Game Set and Match

*** Chapter 8. Second Service.

Vanya arrived.

The airport at Garhoud, Dubai City, was packed as usual, but Vanya stood out from the crowd as she emerged through the arrivals doors.

She was not at all what Fazia had expected. Skinny, almost painfully thin, about forty years and plain in an almost old-fashioned way.

When they met at the airport Vanya offered Fazia her bony hand and smiled in a thin way, lips compressed. The grip of those long fingers was formidable, even Fazia who had trained to improve her grip found that she had to resist to stop her hand being crushed.

“Gudrun said that you’d be here to meet me,” said Vanya in an accent that betrayed her unfamiliarity with spoken English.

Fazia tried to smile, but she was almost taking a dislike to this woman before she knew her for a more than a minute.

“The limousine is this way,” she muttered and turned to lead the austere Czech woman through the crowds that filled the marble flagged hall.

In the spacious and cool leather interior of the limousine the two women sat opposite from each other. There could not have been more contrast between the young tennis player and the pale bony woman who had such ghostly grey eyes that her black irises seemed like holes to nowhere.

Self control and control of others was Vanya’s imperative, hands in lap she studied her employer with a cool gaze that made the young tennis star wonder if she could find the strength to order this woman to do her bidding, no matter what she was paying.

“You are filled with self-doubt, I can see it in every line of your body,” said Vanya.

“I know what I want...”

“Do you? Are you sure? Tell me.”

“I want Dave Sharparov to be my toy. I want him to do as I tell him. I want...”

At this point Fazia’s mind went blank. It was true she did not know what it was that she wanted, or how she was going to achieve it. She felt like a fool.

‘What am I doing?’ Fazia thought to herself. ‘I have mixed myself in things that are beyond my imagination, but like night follows day there seems no way out of this.’

“Gudrun said that you needed help and that she would consider it a favour for me to teach you how to make a man or woman conduct themselves as their owner wishes. I am happy to offer that help because Gudrun is very dear to me. When we have finished not only will Mr. David Sharparov be your plaything but he will allow you to do anything to him that you wish. Be it making love on a bed of roses or a whipping on a bed of thorns, he will obey you out of fear of pain and your displeasure.”

“How long will it take?”

“Weeks, months? Difficult to say. Once I have seen your new acquisition I will be able to guess.”

Vanya smiled, but it passed unnoticed by her employer. She knew what the next question would be. It was always the same. How much and how long.

“How much money is it going to cost me?”

Fazia held her breath anticipating some incredible sum.

“That depends on a number of things. It is not just me that you have to pay for. I will need a few things and a place to live. It depends on how long it takes and it depends on how fast that you learn the intricacies of your slave’s mind.”

Vanya held up a hand to stop the words that were forming on Fazia’s lips.

“I guess that it will cost only a couple of hundreds of thousands. Maybe three or four, but the first is always the most expensive and the most difficult.”

*** Chapter 9. Line Call.

The Daily Sentinel, London. (iPod App version)

03.06.2011 By our Middle-East correspondent. Claudia Shapelli

There is still no reliable word on the whereabouts of Sally Freeman or her Ukrainian boyfriend. In fact it seems that she has just disappeared completely from the face of the earth. Police in Dubai finally allowed an investigative team from the U.S.A. to help with the search for the top tennis star a month ago, but they are no closer to finding out what happened all those months ago.

It was expected that there would be ransom demands or perhaps political demands but not one ripple has disturbed the pond since three Tunisians were arrested for faking a ransom demand of twenty million dollars three months ago.

So what has happened? The desert is a huge place and, like Las Vegas, there are many secrets buried there. The Dubai squad that was assigned the job of finding Sally Freeman inside a week spends its time questioning suspects and checking alibis but to no avail.

Some of the rumours that are passing for fact in Dubai and Abu Dhabi are strange to say the least. So far there has been no mention of U.F.O.s but the idea that the young American is now part of some harem in Saudi Arabia or Oman can be discounted as being the stuff of imagination.

So the yellow ribbons remain tied and weathered around that old oak in New England and family and friends feel the withering of their hopes as that precious time slides by with no word of sister and daughter, Sally Freeman.

The F.B.I report that they are still giving top priority to the search and that they have the full cooperation of both the authorities in Dubai and the American military. They are listening to every transmission in the Middle-East whether it be propagated by Somali pirates or Yemeni terrorists.

While there is life, there is hope.

Is there life?

*** Chapter 10. In The Net.

Dave Sharparov had come to fear and dread the sound of the door opening. The ordeal had begun in a small cell as a woman with what seemed to be a German accent had caned him, he was naked and helpless.

She had been dressed in a full chador in deep red. Face masked and hands gloved she had left her mark on his flesh in lines of violet bruises.

Thereafter had followed days or maybe weeks when he was fed and watered and the bowl that was his toilet was taken and returned empty.

How was he to know that these two weeks were the best of times? How could he know that this waiting that he was enduring was just a space that would soon be filled by a woman who had broken stronger men, stauncher women than him?

So they moved him.

In a limousine that travelled in a swirl of dust across the desert whilst a surly and resentful guard in police uniform watched his every move. The trip took almost a full day, a trip that crossed at least one border control that Dave noticed.

Was he going into Oman or simply crossing some internal checkpoint in the plethora of Emirates that laced this coast of the Persian Gulf?

Ar-rustaq is surprisingly green, a place of date palms and lush undergrowth. David had a fleeting glimpse of those spindly trees before the car entered a compound and he was hustled to another cell.

The third that he had been in since his abduction.

Every time that he had attempted to question his captors he had been beaten so he remained silent and did not resist being pushed into a tile lined cell. He was still alive, that meant, as far as he was concerned that he was still worth something. As a political pawn, as ransom potential or perhaps as terrorist pressure on some government somewhere.

He sat on the edge of the bed that jutted from the wall and waited. He was thirsty and hungry. His bladder was full and he could smell the sweat and dirt that caked his body.

An hour passed.

The door opened.

A tall woman, painfully thin, stood in the doorway and regarded him with the greyest eyes that David had ever seen. Standing behind her was the man in police uniform that had been his guard on the trip.

“Undress!” she said.

He hesitated.

“I do not repeat myself often. When I do you will have cause to regret it.”

The accent was Slovak, or may be Czech he noted. She was from his part of the world.

David started to undress. Shirt, trousers, shoes and socks came off.

“Naked,” she said.

He slipped off his pants and stood naked before her piercing and thorough gaze.

“You’ll do,” she remarked as she beckoned for his clothes with her long fingers. “Pass me all of that shit.”

He passed her the clothes and risked a few words in Ukrainian. She smiled and shook her head. Even if I spoke good Russian I would not use it here. Trust is understanding and they only speak English here.”

Vanya nodded at the guard as if to underline her point as she passed him the pile of clothes and took the cane that he proffered.

“You and I are going to get to know each other very well,” she said. “My job, no my calling, is as a trainer. I train men to obey their owners. Sometimes men, most times women. In this case you have been acquired by a woman, though she may decide to lend you to male friends, I do not know.”

“I do not understand,” he said.

The cane became a blur of fawn dust and the last three inches caught his inner thigh leaving a bright red stripe that pointed with implied threat at his flaccid cock.

“From now on all flippant comments will be rewarded with the cane. I do not require you to understand, I require obedience. If you deviate from that clear path which I set you will be punished according to my whim. That may depend on how far from the path you have strayed or it may just be a sign of my mood.”

David struggled to stay on his feet. He could feel the burn of the cane and watched the tip as though it would help if he could anticipate the next blow.

“So it begins,” she said. “Soon you will meet the woman who owns you. She is your goddess. She is your Queen. You will be perfect for her because my reputation and disposition demands it of you.”

The cane lashed out again and caught his upper arm with a blow that made him cry out with the shock and pain.

“For the moment I will allow you to scream or cry out,” she said. “However, when I tell you that the phase is complete you will be silent, even when you are beaten. It is the owner’s right to decide if she wishes to hear your suffering or if she wishes you to be silent in your pain. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.”

The next blow had the outside of his thigh as a target. The bamboo almost whistled as it swept through the air before the slap of contact.

“A nod will suffice. Do you understand?”

David’s thighs shook and trembled. The guard standing behind this evil woman just smiled as if David’s pain was cheering an otherwise boring duty.

David nodded.

The first lesson had been learned.

*** Chapter 11. First Set.

Australia was missed.

Despite the best efforts of her tennis agent who spent all his time on the phone trying to convince Miss Fazia Musa of her invincibly on court, Fazia was learning that she was gaining another kind of invincibility.

Vanya was so austere, but she was an excellent teacher for both the nascent dominatrix and the reborn slave. That was her credo. Break the slave’s ego into small pieces and rebuild him in the image that is required.

Every day David had to learn to serve. It might be that he had to learn a poem. It might be that he needed to lick some shoes clean and polish them until they shone. It might be that he had to sit still for hours at a time or wank for his Czech teacher.

Sometimes the tasks were trivial, sometimes difficult and sometimes impossible. That was the idea. Each failure was punished almost at random. Occasionally a slap or a light blow. Then a whipping that left the blood running down his thighs.

His food was adulterated with strange tastes. The shutters on the cell were opened and closed at random. Sometimes there was silence and then noise that left him disorientated.

And all the while Fazia watched the Vanya the master at work. Fazia knew David intimately. She knew his every kink and secret and her knowledge was used to break him down, until at last the day came when the new mistress could become part of the program and start to create the man she wanted.

***

Five weeks it took in that cell before Vanya finally had David mewling at her feet. The metal cage that contained his prick was the only clothes that he wore as he kneeled awaiting her pleasure. For a moment she lifted her long robes to expose her high heels and legs. The white flesh of her thighs contrasting with the sheer black of the stockings.

David tried not to stare but this sight was one that he had longed for. Finally, all that had gone before was over.

This woman, this female mother figure, this queen of his thoughts was showing approval. His mind was full of splintering thoughts, the endured beatings and the words of praise.

He waited.

“Good! Well done,” she said. “You have done so well in the last days that I think that we have reached the moment when you can meet and adore your new mistress. Would you like that?”

He nodded. It was forbidden to speak unless the order was exact. It was forbidden to ever say or indicate ‘no’. The only possible answer was ‘yes’. His heart fell that he might lose Vanya.

She knew what was best for him.

She was stern but she ruled his world.

Her hand relaxed and Vanya allowed the robe to drop and brush the floor with its hem, the vision of ‘what might have been’ was over and David would have to adjust to Fazia and her needs.

*** Chapter 12. Practice Service.

17.01.2012 Reuters, Oman.

The police in Oman yesterday announced that David Sharparov was found and freed from captivity by police who had been watching a known terrorist hide-out for three weeks. This sudden development creates new hope that Sally Freeman who was kidnapped at the same time as David Sharparov seven months ago in Dubai.

The government in Dubai has issued a statement welcoming the news and are flying Mr Sharparov’s parents to Dubai to greet him.

In a full statement to the world’s press agencies, the Minister for Internal Security for Dubai announced that Mr. Sharparov would be spending some time in Dubai, with the support of the government, to get over the trauma and shock of the events of the last few months.

As far as we can ascertain, Mr Sharparov was not mistreated or tortured in captivity but full details of his time in Oman must await his own statement in the next few days.

***

David stood on the balcony of the apartment block and stared down into the street below with vacant eyes. Now that he was back in Los Angeles he should have felt better, but something disturbed his peace of mind.

Those long months in captivity!

He thought of Sally, but the picture in his head was distant, faded. The affection that he had felt for her was gone like a dried up river. The course that it had taken was clear, but the water had long since dried up and the power of its flow was just a memory.

He knew, intellectually, that Sally was now in a harem in Kuwait. Serving her mistress as she had been trained to do. Vanya had showed him the pictures and short film of her, but it had not even caused a moment of regret to him.

His eyes saw Sally being trained to pleasure her mistress. His ears heard her begging for mercy as she was thrashed. His heart told him that she deserved her punishments and chastisements. She had been so wrong for him on so many levels.

Some severe discipline would do her good and teach her that she had been so iniquitous to tempt him from his true love, Fazia. If she would not obey her rightful owner her due was to suffer for her misbehaviour.

Sally was of no interest, she was the desiccated past.

Fazia!

The thought made his prick stir with desire.

It swelled and hardened to be, at last, stopped by the steel tube that reminded him of his mistress. She was his key holder. Fazia was the woman who allowed him, sometimes, to show his ardour.

He wandered into the apartment and glanced at the clock.

In just half an hour Fazia would return from her shopping expedition and he would be ready for her as usual. His cock pressed in its constricting metal restraint, reminding him of all he owed to his lover.

With any luck she would be in a good mood and he would be allowed to please her in all those little ways that she so loved.

Flowers decorated the apartment and filled the rooms with their perfume. Everything was in its place and perfect, just the way that she liked it.

Her trophies were polished and all the domestic tasks had been done.

David had been a good boy, now he hoped for his reward!

He sat on the sofa and drifted into a reverie.

The last three months had been hectic and stressful, but the rekindling of his affair with Fazia had helped him recover from the terrible months of torment. In his mind’s eye he pictured Vanya, but it was a fading memory in which the woman who had crushed him was more of a mother figure, a stern, but fair instructor and teacher.

Suddenly he heard the keys in the door and his heart leapt with elation that she was back, his true love and guiding mistress, Fazia.

She entered and smiled at him as she laid all the clothes that she had bought on the sofa as he stood unselfconsciously to attention, ready to help should she demand it.

“David,” she said, “I have some good news for you. In fact good news for both of us! I have decided that we are getting married in the next few months.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I will do my best to please you.”

“I know that you will, darling. You try so hard to please me...”

David noted a slight undertone of disapproval and wondered what he had done to upset her. What had he said that might have disappointed her?

He waited.