Since my youth I had been taught my virtue was all important. As a young lady the value of my chastity had been hammered into me in the weekly session at church. Without it I was nothing, a whore, a tart. Today I feared for my life and my virtue. The men moving in on me, my feeble plows nothing compared to the iron clad grip of the one called Hasson.

Hasson the youth is what I would call him, but even in his youth he was taller than I with my heals and there were few men as tall. His shoulders had started to fill out but the fullness of what they would be had not yet been realized. Squirming beneath him I could not help but note his strength, the way the muscles bunched and corded in his arms. He would be a healthy young man soon enough.

The circumstances of our meeting however were not conducive to a civilized introduction, the length of rope an ill omen to our future relationship. His body ground against me and forced me back. His thigh between my legs effectively pinning me with his weight.

It was a strange sensation for not man had ever lain with me. The vain chastity, my secret armor cracked at the heat of him as he moved to smoother my struggles. I half expected him to kiss me and in the instance of reflection was uncertain if I would bite back or let him but before It happened other rougher hands joined in and my arms were pinned above my head.

Although I continued to struggle I knew the effort was in vain. The dress, the corset, my low boots with their heals were not thing designed to roll in the sands and fight off attackers with. They were for women of station to parade about as they walked the great wilderness.

From the beginning of this trek with my father I had not been happy with my attire for it did not seem to fit with the environment. The hot stuffy petticoats had been flung to the wayside, but the rest I kept, knowing the value of a woman’s modesty. Now the one called hasson had picked the rope from the sand and was speaking to the others.

It was a moment of uncertainty for me. Should the advances be untoward then I would have to yell out the words market, price, and chastity….for in the gossipy confines of the woman’s circle their had been talk of slavery and harems. I had done my best to remain above the scuttlebutt and tawdry descriptions. Here not the knowledge that a female slave of purity might gain a better price would be my only defense against these vile men should they tie me up.

Given time I might be able to convince the youthful Hasson to be a noble gentlemen and release me to my countries embassy.

It had taken all of his weight to simple hold her down. But it had been all of her squirming that had gotten to him now as he felt the swell of his own masculine length as he found her movements against his loins quite exciting.

But soon enough he had been assisted by Ali, the older man dropping to the sands above Cassie. He dropped his sword as he practically screamed at Hassan as he moved to pin Cassie's arms down above her head, a toothy grin spreading across his face as he spoke something to Hasan.

The youth had seemed doubt founded as he gazed downward at Cassie beneath him, the glare of the sun casting his face into shadows. Then he seemed to snap out of the stupor that had engulfed him. The cord of rope had once more been in his hands as he made short work of her wrists as he bound them together.

But he had not been through there as Ali repeated his words again, this time louder than before. Rahjan watched one impassively from the back of his horse as a ripping sound echoed in his ears as he seen Hassan's hands move to the chest of the corset she wore once his task with her wrists had ben complete.

His strong hands tore at the fabric shredding the clothing in his hands as her breasts, bound up in what looked to be a simple bra, bounced free. It had been evident that the slavers had interests of their own before turning her over.

The rope cut into my wrists as the tight cord was looped and tied off. Each wrist touched the other as the man now easily pinned my hands to the sandy ground. There seemed to be an argument during which I tried to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling in rapid succession against Hassan’s own. That wonderful and strange sensation once more made its ways along my limbs. Heat rising up to me sun burned face.

Hell came. Hassan was no angel. My lovely white dress only slightly ripped was rudely pulled apart from bottom to top. A long slow rip that slowly revealed more and more of the unmentionables and parts of creamy white skin no man had seen since the day of my birth. Thankfully I had worn the white stockings and the lacy frilly shorts with their ivory buttons on each side that held the garter strap fo my stockings.

UP the rip when till my neck lay bare and the corset was all that contained me. I doubted that anyone was going to tear that garment from me. But the hands went to its frilly top and instead tore the fabric clean off the herring bone midsection. I screamed

A long cry lost in the laughs of the men and the expanse of the desert. My pale orbs and rose nipples spilling out of the now destroyed garment like melons in a field. Never before…never had a man so much as gazed at me from afar. I had been the perfect lady…was the perfect lady. And now, as their rough unwashed hands went to seize my tender flesh I cried out with the only thing I knew. The only thing that might save my virtue for but a few more days.

IN the language of the land I cried…”money…market more..you….no man” I could only hope that they understood what I meant and that money would be of more interest than me.

Ali's hands and weight upon her shoulders while Hassan used his grubby hands to grab at a breast, plucking it into his hungry mouth as he lavishly sucked and groped the orb simultaneously. He either had not understood her or had but choose to ignore the words that had escaped her lips.

Rough hands gripped at her hip and curve of her breast. Lick and suckling on her breast it had been the oldest of the three, Rahjan, that had interupted matters with a loud tone as he made an utterance. Just a few words in that language of his had seemed to stopped the others.

Apparently he had understood Cassie and what she had been trying to relay for the men stopped. Hassan clambered up to his feet reaching down to seize hold of the trailing rope that had bond her wrists.

He hauled her up to her feet with a yank on the rope though dark eyes lingered on her for a long moment, eyes dipping down her form then down it finally settling on her eyes.

Pointing towards his horse and jerking on the trailing rope he had thought that he had conveyed his true meaning as Ali climbed up to his feet, reached down and took up his blade sheathing it.

Never in my life had I been treated with such disdain. I was a lady of breeding and wealth. The ruffians had bond me, ripped my dress open from top to bottom and begun to ravish me. The terror of my attack making me cast doubt upon my own faith in my hour of need.

Lips fasten themselves to the rose colored tip that rides to prominently upon the exposed pale mound. A gasp escapes my lips as the cruel youth begins to have his way with me. I twist to dislodge him and fail to do much more than wind my feeble attempts. His thigh gyrates between my legs rubbing the soft surface of my panty against soft sensitive skin much like his lips.

Amidst the men’s wonton lust I have no defense. I pray….pray that I might be given the strength to endure this day. Sensations rumble along my nerves and leave me speechless and breathless. The sensations only serve to confuse my addled mind while heart and soul hope for a miracle.

The miracle arrives on the hands of another voice, a voice of reason I fail to understand. The lips leave my tightening chest. Leave the tingling nub as Hassan stands and then pulls the rope upwards indicating I should follow. With bound hands I try and pull the ruins of my dress closed in order to cover the nakedness that no man should have seen this day.

Yet the wind contrives against me, the dress billowing open to reveal the length of my stocking covered legs. For the first time since I can remember I can feel the heat of the sun directly on my legs and chest. As best I can I hold the dress over my pale orbs and shudder at the lingering sensation of his mouth upon me.

Following Hassan I walk to his horse unsure how I might get my self upon the horse. I do not want his help, not after what he has done even if the lord has spared my body. Setting my nose in the air I prepare to ensure he gets a good dose of disdain for his rude behavior.

Hassan breathed heavily as he had begun to calm some. Lead on by Ali he had now found himself in a frnzy of want and need. Desire. Had it not been for Rahjan he would have certainly gone further than simple groping Cassie's body as he had done.

But that had been neither here nor there. He had seen the disdain on her face as she gazed toward the horse uncertain of how she was going to mount the steed. But despite not wanting his help Hassan moved towards her cutting the short distance between the two.

Masculine hands grabbed her about her waist as he had hoisted her up into the saddle. Apparently he had been eager for her to mount up and while he had sat her down on the saddle he slide onto the horse behind her riding bare back. He had used the stirrups of the saddle to get his footing and with a hand on her shoulder he had vaulted up onto the back of the beast before taking up the reigns in weathered hands, snapping them fiercely and saying something to his steed.

The ride to the camp had been a short one thankfully given the merciless of the sun. About two dozen individuals had been scattered about though no one seemed to pay them any attention as they entered into the camp at a trot.

Rahjan said something which had Ali peeling off with his horse. He in turn dismounting near the largest tent, hands reaching up towards Cassie getting her down from Hassan's horse before he leapt off it.

A boy about 8 years of age grabbed both reigns as he lead the steads off. Rahjan pulling aside the flap on a tent displaying opulance. Pillows line the floor with a woman with a large feathered fan fanning off a large man who had been easily 300 pounds if not more.

Another women had been kneeling at his side feeding him grapes while two guards remained at the flap of the tent on the inside. The large man glanced haphazardly to the flap of the tent as the new arrivals entered into the tent. He observed them in the light of two braziers that had been set up nearby.

The young man Hassan surprised me. The strength I felt in his grip, the way he lifted me and put me on the horse. This was a virile young man that no doubt would be able to protect that which he owned. Shifting in the saddle I made certain to sit a bit side saddle even though the ruin of my dress would have made it possible to ride as men have always ridden.

Thankfully the ride was short and I was able to lean into the safe arms of dangerous host. For as much as those arms might be strong and able to provide a safe place to dwell he was not my husband and I still smarted with the liberty he had taken of my breast. I was further thankful when we slowed to a walk, as my now free orbs had been jostled to the point I swore they would be bruised.

Despite it all I worked to maintain my dignity given the disgraceful nature of my dress. With head held high I followed, entering the shade of the tent and its smoky interior. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust form the bright sun and reflective sand.

What greeted my eyes was revolting, my body recoiling at the obscenity of the fat man and his scantily clad women. His face was a familiar one. A man my father had had dealings with. A man I had not liked the looks of when I had first met him in the city of Tripoli. But here in this place with the slowly twisting smoke trying to find escape from the heavy canvas overhead I came to suspect that the reason for my plight might lay in his sticky hands. Like that smoke the future hung in the balance.

“What is the meaning of this” pulling the dress upwards with my bond hands to better cover the ample cleavage of my bosom.

Size had been a status symbol, a sign that you had the wealth and opulence to eat to excess where others remained thin. Dark eyes fled to the opened flap of the tent, the man smiled, said something to her minders in that same language that she heard earlier, the two men nodded, turned on their heels and departed from the interior of the tent.

"Cassie," the large man said, still smiling as he clambered up to his feet with a bit of effort. Dark eyes scanned her, looking down her body than flickering back up it to seize hold of her eyes with his own as he waddled a little closer. He weezed slightly as he did so as if walking even this far had caused him considerable effort.

"I see you've been welcomed," the large man, Omar, said. He had not known the full story of what had occurred out in the desert though truth be told he wouldn't have cared. "Drink?"

The women that had been fanning him set aside the fan taking up a pitcher.

"I've known you since you were this high," he said as he indicated a height near his knee. "But I ask you am I a women? Am I?"

“You are too kind in your offer, have you any knife that the bonds may be cut.” Twising my wrists forwards and keeping my arms were they were in an effort to save me from the humiliation of baring my breasts to this old family friend.

“Omar, I thank you for rescuing me…if those be your men then I must let you know that ..that the young one took certain indecent liberties of me. Though Ali the older seemed to ensure that further indiscretion’s that may have claimed my closely guarded virtue did not come to pass. “

I could not remember the man from my youth; he may have been thinner then and obviously younger. Still it was good to know I should be safe. The ruffians were gone, dismissed and I was in his tent with the women.

Still the question took me by surprise, not understanding his intent of if he had simply phrased something wrong in my language.

“I am sorry Omar…I …I do not understand your question but no…you are not. “

Her relief must have been shattered with his words. "Then why is he trying to fuck me? Why is he trying to screw me like a bitch?"

His words were loud, not quite a scream or shout though quite loud, loud enough for his face to stain red as he recited them out of his mouth as he looked at her with rage in his eyes. He had obviously been upset about something. A business deal perhaps? Whatever the case he was now taking that rage out on her as he stepped forward coming to within an arm's length of her position.

He had not offered to free her of her restraints, had dispensed with pleasantries it had seemed. His eyes burning with hate as he harped on something that had happened in his past.

Shoulders came up, head down as I brought my arms in front of my face to protect myself from the spit spewing red faced man. Spittle ran down his chin as he yelled at me. With each step I took a half step back until the top of the sloping wall hit my head.

My gaze dashed form right to left searching for an escape. The canvas opening offered the best route even though I would be back among the indecent men. If Omar took one swing I was off like a rabbit.

“who Omar..who…I…I am not the one”

"You're father ... and since I can not be avenged against him I'll settle for the next best thing. Daddy's little precious. How it would hurt him to know what fate bestowed upon you. Knowing that your virtue has been sullied."

Omar had not struck her though. His voice had been raspy given all he said and that he had seemed a bit out of breath already. He had not given any specific reason why he had thought this way not that he had been likely to answer had he been asked.

Yet some how he had mustered enough breath to finish what he had to say. Pointing a meaty finger at Cassie he spoke with that same venom within his voice.

"You are to be sold as a piece of meat, appraised and bought by the highest bidder to do with as he pleases." He had not added the female pronoun as well seeing how they were little more than property that there men had owned.

“Why you pig…you filth pig…” I swing, both arms together, the front of the dress and my immodesty forgotten in the rage of a woman pushed far to far.

“You killed them…killed them…” His fat frame absorbing the blows much like a rhino ignores the fleas. The anger had swept me up and left me winded while the fat man seemed to laugh at me…but then he was angry as well and my vision was blurred by tears.

“you killed my future husband and my father for some slight I know nothing about…am …am I worth so little. “ Nothing could be worse…my father would be dead, my fiancée with him and I a slave to be used by the likes of the ruffians outside the flap of this test…or worst..but this pig of flabby flesh. I knew it would be best that my father and fiancée had died. They would have been destroyed by watching my sale and deflowerment at the hands of these men. If I was to live at least it would only be living with what happened.

Omar had found himself laughing at her despite the blows that she had reigned down on him. He called for the guards at last when things no longer amused him, two burly individuals coming inside the tent, each had seized hold of an arm as they looked towards Omar as to what he wanted done with her.

"No, I didn't kill them, though I wish I had." And then to the guards, "Take her away, clean her up. Tomorrow she goes on sale with the others."

That said he had ignored her, taking a small measure of pride in this matter as he clambered back down to the pillows, one women fumbled with the fan for the moment, another going back to feeding him grapes. The two guards tightened their grip as they hauled Cassie away to the tent where the other prisoners had been kept.

Dragged from the tent by a guard on each arm my heals made two long furrows in the soft sand. My disgrace not ending at being man handled out of the tent and into the sight of many a mans eye. Rather the guards seemed to be amused by my struggles as they tied my arms to an overhead rope that swayed between two tall palms. Still my humiliation in their hands was not yet complete.

Between bouts of laughter and finger pointing they proceeded to tear the cloth from my body. Cloth that had cost my father money enough to pay them a years wages I would garner. Grubby rough hands pawed my body, their laughter even more pronounced whenever I would scream. They would say something in their tongue and then once more plunge to their duties in mirth and amusement till I hung naked for all the men of the camp to see slave and free alike.

Heat rose across my chest and up my to my face. Hands that had plundered my body now clapped and patted the others back. Never in my life had I been touched that way. Never in my life had something so disgusting and horrific occurred to me. With my heart beating in my very ears they left, an old woman coming and scolding them in their own tongue.

She carried a bucket and a scrub brush. Soon I felt the water upon my skin to be followed quickly by the stiff bristles. Soon not an inch of my skin glowed anything but pink as she scrapped me down with her water, soap and brush. I shivered in the hot sun as the water evaporated from my body and chilled me to no end.

In a final act of what seemed kindness she applied a past to my sun ravished face and instantly I felt a coolness transcend the heat of the sun. No longer

My torment was not to end…the scream announced yet another as I found her fingers in a place they should not be. A surprise at how they slipped into wet folds, folds that water had not touched. Then they were gone…she looked up at me from around her gnarled winkled nose and spoke my language…

“Good that yeh be pure and hungry, good price that…do not be afraid to snarl an yell an jump when the men touch yeh tomorrow fore yeh sale. “ she laughed…then turned in left. My bath it seemed was over. Water, sacred in the desert had not been wasted in the decadence of western ways.

The guards returned and cut me down. Still worn out form my ordeal I collapsed one of the burly men catching me and then throwing me over his shoulder as they would a goat. The other took out the cold black iron shackles and slid one about my slender ankle and another upon a long thick chain. I could move 5 or so feet up and back along the chain. But otherwise that was the extent of my wondering. All along the chain were men, women and children. Most of them were women and children.

I did not see my father or my fiancée in the chain of men and Omar’s earlier words made my hope that they might still be alive to rescue me.

That night I slept a night of horror and hope. My dreams woven in the darkness of nightmares and sweaty bodies, my hope that anytime my father might come and pull me from the sensual torments of hell and bring me back to the light of day.