Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
As a warmup:
The great bellydancer Samai Gamel
The great bellydancer Samai Gamel
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The Nazi Lust Ordeal of the Virgin Belly Dancer
- Thread starter Praefectus Praetorio
- Start date
Jackie1111
Tribune
Turkish eye candy (and bellydancer) Didem:
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Who doesn't love "pelvic vigor?" (even if misspelled! (u?))
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter Eight – What’s a Sheikh to Do?
Omar’s heart sank in his chest. The old man now saw the evil he was up against. These men must be what his people called ahl al-ard, mythical, chthonic demons, earth-folk, who target people traveling alone in the desert or the weak. He sat speechless for several moments, trying to find a way to escape this nightmare.
“Is your silence refusal?” asked Frick, who gestured to Dortmeyer. In turn, the Lieutenant waved to the men at the pond. Ten grabbed their rifles and began walking toward the tent. The others moved off in five groups in close formation into the camp. The three guards behind the officers brought their machine guns to the ready. “Have I also been misinformed of the requirements of hasan aldiyafa?”
Omar swallowed hard. These evil men were well coached. Hospitality did require that a “harmless” request for entertainment must be met. Any member of his family of marriage age or above had the same obligation as did the Sheikh. However, from their leering looks and the earlier question about “loaning” women, he was sure that their intentions were not harmless. However, there were more Germans than he had men, and the soldiers were far better armed. Resistance would be futile. A sheikh must think of all his people.
“No, I don’t refuse hasan aldiyafa, honored guests.” He looked around and saw they now were surrounded by a dozen armed men. “You just surprised me that you were aware of my daughter’s silly hobby. I’m sorry to say, her talents must have been greatly exaggerated. She is just a child and has much to learn. You would be bored by her clumsy efforts. I’m sure we can provide better entertainment for you.”
“You are too modest, my kind host,” insisted the Captain. “We will see you daughter dance. I’m sure she will be fine entertainment! Tariq, why don’t you go with some of the men and tell her that her father requests she come to entertain his guests. Is that your wish, Sheikh?”
Omar could only silently nod. Tariq smiled and rose.
“Make sure she wears her best outfit!” added Dortmeyer.
Tariq gave a smile that was more of a leer. “I can promise that, Lieutenent.”
As Tariq went off in the direction of Aisha’s tent, Omar smiled weakly and offered the officers more coffee and dates.
Omar’s heart sank in his chest. The old man now saw the evil he was up against. These men must be what his people called ahl al-ard, mythical, chthonic demons, earth-folk, who target people traveling alone in the desert or the weak. He sat speechless for several moments, trying to find a way to escape this nightmare.
“Is your silence refusal?” asked Frick, who gestured to Dortmeyer. In turn, the Lieutenant waved to the men at the pond. Ten grabbed their rifles and began walking toward the tent. The others moved off in five groups in close formation into the camp. The three guards behind the officers brought their machine guns to the ready. “Have I also been misinformed of the requirements of hasan aldiyafa?”
Omar swallowed hard. These evil men were well coached. Hospitality did require that a “harmless” request for entertainment must be met. Any member of his family of marriage age or above had the same obligation as did the Sheikh. However, from their leering looks and the earlier question about “loaning” women, he was sure that their intentions were not harmless. However, there were more Germans than he had men, and the soldiers were far better armed. Resistance would be futile. A sheikh must think of all his people.
“No, I don’t refuse hasan aldiyafa, honored guests.” He looked around and saw they now were surrounded by a dozen armed men. “You just surprised me that you were aware of my daughter’s silly hobby. I’m sorry to say, her talents must have been greatly exaggerated. She is just a child and has much to learn. You would be bored by her clumsy efforts. I’m sure we can provide better entertainment for you.”
“You are too modest, my kind host,” insisted the Captain. “We will see you daughter dance. I’m sure she will be fine entertainment! Tariq, why don’t you go with some of the men and tell her that her father requests she come to entertain his guests. Is that your wish, Sheikh?”
Omar could only silently nod. Tariq smiled and rose.
“Make sure she wears her best outfit!” added Dortmeyer.
Tariq gave a smile that was more of a leer. “I can promise that, Lieutenent.”
As Tariq went off in the direction of Aisha’s tent, Omar smiled weakly and offered the officers more coffee and dates.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Interesting Jazz revision
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter Nine – Aisha’s Tent
Aisha’s tent stood near the center of the camp. Faheem, a rifle in his right hand and his left hand on the hilt of his dagger, stood guard as the sun was falling toward the horizon. Tariq and the soldiers approached with the sun at their backs; Faheem stiffened, raised his rifle and slowly drew the dagger blade from its sheath.
Tariq walked up and said in a forceful voice, “The sheikh has sent us to guard his daughter. You are relieved.”
“My orders are directly from Alshaykh to remain here.” Faheem replied in a firm voice.
Tariq knew what a fine fighter Faheem was, though somewhat impulsive. He had prepped the soldiers on the way with a plan.
“But I tell you the truth, friend, I just came from Alshaykh with new orders.” As he spoke, the soldiers behind him slowly, almost casually spread out, their rifles still carried, non-threateningly, on their shoulders.
“I shall not leave until Alshaykh tells me in person.”
Tariq sighed in disappointment and nodded. The soldier on his far left unshouldered his weapon. Faheem pivoted his gun toward that man, turning slightly. It was just enough for the soldier on the far right to make his move. He brought up his right hand holding a rock and swiftly smashed it into Faheem’s temple. As he did so, another grabbed the Bedouin’s rifle, while another took a vice grip on the wrist holding the dagger. The first struck a harder blow with the rock and Faheem went down, unconscious.
The men took his weapons, and quickly hogtied and gagged him. Leaving one man on guard, the others entered the tent.
The interior was modest with colorful silk cloths draped as decoration. Aisha’s home was simple and almost bare. In one corner was a large wood case. In the center of the room stood the eunuch, Abbadi, holding a ceremonial skibouk and off in a corner, kneeling, was Aisha’s slave-maid, Yawlali. The woman was about thirty, tall and thin and intensely loyal to her mistress.
Tariq told Abbadi that the sheikh had sent for Alisha. The eunuch shook his head and stayed in place with his sword at the ready. “Omar would never send you to his daughter’s tent, Ya Kalb [you dog]!” Tariq, snarled, “Kol Khara [eat shit]!” and said to the man next to him, “Kill him.” Without hesitation, the man raised his rifle and shot Abbadi in the heart. Without another sound, the old eunuch fell to the floor, dead.
Back at Omar’s tent, the group heard the single shot and turned their heads. The Captain turned back to Omar, “I fear some of your tribe are not showing the proper hospitality. My men can be a little quick on the trigger when threatened. I am so sorry.”
Aisha’s tent stood near the center of the camp. Faheem, a rifle in his right hand and his left hand on the hilt of his dagger, stood guard as the sun was falling toward the horizon. Tariq and the soldiers approached with the sun at their backs; Faheem stiffened, raised his rifle and slowly drew the dagger blade from its sheath.
Tariq walked up and said in a forceful voice, “The sheikh has sent us to guard his daughter. You are relieved.”
“My orders are directly from Alshaykh to remain here.” Faheem replied in a firm voice.
Tariq knew what a fine fighter Faheem was, though somewhat impulsive. He had prepped the soldiers on the way with a plan.
“But I tell you the truth, friend, I just came from Alshaykh with new orders.” As he spoke, the soldiers behind him slowly, almost casually spread out, their rifles still carried, non-threateningly, on their shoulders.
“I shall not leave until Alshaykh tells me in person.”
Tariq sighed in disappointment and nodded. The soldier on his far left unshouldered his weapon. Faheem pivoted his gun toward that man, turning slightly. It was just enough for the soldier on the far right to make his move. He brought up his right hand holding a rock and swiftly smashed it into Faheem’s temple. As he did so, another grabbed the Bedouin’s rifle, while another took a vice grip on the wrist holding the dagger. The first struck a harder blow with the rock and Faheem went down, unconscious.
The men took his weapons, and quickly hogtied and gagged him. Leaving one man on guard, the others entered the tent.
The interior was modest with colorful silk cloths draped as decoration. Aisha’s home was simple and almost bare. In one corner was a large wood case. In the center of the room stood the eunuch, Abbadi, holding a ceremonial skibouk and off in a corner, kneeling, was Aisha’s slave-maid, Yawlali. The woman was about thirty, tall and thin and intensely loyal to her mistress.
Tariq told Abbadi that the sheikh had sent for Alisha. The eunuch shook his head and stayed in place with his sword at the ready. “Omar would never send you to his daughter’s tent, Ya Kalb [you dog]!” Tariq, snarled, “Kol Khara [eat shit]!” and said to the man next to him, “Kill him.” Without hesitation, the man raised his rifle and shot Abbadi in the heart. Without another sound, the old eunuch fell to the floor, dead.
Back at Omar’s tent, the group heard the single shot and turned their heads. The Captain turned back to Omar, “I fear some of your tribe are not showing the proper hospitality. My men can be a little quick on the trigger when threatened. I am so sorry.”
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Those interested in the Bedouin lifestyle should look at some of the works of Swiss painter Otto Pilny. He traveled extensively in the Orient in the 1880s and 90s and his work was one of the sources studied by the author for the story.
Desert Slave Markets:
Dancing - PG
Dancing - Bare Breasts
Dance of the Seven Veils - closest to our Story
Desert Slave Markets:
Dancing - PG
Dancing - Bare Breasts
Dance of the Seven Veils - closest to our Story
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Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
For those who may be unfamiliar with the significance of the rite of hospitality among the desert nomads, Omar’s action here may seem strange. This morning in church, I heard the Old Testament lesson read from Genesis 18: 1-10a, written over 2,500 years ago describing an event that took place over 4,000 years ago. In this account, Abraham is already 99 years old. Listen for the echoes of this in the story of Omar.
The Lord appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre while he was sitting at the entrance to his tent during the hottest time of the day. Abraham looked up and saw three men standing across from him. When he saw them he ran from the entrance of the tent to meet them and bowed low to the ground.
He said, “My lord, if I have found favor in your sight, do not pass by and leave your servant. Let a little water be brought so that you may all wash your feet and rest under the tree. And let me get a bit of food so that you may refresh yourselves since you have passed by your servant’s home. After that you may be on your way.” “All right,” they replied, “you may do as you say.”
So Abraham hurried into the tent and said to Sarah, “Quick! Take three measures of fine flour, knead it, and make bread.” Then Abraham ran to the herd and chose a fine, tender calf, and gave it to a servant, who quickly prepared it. Abraham then took some curds and milk, along with the calf that had been prepared, and placed the food before them. They ate while he was standing near them under a tree.
Then they asked him, “Where is Sarah your wife?” He replied, “There, in the tent.” One of them said, “I will surely return to you when the season comes round again, and your wife Sarah will have a son!”
The Lord appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre while he was sitting at the entrance to his tent during the hottest time of the day. Abraham looked up and saw three men standing across from him. When he saw them he ran from the entrance of the tent to meet them and bowed low to the ground.
He said, “My lord, if I have found favor in your sight, do not pass by and leave your servant. Let a little water be brought so that you may all wash your feet and rest under the tree. And let me get a bit of food so that you may refresh yourselves since you have passed by your servant’s home. After that you may be on your way.” “All right,” they replied, “you may do as you say.”
So Abraham hurried into the tent and said to Sarah, “Quick! Take three measures of fine flour, knead it, and make bread.” Then Abraham ran to the herd and chose a fine, tender calf, and gave it to a servant, who quickly prepared it. Abraham then took some curds and milk, along with the calf that had been prepared, and placed the food before them. They ate while he was standing near them under a tree.
Then they asked him, “Where is Sarah your wife?” He replied, “There, in the tent.” One of them said, “I will surely return to you when the season comes round again, and your wife Sarah will have a son!”
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Jackie1111
Tribune
Fascinating and beautiful images. Here's one I found, The Dance of Salome:
Attachments
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter Ten – Aisha out of Hiding
The men dragged Abbadi’s body outside and dumped it on the sand like a piece of refuse. Tariq told them to open the wood case. But it had no handle or key and wouldn’t budge. He turned to the maid. “Open it!”
Yawlali, who had served Aisha since she herself had been just a teenager, seventeen years ago, made no response at all.
One of the Germans started toward her, “I’ll make the bitch talk!” Tariq held up his hand.
“You could torture her all day and she would never betray her mistress.” He said. “But I think I know the way.” At his instruction the five soldiers lined up and leveled their rifles at the center of the case. When they were ready, Tariq raised his hand and looked to Yawlali.
Tears running down her cheeks, the slave rose and walked to the case. She pressed a wooden corner piece and the lid slowly rose to reveal the girl hiding inside.
Yawlali, extended her hand and helped Aisha out of the case. Even heavily veiled, the men were struck by the petite form and graceful movements of the beautiful young woman. Each thought of what it would be like to remove those clothes and sample her treasures. Shy though she was before a half-dozen strange men, she managed stand proudly as a Princess and look at Tariq,
“Why are you men in my tent?”
The men dragged Abbadi’s body outside and dumped it on the sand like a piece of refuse. Tariq told them to open the wood case. But it had no handle or key and wouldn’t budge. He turned to the maid. “Open it!”
Yawlali, who had served Aisha since she herself had been just a teenager, seventeen years ago, made no response at all.
One of the Germans started toward her, “I’ll make the bitch talk!” Tariq held up his hand.
“You could torture her all day and she would never betray her mistress.” He said. “But I think I know the way.” At his instruction the five soldiers lined up and leveled their rifles at the center of the case. When they were ready, Tariq raised his hand and looked to Yawlali.
Tears running down her cheeks, the slave rose and walked to the case. She pressed a wooden corner piece and the lid slowly rose to reveal the girl hiding inside.
Yawlali, extended her hand and helped Aisha out of the case. Even heavily veiled, the men were struck by the petite form and graceful movements of the beautiful young woman. Each thought of what it would be like to remove those clothes and sample her treasures. Shy though she was before a half-dozen strange men, she managed stand proudly as a Princess and look at Tariq,
“Why are you men in my tent?”
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter Eleven – Aisha Must Prepare
Tariq explained that there were visitors in camp and her father had sent for her to entertain. He wished her to do an Arabic Dance for his guests wearing her new outfit.
Aisha was shocked at the request from stranger. “Where is Abbadi? He should be the one to accompany me.”
“The old eunuch met with an accident,” replied Tariq, gesturing to the fresh blood stains on the carpet. “You will come with me!” he said in a voice that allowed no dissent. “Go, behind that curtain. Yawlali can help you prepare as we wait here.”
It was unheard of for men, strangers, to remain in her tent while she changed. However, terrified by the blood and the gunshot she’d heard before, Aisha had no choice but to obey.
She and Yawlali went behind the curtain which cut off a small dressing area. Her maid helped her out of all her clothes and into her new dancing outfit. Many brightly colored silk scarves were attached by tucking to cover her body completely as well as a green face scarf that set off nicely the green tint of her eyes. As a final covering of modesty, Yawlali tied around her slim neck the satin cloak her father had bought her a month ago, at great expense, for her 18th birthday.
They emerged from her tent as the low rays of the late afternoon sun touched on Abbadi’s body lying lifeless on the sand. Aisha gave a high cry and grabbed onto Yawlali.
“Hurry up girls,” prodded Tariq. “Your father is waiting.”
He detached three of the soldiers to escort the women to Omar’s tent. He himself went off with the three others to round up a few musicians.
Tariq explained that there were visitors in camp and her father had sent for her to entertain. He wished her to do an Arabic Dance for his guests wearing her new outfit.
Aisha was shocked at the request from stranger. “Where is Abbadi? He should be the one to accompany me.”
“The old eunuch met with an accident,” replied Tariq, gesturing to the fresh blood stains on the carpet. “You will come with me!” he said in a voice that allowed no dissent. “Go, behind that curtain. Yawlali can help you prepare as we wait here.”
It was unheard of for men, strangers, to remain in her tent while she changed. However, terrified by the blood and the gunshot she’d heard before, Aisha had no choice but to obey.
She and Yawlali went behind the curtain which cut off a small dressing area. Her maid helped her out of all her clothes and into her new dancing outfit. Many brightly colored silk scarves were attached by tucking to cover her body completely as well as a green face scarf that set off nicely the green tint of her eyes. As a final covering of modesty, Yawlali tied around her slim neck the satin cloak her father had bought her a month ago, at great expense, for her 18th birthday.
They emerged from her tent as the low rays of the late afternoon sun touched on Abbadi’s body lying lifeless on the sand. Aisha gave a high cry and grabbed onto Yawlali.
“Hurry up girls,” prodded Tariq. “Your father is waiting.”
He detached three of the soldiers to escort the women to Omar’s tent. He himself went off with the three others to round up a few musicians.
Gillian
Magistrate
Now was that a threat or a promise - it’s not easy to tell these days
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter Twelve – The Arrangements are Complete
Frick had decided that the group should move inside the Sheikh’s tent for a more private “entertainment” venue. Six soldiers stayed outside, surrounding and guarding the tent. Just Omar, Rudolf and Herman went in. Omar’s servants were promptly sent away. Without Tariq to interpret, the conversation lapsed.
Soon Aisha and Yawlali arrived. Al Matie, modestly giving no glance to the others, went right to her father and kneeled beside him with her head in his lap as a sign of submission. She was still very upset from seeing the body of her beloved Abaddi. Yawlali knelt behind her, her forehead to the ground.
Even covered in heavy veils, the girl was clearly graceful. The two officers turned to each other and grinned. This one might prove to be even more desirable than they had been led to expect.
Omar gently raised his daughter’s head and politely introduced her to his “guests.” She nodded acknowledgement, but she remained silent as modesty demanded.
Soon, Tariq entered. He had placed the three musicians (drums, a single string kind of lute and a recorder-like wind instrument) outside the tent flap so they could be heard but not see the performance.
Dortmeyer went outside and spoke to the Sergeant. The man confirmed that the entire camp had been searched and all weapons seized. Anyone who resisted had been beaten. All males were restrained and confined to a central tent under guard. Now that the men were free to look, they had found several woman in hiding. Dortmeyer warned that they could “entertain” themselves with the women, but for now, must not make any noise or commotion to disturb the officers’ entertainment. Later, they’d could do whatever they wished.
Frick had decided that the group should move inside the Sheikh’s tent for a more private “entertainment” venue. Six soldiers stayed outside, surrounding and guarding the tent. Just Omar, Rudolf and Herman went in. Omar’s servants were promptly sent away. Without Tariq to interpret, the conversation lapsed.
Soon Aisha and Yawlali arrived. Al Matie, modestly giving no glance to the others, went right to her father and kneeled beside him with her head in his lap as a sign of submission. She was still very upset from seeing the body of her beloved Abaddi. Yawlali knelt behind her, her forehead to the ground.
Even covered in heavy veils, the girl was clearly graceful. The two officers turned to each other and grinned. This one might prove to be even more desirable than they had been led to expect.
Omar gently raised his daughter’s head and politely introduced her to his “guests.” She nodded acknowledgement, but she remained silent as modesty demanded.
Soon, Tariq entered. He had placed the three musicians (drums, a single string kind of lute and a recorder-like wind instrument) outside the tent flap so they could be heard but not see the performance.
Dortmeyer went outside and spoke to the Sergeant. The man confirmed that the entire camp had been searched and all weapons seized. Anyone who resisted had been beaten. All males were restrained and confined to a central tent under guard. Now that the men were free to look, they had found several woman in hiding. Dortmeyer warned that they could “entertain” themselves with the women, but for now, must not make any noise or commotion to disturb the officers’ entertainment. Later, they’d could do whatever they wished.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter Thirteen – Aisha Must Dance
Back inside, Frick, Dortmeyer, and Tariq sat in a row opposite Omar and the women. The middle of the tent was cleared and the time for the show had arrived. They had been enjoying watching Aisha’s modesty and fear, but now they wanted more – much more.
Omar had been speaking in a whisper to his daughter, softly stroking her hair, hoping to calm her. She whispered to him of the killing of Abbadi and he tried to remain calm at the news of his old companion’s death. Omar also worried about Faheem. But now he had to concentrate on what happened within this tent. He had no physical power here anymore, so he must try to contain the damage by diplomacy and hospitality.
Omar knew how innocent and shy Aisha was. How modest and unacquainted with men. However, there was no way now in a few words to prepare her for what was coming. He just tried to calm her and hoped he had the strength to endure. He hoped against hope that these men would be satisfied with a dance and not torment a sweet young girl further.
“All right,” said Rudolf. “I think we are ready. Let’s see some dancing.”
Omar spoke in his fatherly voice to his daughter, “You must dance now for our guests, my child. Honor and hospitality demand that you entertain our guests. You must do this for me. Remember your ird.” Gently he untangled her arms from him and encouraged her to stand. From a young child, Al Matie had been an obedient, submissive girl. Despite her fears, she stood as her father requested. Yawlali untied her cloak and the girl stepped to the middle of the tent.
Aisha had danced for others before. But for one or two; for her father or the eunuch, Abbadi or her familiar maids. Never before more than two at a time. And never for any stranger! And these men! She knew little of men. But these looked cruel.
Back inside, Frick, Dortmeyer, and Tariq sat in a row opposite Omar and the women. The middle of the tent was cleared and the time for the show had arrived. They had been enjoying watching Aisha’s modesty and fear, but now they wanted more – much more.
Omar had been speaking in a whisper to his daughter, softly stroking her hair, hoping to calm her. She whispered to him of the killing of Abbadi and he tried to remain calm at the news of his old companion’s death. Omar also worried about Faheem. But now he had to concentrate on what happened within this tent. He had no physical power here anymore, so he must try to contain the damage by diplomacy and hospitality.
Omar knew how innocent and shy Aisha was. How modest and unacquainted with men. However, there was no way now in a few words to prepare her for what was coming. He just tried to calm her and hoped he had the strength to endure. He hoped against hope that these men would be satisfied with a dance and not torment a sweet young girl further.
“All right,” said Rudolf. “I think we are ready. Let’s see some dancing.”
Omar spoke in his fatherly voice to his daughter, “You must dance now for our guests, my child. Honor and hospitality demand that you entertain our guests. You must do this for me. Remember your ird.” Gently he untangled her arms from him and encouraged her to stand. From a young child, Al Matie had been an obedient, submissive girl. Despite her fears, she stood as her father requested. Yawlali untied her cloak and the girl stepped to the middle of the tent.
Aisha had danced for others before. But for one or two; for her father or the eunuch, Abbadi or her familiar maids. Never before more than two at a time. And never for any stranger! And these men! She knew little of men. But these looked cruel.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
*Ird is the Bedouin honor code for women. A woman is born with her ird intact, but sexual transgression or dishonorable action could take her ird away. Ird is like but different from virginity, as it is emotional/conceptual. Once lost, ird cannot be regained.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
I have a feeling that Aisha Al Matie's ird is in great danger!
