Chapter One

 

"It's amazing how closely you resemble each other," said Achim with an admiring smile.

Keri shrugged. She was well used to it. "We're only two years apart," she said. "But people have often thought we were twins, despite having different fathers."

"That's why I dyed my hair red," said Rory.

"She's an inch shorter, too."

Rory stuck her tongue out at her older stepsister.

"So what do you think of Cairo?" he asked.

"It's amazing," Rory said enthusiastically. "It's so ancient and fascinating!"

"We thought Europe was different when we got there," her stepsister said in amusement. "But your country is so incredible, and beautiful."

"I was the one that wanted to see the pyramids," said Rory.

"She's a history major," Keri said. "I'm not as into old stuff as her."

"I'm surprised your parents let you both go to Europe to study," Achim said. "Two lovely young girls..."

"Women please," said Keri pertly. "And why shouldn't we? It's not like Oxford is terribly dangerous."

"Well, Arab families think differently on such things. Young marriageable girls would never be permitted to live away from their families like that."

"We're grown-ups," Rory said with a shrug.

"You're only a grown-up as of two months ago," Keri said.

Rory stuck her tongue out at her again.

"And maybe not entirely grown-up at that."

Rory sighed and shrugged. She looked up and around at the café, then out the window at the busy street-scene below. "Aside from the cars and buses there are parts of the city that look like they haven't changed in a century," she said dreamily.

"Oh that's nothing," Achim said. "Cairo is probably the most modern city in Egypt. You should have a look at some of the smaller cities and towns to the southwest. The further south you go the further back in time you are. There are places out there which haven't changed since Christ was born."

"Wow!" Rory said, eyes wide.

"We were told to stick to the tourist areas," Keri said. "It can be dangerous in other parts of Egypt."

"Oh no!" Achim said. "They're talking about those crazy terrorists! But they only operate in Cairo and a few other really large cities. You don't see terrorists setting off bombs in small villages," he said with a dismissive laugh.

"I suppose that makes sense," Rory said.

"In fact, my father is the deputy minister of agriculture, and has to make an inspection of the repairs made to an ancient dyke system near the town of El Amara tomorrow. I'm going with him, and we'll be taking a government boat along the Nile. It's a quite trip there and back, but it's away from the regular tourist routes. They have some very ancient buildings there, and the town is like it was a thousand years ago."

Rory's eyes shone, while Keri was more reluctant. Still, the sound of a boat ride along the Nile wasn't unattractive - and neither was Achim, and it certainly sounded perfectly safe. So they agreed to meet him the next morning.

 

* * * * *

 

The boat was not exactly what they'd imagined. The girls stood at dockside, frowning uncertainly. It was ancient and rickety, with paint peeling everywhere it hadn't simply fallen off. It was perhaps a hundred feet long, and a horde of people were already crowding aboard, some of them bringing crates of chickens or leading goats on tethers.

"Do you suppose it's safe?" Keri asked dubiously.

"Probably not," Rory said, "These people don't have the same safety standards we do in the west. That thing would never be allowed to carry passengers in any European country. Still, it's probably been going up and down the Nile for longer than we've been alive. What are the odds it sinks this time?"

They were wearing long skirts and long-sleeved blouses in deference to the locals, and had cute, wide brimmed hats on to protect their skin from the sun. But both had their waist-length hair free, and so they drew numerous double takes from the close-packed humanity surging around them. Keri's golden hair was thick and radiant, a full, rich, luxurious waterfall of silk spilling down her back. Her little stepsister's glorious shining red glistened like fire in the sun, thick and lustrous as it swung from side to side as she looked around.

"Ladies!" Achim said, hurrying up to them. "We're just in time. The ship will be leaving any moment."

"Ship?" Keri said doubtfully.

"Don't worry. It is perfectly safe," he said. "And we have special accommodations. We won't be packed in with the crowd."

He led them down to the dock, though both were reluctant, taking their backpacks in a gentlemanly manner, yet pushing aside people as if he owned the place. He led them through the staring crowd onto the boat, pushed aside more people, and then opened a hatch and ushered them inside.

It was dark inside, compared to the blinding sunlight, and stifling. Keri was beginning to think this had been a bad idea, though Rory was clearly fascinated by everything. Inside, they had a small, dank cabin, but it had air-conditioning, and a porthole looking out onto the river. Keri began to think of it as an adventure again, and the presence of Achim, his tall, lean body pressed against hers, gave her other ideas, as well.

They were in Egypt for an adventure, after all. And what better adventure than a romance with a gorgeous Arab man. A man, who, granted, could be dabbled with safely and then left behind as a learning experience, perhaps spoken about to wide-eyed girlfriends around at a coffee shop in London next semester.

The boat cast off, and with it their chance of changing their minds. Achim led them up onto a higher deck, which was cleared of the teaming humanity on the main deck, and they got to look out over the Nile as the boat chugged downstream. Rory was thrilled, and could hardly keep still, moving from side to side, staring down at the people below, or out at the Nile or shoreline beyond.

"Your sister is very excitable," Achim said, coming to rest against the rail beside Keri.

"She's a history nut," Keri said, aware of how close he was.

"And you?" he asked, his hand sliding along the rail until his arm was behind her.

"I get excited about other things," she said, turning her head, looking up, and giving him a slightly flirty look.

"Is that a fact?" he said solemnly. "And what kind of things excite you?"

"Oh, there's no telling. I know it when I see it," she said.

"Well, in that case, let me show you the rest of the boat."

She smiled and let him lead her back down the ladder, and into the hatch. He led her to the bridge, which seemed awfully untechnical compared to any other boat she'd seen, then further back and down deeper into the boat.

"Perhaps you'll find this interesting," he said, unlocking a door and ushering her inside.

It was a storage room, with a pair of port holes, and sacks of grain.

"Not terribly," she said, turning as he closed the door and came up behind her.

"But it's American grain," he said solemnly. "A gift from the people of the United States."

"Well, that sure is nice of us," she said as he stepped closer.

She backed up against a tall wooden beam, and looked flirtily up at him as he moved closer. His hands slid around her and she giggled as he bent to kiss her. But then she turned her head up and her hands rose and slid over his shoulders. His tongue pushed into her mouth, and his hands slid in to cup her bottom and squeeze lightly.

She pressed her body against him, heart pounding, mind swirling with indecision about how far she should let him go, about what he might think of her if she gave in too quickly, about whether they were safe from discovery, about whether Rory would miss her and wonder and what she would think.

Her fingers squeezed more tightly, and his tongue pushed into her mouth again, deeper, fighting her own as he pulled her body against his and her breasts pillowed out against his chest. Then one of his hands slid up her side and in front to cup her full breast and she shuddered. Her breasts had always been too sensitive, and her nipples were already hard and hot. The feel of his hands against them made her groin throb and pulse with hunger and she knew the decision was soon going to be made for her if she didn't push him away.

His hand slid down her side, and his fingers deftly undid the buttons to her skirt, then slid the zipper down. She shuddered with excitement as her skirt slipped slowly down over her hips, then down her legs to pool at her ankles. Her blouse still covered her groin, but even now he was undoing it, and she didn't have the inner strength to stop him.

"God!' she gasped as he bit into the nape of her neck.

It was hot in the storage room, and she was already sweating. A part of her said she should get her clothes off quickly before they were soaked, and get this done before Rory came looking for them. She helped undo the buttons of the blouse and yanked it off, tossing it on the floor, her lips never leaving his as their tongues danced together.

He yanked down her bra and turned her around, half lifting her up onto the bales of grain, pushing between her legs. His lips finally left her mouth, only to move down onto her left breast, sucking heavily at the nipple and surrounding flesh as she shuddered and arched back.

"Oh! Yeah! Yeah! Lick it!" she groaned. "Suck on my nipple! Bite me! OooO!"

He tore off her thong and pushed her back, then his strong hands yanked her legs up and apart, so she fell back onto the sacks of grain. She groaned, chest heaving, thinking of what a wild story this would make for the girls come next semester.

Then he was in her, and she moaned in pleasure. She was wet and ready, so his hard thrust hurt only a little, and some part of her welcomed the pain, feeling it right and proper for a wild coupling. He grunted as he thrust in deeper, his hands jerking on her thighs, fingers digging in with bruising force as he began to ride her, pumping in and out.

Keri drew her legs up and back, keeping them wide, gasping, reaching for him as he leaned into her. He kneaded her breasts hard as their mouths met again, and his hips began to pump wildly in and out as he thrust his cock deep into her with every stroke.

The sweat was pouring down her now, but she didn't care. This was incredibly exciting and passionate, and she wrapped her legs around him as she pulled him closer, her tongue thrusting up at his, her hips bucking against his pumping cock as spasms of pleasure rolled through her at every thrust.

"God! Yes! Yes! Oh! Fuck Me! Fuck me harder! Ohhhhh!" she groaned, his hips hammering faster and harder against her thighs.

He reached down, pulling himself away from her mouth, grasping her legs again behind the knees, squeezing painfully tight as he rammed them up and back. His hips slapped against her upraised ass now, and Keri was so open, so vulnerable, so hot, that she just lay back and stared at the roof, gasping and grunting with every thrust.

The orgasm rolled over her, and her back arched as she clawed at the air.

"Yes! Oh! Oh! Oh! Ungh! Ungh! Ungh! Ungh"

He growled and forced her legs even tighter back, slamming his cock into her with hard, desperate thrusts as she twisted and writhed in passion.

Keri's body was pulsing with sexual pleasure, each pulse more powerful than the one which preceded it. Her eyes were wide, then rolled back in her head, eyes slitted as she arched, arched, arched again, shuddering, gasping as the powerful climax tore through her, as his thick cock kept ramming up into her body with almost painful force.

And then she sagged, went limp, gasping, moaning languorously as his hips slowed and his cock pulled free.

"Oh man," she groaned dazedly.

He chuckled.

"Let me show you something very old about this boat," he said, "It's very old, and has been carrying more than grain into Upper Egypt."

"I can't move," she groaned.

He slid his hands under her and scooped her up in his arms. Keri blinked in surprise, then giggled a little as he turned and led her across the room. He knelt in front of one of the ceiling posts and set her down on the floor. She gasped, scrambling to get up, for the floor was dirty.

"Here," he said, grasping her arm too hard, showing her the post.

"What?"

The post was square, about six inches to a side. So what?

No, there was something. She watched him reach out and dig into a crack in the centre of the post, then pry out what looked like a hand lever of some kind. It tilted out and up, but she couldn't guess what purpose it could serve. She noticed two more cracks in the deep brown, aged wood, however, lower down, and as she watched he dug a knife into one, and pried up a triangular shaped wedge about an inch thick and eight inches long and then pulled out a little metal brace from inside to prop it horizontally.

"I don't get it," she said, more than slightly impatient.

She should have been lying back on the sacks relaxing, idly running her fingers through his hair as he gently stroked her body. Or something.

"This boat used to carry slaves," he said. "Female slaves."

"Really?"

Well, that was kind of cool, and she looked at the things with renewed interest, trying to understand how they figured into female slave carrying.

"Look."

He turned her around, too roughly, too suddenly, and pushed her back against the post.

"Hey! Not so roug - ."

She didn't know where he got the leather laces, but he swept them around the pillar, then around her throat, before she had a clue what he was up to. He pulled them tight, so suddenly the back of her head slammed against the pillar. She gurgled helplessly, eyes bulging, hands instinctively shooting up, grasping at the thick leather laces digging into her throat, trying to force their way between laces and flesh.

But Achim had already tied them off, and now he easily gripped her wrists and jerked them up and back behind the post, where, despite her shocked struggles they were easily crossed together at the wrists, and wrapped tightly in another leather lace.

Keri could not breathe. She was twisting and writhing, red faced, her lithe body sheeted in sweat as she tried frantically to breath. She had no other goal, no other thoughts, no fears, nothing. Breathing was her only goal. And she wasn't making it.

Then the lace around her throat was loosened, and she gasped deeply, the moist air inflating her lungs again, her throbbing, pounding head and burning chest beginning to relax as she gulped in air.

"Now slut, do you want to breathe? Move. Move!" he snarled, tightening the lace around her throat, pulling on her hair, forcing her up and then around to the side of the pillar, the one with the lever and the horizontal wedge of wood. Gasping, gurgling, she squatted, back and head against the post as he turned her, and then pushed down.

"Down, slut! Down now!"

He tightened the leather lace until her eyes bulged again and she gurgled, sinking down along the post. She felt the round wooden thing, what she had thought of as a lever, against her rosebud, and struggled instinctively to twist away. But a hand shot between her legs, squeezing her pussy, guiding her onto it, and again her goal became simple: breathe.

It hurt.