikh’s Mistress.

Mansur said something, and Chalid left, with an expression of relief on his face. Johanna wanted to cover her breasts again, but the Sheikh told her to stay like she was.

»We will have to go on a campaign, but you will be allowed to enjoy the hospitality of my tent!«

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them downwards. Johanna blushed when her pubic mound was exposed. The man pulled them down to her knees where gravity made the garment slide to her ankles. He stepped back, reaching out.

»Give them to me!«

Johanna wanted to lower her hand, but he ordered her to leave her hands behind her back. So, she had to step out of the panties, grab them with her toes and raise her leg to give them to the Sheikh, further exposing her intimate areas. When picking them, he grabbed her ankle and brushed over her sole, enjoying how she writhed whilst balancing on one leg.

The panties were plain white cotton, and they were considerably substantial. Mansur let them run through his fingers and brought them close to his nose before he called in his men who, on his order, forced the girls to stand back to back. Johanna’s wrists were grabbed and tied with a scarf that felt soft despite it was pulled tight. Above, the man binding her tied some wet leather cord to enforce the bonds.

Johanna tried not to move her fingers too much, as they were dangling over Gabriela’s panty-clad crotch. The Portuguese’s arms were pulled over hers, and her wrists were bound the same way over Johanna’s pubic mound. She could almost feel how the other girl stiffened as her hands touched the other’s pubic hair, and she felt her cheeks redden.

Gabriela panted angrily, and Johanna could feel that her panties were removed, too. What followed was some moaning and retching, accompanied by a rustle, and she knew that the Portuguese was getting gagged. Johanna sighed when the Sheikh stepped in front of her: Gabriela’s panties, red with small white Polka dots, were dangling from his finger, indicating that Gabriela had to chew on Johanna’s, and she would have to taste the Portuguese’s body.

»Your mouth is slightly bigger, and they are smaller than yours!«, he stated as he slowly worked the damp garment into Johanna’s mouth. From a corner, he produced a woollen, filthy-looking sock and added it on top, filling Johanna’s mouth to capacity and causing her to retch. A long cloth bandage, maybe a turban, was wound between her lips and around her head about 30 times, and a wet leather band was tied over the gag.

Next, each girl’s ankles were tied to bamboo rods, forcing them to stand with their feet some yard apart. The position could not be called convenient, but still, it was tolerable. The Sheikh brought two more long silk bandages and handed one to his henchman. Johanna felt how he slung the band over her crossed wrists, and she could watch the Sheikh doing the same to Gabriela’s wrists. He took care that both ends were even, then tied knot after knot in it, until the part dangling to her ankles had about one knot per inch, whilst the ends still were loose. Johanna knew that Gabriela had received the same treatment, and she had an idea what was coming next.

»Mph! Nngg!«, she chortled as the cloth was threaded between her legs and brought upwards behind her back. Gabriela mewed and squirmed, rubbing her back and butt against Johanna’s, when she received the same treatment. The cloth was snug, but not too tight, and the knots felt irritating on her pubic mound and between her legs, and somehow, she felt even more naked and vulnerable than before.

They were at the middle of the tent, and the tallest of the men now stepped onto a small table and tied the ends of the cloth off to a point where two of the strong tent posts crossed. Still, there was some slack in the crotch ropes, but it wasn’t the end of it.

»Uuuhmmph! Nnngggg!«

»Mmhhrrrmm!«, Gabriela added when ropes were tied to their leg spreading bars and their legs were pulled forward, forcing the girls to lean their backs harder against each other, and to lower their bodies. Of course, this tightened the crotch ropes on which their weight now rested.

When the bars had been secured to the posts, the Sheikh admired the precision of the arrangement. Both Johanna and Gabriela now were sitting on the very taut cloths, with their pubic mounds split in two. Their heaving chests, and the strained expression in their faces told him the crotch ropes were as uncomfortable as he had desired.

»We might be some time – but when we return, you will sure be grateful to feel something else down there!«

***

»I look like an idiot!«

»An idiot with a funny head gear!«, Sato replied to Jeb’s complaint, though he could understand the American’s worries. The Arabs had equipped them with cloth to tie over their heads, and none of them had managed to wear them with natural dignity and elegance, not even John. The three men were also a bit grumpy as the three dromedaries were reserved for the girls and Marco, forcing them to walk through the sand as the little caravan moved away to another resting place.

Only two men were riding, acting as scouts, since the Sheikh’s men could return at any minute. The vast plain they were crossing right now meant that they could see any approaching group from the distance, but it also meant that they had no cover at all, and except the three of them, they had only four more fighters.

The tribe’s leader closed up to them, leading his dromedary by its rein. He pointed at a mountain range in the distance.

»Colonel over there!«

John noticed that they were heading to another direction.

»Why aren’t we going there, too? I mean, Marco’s boss is there, and the Sheikh won’t get too close either!«

The language barrier made the Arab have to figure out what John meant, but he had understood the words »Colonel« and »Sheikh«, and he answered:

»Sheikh means war, Colonel means war, too! Desert means peace!«

He withdrew, and John translated the French words to his comrades. Sato scoffed.

»We are retreating like cowards! I mean, I get that we can’t take on the Sheikh’s men alone – but we could get to the Colonel and persuade him to help us against our common enemy!«

John looked at the mountains, guessing they were some ten miles away. After some hesitating, he raised his arms and yelled:

»Halt! Stop!«

At first, the nomads didn’t react, but finally, the leader approached him, looking slightly angry ate the delay.

»What?«

John scratched together his little Arabic, and he spoke slowly, trying to sound as confident as possible:

»We go to the Colonel!«

Jeb and Sato exchanged a look, since they hadn’t spoken about this plan before. However, since it was what Sato had wanted, he kept his mouth shut, and Jeb also had no complaints.

The leader just shrugged; after all, he could not stop them, and if they left, he would be more flexible. To his surprise, John began to fumble on his shoe, pulling on the heel. From it, he pulled a small sack containing five gold coins.

»We need a dromedary – for Marco!«

The Black was close enough to overhear their talking, and he looked up when he heard his name. He looked exhausted from trying to sit on the camel’s back whilst still suffering from his bullet wounds, and he didn’t say a word.

»What is going on?«

It was Ana, who, followed by Melissa, had approached the group, too. Quickly, John explained his plan to the girls:

»Where the Colonel is, Ben Keane also is – and we bring him back his man! In addition, the Colonel might be open to the offers of Mr. Davenport!«

Whilst the girls still thought about that, he added:

»You will stay with the nomads, they will take care of your safety!«

In a synchronous move, both put their hands on their hips.

»Do you consider us to weak, or to be cowards?«

John, being a skilled negotiator, put up a smile.

»You are nearly as brave and tough as you are beautiful!«

Turning serious, he added:

»Ben Keane has kidnapped Babette and the others to use them as pawns, and if he or the Colonel have similar plans for you two, we can’t protect you against an entire garrison! However, he might be open to our offers, for he gains nothing if he kills us, for then, Mr. Davenport won’t pay!«

Sato stepped beside him.

»And if we fail, you are still out there to save Johanna and Gabriela!«

The argument went back and forth for a while, but in the end, they agreed, and so, John, Jeb and Sato walked towards the mountains, leading Marco’s dromedary by its rein. Despite the language barrier, the Goodbye between the mercenary and his rescuer/protector Brahim had been hearty, and the boy had to fight back his tears. Soon, they had disappeared between the dunes, and the caravan also continued its trip.

Ana brought her dromedary closer to Melissa’s. The Spaniard was quite a skilled rider, though she was used to horses, and so, she could move by herself, unlike Melissa whose camel was led by Brahim.

»What do you think about reckless actions, without a second thought?«

Melissa chuckled.

»Since you have been kidnapped by Gaby and me, you should know the answer!«

Ana smiled and lowered her voice, though Brahim didn’t speak English anyway:

»And what do you think about boys who are considering us as weaklings, pretending they only want to protect us from getting harmed?«

Melissa stared at Ana with disbelief. She was feeling guilty, as if she was leaving Gabriela behind, and she had only bowed to John’s plan because it seemed the most reasonable thing to do.

»Are you intending what I think you are intending?«

Ana looked at Brahim who didn’t take notice of them.

»Let’s fall behind a bit, and at the next bigger dune, you pretend that you have to pee! I will take the rein of your camel, so Brahim can stay away and give you some privacy! And this privacy, you’ll take to jump into the saddle and then, we ride like hell!«

Melissa licked her lips, feeling fear and anticipation at the same time. It was a daring, idiotic plan – but it gave her back some agency in saving Gabriela!

As they had hoped, Melissa’s »J'ai envie de faire pipi!« made the boy feel awkward, and he deliberately handed the rein to Ana before he retreated behind the dune. Ana nodded, and after a last look at where Brahim had left, she got back into the saddle. Ana spurned her dromedary, and though it didn’t gallop, the two animals walked the way she wanted.

It took a minute until they heard Brahim yell, and after another minute, one of the scouts appeared behind them. Some 150 yards were already between them and the man, and Ana tried to make the dromedary walk faster, knowing the skilled rider would soon be able to get them.

However, the man didn’t get on, and when she looked at the horizon, Ana could see what he must have been noticed: a dust cloud that came closer very fast.

***

»Mmmmhrrrmmmm!«

Her faint moan echoed around Babette in the narrow hole she was stuck in. She could barely see anything, as only a little light came through the small cracks in the well’s lid, and all she could hear was her own panting and mewing, accompanied by the slight splashing of the water that reached to her collar bone.

Her initial panic of having to drown had ceased, as not only was she held by the rope connected to the top of the well, the water also wasn’t that deep: if she went on her tiptoes, she could even stand. And yet, Babette felt as helpless as she had never done before, though it couldn’t be more than half an hour since the Phantom had lowered her into the well.

Her bonds were still unyielding, and she wasn’t sure whether the hemp already had tightened due to getting soaked or if she was just imagining it. Perhaps, it was just an illusion, but she felt that the rope between her legs felt tighter than it had before, and whenever she took a deeper breath, the ropes cut into her flesh. Despite the water being not too cold, she already felt her toes getting cold, and she knew that over the hours, hypothermia would become an issue.

Babette weakly shook her head, in a vain attempt to loosen her gag. The leather had dried, turning the pressure on her jaws from inconvenient to numbing, and she had to bite down hard on the two pairs of vile tasting panties in her oral cavity. In contrast to the cool water, the air inside the well was hot and damp, and Babette felt her throat getting sore from growing thirst. However, she could not get any of the water so close to her, as no matter how much she distorted her neck, she could not get her head below the surface. It was a terrible prison, and rescue would only come in form of the creepy Sheikh.

Again, Babette screamed into her gag, and she weakly struggled, like a fly that was still alive, but tightly cocooned by a spider.

***

Though he was named after the Moroccan King, Hassan was loyal to the Western Saharan cause, and he had recently been promoted Sergeant, giving him not only command over some 20 men, but also their latest achievement – a few fighter drones. Actually, he had only gotten custody of those because he had owned a civil drone when he had been 16, and whilst he had some skills in directing one for taking photos, he had no experience in using them as military weapons.

So, the four drones had been resting in their crates for some months, the Colonel considering them too valuable to be tested. However, since the arrival of the strange grey-haired man and his henchmen, things had changed. Obviously, this man was rich, and he had come to an agreement with the Colonel. From now on, there would be no need to be greedy.

Hassan grinned as he observed his men arranging the drones for their test flight. He and his platoon had gone for a few miles into the desert, to test whether it was possible to do a precise grenade bombing with their drones. He was sceptical, for the boxes they had been kept inside had been colourful, showing a smiling boy and his dad. These were civilian drones – maybe expensive ones, but not designed for throwing bombs or taking a bullet.

And yet, Hassan was sure that with a few arrangements, they would become useful weapons, giving them back initiative against the Sheikh. Mansur had less men, but he commanded skilled riders, whilst the Colonel’s men were mostly infantry. Thus, the Sheikh controlled the area, and he could always launch fast attacks on supply troops, with them only being able to defend the vicinity of the caravanserai.

One of his Corporals allowed himself a short break, having a cigarette, and in his breast pocket, Hassan saw a piece of pink cloth. So, the man had been successful in getting a souvenir from the two blondes that had done an erotic show the day before. His grin grew broader.

Hassan had enjoyed watching the two naked girls like the next guy, but he enjoyed even more that obviously, the taller one now had become the Colonel’s personal Mistress. Before he had »retreated to rest a bit«, he had finally allowed Hassan to test the drones, and he now took the RC, anticipating the first test flight.

»Are we getting a thunderstorm?«

It was one of the young Privates, chosen for his platoon not for his military experience, but because he loved computer games and therefore could perhaps also be a capable drone pilot. Hassan looked at the blue sky and shook his head – then, he also heard the faint rumble come from the West. He frowned, and some of the more experienced men grabbed their rifles.

»It’s the sound of hooves – and since I doubt it’s a stampede of antelopes, I would say it is attacking cavalry!«

***

On a horse, Ana would have spurned it, trying to reach the garrison by a fast gallop. Even with Melissa’s riding animal tied to hers, they would have had enough of a head start. But whilst her skills were good enough to rule the dromedary on a slow ride, she wasn’t able to make it run, and in addition, their camels were packing camels, not designed for galloping. The advancing horse riders, however, looked as if they were born in the saddle.

»They are dozens! They will simply encircle us!«

Melissa had different concerns, though, as she looked over her shoulder where she could still see the whirled dust of the nomads. These were much slower than the riders, too, and if the two groups met, it would be a one-sided massacre. Perhaps, the Sheikh’s men would not aim at women and children, but in the heat of battle, they would sure kill a few of them, too. She thought of Brahim and his younger brother, and she stated:

»They will get us anyway – but maybe, we can distract them from the nomads!«

Melissa rose in her saddle, her fingers ripping on the rope tied around her waist. Once it fell loose, she pulled the blanket over her head, exposing her naked upper body.

»Lizzie, what are you doing?«

The German let out a loud, high-pitched yell and waved her arms, and the riders, still a few hundred yards away, did indeed slow down. Ana could see the reflexion of a few binoculars, and she sighed.

»All right, you drew their attention!«

She also took off her blanket, and she also jiggled her boobs whilst waving and yelling. Only when she saw one of the men give an order, and the riders began to move again, she spurned her dromedary, making it and Melissa’s camel walk.

»And John isn’t even seeing what we do to save his ass!«, she thought as she felt the distance between them and the advancing cavalry get shorter.

***

Hassan had ordered two men back to the garrison, but he knew that they would be too slow to be back in time. Here, in the dunes, they could only take shelter behind small bushes or dig shallow holes, and from the size of the dust bowl, he guessed they were outnumbered three or four to one. He looked at one of his men who ducked behind the drone boxes, and he had an idea. He called the boy who had considered the attackers a thunderstorm and two others who also had some gaming skills.

»Are you ready to fight and die?«

»Yes, Sergeant!«, they answered in unison, showing the confidence of those who hadn’t seen real battle yet. Hassan grinned and put down his rifle.

»But would you prefer to see another day, maybe many of them?«

Now, the three men stared at him with disbelief. Was he intending to surrender without a single shot? Hassan focussed them.

»And do you also think that we shall show these saddle-poopers what modern warfare looks like?«

When he grabbed one of the RCs, the men understood, and with a mixture of excitement and concern, they manned the four drone controls, sending them into the air. So far, it was common ground: on the small display, he could see what the drone’s camera saw – two riders heading for their position, followed by a bunch of riders. Hassan guessed that the Sheikh had sent an entire company.

»Now, let’s show that we are not lesser men than those fighting in the front rows!«

The drones went up to a height of 200 feet, trying to get above the riders. Had this been a normal attack, at least a few would have spotted the flying objects and tried to shoot them down. However, the men were focussed on the two naked women that now were almost within reach.

»Armageddon! Corporals, lead the advance!«

The drones flew a formation, and Hassan gave a less military command:

»Yippee Ki-Yay, Motherfuckers!«

He and his men pressed a button at the control. One mechanism jammed, but the other three drones dropped their load, and seconds later, the three smoke grenades spat out thick clouds of pink smoke that covered the riders entirely.

The rest of his platoon had advanced, and they now fired at the clouds. They couldn’t see their enemy, but they increased the chaos, and they heard shouting, cursing and the shrill neighing of panicking horses.

Hassan and his men quickly landed the drones, so they could join the battle – except for the one whose dropping mechanism had failed. He observed the scene, and what he saw was telling him that the sergeant’s manoeuvre had been a success.

»They are fleeing!«

Indeed, more and more riders staggered from the other side of the cloud and galloped away. A few looked as if they had been wounded, and there were also riderless horses. Hassan ordered to stop firing, and he then saw the two camels stumble over a dune. His jaw dropped as he saw the riders were two women, naked except for their tiny panties.

»Did I just die – and since I fought with a trick, I am only getting two virgins?«

Hassan chuckled, still overwhelmed by both the sight of the two girls and the success of his stratagem. The noise of the skirmish had ceased, and the smoke was more and more driven away by the wind. More men gathered around the two exhausted and sweaty girls who now obviously would have wished to have something more to put on, even more as now, the reinforcements from the garrison arrived, too.

»Sergeant?«

He unwillingly turned his head, as he had been to announce that they no longer needed support and had beaten off the enemy. It was sone of his corporals. Behind him stood his men, pointing their rifles at a group of weaponless men in dust-covered clothes.

»Seems that some of their horses were even more scared than they were, and so, they left without them!«

Hassan looked at the seven prisoners. Six of those were just ordinary desert warriors, looking either defiant, scared or embarrassed, but the last was different. Whilst his comrades were young, he sported a grey beard, and though he had sprained or broken his ankle, he was trying to stand upright and look calm and confident, though he for sure was the most embarrassed of them all.

Hassan straightened, and he stepped in front of the man.

»Sheikh Mansur, I am glad to accept your surrender! Also, I am sure that the Colonel will be even more happy to see you!«

***