Slaved

Two officers brought Donna to the counter, "Ah," the Inspector chuckled, "There you are, your friends have decided you are an illiterate imbecile fit only to be used as a whore."

"What!" she snapped.

I approached the desk.

"You can't read Arabic can you?" I explained, "That makes you illiterate in the eyes of the law."

"So?" she said, "Big deal, it doesn't exactly make me a imbecile!"

"No but it does get you out of here," I added, "Alive!"

"What Mr, ah, Bond has neglected to tell you is that he has conspired to have you registered as his slave." Mantouk explained.

"What?" she demanded.

"Slave, ah, how do you say it," Mantouk said enjoying the moment, "Concubine, Prostitute, Whore!"

"Only a technicality," I explained.

"Hardly Mr Bond," Mantouk explained, "You think you are very clever, but you have underestimated us, she may leave as a slave, as you say, she is illiterate, good for nothing but pleasure and fornication, but she leaves as a slave, leashed and naked, or if she does not agree well, perhaps she is not an imbecile after all."

"Naked?" she squealed, "Leashed!" her eyes were nearly popping out of her head.

"It's that or you stay here for a very long time, or if you're really unlucky you get stoned," I said.

"Stoned, what do you mean, I don't do drugs!" she insisted.

"Not stoned, stoned, stoned with stones," I explained, "Stoned to death."

"Don't be ridiculous," she sneered.

"So, you refuse?" Mantouk asked.

"Absolutely," Donna snapped, "Just get Daddy to post bail and get me out of here!"

"Look," I said, "Just have the collar on, sign the forms, strip off and make a dash for the car, job done," I said, "It's not as if you dress like a Nun on stage is it?"

"In the trunk of a regulated Taxi," Hassan interjected, "Slaves may only ride in the trunk of regulated Taxis."

"And of course she must be registered with the slave bureau and auctioned to establish the taxes payable," Mantouk suggested, "Come now,just pay the six million pounds, lets call it dollars bail."

"Just call Daddy!" she insisted.

"Your public awaits, the worlds press are outside, photographers, videographers," Hassan continued, waxing lyrically and making up words I had certainly never heard of before.

"World's press?" she asked.

"Crowding the pavement," Mantouk agreed.

"I'll do it," Donna agreed, "I hate this tent!" she said lifting the hem of her police issue grey robe, "It's not and itchy and!" and she pulled it over her head and stood there defiantly completely naked but for her police issue sandals, "This ought to sell a few records!".

I gasped, she looked so different, her breasts high and perfectly formed like a young girls her taut tummy and well muscled legs, so different from the padded top heavy look of Donna the pop princess.

Mantouk couldn't resist a final attempt to twist the knife, "If she is not registered with the slave bureau by nightfall and if she is not auctioned within seven days, or tries to leave the country without being auctioned I will make my personal priority to have her re arrested and convicted if Adultery, is that clear!"

"Crystal," I said.

A small circle of incredulous locals had formed, "Get a Taxi organised Luce!" I called to Lucy who hated being referred to as 'Luce or Loose!'

"Sign the forms Adams lets get the hell out of here," I added.

Mantouk, handed the sheaf of forms to Adams and Adams signed with a flourish, it was all in Arabic and could have been his own death warrant for all he knew which is why I never signed for her, and then all hell broke loose.

"Don't let them see you're flat chested," Adams hissed as we made a run for it trying to shield Donna as much as possible, and then we were outside facing a fusillade of flash bulbs.

Lucy had organised a Taxi, the only surviving Lada outside a Russian museum and the driver 'Helped' Donna into the boot and strapped her in, oh yes, they had health and safety, not seat belts but floor belts around her waist and upper body, Gee!"

"Old city," I ordered in Arabic, "The slave market, 'Whip the Camel soundly!" I meant step on it but my Arabic wasn't that good.

Step on it, that bastard waited until we had a convoy of Paps lined up behind us before he got out of second gear and we crawled through about ten miles if narrow streets on a trip of maybe three hundred yards as the crow flies.

"Have you got the pussy masks in there?" I asked Lucy as I sat beside her in the Taxi with Donna's case between us.

"The what!" she demanded.

"You know, the cat mask, disguise," I suggested, she rummaged around and extracted two different ones, "If Donna wears one and you wear the other," I suggested.

"Why?" Lucy asked.

"Donna's tits sell records and just now she doesn't have any," I explained, "You on the other hand," she hit me, just a slap, but it set me thinking, "We could say we swapped and you are Donna."

"No way am I parading naked around an Arab slave market!" she insisted. Great minds clearly do think alike.

"I'm not asking you to," I suggested, "Just wear the mask!" She saw the point and shrugged and pulled it on,

Eventually we arrived, obviously the Papparazi were there before us and a huge mob of laughing Arab men had formed, "Hide your tits!" I whispered to Donna as she was released and pulled her Cat mask on..

We made a run for it to the market, fought our way through the crowd to where Mr Hussein the manager was waiting for us with registration papers, fortunately and thoughtfully he had them translated into English and Adams duly signed.

"Don't you want the confirmation that she is illiterate?" I asked.

"Oh no, she is English, I take your word for it," Hussein grinned through tobacco stained teeth.

Lucy was trying to shield Donna from the photographers, "So can I register her as well?" I asked and pointed.

"Five thousand Dollars, cash," he demanded.

"Two," I offered, we settled on three thousand five, which I had in the lining of my Jacket for contingencies, and I quickly became Lucy's owner.

"I think you should get a good price Mr Adams," a familiar voice suggested.

Inspector Mantouk was standing behind us, "Yes," I agreed and I wandered off to a stall and bought another tatty used dog collar and length of chain, "Are you bidding," I asked as I returned.

"Hah!" Hassan snorted, so took hold of Donna's leash and started my best auctioneer patter, "My Lords Ladies and Gentlemen," I said in English, and then prattled on in Arab, "The internationally renowned Whore and Prostitute Donna!" and I grabbed her under the armpits and lifted her up, she tried to hit me which was a mistake as she showed her tits, or lack of them

A great laugh went up, "It's a stunt for publicity!" someone shouted.

"Am I bid two million dollars?" I asked, "One?" I asked, "Come on," I said.

"She is a fake!" someone shouted.

"Sing something," I said, "Quickly before they lynch us!"

"What?" she said.

"God knows, 'Don't cry for me Arthur Negus," I suggested, "Imagine, Nessum Dorma! anything!"

She launched into her latest ballad, there was this sudden shocked diminution of sound, they couldn't believe it, it really was that bad, I doubt any two notes were in tune with another, it really was that painful.

"Ok sold to Mr Hunt for one dollar!" I shouted, "Next we have Donna two,"

Lucy looked round as she felt the dog collar around her throat, "No!" she squealed but it was too late and the buttons were cascading from her sun dress revealing her ample chest, a great cheer went up as I flicked open her front fastening bra and tore her dress away revealing her tiny panties which barely hid her neat triangle of blonde pubic hair.

The crowd gasped, and a chant started "Donn-a Donn-a," the chanted.

"Who's a popular girl then," I asked, "Sing something,"

How was I to know she had a degree in music and had actually laid down some of the vocals on Donna's tracks. Maybe "The Hills are Alive," from the Sound of Music wasn't an inspired choice but the crowd went wild and well, I was quite impressed myself until the crowd parted and the tall impressive figure of a gentleman I soon realised was the crown prince approached me.

"Two million Dollars," he said, "For tonight, have her wrapped and delivered." and he handed me a bag of notes, well you don't count it do you, actually he was four thousand short when Adams counted it later.

"No!" Lucy protested.

"You keep half," I whispered.

"You keep ten percent," she offered, we settled on sixty, forty, "God I can pay off my student loan and buy a car!" she chuckled.

"Very clever," Inspector Mantouk hissed, "Who is Hunt?"

"Me, squire," I said and I slipped Adams a ten dollar bill, "Keep the change," I said and I looked for Donna who was standing around completely confused that Lucy was getting all the attention. I grabbed Donna's leash, "Let me go!" she demanded, "Where's my clothes, get me out of here!"

"It is a sham, Hassan, they make monkeys of us," Mantouk declared in Arabic.

"Shut the fuck up bitch!" I told Donna, "Looking at Lucy's tits gave me a hard on, you got work to do bitch." We were behind the pillar of the arch, Hassan, Mantouk and I, I tugged Donna's leash and pulled open my fly, my rock hard tool flopped out, "Suck it bitch!" I ordered.

"No way!" she snapped.

"See, you have no control," he insisted,

"Is that right!" I snapped and I grabbed Donna under her armpits hoisted her up and pushed her against the pillar, it took a second to aim my tool at her sweet pink cunt lips and then I let her down.

It hurt like hell, she was dry as a bone, tears filled her eyes, "I hate you!" she said.

"Sorry," I said inadequately.

"Sorry, you are not sorry, Mr Hunt, Mr Bond who ever you are," Inspector Mantouk insisted, "You are angry, how dare your slave be dry when you need her."

"Exactly," I said, "You better juice up real quick Donna because if you don't I'm gonna fuck your ass instead!"

I guess self preservation kicked in about then as suddenly everything seemed easier, she slipped down my cock until I was all the way inside her.

"Happy now you bastards?" she asked the watching policemen.

"Yes, "Mantouk replied, "You behave like a whore, now you know how it feels to be a whore," he paused, "My daughter has all your records, she sees you as role model, now she will see you are just a whore!"

"I'm not a whore!" she snapped, "I'm not!"

"Yes you are," I told her, "So cum for me, ok?"

"What?" she asked, "Why?"

"To make you happy," I suggested.

"In your dreams," she said and quite suddenly there was just Donna and me and nothing else mattered, an there were clouds and my balls were aching and that familiar rush started and spunk burst from me like a fountain flooding into her and she was screaming and wailing and her legs were wrapped around me and her hands on my ass pulling me deeper into her .

"You," I said, "Bitch, have a show in two hours."

"Yes," she agreed, "Ok just a moment, just hold me."

"What?" I demanded.

"Just hold me," she said, "My head is spinning, phew!"

"Pull yourself together," I snapped, "Surely you've been screwed before?"

"Not like this!" she confessed, "Not like this!"

"It's ok," I said, "I haven't had it for weeks, either, I guess we got carried away."

"Yes," she said, "Carried away, show, yes."

I looked for Lucy but she was gone, but Adams had Donna's case and our police minders were gone.

I let Donna dress in one of her skimpier concert costumes and we made a dash for the Hotel, she ran surprisingly well, put me to shame anyway as I wheezed in through the door and then it was all action as Adams desperately assembled everyone to get her to the arena.

I did my job, well actually I did Carruthers job, head of security, as best I could, and from the row from inside I guess it was a great success.

Adams called me to Donna's dressing room afterwards, "We're on the morning departure to London," he said.

"Right, I'll stay and sort out the mess then," I agreed.

"No, you're the problem not the solution," Adams said, "You're to deliver Donna safely to London." he insisted.

"No sweat," I agreed.

"You better stay with her tonight, all this ridiculous slave stuff." he insisted.

"Fine," I agreed.

"And keep your filthy hands off her," he insisted.

"Yeah," I agreed.

We went back to the hotel, "I don't trust those bastards," I told Donna after I watched her eating her nutritionally balanced supper while I munched a quarter pounder in a sesame seed bun.

"No," she said, "I'll sleep in your room."

"Fine," I agreed, "You want to lie awake all night watching a fan with worn out bearings playing aircraft carrier to a squadron of flies."

"Better than a cell," she said, "You will look after me won't you?"

"Sure," I agreed.

She took a bath in her own air conditioned suite and then we made our way to my third rate room.

"You take the bed," I told her, "I'll make do with the floor."

"John," she said, "They might have concealed cameras."

"No way," I said, "I searched the room for bugs."

"You searched mine," she reminded me.

"But not Lucy's," I reminded her.

"Even so," she said, "I would be safer if we pretended."

"Pretended?" I asked.

"I'd feel safer with your collar," she said, "It's not as if you haven't see me naked."

"Ok," I agreed, I had the collar and leash, and it barely took a minute to slip it around her neck, she smiled.

"I suppose I should get undressed," she said, "I suppose you were disappointed?" she said, "When you saw me?"

"What those plastic tits?" I said, "God no, in fact, you remind me of Maureen Hutchings my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend," she asked.

"Ex," I explained, "She married Dan Fotherby, why?"

"Nothing," she answered, "What we did?" she said awkwardly.

"You were an ok fuck, big deal." I told her, "It didn't mean anything did it?"

"No," she said awkwardly, "I suppose we ought to do it again in case they are watching."

"Can do," I agreed, "If you like."

"I want you naked too this time," she said happily and she started to unbutton my shirt.

"Donna!" I protested, but she was peeling my shirt off and then her hands were at my fly and my pants were down around my knees and she was pushing me down onto the bed, my tool now wildly erect and ready and she just climbed onto it and sank her sopping cunt liquidly down the full length of my tool in a single motion.

"Make love to me damn you," she insisted, so I made her roll over so I was on top and the bedroom door flew open.

"Oh!" it was Hassan, Inspector Mantouk's sidekick with two officers.

"What the hell!" I demanded, "Get out, can't a man use his slave without an audience?"

"A thousand pardons but I was told," Hassan blustered, and ordered "Out out," to his men and they were gone.

"I just knew," she said, "That was close!"

"Too close," I said, "Far too close,"

"God you're hard work to seduce," she said as she looked up at me.

"I don't fancy you," I replied.

"Obviously," she said, "So tell me I'm fantastic, the best lover ever and shoot your load in me, ok?"

"You remind me of Maureen," I said, as I started to hump her again, "I reckon if you were a nice local girl I could fall for you."

"Call me Maureen, tell me you love me." she said.

My mind drifted back down the years, "Maureen," I said, "I love you," and I was cumming like a fire hose.

I collapsed onto her chest, "You want to go back to your room?" I asked.

"No, it's ok." she said, "Sleep."

I went to lay on the floor, "I'll take the floor," she said, "Just in case." and she lay down beside the bed and went to sleep.

The fan above the bed creaked and groaned ineffectively in the suffocating heat, barely cooling the legion of flies that crawled exhaustedly over it, the clock said five a.m which meant I had been watching it for three solid hours as I desperately tried to get some sleep.

She was fast asleep on the floor, breathing softly, "Donna," I whispered, she slept on.

"Are you awake?" I asked, "I can't sleep," I told her "I got a hard on thinking about you."

"Oh" she said, "I was just dreaming about you!"

"You, don't want to," I asked, "I don't suppose?"

"Well they may be spying on us and I am supposed to be your slave," she whispered, "You had better force me."

"Really?" I said.

"Make it look real," she added, "Just in case."

I reached out of the bed and grabbed her leash, she climbed up onto the bed, "Please be gentle with me!" she said theatrically, and then she just lay on her back waiting.

"Suck my cock bitch," I said nastily.

"Not that real," she complained, "Oh hell I've never done this before," she said as she rolled over and took my tool in her hands.

My tool strained so the blue veins bulged and throbbed with my heart's beats, "Actually," I agreed, "Plan B before I explode all over your face."

It was too late, poor Donna got a pumping grey flood of my man juice right in her face, almost smack between the eyes and she knelt before me glowering, "That was a waste!" she said indignantly, as she wiped it off with the bed sheet.

"Not a problem," I replied, "Lets get some sleep."

The call to prayer woke us, she was on the bed curled around and I was curled around her, "You Ok?" I asked.

"I will be when we're on the plane," she admitted, she shivered slightly, I held her.

"It will be fine!" I suggested.

We didn't take any chances, Adams brought her some Arab robes and they sneaked out of the Hotel and we met up at the airport and were through the security checks and airborne without any more dramas, Ok she was in first class and I was economy but that's Adams for you.

Gatwick security was a nightmare but eventually I was through and there she was waiting, "Where have you been?" she asked, I stared, she had discarded the robes but she had discarded something even more fundamental, her falsies, she just didn't look the same.

"Customs," I said, "You've done a good job of disguising yourself."

"It's not difficult," she said, "Oh god I need a rest."

"I'll see you to your hotel," I offered.

"No, I'll go home," she said.

"Will you be alright on your own?" I asked.

"No," she admitted, "No you had better come with me."

"Look no offence," I said, "But you're back in the UK and my contract is ended."

"What about my contract," she asked, "You can't just dump me!"

"Dump you?" I asked in confusion, "What do you mean dump you?" and I suggested, "I think we need to talk."

"Yes," she agreed, "Let's go to a hotel."

"My place isn't far," I suggested, so we got a Taxi.

I collected my key from Mrs Mullarney at number 26 who looked after my cat when I'm away, got some milk from Mr Patel at the corner shop, introduced Donna to both of them as 'Maureen,' and eventually I went inside my very ordinary terraced house 23 Dulverton road, and took my cases upstairs.

Donna followed me up, "John, Frank, whatever your name is?" she said, "Can I stay a while, you know, chill."

I pulled the dog collar from my pocket absent mindedly and replied, "I don't know."

"All right, if that's what it takes!" she said.

"What?" I asked.

"Let me stay, I'll do the slave thing," she replied," Anything, I'll do what you ask."

"Sure, of course you can stay, I was just thinking," I explained apologetically.

"So was I," She said as she pulled her top over her head and flipped her bra catch open, "I never did get around to giving you a blow job did I?" she said as she threw her bra in a corner and slipped out of her skirt, "Do you have a shower?"

"Yes," I agreed.

"So lets get sweaty!" she said, "Chop chop!"

"Hey!" I protested but she dragged my shirt off me and pulled down my pants.

"I'd never done it bare back with anyone before," she said as she pulled me down onto her, "Never ever, you are my first!"