Submitting to the Enemy: In the Prince's Harem ( (5 page)

Prince Nazari
sighed and smiled down at me.  "You have done well, Isabel.  But this was only a taste.  Tomorrow night, you will come to my chambers alone, and I will show you what pleasure truly means."  He patted me on the thighs with the affection a man might show his favorite mare, then stepped out of the water.

The women
who had suckled my breasts rose and hurried to fetch towels so they could dry his body.  Utterly spent, I lay on the hard tile, dangling my feet in the water.  I looked forward to the Prince's promised tomorrow.  I'd gotten his attention, just as I'd hoped.  The Mountain Wolf was one step closer, but all I secretly yearned for Nazari's naked body.  I wondered what I'd gotten myself into, and whether I had the willpower to get myself out.

I slept uneasily, troubled by
vivid dreams in which Prince Nazari and Omar Tarik took turns fucking me while Cal Turner watched, helpless and hurt.  When I woke sweating, I went out onto the balcony in the grim pre-dawn, hoping the chill desert night would cool my skin.  I took a long silk scarf, but not for warmth.  As I stared out at the sleeping city, I slowly let one end of the scarf billow out over the balcony, a prearranged signal if anyone was watching.

Part of me wondered why I was signaling to the CIA support team who even now watched Nazari's palace from somewhere in the warren of streets.  After the nirvana I'd experienced at Nazari's hands, any other way of living seemed a pale mockery of this lustrous life.
  Did I really want to go back to long hours of stressful, boring work punctuated by moments of sheer terror?  Here in the palace, a seductive voice whispered in my head, it would be so easy to forget my crusade against the Mountain Wolf, even to forget Cal.

The wind gusted, nearly tearing the scarf from my hand.  The loose end flew out into the night in a long streamer of shimmering fabric, and I reeled it back in hurriedly, hoping no one had seen.

In the city below, a flash of light caught my eye, a bright pinpoint of red that blinked three times quickly, then twice, spaced far apart.  Cal's signal snapped me out of my doubtful reverie, and my training took over as I carefully traced a path through the warren of streets between the palace and the spot where I'd seen the blinking light.

When I'd memorized
what I hoped would be my escape route, I went inside and climbed back to into bed, but I lay awake for a long time.  Even with Cal so close, all I could think of was Nazari.

When dawn came, I left my bedchamber to find a splendid dress of umber silk waiting for me.  Ornate embroidery covered its bodice and sleeves, and jewels crusted the low collar.  A handwritten note with flowing script read:
Wear it tonight.  Omar will escort you to me.

G
ooseflesh dappled my skin as the thought of Omar brought a mixture of dread and arousal.  As scary as he had been, Omar's sheer dominance on the jet had turned me on in ways I could never admit to Cal, and my shame made me hope Nazari could keep his attack dog at bay.  I sighed and shook my head.  I had truly cast myself into a pit of vipers.

I spent the morning preparing for my evening with the Prince, first by
mentally rehearsing the route I would take to escape the palace, then by putting on a special pair of earrings and a pendant.  Most of the jewelry I'd brought to Saudi Arabia was unremarkable, but these had been designed by the CIA's best techs.  Each piece contained specialized equipment cleverly hidden in gemstones and golden links.  I wandered idly around the harem, doing my best to blend in while trying to casually eke every last bit of valuable information from the other women.

The concubines murmured when I came near, and I saw more than one set of eyes flash with jealousy.  None attempted to get close to me; most simply pretended I wasn't there.  So I sat quietly at nearby tables, a few minutes here, a few minutes there, listening to women gossip.

It was dreadfully boring, but the life of a spy too often is.  Still, I pieced together several useful tidbits, none of which made me feel more at ease.  For example, Omar Tarik was feared by most of the women.  Through my eavesdropping, I learned that he had taken more than a few women away from the palace, and they were never seen again.

When the dinner hour approached, I dressed in the ornate gown and went out to await Omar.  He arrived in a dark gray suit, and his black eyes bored holes through me as though searching for my deepest secrets.

"Come, Dollar," Omar said loudly.  Some of the women who had acted jealous tittered in amusement at my nickname.  "The Prince wishes to see you."

I meekly followed him out of the harem and through a bewildering maze of corridors and stairwells.  After what seemed an eternity, he led me to an elevator wi
th a curved, gold-plated door.

We rode
not upward, but down.  Omar stared straight ahead.  The seconds seemed to crawl by as the car fell two floors, then three, then four.  Just as it glided to a stop and I felt that momentary heaviness as my momentum settled, Omar leaned in and said softly, "After His Majesty is through with you, you are mine, Dollar."

A chill crawled up my spine at his words, but then
a bell chimed, and the doors slid quietly open to reveal an extremely long and narrow corridor.  We followed it several hundred feet to a reinforced steel blast door, which Omar opened to reveal a small, square chamber.

Unlike the opulent and over-decorated palace above, this chamber was stark, with walls and floors of smooth concrete.  A single bald light bulb burned overhead, casting sharp shadows across the steel brackets mounted on every wall.

My heart leapt into my chest, and for a terrifying moment, I was sure that my CIA cover had been blown.  I was here to be interrogated.

But then
Prince Nazari stepped out of a side doorway and flashed a warm, confident grin that held no anger or guile.  He wore a black silk robe and a pair of soft deerskin moccasins.  "Isabel, you've come."  Nazari nodded to Omar.  "Thank you, my friend.  I will call you when we are finished here."

Omar bowed and returned to the elevator.  I stood facing Prince Nazari, my mind at war with itself.  Even as I looked for opportunities to use this encounter to accomplish my mission, I eagerly awaited his command.

"What do you think of my bunker?" Nazari asked.

I looked around.  Above our heads, steel beams reinforced the thick concrete.  Long rails ran back and forth across the room, and black nylon ropes dangled to the floor.  To my left, the dim glow of computer monitors spilled from the dark doorway of an adjacent chamber.
  I knew instinctively that the secrets I needed lay in that room, so I forced myself not to stare, pulling my eyes from the doorway and back to Nazari.

"Are we underground?" I asked.

"Over one hundred feet!" He said.  Your government thinks it can reach anyone anywhere, but here I am safe from their most powerful weapons.

I kept myself from smiling. 
The US military had bombs that could easily drill this deep and obliterate him, but we would never use them in the middle of a crowded city.  "It's very impressive," I said.  "But why?  The United States is not your enemy."

Nazari laughed.  "Of course
not, but one must be prepared."

"Why are we down here?"

The Prince grinned and gave one of the black ropes a tug.  "Not all activities are suitable for the harem," he said.  "Some things are best done in private so as not to ruin the surprise for others."  He beckoned me with his hand.  "Come, give me your hands."

I went to him, and Nazari took my wrists in his powerful hand and raised them over my head.  Before I could react, he looped the nylon rope
around my wrists several times and tied it off with a tight clove hitch knot.

My pulse quickened.  Every bone in my body screamed at me to trust this man, to let him do as he would, but in the back corner of my mind, I remembered that
Nazari funded the Mountain Wolf, the very terrorist I'd sought for so long.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Shh, Isabel," Nazari said.  "It is not for you to question, but to obey."

"Yes, Your Majesty," I said
, filled with uncertainty.

Nazari pulled on the rope and raised my arms until I was forced to stand on my toes, then tied it off to keep me there.
  Then he looped a long black scarf around my head and tied it over my eyes, shutting out all but a sliver of light.

He stepped away, and I sensed him circling me like a wolf
stalking a trussed lamb.  I tried to turn and follow the his footfalls, but his moccasins made no sound, and the rope twisted as I turned, pulling me upward until it threatened to pull me off my feet.  I relented, and Prince Nazari got behind me.

For several seconds, there was no sound or movement, and I began to tremble with nervousness.  Was Nazari still there?

I heard the rasp of steel, a knife being drawn.  I tensed, but Nazari quieted me with a gentle
shh.

I felt the point of his blade slip beneath the beautiful dress's collar, and he slid the razor-sharp blade down my back, cutting through the ornate embroidery.  He did the same with the sleeves, and the dress fell away in a whisper of fabric.
  I felt a pang of loss at its destruction.

I'd worn no underwear; Nazari's careful cuts left me naked but for my jewelry and the black scarf over my eyes. 

Then his hot breath whispered across my neck, and I jumped in surprise.

"Isabel, why did you come here?" Nazari said.

Doubt filled me again.  I stood blind, bound and helpless, wearing nothing except damning evidence that I was a spy.  Did Nazari already know?  Had I hesitated too long or acted too differently from his other girls?  If he looked too closely at my earrings or necklace, the truth would be irrefutable.

I swallowed, and all my careful
explanations fled my mind.  My mouth worked as I struggled to find words.  I came dangerously close to confessing my role as a CIA operative, but Nazari saved me from myself.

In the darkness,
his fingers stroked my cheek.  "Come now, Isabel, don't be nervous.  We will find your answers together."  His hands moved down my naked back.  "Do you know why I gave you the dress, Isabel?"

I shook my head.

"So that I could take it away," Nazari said.  "Tell me, do you miss it?"

"It was beautiful," I said.

"In America, you were free to choose your own path," he said.  "Like the dress, you will only appreciate your freedom after it is a broken and ruined thing.  That, Isabel, is why I've brought you here."

My breathing quickened, and I felt myself trembling on the razor's edge between fear and anticipation.

Nazari's hand left my skin abruptly, and I felt the air move as he swung it through the air.  It contacted my bare buttock with a loud
smack
, and I cried out in my bonds, turning slowly on the rope that held me almost suspended over the cold concrete floor.

"In America, you had choices," Nazari said.  "You could walk away from a man who treated you this way."  His voice moved around me, but when he went silent,
I couldn't tell where he was.  "Here, you are mine, and your only choice is to serve me."

He spanked me again on the other cheek, and I yelped in surprise and pain.

My heart raced in my chest as I tried to anticipate him, but Nazari was a phantom moving around me.  I began to understand that freedom was no longer mine.

Again and again he slapped my bottom, until a burning sensation like
thousands of prickling nettles spread across my bare buttocks.  I was breathing hard, and tears dampened the silk scarf over my eyes.  With my hands tied above my head, I could do nothing to defend myself, only hang and wait for the next strike.  Yet even in my helplessness, another sensation roiled deep in my abdomen: lust.

I had been in Nazari's power in the Jacuzzi, but there the illusion of freedom had persisted.  Now
, with that illusion torn away, his control over me felt much greater.  It swept away all my doubt and uncertainty, all my worries and fears.  If I had no control, why should I be frightened?

I surrendered to Nazari's wishes, and as he spanked me, I stopped trying to anticipate his strikes.  Instead, I arched my back and offered myself to him.  He spanked me one last time, then made an appreciative noise.

"Good, Isabel," he said.  "You learn to give in to that which you cannot control.  When you surrender, you open yourself to a new world of experiences."

His voice moved around until he was in front of me, and through the tiny slit of light beneath my blindfold, I saw movement.

Prince Nazari squeezed one of my breasts, then tweaked the nipple casually and moved his hand down my front.  He turned his fingers downward and pressed his palm against my lower belly so that their fingertips rested in the triangle of pubic hair between my thighs.  I breathed faster and pressed myself against his hand in anticipation.

"
Yesterday, I gave you pleasure like you've never known, did I not?" Nazari asked.

I nodded eagerly.