The Nazi Lust Ordeal of the Virgin Belly Dancer

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Twenty – Father and Daughter Separated

Omar and Aisha held on to each other. A shiver went through them as they heard a high-pitched scream from somewhere close in the camp. Aisha didn’t need to be told that it meant the suffering of her beloved slave and friend Yawlali.

“Sounds like my men are teaching that stupid slave-slut a lesson she richly deserves,” Herman sneered. He called out in German, “Fritz, Guntar, komm schnell hier rein,” and two soldiers entered.

Rudolf and Herman stood, drew their service revolvers and walked over to Omar and Aisha.

Pointing his gun at the frightened girl, he spoke to Omar.

“Sheikh, I’m afraid that poor Aisha is too shy to perform fully with her father watching. And we don’t wish to cause our host unnecessary embarrassment. My men will escort you outside. You may remain within hearing outside the flap. But you must go!” Rudolf’s voice and the strong grip of the two soldiers on the old man’s arms left no room for objection. Omar and his daughter were pulled to their feet as they clung to each other. Their last attempt to share a kiss was denied as the men pulled him roughly away and the officers held Aisha by her thin arms.

“Before you go, Sheikh. I’d advise you to order your daughter to obey us and do exactly as we say. Otherwise, it might be a bit rough on her.”

The father made one last gesture to protect his child, “Listen to them, altifl althamin. Do whatever they ask as if you were obeying me.” Then soldiers dragged him away.

isha was alone with the two Germans and the leering Tariq. Dortmeyer pointed his pistol at her mouth. The girl froze. “You don’t want to die, do you, little one?” he asked. Tears running down her cheeks, he shook her head no. “Then do as your father said and behave. Show your guests hospitality.”


Once outside, the men threw Omar to the ground and placed a guard over him. As he raised his head, he heard another scream. Looking over to a bonfire about twenty feet away, he saw Yawlali. Staked between four posts and spread painfully, the slave was the target of a half dozen tormentors. One man was busy pounding her cunt as if he were driving a nail. But what had caused the scream was that another had taken his belt and was whipping her breasts and stomach with the buckle end of a belt.

In the distance, Omar could hear other cries of women and men being abused by the Nazis. He buried his face in the sand and wept.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Twenty-One - A Difficult Time for Aisha Alone

They left her standing in the middle of the tent.

Frick spoke. “You understand, Aisha, that we are in control here. We have your men disarmed and bound and armed soldiers everywhere?” She nodded yes. “And we will not hesitate to kill anyone who gets in our way. Your old friend Abbadi did, and he is dead, lying in the sand, food for the flies and vultures. Understand? “Aisha sobbed hard, biting her hand to keep from screaming and nodded yes. And my two men with your father, they will kill him like a dog at a word from me, understand?” Tears flowed as she nodded.

“As your father ordered you, you must obey and do whatever we wish.”

Drawing on the strength of the daughter of a proud Sheikh, Aisha somehow had the courage present her petite body erect and proud and to nod firmly, yes. She would do what she could to save her father and her people.

“Sehr gut. Now I want you to dance one more time for us. I want it faster. I want your body to move as if with sexual desire. This time, you will take off the rest of your clothes and present your body naked for us.”

“Oh no! Please!” She fell to her knees and clasped her hands at the men. “I couldn’t do that! It’s so mukhjil – shameful! Please don’t make me do that!”

Even before Tariq translated, the Nazi officers knew what she was saying. Rudolf turned to Herman and laughed, “She begs nicely, doesn’t she?”

“She will need to beg a lot tonight!”

“Gott im Himmel! She is a tasty little Schlampe, isn’t she? Tariq, tell her she MUST do as we say.”

Hearing their insistence, Al Matie sobbed deeply and stood up. The girl was already exhausted. Sweat poured from her body and she was breathing hard. These dances were very physically demanding and conditioned adult women rarely performed twice in a row. Now they wanted a third. In a small voice, the innocent girl panted, “Could I rest a moment? I’ve very tired.”

The Germans burst out laughing. Dortmeyer said, “You will be much more tired before we finish, girl.” He rummaged in his rucksack and took out a long single tail whip. “Dance now. If it is too slow,” he shook out and snapped the whip, “you will be a very sorry dancer!”

 

[xso]

Chapter Twenty-One - A Difficult Time for Aisha Alone

They left her standing in the middle of the tent.

Frick spoke. “You understand, Aisha, that we are in control here. We have your men disarmed and bound and armed soldiers everywhere?” She nodded yes. “And we will not hesitate to kill anyone who gets in our way. Your old friend Abbadi did, and he is dead, lying in the sand, food for the flies and vultures. Understand? “Aisha sobbed hard, biting her hand to keep from screaming and nodded yes. And my two men with your father, they will kill him like a dog at a word from me, understand?” Tears flowed as she nodded.

“As your father ordered you, you must obey and do whatever we wish.”

Drawing on the strength of the daughter of a proud Sheikh, Aisha somehow had the courage present her petite body erect and proud and to nod firmly, yes. She would do what she could to save her father and her people.

“Sehr gut. Now I want you to dance one more time for us. I want it faster. I want your body to move as if with sexual desire. This time, you will take off the rest of your clothes and present your body naked for us.”

“Oh no! Please!” She fell to her knees and clasped her hands at the men. “I couldn’t do that! It’s so mukhjil – shameful! Please don’t make me do that!”

Even before Tariq translated, the Nazi officers knew what she was saying. Rudolf turned to Herman and laughed, “She begs nicely, doesn’t she?”

“She will need to beg a lot tonight!”

“Gott im Himmel! She is a tasty little Schlampe, isn’t she? Tariq, tell her she MUST do as we say.”

Hearing their insistence, Al Matie sobbed deeply and stood up. The girl was already exhausted. Sweat poured from her body and she was breathing hard. These dances were very physically demanding and conditioned adult women rarely performed twice in a row. Now they wanted a third. In a small voice, the innocent girl panted, “Could I rest a moment? I’ve very tired.”

The Germans burst out laughing. Dortmeyer said, “You will be much more tired before we finish, girl.” He rummaged in his rucksack and took out a long single tail whip. “Dance now. If it is too slow,” he shook out and snapped the whip, “you will be a very sorry dancer!”

Those Nazis knows how to charm women!

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Twenty-Two – Abdullah Controls Himself

Even in the near blackness, Abdullah could see the hate and disgust on the faces of his scouts.

“Allah yakhudh arwahahum! [May God snatch their souls!]” said the first, Jassim, while spitting on the ground. “Infidel soldiers have taken over the camp. They have captured or killed the men and are raping the women.” Abdullah felt as if a vice closed on his heart as he thought of his beloved. He had been fearful since noticing something was wrong.

“Ibn al Kalb! [Sons of Dogs!]” spat out Faisal, the other scout. “I saw a slave, they call her Yawlali. They had her staked spread-eagle and were taking turns holding burning faggots against her body and laughing as she screamed.!”

Aisha Al Madie’s maid! Abdullah felt his hands clench and his mind go black. But years of training to be a Bedouin chief had prepared him for this moment. He took a deep breath and repeated the curse, “Allah yakhudh arwahahum!”. Then he calmly listened to the details from his scouts. His men were good; despite their emotions they had observed everything and gave a quick and thorough report.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Twenty-Three - Aisha Shows It All

Aisha stood alone in the middle of the tent; three strange men surrounding her, expecting an erotic performance from this innocent virgin. Panting from the previous exertion and drenched in sweat, the girl, without the bulk of the veils seemed very small and helpless standing with her arms entwined over her head. Standing at just 5’ (153 cm) and 87 lbs, (40 kg.) she looked childlike and delicate despite the obvious feminine curves barely concealed by her Bedleh [suit or dance costume]. The small thin bra with tiny string ties and the loincloth/hip hugger did little to hide her womanly charms. And even these would be soon stripped away.

The music started, but Aisha stood for another moment catching her breath and gathering hr nerve. Dortmeyer waited just a moment, then snapped his whip lightly around her thighs. Aisha cried out and reached down.

“Get dancing now!” sneered Herman. “Or you’ll have many more stripes!”

Resuming her position, the girl began her dance. Without the camouflage of the veils, the watchers immediately could follow the sinuous motion of her body. The sway and thrust of her slim hips, the undulations of her flat belly, and the shaking of her bare ass-cheeks were extremely suggestive.

Aisha sobbed inwardly as she danced for these horrible men. She was humiliated by the wanton display she presented. She hoped that somehow, she could avoid the ultimate mortification of nakedness. The hope was soon shattered.

Dortmeyer snapped the whip around her knees and called out, “The bra, Miststück! Take off the bra!”

Aisha jumped at the pain and gave a sob as Tariq translated Miststück to waqiha in Arabic [slut]. While still swaying in her dance, she reached behind her back and undid the little knot holding the bra string. The small, light cups fell to the floor, uncovering her virgin breasts. Sized like two oranges, high and firm with youth and capped with small dark areolas and tiny nubs of nipples, the girl’s breasts were a succulent sight to the lustful men, who cheered raucously.

As the pace of the music increased, the embarrassed, exhausted girl struggled to keep up to entertain her captors. Sweat ran down her flanks and between her breasts as she tried to maintain the exhausting pace.

Dortmeyer snapped the whip again, this time around her delicate ankles and the girl cried and jumped in place, as he ordered, “Faster, eahira! [whore – a word Tariq had taught them].” Aisha could only sob at the insult and try to dance faster and wilder.

The men were relishing the erotic show and the girl’s obvious discomfort. Herman, who knew well how to handle a whip had only used light blows so far. They left only faint marks but the reality of being whipped terrified the girl and excited the men.

Aisha was entwining her arms over her head and swaying her body like a sinuous snake in time to the music when Dortmeyer snapped the whip again, this time a bit harder, around her thin waist.

“Oww,” the girl bent and held her sore middle.

“Naked, now! Take off your bottom!”

Aisha stood up and faced away from the men and reached down with her hands to remove her last protection of her modesty.

“Face us!” snapped Herman, snapping the whip in the air. Tears running down her cheeks as the sweat ran down her body, Aisha turned to face her tormentors. Grabbing the cloth around her hips, she slipped it downward, uncovering her sweet pussy. Pushing the tiny garment off, the girl gave a deep sob for the loss of her youthful innocence.

“Now finish with a sensuous dance.”

She stood straight up again, arms outstretched in a graceful circle, continuing the erotic dance, completely naked. A faint red stripe wrapped around her middle.

She twirled, and thrust and weaved with all the energy she had. Aisha presented the men with the image of a naked girl, aroused and eager for sex, offering her body for their pleasure.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Twenty-Four - The Men Grab Their Prize

As the music ended Aisha stood motionless and naked in the center of the tent panting hard, exhausted from the exertion. The three men arose and started toward her. Seeing them, Aisha wrapped her arms around her body and crotched down in a pitiful attempt to hide from these lecherous men.

“Come now, girl,” said Rudolf, taking her arm and raising her. “You must understand where your dance has taken us and what must now follow.”

Aisha quivered and flinched at their touch, trying to avoid the male advances. But with three lusty men surrounding her that was little she could do to defend herself or escape. Frick grabbed her jaw and forced a kiss on her lips while Dortmeyer probed at her hands attempting to hide her pussy and Tariq grabbed and squeezed her small breasts.

“Please. Oh please. You mustn’t! Please leave me,” the petite girl begged the three men towered over her, touching and stroking.

“Come on, guys,” growled Rudolf. “We’re wasting too much time. After those hot dances of hers, meine Eier will burst if I don’t fuck that sweet pussy soon!” The three men grabbed her and threw her on some pillows in the corner of the tent. While Tariq held the struggling girl’s arms over her head and Dortmeyer spread her legs, Frick took off his boots and then his trousers and shorts. Displaying, to the horror of the virgin girl, an impressively large erection, he sunk to his knees before her and moved toward his target.

 

[Corvid]

There was hardly a question I was going to like this one, but it's a pleasure to read work from an author of your talents, Praefectus.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

There was hardly a question I was going to like this one, but it's a pleasure to read work from an author of your talents, Praefectus.

Thank you for your comment. I'm wondering as the story is moving rapidly to its conclusion, whether readers are hoping for a hard Nazit or a soft Nazit? I can promise there will be no backstop!

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Twenty-Five - The End of Innocence

Aisha gaped at the male organ, something she had never seen. Even with her limited knowledge, she knew he was planning to insert it in her. How could it fit? She’d explored herself. Even probing gently with her finger before succumbing to shame and fear and quickly removing it. It had seemed so very tight with her little finger. And that…that thing was so big! She struggled hard and begged to be released. She knew she must protect her ird. The men just laughed and easily held her in position for Rudolf’s attack. Both waited impatiently for his own turn at her sweet love hole.

“Please! Oh please, NO!” she cried in terror.

Frick grabbed the girl’s slim hips, positioned his cockhead between her lips at the entrance to her vagina and smiled at her. Aisha was wild with fear of what that monstrous ‘thing’ would do to her. But the small girl was no match for the strong men holding her down and urging the Captain to ‘break her open.’

“You can’t! No, No, No!”

“Prepare to become a whore of the Drittes Reich!” Then he drove his hips forward with all his might.

Even though the passage was tight and dry, the Nazi’s thrust was so powerful that he drove a good quarter of his tool into her warm passage, coming just short of ripping her hymen. Aisha let out a high, shattered screech as it felt like a knife had been driven into her soul. She had never imagined such tearing pain so deep in her intimate parts. Herman and Tariq tightened their grips on the wildly flailing girl.

Outside, Omar cried also, understanding full well the meaning of his only daughter’s wail. He buried his head deeper in the sand, said a brief prayer to Allah and reached inside his belt.

Rudolf drew back a little. He looked at the tormented girl under him and spat out, “I make you a woman now!” Driven by unbridled lust and desire to hurt, he drove forward even harder, burying his prick and teared her maidenhead to pieces. The girl cried in pain and despair.

Urged on by his colleagues, Frick drew back further, preparing for the strongest thrust.

Gratified by the virgin blood he saw on his Aryan cock, he drove even harder until he was buried to the hilt and the head rammed hard against her cervix. Mad with lust and cruelty, he gave her no time to adjust, but began thrusting hard and fast into her ravaged insides. Bending down, he sucked a small nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. Then, as he thrust particularly hard into her torn cunt, he bit down on the nub and drew a new shriek of agony from the girl. After only a few minutes, he shot his master-race seed into her innocent womb. Aisha was sure her whole vagina was ripped to shreds.

A few last thrusts to milk his cum and he withdrew to give place to his Lieutenant. Herman smiled as he saw the bloody cunt. Determined to increase the girls’ suffering, he proceeded to plow Aisha’s furrow even more sadistically than had his chief. When completed, he was immediately replaced by Tariq, who had long lusted for an opportunity to despoil the Sheikh’s innocent daughter.

The sexual assault, using the girl in every perverted way imaginable, went on for an hour.

 

[Gillian]

Very good writing. Poor girl....

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Twenty-Six – Things Will Get Rough

The three men, their lust temporarily satiated, stood over the girl who was curled up on the floor gently sobbing, clutching her ravaged cunt and asshole. Cum dripped from her sweet lips.

Frick said, “Gott! What a sexy body! She’s a damn good fuck. That dance of hers was as good as any stripper I’ve ever seen.”

“Even for a virgin,” said Tariq, “she moved well. Now she knows what a woman is for!” They all laughed loudly. “What shall we do now?” asked the Arab.

Herman winked at Rudolph. “As any stripper? Are you thinking as I am? That club in Berlin in the late 20’s?”

Rudolf grinned back. “Jawohl! Die Schwarze Maus! Where the lady performer had herself tied up and whipped and then the patrons could take turns fucking her? Excellent! Guntar! Get Schmidt! Have him bring his ropes!”

“Herman, it’s time we worked over this bitch to show her how much superior the Aryan race is!”

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Brief Interlude of Fresh Air

While the rope experts worked, Dortmeyer stepped outside for some fresh evening air and a smoke. He noticed Sheikh Omar, sprawled face down on the ground and looked questioningly to the Sergeant.

“Yes, Lieutenant, Dead. We noticed about ten minutes ago. He was watched, but must have had a dagger hidden in his clothes. Cut his own throat.”

“Useless old fool,” dismissed Herman. “Is the camp secure?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. Completely searched and all under restraint or guard. Sentries have been placed.”

Just then there was a high cry from Yawlali, staked over by the bonfire. “How’s that slut doing?”

“Very tough for a woman, Lieutenant. She’s been raped about two dozen times by now and the men are having fun working her over, but she refuses to beg and only cries out with the worst pain. At times she almost seems to be enjoying it! I have respect for that schottisch slut. She’s a tough bird to break.”

“Hmmm,” said Herman. “But that’s your job to break the tough ones, Sergeant." He paused and then gestured to the bonfire, "You should know the way to tenderize a tough bird is to give it a thorough roasting.”

The Sergeant cracked a wide grin and they both laughed heartily. He strolled over and had a word with his men.

Yawlali tried to clear her vision to see what the men were doing. She had endured a lot of pain and she prayed she could resist longer as a tribute to her mistress. The pain in her body was horrible. She focused just in time to see two soldiers coming toward her from the bonfire with burning faggots and cruel grins. She gritted her teeth and swore to herself that she would not yield!

Dortmeyer went back into the tent to address a more delicate bird that he would enjoy breaking.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Twenty-Eight – Abdullah’s Agonizing Wait

With the information from his scouts and his own knowledge of Omar’s camp, Abdullah needed to rapidly formulate a plan of attack. Despite his heart’s screaming to rush in immediately and save Al Matie, he had to think of his men. It sounded as if they might outnumber the infidels, but these were Western soldiers. The Bedouins had bitter memories of how better armed and trained infidels could slaughter brave but disorganized Arabs in a stand-up fight. Abdullah had to devise a plan of surprise to avoid his men being sent into a slaughterhouse.

Four groups of ten each were to spread to the sides, like the horns of a bull, covering the ends and the rear of the camp. He and the remaining twenty would advance in absolute silence to within fifty yards of this side. He would wait ten minutes for all to get in place and then he would call for the attack.

He had instructed his center force to advance across a broad front at a run, shooting any infidel soldier they saw. He himself, accompanied by his three marafiq, would wait a moment for the attack to develop and then rush at full speed to Omar’s tent, ignoring everything else.

Those ten minutes, laying on the ground, waiting for his wing forces to get in place, were torture for Abdullah bin Aathif. They were so close that they heard the occasional moans of a woman being raped or cry of pain of a torture victim. The young leader held his fists so tight that his nails drew blood from his palms. Yet he was totally unaware of the pain. His heart was pounding in his chest. Each minute passing was unbearable.

If it only been about himself, Abdullah would have charged in at once to save his Aisha Al Matie, even if it meant facing certain death. But his father had raised him to be a leader of men. And Abdullah had learned the lesson that the loyalty that his men gave him was a two-way street. He had to sacrifice his desires to the welfare of his men. But tears flowed down his cheeks and dropped on the sand like drops of blood.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Breaking Aisha

Back in the tent the men had finished tying the girl with coarse, heavy ropes. Her calves just below the knees were spread wide and tied tightly to low wood bench. Ropes bound her wrists tightly together and then went up over the cross piece of the main tent pole. These were tied off to a tent peg, stretching the girl up and forward. Helpless, with all her torso and her thighs and especially her pussy and ass exposed, Aisha wept softly, constantly begging for mercy and release.

The men intended to give her neither.

Dortmeyer went and opened his rucksack. He took out items and handed them around. Riding crops, a flogger, a single tail whip, and a long whip and several truncheons. Most ominous was a box of surgical scalpels. The men grabbed a weapon and stood in a circle around the terrified, pinioned girl.

“Gentlemen,” said Hauptsturmführer Rudolf Frick to the others. “It’s time we taught this Arab bitch how to really scream.” With that he cocked the long thin whip and drove it to a hard snap around her waist, leaving a bright red stripe and the tip biting a cut into her soft flank. The sadistic Nazi was rewarded by a high piercing cry of agony from Aisha. Without a pause, Rudolf snapped the whip to encircle her hips, the tip digging in to her left buttock. As the girl writhed in pain, he quickly struck again, this time wrapping the thin leather around her chest, drawing blood on her left breast. Aisha pulled with all her might against the unyielding ropes that held her open and exposed, and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Don’t make me do all the work,” he laughed, turning to the others. “Join in the fun.” Nothing loath, the other two moved in to help torture the bound girl.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

To help the reader understand the bondage used here, we attach two images of a similar look. If you ignore the blonde hair and tattoos, you get an idea of how they bound Aisha up for punishment like the performer(?) at Die Schwarze Maus [The Black Mouse] Cabaret.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Thirty – How Much Can She Take?

It was fifty minutes later, and Aisha had stopped reacting as violently to every new blow or pain. She was slumped, hanging from the ropes, exhausted from pain and abuse. Her wrists and calves bleed where the coarse rope had cut in response to her futile struggles. But she was probably unaware of those injuries due to the overwhelming pain elsewhere. Occasionally the men cracked jokes about her slim body and her sexual inexperience and her reaction to their torture.

Frick was on his knees between Aisha’s legs, driving his rejuvenated prick deep into the girl’s rectum from behind. Herman and Tariq, resting from the constant fucking and beating were reclining at the side, watching and encouraging Frick’s long punishing strokes. The captain seemed to be trying to lift her hips up with his powerful thrusts, despite her legs being tied tightly to the bench on which he kneeled.

“Verdammt!” swore Frick, swatting Aisha’s welted ass. “The slut hardly responds anymore!” He drove particularly hard into her bleeding hole. “Herman! Get your pliers and work on her tits some. Get her to move!”

“Jawohl!” said Dortmeyer with a laugh. I’ll make her scream again.”

Some shouting and shots were heard outside. However, the men were concentrating on Aisha.

“The men must be celebrating,” Said Herman, grabbing the tempered steel pliers and moving toward Aisha’s wounded and bleeding breasts.

 

[Jackie1111]

She stood straight up again, arms outstretched in a graceful circle, continuing the erotic dance, completely naked. A faint red stripe wrapped around her middle.

She twirled, and thrust and weaved with all the energy she had. Aisha presented the men with the image of a naked girl, aroused and eager for sex, offering her body for their pleasure.

This final dance scene was truly wonderful, PP. I can't tell you how many times I've fantasized of being forced to dance naked in front of strangers. I love the idea so much.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

I do hope you're not bullshitting us about a dance to come. Being a slavegirl who delights and arouses an audience with a dance has long been a fantasy of mine. In all these years I've come across only TWO stories that described a dance by a slavegirl. So I'd sure love to see a third.

This final dance scene was truly wonderful, PP. I can't tell you how many times I've fantasized of being forced to dance naked in front of strangers. I love the idea so much.

Glad to have met your expectations!

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Thirty-One – The Night Raid, A Bedouin Specialty for Thousands of Years.

The time was up. Abdullah motioned for his men to get to their feet, ready to charge. Holding his rifle over his head, he took a deep breath and shouted, in a clear, deep voice that rang across the desert, the Takbīr, the universal battle cry of the Faithful – “Allāhu akbar! Allāhu akbar!”

Abdullah’s men shouted the same words in reply and leapt forward as Arabian wildcats, covering the distance to the edge of the camp in a matter of seconds, picking off the few infidel sentries and charging into the camp. The cry resounded all around the camp as the squads on all sides rushed to the attack.

The fierce, murderous attack from five sides caught the Nazis completely unaware. In truth, the Germans were not combat troops used to standing against an armed foe, but a murder squad of cowardly bullies that prayed on unarmed civilians. Many were drunk or busy raping and torturing their captives. The few who returned fire were quickly dispatched by the desert nomads.

Close behind the initial attack, Abdullah surged ahead, his three companions trying to keep up. He ignored the Nazis and his men shooting rapidly all around and ran full out toward Omar’s tent. Though his Marafiq were fast, they fell behind as Abdullah flew like the wind.

Coming up on the tent, he saw three soldiers shooting toward the south from where others of his men were firing. They turned toward him, but were met by three rapid and fatal shots. Then he rushed into the tent.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter Thirty-Two Abdullah and Aisha

Rudolf and Herman were naked and working over Aisha. Tariq was to the side and was grabbing his gun. Abdullah shot him between the eyes. He turned on the Nazi, who had raised their hands in abject surrender. With great effort he did not shoot the groveling devils.

Just then, his three marafiq burst into the tent, drawn by the sound of shooting. They gazed with horror around at the scene of decadence and gore.

“Take those two,” he said gesturing to the Nazi officers, “keep them with the rest of the pigs.” Pointing to Tarik, he said, “Throw that dog onto the refuse pile.”

While they dragged out the men, Abdullah turned to look to Aisha.

She was no longer that sweet, innocent, beautiful girl he had loved and planned to marry. She was a tortured, bloody, disfigured animal in pain and agony. Angry whip marks circled her torso, many with open, bleeding cuts. Cruel burns dotted her body. Her small breasts were covered with cuts, burns and tears. Deep bruises covered her belly and ribcage. Skin had been flayed from her sides and arms. Held up only by the coarse ropes round her wrists, her head hung down; damp hair plastered to her face.

Abdullah gently lifted her head, only to see haunted eyes, blank and staring. Soft moans of pain punctuated her shallow, soft breathing.

Abdullah let out a bitter, pained sigh. He gave her a soft, chaste kiss on her chapped lips and received no response. He knew what he had to do. “'Adhhab 'iilaa allah habiyun. [Go to Allah, my love]” he said softly, as he plunged his dagger into her heart.

With the same, razor-sharp dagger, Abdullah cut her down and laid her gently on a fine carpet. Taking great care, he folded it around her. Then he knelt beside the carpet with his head to the ground and wept loudly and bitterly. His marafiq stood guard outside the tent. No one would disturb him.

Ten minutes later, Abdullah emerged from the tent, upright and determined. His companions trailed him as he strode to where his men were guarding the dozen Germans who were still alive, including the two officers. He saw that some of his men had found Omar’s body and with great respect were preparing it for burial. The Faith required burial as soon as possible after a ritual bathing and shrouding.

Others had cut loose Yawlali’s burned and broken body and were lovingly preparing it the same way.

He turned to his three trusted lieutenants. “We shall kill them all,” he said in a voice like ice. “Slowly - the old Bedouin way. If any of the women from Omar’s tribe wish to help, they will be welcome.”

“Na’am alshaykh!’ All three replied with vehemence, drawing their daggers.

Abdullah pointed to the two bound, cowering officers. “They shall be last.”