Part 18 - The Wedding Ceremony … As narrated

(story continues from My Odyssey Part 17: Star Tells Me Her Story … As narrated)

Continues from part 17

My Odyssey

As narrated by Anne-Marie Killamajiian,
Wife of Ahmed, of the House of Mustaffa, the Diamond Merchant

Warning: This story involves bondage, consensual sex, domination, coercion, sex changes, sexual slavery, rape, and other jiggery-pokery. It is entirely fictional, and is intended as entertainment for adults only. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or to any location or activity is purely coincidental. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. (As if anybody ever is!)

Note: If you would like to contact the authoress to make a comment, you may contact Anne through anne_or_tony@yahoo.com who originally published it as “My Story”. She hopes you enjoy reading her story. Tony would also appreciate your comments. We will endeavor to answer all emails.

Author’s Note: My apologies to my loyal readers. The last chapter was accidentally lost in a computer crash, and in reconstructing it, some of the details were lost, especially at the end of the chapter. Originally, the teaser for this chapter was to be “In the next episode, Anne-Marie learns her fate.” -- Tony-B

RECAP: In Part 17, Anne-Marie had been prepared for marriage to Ahmed Killamajiian, of the House of Mustaffa. Her sister Betty had been brought from Thailand to be the Maid of Honor at this tribal ceremony that would seal her to Ahmed for life, and beyond.

 

Part 18 - The Wedding Ceremony …

Mmmmmf. I made a sound as Star placed the gag into my mouth. It was a ceremonial gag…. Not designed to keep me totally quiet, only to remind me that speech was improper. The part that went in my mouth was a flattened ball, made of pure silver. It was attached to two short silver chains ending in small hooks. The way it was applied was to insert the gag into the mouth, then pass the chains along the cheeks, and securing the small hooks in the hoop earrings in the bride’s pierced ears. And the gag itself, the flattened silver ball, was smaller than most bondage-type gags. As I said, more ceremonial than effective. It would remind the woman that she wasn’t to talk, without hurting her in any way. And of course, she couldn’t remove it if her hands were tied behind her back, as mine would be soon.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”, she asked.

I shook my head no. I was just unaccustomed to wearing a gag, and it was a little surprising that I would readily accept it like this. I had been gagged before, but not for any significant length of time. Particularly for the whole half-day that the ceremony and festivities would take. Like Star, I took it as part of my duty to my husband-to-be. My hands were tied behind my back with a leather strap, and my knees would be tied together, so I could only take awkward, short steps, and so I couldn’t run away. All part of the ceremonial bondage that brides are subjected to. I was not uncomfortable, just inconvenienced. My wedding dress was made of white satin, with pretty pink bows between the breasts and a pink sash around the waist with loose ends that fell nearly to the floor. My hair had an upswept hairdo, piling it on the top of my head, revealing the back of my neck. I wore a diamond tiara, diamond earrings, and a diamond necklace that had been sent as wedding gifts by Ahmed’s brothers. Underneath my wedding gown, I was totally naked! Star had tied a red silk scarf around my waist as her gift to me – Something borrowed… . She didn't have much in the way of personal possessions, so I treasured her gift, most of all. More than the diamonds, really. I decided that she would be more than just my serving girl. …

Ahmed had shown me the wedding ring the day before, and had it fitted for size. It was a simple wide gold band with three small diamonds set within its circumference. He said the three diamonds represented ‘Here, Now, and Forever’, in their culture. It would be a double-ring ceremony, and he would wear an identical band. For both of us, it signified the permanence of the marriage.

Betty stepped out of the bathroom wearing the new dress, and with her hair put up like mine. We could have almost passed as twin sisters, except that she wasn’t bound or gagged, as I was.

Star said, “I won’t tie your knees together until we get down to the ceremonial hall, so as to allow you to walk normally. Once we are there, I’ll have to tie your knees, in order to prevent you from trying to ‘escape’.”

Silly girl, I thought. There is no way I would try to escape from my destiny. But it’s a tradition, I guess. A tradition that must be upheld. We waited in silence for Ahmed to send a servant to fetch us at the appropriate time. Betty inspected my gag and wrist strap to make sure I wasn’t being hurt. “Are you okay?”, she asked.

I nodded “Yes.”

She stood in front of me and brushed my hair into place. She touched my forehead, and said something… A few seconds later, the servant appeared, and we were ready to go. Betty picked up a floral bouquet that the servant had brought, and went through the door first. She was followed by Star who was leading me by the elbow. When Betty was several steps ahead, Star whispered in my ear, “Betty gave you a Wedding Gift…" She told you to ‘Be happy’, then snapped her fingers. I assume she gave you a hypnotic suggestion.”

Those two words meant more to me than anything anyone had ever said to me. “I am happy, Star”, I thought. “More than you’ll ever know!” Tears came to my eyes. Thank you, Betty. I really do love you! If things were different …..

* * * *

The ceremony went pretty much as planned, but seemed longer than necessary. Perhaps it was just because I was in bondage to the man who would soon be my husband, or perhaps it was just the warmth of the morning. As promised, Star had tied my knees together just outside the Chapel and Betty helped me walk to the altar, where Ahmed and his brothers were waiting. The ceremony took about half an hour, what with the ritual chanting, burning of incense, and reading from the Quoran. It didn’t help that I didn’t know the language… At the appropriate time, I was asked if I accepted the marriage in English, and I nodded my consent. My hands were untied, and the elder gave my ring to Ahmed. He took my hand and placed the ring on the third finger of my left hand. It fit perfectly. The elder handed me Ahmed’s ring, and I placed it on the third finger of his left hand. The gathered relatives and friends who witnessed the ceremony raised a shout. And I was married. I was now Anne-Marie Killamajiian, wife of Ahmed, of the House of Mustaffa, the diamond merchant. And I didn’t even get a kiss! Well, Star had told me never to expect public shows of affection, but I was looking forward to the Wedding Night!

Ahmed removed my gag, and handed it to Betty. Surprisingly, he pulled me to him, and kissed me fully, as I had hoped he would since that very first night – before we had even boarded the plane – when I had told him that I would always try to please him. I suppose it was all right this one time because I was an American, and public kissing was acceptable in this context.

Star, who had been crying silently near the side, knelt at my feet, reached up under my dress, and released the knot that held the rope in place, holding my knees closed.

“Come with me”, Ahmed said. “… It’s time for the ritual.”

He led the guests and me down the hall to the banquet room where a buffet line had been set up for the guests. There was also a table covered with pink satin, which was at the focal point of the room. It was padded, and was obviously where I would give up my ‘virginity’ to Ahmed and his brothers. The edges of the table had four straps affixed to the sides, where I could be strapped down for the ordeal. As the guests entered the room, they all found seats where they could get a good view of the action that was scheduled to take place. Ahmed guided me to the head of the table, and said, “Stand here.” I did as instructed, and automatically bowed my head and dropped my eyes in submission. Star came to me, and removed my wedding dress. She handed it to Betty, who folded and held it. Star removed my jewelry, and handed it to Betty. Aside from my shoes, and the red sash Star had given me, I was nude. I was excited at everything that was taking place. Almost as if I were an outsider, looking in at the entire scene. It as almost as if I were detached from my body and was just another observer watching for what was to happen.

Ahmed stood in front of me, inspecting the beauty of the female body I had been given. He moved to remove the red sash Star had given me. “Please, Ahmed. Let me keep the red sash – it’s important to me.”

“As you wish”, he said.

He removed his clothes, handing them to a waiting servant. It was the first time I had seen Ahmed without his clothes. He was an Adonis! He was lean, and had a well-sculpted body. His abs were flat as a board with a well-defined six-pack. His broad shoulders and arms were well muscled. His chest was hairy, as men’s chests should be, and grew down the front of his body to meet his genital hair. His organ was large and semi-erect. We were both nude except for my red sash, and facing one another. I had been told by Star that many Middle-Eastern men had large penises, and she had not been lying. While his wasn’t the largest I had ever seen, it was pretty big. I hoped that I would be able to take it all and satisfy him. This was going to be more about providing pleasure to Ahmed and his brothers, more than to myself. I knew that, but I was determined to put on a good show, if necessary, in order to please Ahmed and his traditions.

Suddenly, two large men appeared. They were part of the cordon of Tribal Elders that had been in the chapel. They physically picked me up and placed me on the table. As they were picking me up, Ahmed said, “Relax Anne. Don’t fight them.” I obeyed, allowing myself to be handled by these men. As soon as they had me on the table, they secured my wrists at the sides of the table. Moving further down, they spread my legs and fixed them in the straps holding my feet wide apart, exposing my hairless genitals for all to see. I could almost imagine the crowd cheering, “Hooray for our side”, as they got a full view of my naked vagina. I felt embarrassed at the thought.

I could see Betty and Star out of the corner of my eye. I saw Betty hand my dress to Star, and approach me. She knelt at the side of the table and took my hand. “Relax, honey”, she whispered. “… It won’t be that bad. I’m here for you.” She squeezed my hand in support.

I smiled at her, and mouthed “I love you.” She nodded, and whispered, “I know…”

A small pillow was brought in. My head was raised, and the pillow slid under it so that I would be forced to watch these men using my body to honor their tradition. Only Ahmed and Betty knew that I was safe from pregnancy. Star had guessed that part of my story because I knew Betty, had the telltale tattoo on my back, and obviously had been to the Clinic myself. But intuitively I knew that Star would keep that secret. Exposing me would also expose herself, and be decidedly unpleasant for her.

Ahmed moved to the side of the table, opposite Betty, and began some foreplay on my breasts. He gently squeezed and massaged them, much as Henry had done for me so many times. But Ahmed was different, he quickly bent to flick my nipples with his tongue, and suck them into his warm mouth, sucking hard, to give me the pleasure of foreplay. With one hand, he squeezed as he sucked, igniting the fire within my waiting vagina. Gradually, he slid his free hand down the front of my body, rolling his fingers around my navel in a circular motion several times. He was beginning to drive me wild with desire. His hand slid further down to my cleft, seeking out my quim. Finding it, he playfully tugged at it, and ran his finger around seeking my pleasure button. He found it, and I took a quick gasp of air, as his touch enflamed my already hot desire. If he wasn’t careful, he’d make me cum before he even got into me, I thought.

Someone had placed a step stool of some kind at the foot of the table, and Ahmed moved around to use it to climb up on top of the table, and on top of me. I remembered the times that Jai had lain on top of me when we were experimenting to find out what it felt like to have a boy on top of us, and the times that Henry had lain on top of me, and the times the other orderlies had held me down or laid on top of me to take their pleasure between my legs.

I looked at Ahmed’s dick. It was large, but not too large. I’m sure I’ll be able to take it, I thought to myself. If he hurts me, I can cry out. …

He pointed the head of his dick at my waiting vagina, and lowered himself onto me, and into me. I relaxed my pelvic muscles, as my vagina opened for his penetration. I was wet with anticipation, and he slid in easily. God, he was just right. He filled me, without hurting me, and his dick spread my pussy open to accommodate his width, as well as his length. I gave Betty’s hand a squeeze, letting her know it was all right. I hope his brothers are about the same, I thought. I heard some members of the wedding party murmur their approval. Whether it was for Ahmed, or for me, I don’t know.

As he lowered himself onto me, he placed his head upon my shoulder and whispered into my ear, “I love you.” That’s all I needed to hear, to seal my fate to him forever!

He began slowly stroking in and out, allowing me time to build up my own pleasure, so that I might cum when he was ready. I could tell that he was going to master me, and control my orgasm! I purposely used my Kegal exercises to enhance his pleasure. I didn’t care how long it lasted, or how many reps I had to provide for him, I was willing, and I would achieve my own pleasure by giving it to him without reservation.

He took his time. Enjoying me to the fullest. It was mostly quiet in the room. A few whispered comments now and then, but I felt the guests were suddenly respectful of the act that was being performed for them to witness, and it’s effect on Ahmed and myself. I could feel him begin to reach his peak – his breathing was hot and shallow in my ear, and his dick seemed to grow harder within my vagina. I felt he was about to cum at any time, so I released my own pent-up pleasure, and started the trip to my own orgasm. I continued pleasuring him, of course, but at the same time, was quickly bringing myself to my own sexual peak.

He whispered in my ear, “I’m going to cum. And I love you.”

I melted into my own orgasm, moaning softly into his ear, and whispering, “I love you, too, my Master. I will always love you.” I remembered Jai’s bracelet, and whispered, “No one before you, my husband, not even I.”

He came. I came. We came together, and in that moment, I was sealed to him forever.

He drained himself into me, and I squeezed Betty’s hand hard. She knew what was happening, smiled my way, and squeezed back.

Ahmed raised himself off me, and pulled out of my vagina. The crowd cheered in appreciation. Ahmed got down from the table, took his clothes from the waiting servant and left the room. Meanwhile, Star appeared carrying a silver tray. It carried a warm washrag, a towel, and tube of vaginal lubricant. Betty took the warm washrag, and washed my genital area, then used the towel to dry me off. Although I knew that Ahmed’s sperm was still inside me, she took some of the lubricant and spread it around my vaginal opening, to make it easier for the next brother to enter.

He, by the way, had appeared next to the table, wearing only his shorts. When Betty finished preparing me, she knelt at the side of the table again, and took my hand. She nodded to Ahmed’s brother to signify that I was ready, and squeezed my hand, to assure me that she was there.

This was Ahmed’s eldest brother. The man I would marry if Ahmed died, and I was passed along to him. I had already been introduced to him. His name was Jubal, of the House of Mustaffa. He smiled at me, and adjusted the pillow under my head to make sure I had a good view of the coupling. He reached out with both hands and grasped my breasts. As he squeezed them, he smiled and said, “Relax Sister Anne. I’ll be very gentle with you. I am only doing this because it’s required by tradition. You can lie perfectly still, or please yourself. I promise I’ll be as quick as I can.”

He was not only my brother-in-law, he seemed like he would be a considerate man. I smiled, and said, “Thank you”. I relaxed, sure that if he was honest, he wasn’t deliberately going to hurt me.

He moved around to the foot of the table. But instead of mounting the table and me, he knelt on the stepstool and moved his head between my legs. He started blowing on my clitoris, to excite me. He reached up with both hands and grasped my breasts, massaging them as he continued to tease my clit with his hot breath. He didn’t touch me down there, only blew all around the area, hitting my clit, the lips, and the vaginal opening repeatedly. I wondered if he was going to try getting me off by blowing on me… a real ‘blowjob’, if that was his plan.

This activity between my legs began to excite me, and I gave Betty’s hand a little squeeze. He kept it up, squeezing my breasts and blowing on my clit. Soon, I moaned in pleasure. That was his cue, I guess, because he started to tongue me, dipping his tongue into my vagina, then withdrawing it in a long, slow movement up to my clit, where he circled and wiggled it with his tongue.

Some of the guests appeared to become bored with this apparent lack of activity, and they went to the buffet table to load up on delicacies and snacks, returning to their seats to knosh while they watched. They didn’t want to miss anything, if something did happen. They didn’t realize that his apparent lack of activity was driving me wild while they saw nothing. I had begun to moan repeatedly. Softly at first, then a bit louder, and louder, as Jubal was driving me toward my release. He was paying particular attention to the movement of my hips and my rate of respiration, watching carefully as it grew to a fevered pitch. Strangely, I wanted to have him inside me. Urgently. “Please, Jubal”, I said… “Now’s the time.”

He climbed up on the table and mounted me. He slipped his dick into me easily. It was about the same size as Ahmed’s, so I had no problem taking it all in. He started fast-stroking me in a One, Two Three, Four, cadence. Closer and closer he was driving me to an orgasm. It didn’t matter that he was my brother-in-law, he was a man, and I was a woman, and that was the bottom line. All else was forgotten. It only took a couple of minutes for him to bring me off, his foreplay had been so expertly done. As I started to cum, he let go of his wad, and came within me. Spurt, spurt, spurt. A hundred and forty beats to the bar… It was almost like disco music. The wedding guests were cheering him on! Spurt, spurt, spurt. …. He must have cum in me a dozen times and I squeezed Betty’s hand each time we came together.

He slowed to a stop, and I realized that he had shot his wad, so to speak, and had no more to give.

He raised himself off me, pulling his penis out of me. Another cheer erupted from the crowd. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Thank you, Anne. You are the best!”

Star appeared with her silver tray as Betty released her grip. Star had two warm washcloths on the tray this time. Betty handed one to Jubal, and used the second one to clean me up for the next performance. I watched as Betty washed all around my genital area, and then took a towel and dried me off. There was a plastic turkey baster syringe on Star’s tray, which Betty used to insert into my vagina and suck out the excess sperm from inside me. It didn’t hurt at all, but was simply the best way of cleaning me out of the accumulating sperm at the base of my vagina since I couldn’t use an enema bag while on the table in front of guests.

I looked around the room, and spotted Ahmed in one corner, talking to another man who was impressively dressed. He seemed unconcerned that I had been driven to orgasm by his brother in front of the wedding guests.

Again, Betty applied some lubricant to the vaginal opening, to make me ready for the next penetration. I thought that Star would be doing this if Betty had not been here. I would be more comfortable with Betty doing it.

When Betty was finished, she again assumed her position kneeling at the side of the table and took my hand, giving it a small squeeze. Another man appeared at the side of the table, wearing only his shorts.

“Good afternoon, Anne”, he said. “We haven’t been introduced yet. I’m Ahmin, Ahmed’s next youngest brother.

“Good afternoon”, I heard myself saying. “I welcome you, and I’m ready for you to use me for your pleasure.”

“I’m here only because of the tradition, my sister. I already have a wife, and am happy with her. Unfortunately, the tradition must be upheld.”

“I understand, Ahmin. There are no bad feelings here. Use me as you will. Please, just don’t hurt me”, I said.

“I promise that, my sister. I will be quick. Are you well lubricated, and are you ready?”

“Yes, Ahmin, I am ready.”

With that, he dropped his shorts, climbed up on the table and mounted me. He was ready to do his duty, as was I. With no foreplay or preparation, he used his organ to penetrate my flesh. I sighed as he took me. He did not lower his body onto mine, preferring instead to support himself on his elbows, so I could get an unrestricted view of my penetration. I squeezed Betty’s hand, glad that she had applied the extra lubricant to my tender flesh. It took him no more than two minutes to cum in me. Hardly enough time for me to even get started. There would be no orgasm with Ahmin. He was there only out of duty, and didn’t care about the niceties of making love to a partner, only interested in his own pleasure. Maybe it was because he already had a wife. Well, he was young yet, and didn’t fully understand the ways to pleasure a partner. He withdrew immediately after cumming, not waiting for the afterglow, or giving me any pleasure at all.

“Thank you”, I said, relieved that he was finished. The least I could do was thank him for being considerate and not hurting me, or prolonging an unsatisfying coupling.

“You’re welcome, sister”, he said. “Welcome to the family.”

The crowd was not pleased, and mostly remained quiet, at this quick turn of events.

Again, Star appeared with her tray of washcloths and towels. But Ahmin was gone as quickly as he had come – in both senses of the word. Betty cleaned me up, ready for the final performance of the day.

Osala was the youngest brother, and the last who would have me this day, except for my husband who had promised to fuck me silly on my wedding night. I had met Osala only in passing on the second day since I arrived – that would be day-before-yesterday, for anyone who is keeping track… Osala is considered to be the playboy of the family. A ne’er-do-well who enjoys the high life provided by the gold and diamond profits of the family enterprise.

Star had warned me that Osala was one who liked to hurt women while having sex with them, so I was mentally prepared for whatever was going to come. One advantage of being strapped down in the missionary position was that he wouldn’t be able to do anything that might harm me internally. Ahmed would never forgive him if he really damaged me in any way. I was confident of that. Star told me that men in this part of the world never used condoms unless they were going for a back door entry. They considered the female anus as ‘unclean’, particularly when there was a perfectly good vagina only a couple of inches away. In their culture, one of the woman’s primary purposes was to provide them with sexual pleasure via vaginal intercourse.

This was to be a traditional rape for the purpose of making a bride pregnant as soon as possible to protect the bloodline. Osala couldn’t be as poor a lover as Ahmin had been, I thought. By his reputation, he must have had many lovers, and must have learned something from them about pleasuring a woman. I remembered that Doctor Bulieu had told me that a woman’s body was built for pleasure, both hers and her partner’s. And Betty had added that if the woman wasn’t enjoying sex, then he was doing it wrong!

Betty and Star resumed their positions, waiting for the final performance of the day. But Osala wasn’t there. The other two brothers had been ready and right on the spot when it was their turn. But Osala was tardy. We waited for him in silence. It seemed as if he wasn’t going to show up. But eventually he did. He had been drinking, playboy that he is, and had missed his cue. When he did show up, he was slightly tipsy, and I wondered if he would even be able to perform. I was ready, Betty was ready, and Star was ready. But was Osala ready? That question had yet to be answered.

He approached the table and greeted me. “Hello, little sister”, he said. “… I’m gonna get to fuck you for my brother’s sake today. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Osala, I know that”, I replied. “I’m ready to honor your tradition.”

“Tradition, bullshit!”, he said. “I’m gonna fuck you because I want to, not because of some outdated tradition. I’m gonna fuck you in front of all these good folks, so you’ll know you’ve been fucked!”

With that, he climbed up on the table and poised himself over me. His dick was completely limp, and there was no way he was going to be able to insert it into me. Regardless, he lowered himself on top of me. He was an overweight oaf, but I had to take him somehow. He stunk of bad alcohol, and I turned my head away to lessen the smell of his breathing. He took that to mean that I wanted him to kiss my neck and ear. He stuck his tongue into my ear, and I gritted my teeth to accept this indignity, and squeezed Betty’s hand. Mercifully, he passed out right on top of me. There would be no consummation from Osala today! His weight was nearly crushing me.

“Ahmed”, I called out. “Ahmed!”

Ahmed came immediately, and asked ‘What’s wrong?”

“He’s passed out”, I managed. “… and his weight is crushing me.

Ahmed grabbed his brother and pulled him off me. We all waited to see what was to happen next. It was obvious that Osala would not be able to perform his duty, as he was asleep on the floor. Ahmed summoned three of the tribal elders, and asked for their opinions of what to do. The tribal elders conferred for a moment, and agreed that since Osala was not able to complete the tradition, that they would vacate the requirement, and declare that the terms of tradition had been met.

We were all relieved. Betty asked Ahmed, “Can I release your wife, then?”

“Yes”, Ahmed replied. “She has met the conditions of the tradition. You may dress her and we shall eat and celebrate the wedding. As for my brother, he has missed out, and will never again have the chance to couple with Anne.”

Good, I thought!

While Star released me from the straps holding me to the table, Betty used a hand towel to wipe the excess lubricant from my genital area.

Betty said, “Well, that wasn’t too bad, honey. At least you got two good fucks out of it, with more promised for tonight.”

Star guided me to the nearest restroom, where I took a pee, and washed myself as best I could. She helped me put on my wedding dress again. As she did, she told me that although it was not her place, she was very happy that I had continued to wear her red sash during the ordeal. I smiled at her, and said, “It was important to me, too.”

I sat on the toilet seat while Star fixed my hair, and replaced the jewelry given to me as wedding gifts. She told me that these gifts were mine alone, and that I held a small fortune in my hands that no one would ever take away from me. Someday, you might even be able to buy your freedom, if that’s what you want. I hoped that it might be true, although parting from Ahmed would be devastating. I really do love him.

* * * *

During the banquet, Ahmed leaned over to me and spoke in a lowered voice so that others might not hear him. “That first night, after the auction, I selected you because you were honest with me when I hurt you by squeezing your breasts. I want you to always be honest with me – good or bad, never lie to me.”

“I promise, Ahmed”, I said, “I will never lie to you. And I will serve you as long as I live”, I added. Honesty pays…

* * * *

As we sat at the banquet table, I was fingering the necklace that Osala had given me as a wedding present. “Ahmed”, I asked casually, “what is this necklace worth?”

Well”, he said, “… we’d have to have it appraised to get an exact figure, but I’d suspect it would be in the hundred-thousand dollar range.”

“Ahmed”, I continued, “… I’d like you to sell it, and send the money to Doctor Bulieu to help other people in my circumstances…”

“If that is what you wish, my dear”, he said, “… it shall be so.”

“And would it be possible to sell my tiara and earrings to buy Star’s freedom?” I asked.

“That would be more difficult, my dear. The best we can do is keep her as a member of the staff in my house to protect her, and make her life as pleasant as possible. We may eventually be able to remove her chains, but I’m afraid that’s the best we can hope for… But while she’s a member of my house, no one will ever be able to abuse her. If they do, I’ll simply crush them, and everyone knows that!”

“Then we’ll do that, please”, I said.

“As you wish.”…. He smiled that wry smile I was learning to appreciate.

“Thank you”, I said.

“I’ll visit you tonight, after dinner. Be ready.”

“Yes, Ahmed”, I said. … “I will always be ready for you!”

- o -

In the next chapter, Anne-Marie’s wedding night, and the fulfillment of Ahmed’s promise.

14.10.08

story continues in Part 19: How I Met an Arabian Wife As narrated

o0o