Abused

The Abusive Irritation Finally Ends. So, let me introduce myself, I am Gabriella. I am the epitome of a well to do modern lady. My wardrobe is full of designer clothing, I have access to every exclusive spa and gym. I drive a hot little sports car which is replaced like clockwork every year. So why am I writing this, well I wanted to share a little story about how everything is not always as it seems. The grass is not always greener. ...

Part 1 0 - 0 - 0 - 0:28 “Some people are winners and some are losers. That’s just the way that it is,” Hank thought as he stacked the last of the scaffolding into the back of the truck. “Best to always take action to make sure you are the winner.” He added another fabricated fuel log to the trucks burner and tightened the steam valve on the piston compartment. ...

story continued from part 3 Part 4 It was Emma who awoke first, cradled in her husband’s arms. Seeing the sun rising over the wonderful Cairo skyline. She sighed and snuggled closer to her man… knowing… knowing… Knowing this might be their last day alive! In the months after her surprise release from the casket by Rashid Feroz and his men, she, and her husband had endured a living hell at the hands of the Egyptian authorities. Yet at first it seemed to have been all right. Emma had stood in the sarcophagus for what seemed hours, convinced now that she was permanently entombed, when suddenly her ears heard a ‘thump’ “Surely… not?” she whispered, then minutes later her eyes blurred with tears as the faint sounds of what appeared to be digging reached her. “Oh Emma, I’m sorry… they’ve come after all!” she wept, part wanting freedom, but also now wondering if this was Tony alone as it got louder. But why was he digging anyway? The sarcophagus only had to be hooked up then winched out, unless that had somehow broken. Gradually she could hear voices… not just Tony when he’d yelled, hoping for her to reply. Trouble being that Emma didn’t want to be freed now if it was not just something between them. The idea she’d get opened up like some exhibit terrified Mrs Cline so the girl didn’t reply. “Please Emma, fight for me… ” she sobbed, those veils soaked with tears and sticking to both cheeks now. Tony was relieved when they arrived there. Himself and Rashid Feroz, plus two men from the museum but the Professor’s wife Fatima was also here; brought by her husband to look after Mrs Cline if she’d survived. Feroz was amazed when Cline showed him the room and his eyes swept the walls, the Brit however was appalled to find the place empty! “But it WAS here Rashid. I promise you… IT WAS HERE!” he said, jabbing at the floor. The two workers looked baffled, their boss guilty as he stared at Cline. “My turn to confess Tony… ” he said. Only Cline’s professionally trained responses to a crisis stopped him killing the Egyptian right there when Feroz told him about the police report. Simmering down after he finished, his boots scraping around and eventually finding the edges of the hatch. “OK, guess we’re as bad. But let’s not waste any more time.” So they began. Cline assembling his winch while the workers dug. Feroz preparing a drill to make some air holes. The three local men’s eyes widened on hitting the top of the sarcophagus. Cline just relieved and it was he who started yelling to his wife, praying for her to respond. Not knowing she was weeping quietly below. The sound of the drill was terrifyingly loud as it bored into the top. Feroz easing it down, worried that he might end up killing Mrs Cline himself. So he did holes in the corners away from where her head should be, several now showing darkness against the sandstone. He stopped after doing ten. Lying on the edge then banged on the top. “Mrs Cline, its Professor Feroz. Are you alright… ?” he said. Everyone listening intently… Twice more he tried and was about to admit defeat when… “Yes Rashid… I’m fine… Is Tony there?” they heard faintly. The two workers looked stunned, each hugging the other, as it appeared their mission was successful now. Cline was in tears, his face buried in both hands before he went and embraced the two men. Fatima standing to one side looking amazed. Her lips moving as she prayed thanks to her God for the deliverance of this lady. Delivering Mrs Cline to the surface took another hour. Now she’d accepted the idea of freedom Emma began to talk to her man as he briefed her on what had happened. She took it well, knowing they would be in Rashid’s debt for many a year now. Either financially or something else. More holes were drilled around the top, obliterating the face now then the whole front part of the head fell away, revealing… The Egyptian group stared at the sight of the white veiled figure inside as they looked down. Tony had not told them about Emma’s attire and he knew the level of embarrassment would get worse as more of his wife’s lovely body was revealed. More digging from the side now and soon they were down halfway. Her chest visible now and the workers stunned as they stared at her breasts. Her face inside rocking slightly, that gold collar around its neck and she was still crying as well. When they stopped for a break everyone except Tony went outside. Leaving him to cradle Emma’s face and try to unlock the first of her restraints. Searching for the lever brought a puzzled look. “They fell out, all six of them,” she shrugged on being asked. Then Cline heard the rest and it made him shudder. Realising that they were going to have to smash the whole sarcophagus apart, in-situ and his heart sank… .only to see her suddenly starting to smile at him. “What’s so funny… honey,” he began, smiling now at the rhyme. She grinned back, trembling as he crouched down and the couple had a long kiss. Emma’s eyes beginning to water again at the thought of freedom seconds away. “The pins are all upright. Now you remember that surely Tony? You put the restraints on. It’s easy. Just put your hands under my arms… and lift!” His head fell against hers and they kissed again before he bent down, sliding his buckets, firstly over those breasts making her squeak before getting into position. Under her armpits and… Emma Cline squealed as she felt herself rising. Neck, back, the legs and her wrists all suddenly loose from their pins. The weight coming off her feet for the first time in ages was SO good as she clung on. Bursting into tears as he brought her up and out of the sarcophagus and laid her down on the sand. Grabbing a blanket that Fatima Feroz had been sitting on while the others had worked. Wrapping Emma’s torso to protect her modesty as she kicked off those shoes with a groan. “Bit late now, those two have been staring at them ever since that big chunk came off. Which, unfortunately is more than can be said for my ‘jewellery.’ They all tightened again after the sarcophagus was closed. Then the handles fell out too. You’re going to have to grind them off!” The collar was going to be the problem. Far too tight to cut from inside out and the other way would risk slicing into an artery. It took Tony long enough to remove the veils, at first feeding them through. Before ending up chopping the material apart from above with a knife then tugging the fragments away. NOW they could properly kiss. Lips locked together and it felt so good as he stroked her cheeks. Dabbing them dry with a hankie, amazed that despite her ordeal Emma still looked lovely, if a little red around the eyes. Make-up was smudged too. “You’re a bloody mess!” She laughed now, hugging him tightly, the tears soon restarting however and that was how the others found them. Locked together and only a polite cough split the couple apart. Rashid Feroz was amazed to see her free. Staring at the gold loops around her limbs, the collar too. Thankfully the blanket covered her body but those long slim legs were clearly visible through the material of her dress. Fatima just looked shocked, but eventually came closer and was hugged by the ‘victim’ as she still thought of the girl. The other two men looked on impassionless now. Seeing as their job was done. Feroz spoke to them both and lots of nodding was done. Cline came up and personally thanked them, then Emma staggered to her feet, wincing in pain but walked over with Fatima’s assistance. Taking their hands and kissing them on both cheeks. It seemed to satisfy the pair, Cline noticing the younger guy had stroked Emma’s ass! They packed away the winch then left, taking the truck with them. Tony intending to drive the other two back in their jeep. Firstly they had to get those restraints off Emma’s body and led her out of the dig. The girl breathing fresh air, even though it was way after dark. Two long hours later Emma Cline was genuinely ‘free’. The last loop cut into three segments lying on the workshop table. She picked up the bit marked ‘Emma’ and briefly kissed it before Tony brought in a suitcase and his wife went alone next door and dressed herself into… well something a little less revealing! Fatima Feroz held Emma’s robe and cradling it to her face with a sigh as the girl returned. Rashid saw this and grinned, his wife starting to blush and she turned away. Mrs Cline taking it from the lady, folding it carefully then ‘presenting’ it with a bow. Feroz saw a look pass between them then the ladies hugged again. The Egyptian’s wife looked to her man and he nodded. An embarrassed smile on Fatima’s face then they all laughed as she went red. She tucked it into a bag then suggested it was time they went home. Cline looked at his watch and winced. Nearly 10pm now and he guessed the hotel ought to be told they were going to be very late. He asked Feroz to call them and the man did, but during the conversation Tony realised something was wrong. Rashid jabbering away then he nodded, seeing Fatima too appeared to be agreeing with him as the call ended. “They thought you were not coming, especially as most of the other guests couldn’t get there either because of the accident.” The two Britons looked puzzled before he explained “Sorry Tony, but a container ship broke free from its moorings and hit your boat, splitting it in two! It’s OK, nobody got killed as the tour hadn’t started receiving guests. The crew is fine too. Some a bit wet, as they had to dive off the back. But it means no vessel, as the company only have the two and the second is up river.” Emma looked disconsolate now, only cheering slightly as the Feroz’s invited them to remain at the house as their guests. Cline didn’t want to impose but it was Fatima who insisted. Rashid going along with it, though he did laugh and asked Emma’ if she’d like to return to her sarcophagus instead! That cracked everyone up and they departed, getting to the Feroz apartment just after midnight. Rashid saying he hoped that they would stay the weekend… as he wanted a longer look at the extra bits at Neen-Al Tudlobry. Now he had the ‘experts’ he hoped more interesting artifacts would appear. Tony looked at his wife and she glowed, the girl intending to be more honest and reveal the existance of the storeroom. So that was agreed and on the Friday afternoon the Professor and both Clines’ returned. Fatima was at work so was unable to come. “Some of us have proper jobs. Unlike you three playing games,” she’d said with a twinkle when they’d prepared to depart. A great day was had; Rashid astonished as he saw the storeroom then asked what else they knew about. Slightly dismayed to find this was ‘it’. As far as the couple had got. “However,” Tony said. “We’re not due to be back in Cairo for six days. If you want, as the cruise is off we’ll do some exploring until then. Get all these documented as well, yes?” Pointing to the hieroglyphics on the wall. Rashid Feroz was delighted, agreeing to that so everyone went back to Cairo where Fatima was told of the plans. Mrs Feroz taking Emma off to go food and supply shopping for the British pair. She was still amazed at what Mrs Cline had endured and they had a ‘girlie’ chat about what it had all been about. Emma finding out that her host had a wonderful sense of humour and they’d enjoy their day out together. A dinner for four at a local restaurant then back to their place. Emma and Tony sitting outside late on as the others had retired early. Going past the couple’s bedroom to use a bathroom Mrs Cline couldn’t help listening. Returning to her own she saw her hubby and slyly grinned. “I think Fatima’s getting full use of my ‘robe’” she murmured. Sunday saw them departing Cairo. Hugs and kisses all round before Tony drove his wife away. The pair now armed with enough stuff to last the week, but also official permits and translated documents from Rashid’s office allowing them to be there too. “I wasn’t able to speak to the police but show them these and you’ll be alright. Good luck… and don’t get stuck again!” he joked and they all laughed at that. The rest of the day the couple worked hard in the room. All the hieroglyphics were photographed and e-mailed to Rashid. Getting a ‘well-done’ in return. They had dinner in the open, sitting outside looking up at the stars once the sun had vanished. “You know Tony, I really thought my time had come, will not happen again,” Emma said cuddling him. Turning in later on he came to the dormitory to see his wife dressed in… “Might have guessed. You’ve been waiting all day to get into one of those haven’t you Mrs?” he grinned. Emma now blushing as she sat on the bed waiting for Tony’s wandering hands that were heading towards her breasts. Monday dawned cool and clear so after breakfast Emma dressed conservatively in her blue maxi-dress, this time without the jacket. Trainers applied and Tony had nodded in approval. Now she was striding towards the dig entrance long after lunch when she heard a jeep coming along the track. It drove right up to her and two policemen got out. Promptly grabbing the girl and naturally Emma screamed as they started yelling at her. When she didn’t reply one of the men slapped her hard across the face and she fell backwards and tumbled to the floor in a cloud of dust. Tony heard the commotion and hurried up the passageway, emerging to see his wife being handcuffed then dragged to the jeep and hurled against the side. Shouting at the cops to stop he advanced. Only for one of them to draw a pistol, ordering him in Arabic to raise his hands. Well, the gesture appeared to be that so Cline obeyed. The driver now got out, obviously the senior man and it was Tony’s turn to get the treatment. Of course being a physically imposing specimen he too was cuffed before the couple were led to the dormitory. The policemen seeing the footprints leading to and from the building and knowing where any other people might be found. Both Britons were told to sit down. Emma looking very scared as she was ‘dusted off’ by wandering hands then she was helped to a chair by the two smirking young officers. Her cuffs digging into the wrists and she was already worried about nerve damage as they were far too tightly applied. Cline did his best. Indicating where Feroz’s permits were and one of the men grabbed the file. Leafing through them and muttering something to the boss. He shrugged and nodded. To their relief both sets of cuffs were removed and the pair allowed sitting next to the other. Emma’s hands being cradled by her husband. Mainly to stop them seeing how frightened they both were. A bottle of water appeared and was tossed across. Cline’s great reactions preventing it striking his wife’s face as she recoiled. The language barrier was an obvious problem. Neither of the Clines spoke Arabic and if their captors knew English then they were not letting on as they rabid on for ages. The chief was getting cross now and eventually pointed to them, then the door and Tony guessed this might mean trouble. Emma stared in shock at the gesture to stand up then put her arms behind. Slowly doing so then the officers produced their handcuffs. She made to move towards Tony for protection but a loud command made her freeze. Emma trembled as the cuffs were applied, wincing, as again they were too tight before he pointed to the door and she was led outside. Tony stood helpless as she vanished, hearing her start to cry before her footsteps had faded. A loud squeal of ‘No!’ made him glare at the boss… who drew his own pistol and cocked it! One man returned… smiling and jabbering to the boss. Who now grinned then Tony was led out, the guy surprised not to have been cuffed. To see only the jeep and their own. No sign of his wife and he turned, getting angry now. “Where is she?” he stormed. Itching to go to the police vehicle, as she must be in the blacked out back. But he was forced at gunpoint by the boss to get into the driver’s seat of their own jeep then indications were that he was to lead, the others would follow. Emma was terrified as she’d been bundled into the vehicle and made to sit on the bench. One of the men followed and Mrs Cline shook as he grabbed more cuffs and her ankles were secured together. Another set was applied to a strut below the wooden slats and it’s other loop attached to her restraints between those trembling legs. Pinning her into position. A shout to his mate getting in up front and the driver fired up the engine. She didn’t hear Tony at first then his voice, making her smile briefly before a slap wiped that off her face. Emma made to kick him, only to gasp as the cuffs did their job, digging into her skin and she yelped. A wagging finger from the smirking officer made it worse. Away they roared. Emma trying desperately to hang on, grabbing the slats as the driver tried to keep up with Tony and once more Em wished he wasn’t trying to be a rally-driver. At one point she almost slid off the bench. Only the officer’s hands grabbing her torso stopped Mrs Cline doing that. Of course it gave him an opportunity for a grope too and Emma squealed, making the Egyptians laugh. A barrage of chatter flying between them, before the driver said something in English! “We’ll see you alright Mrs… ” then laughed in a way that made the girl shiver… Emma was shocked; launching into a right rant, going on for a few minutes as the pair just grinned at her. Making Mrs Cline furious now. She threatened to tell their boss what they’d done to her while he was out of view. The one in the back stuck his face close to hers. “We haven’t done anything to you,” her captor grinned… “Yet.” She lost control now. Aiming a head-butt that only just missed as he ducked back. That was a serious miscalculation on her part. More jabbering as he leaned against the partition at the front then said something sharp to his mate. The driver stood hard on the brakes and no way could Emma Cline hold on. Launching forward she tumbled off the bench smacking headfirst into the divider. The anklecuffs digging harshly into her legs and Emma screamed. Shaking her head at the blow and falling to the floor as he accelerated again. The guy in the back moved swiftly now as she rolled about face down, unable to help herself get up. He unlocked the cuff from the strut and tugged upwards. Emma’s feet lifting before he pulled forward and bent her legs towards the wrists. Easing the loop around and relocking it in a hog-tie. Now Mrs Cline panicked before her chin was grabbed and he shoved an oily rag in there, wrapping another over the top as Emma went berserk. This was intolerable but there was precious little she could do except scream. But like Abdul it just seemed to be spurring her assailant on. He laughed to his mate, the driver turning to look and that was SO frightening as the jeep swerved and wobbled over the road. Now she quietened down, hoping this would be enough but young policeman had other ideas for pretty foreign lady. She had things he and Rasul, his mate upfront didn’t. Lifting underneath Emma’s armpits he hauled the girl up onto her knees then forced Mrs Cline back onto her haunches, facing the front away from him. NOW he could get to work. Unzipping Emma’s dress, ignoring her frantic squeals as she realised this was only the start of some serious abuse. He eased the shoulder straps down over her arms, pinning them to her torso. Revealing the lacy black bra and the twin treasures it contained. Deftly that too was undone and her perfect 36C’s were laid bare for them to ogle. The driver guffawing as his buddy placed both hands and squeezed. Emma screamed now as he manipulated them, the driver saying something to him. Pointing to the traffic that was building rapidly in front as they came down the valley into Cairo. The earlier braking had already seen Tony and the boss pulling away and it seemed these two bastards were in no rush to get to the station as he laughed in reply. Mrs Cline would later describe this as ‘Traffic Tit Torment’ as she was fondled in time to the movement of the jeep. Any left turn and that breast would be grabbed. Go right and the other would get it. Braking or acceleration would get both nipples pinched and the girl was soon in agony, not knowing they’d been past the Police station at least three times already! Eventually he tired of this and she was roughly redressed. A sigh followed by a squeal as he let go, pushing Emma forward and her body slammed into the floor, banging the side of her face as she tried to brace for the impact. She was relieved when they pulled through an armoured gate and the jeep parked up. The door opened and her tormentor undid her leg cuffs then dragged Emma out. Marching her past a bunch of his mates, playfully slapping away at least two wandering hands that reached towards her. Arriving in what she assumed was the custody area of course her first intention was looking for Tony as she was made to stand in the corner. ...

Consciousness returned slowly, seeping back into my senses as the effects of the drug began to wear off. For a long time I lay there in the darkness, half-aware, marshalling my forces, as yet ignorant of my situation. I was alive, and sensation reminded me cruelly of this as I became more and more aware of my physical envelope. Returning consciousness was reborn in me on a rising tide of pain. Lying there unmoving I could feel occasional sharp stabbing pains in my anus; a lingering dull ache in my cunt; acute tenderness in my breasts and nipples; a general sensitising of the flesh over my entire body, as if it had been sandpapered… I tried to come to terms with these sensations, wondering why I should feel these things. Many long minutes passed before I opened my eyes. When I did, panic rose immediately to choke and destroy me. I opened my eyes on total blackness. I closed them again, thinking my body was betraying me. I sucked a deep breath into my lungs. The air was close and warm - it felt stale and used up, as if there was little virtue in it. Then, tentatively, I opened my eyes again. Utter blackness prevailed. My heart thudded wildly in my chest - it felt as though it was trying to break out of my body. Adrenalin surged through my veins and all at once I was fully alert. Immediately it became clear that my situation was much worse than a simple matter of total darkness. Although I still felt an extreme lassitude throughout my body, my panic had sent me thrashing in denial against the darkness I perceived and to my horror I found walls where I had expected empty air. Sweat broke out through every pore in my skin and I felt a queasy coil of sickness in my stomach and bile rising within my throat. Somehow I was immured not just in total blackness but within a small space, how small I could not yet determine, but it felt horribly like a coffin… With a supreme effort I attempted to still the panic within me, to quieten my wildly thudding heart, to lessen the gulps of air my lungs were attempting to suck inside of themselves. Not only had I become aware of the fact that I was confined in a coffin-shaped box but I now realised that my feet were bound at the ankles and my wrists too were secured in front of me. In some ways this realisation came as a relief. It had been my nightmare from earliest times, not helped by my reading Poe’s ‘Premature Burial’ at an impressionable age, that some terrible mistake might one day be made and I would be buried alive. But even through my panic, the voice of reason told me that no-one binds the wrists and ankles of someone they believe to be a corpse. This did not mean that I was not, in fact, buried alive; but at least it meant I was not believed to be dead… Small comfort, perhaps, but the possibility remained that those who had confined me here would eventually let me go - so there was hope, at least. Gradually I became calmer, willing myself to breathe shallowly and softly. I wanted to find out as much as I could about the conditions of my confinement. I had only to point my toes to find the end of the box. Slight turning and wriggling of my body made me aware of the walls to right and left of me. I inched myself upwards on my back and felt the other end of the box press against my head. Raising my bound wrists, I felt the lid of the box a mere six inches or so above my face. Summoning up all my strength, even while I knew the effort would be useless, I pushed with every ounce of force I could muster against the lid of the box. Using my knees as well as my arms I heaved and pushed and strove against my prison but of course all my efforts were in vain. Defeated, and newly exhausted, feeling weak as a baby, I relaxed again and once more set about examining my new home. The surfaces were covered with rough fabric, not the quilted satin favoured by undertakers. This was more in the nature of hessian, itchy against my sore skin. My sensitised fingers felt the open weave of the fabric, the fibres seeming huge against the soft pads of my flesh. Unable to see, my senses concentrated themselves in those areas in which I was still aware - touch being the main one. All the time I had been awake I had been aware only of sensory data emanating from my own self. Now I strained to hear, listening for the slightest sound which could tell me whether I was simply locked in a box or whether I was indeed buried… Channelling all my energies into listening, I could hear nothing that gave any indication of a living world outside my prison. The harder I listened, the more I could hear, but all that I heard was the quickened double thud of my heart in my chest, the breaths entering and leaving my lungs. I listened and listened until I could swear I heard the passage of the blood through my veins but of sounds from without the box there were none. Once more I relaxed. Now I tried to remember… How had I come here and what had happened to me, what had been done to me and why? Look back all I could and there was nothing but a foggy blur, a missing episode, elusive, unknowable. What was the last thing that I could remember… leaving the bar at the hotel I was staying at for the conference because I wasn’t feeling very well. I’m not a drinker, but two gin and tonics don’t usually have much of an effect on me. And that’s all I’d had, I knew, yet I had started to feel unsteady on my feet as if already drunk. I’d headed out from the bar towards the lift… and try as I might I couldn’t remember if I’d ever even got into the lift, let alone made it back to my room. Perhaps someone had taken advantage of my state - but more and more likely, it seemed to me, was that in fact I had been the victim of a deliberate drugging - someone must have got to my drinks before I did. I’d been in a group of other delegates, none of whom had made much of an impression on me as yet - it was the first evening meet-and-greet before the conference proper was due to get underway the next day - today? yesterday? I had no way of knowing… How long had I been kept drugged and what use had been made of my body while I was unconscious? What, if anything, had the organisers and other delegates made of my failure to turn up at the first session… As to use, with returning consciousness that was becoming increasingly clear. I gently moved my bound hands over my breasts and abdomen. I could feel raised welts criss-crossing my flesh - possibly not as terrible to look at as they felt, but to the touch alone my body felt as though it was covered in a methodically-raised gridwork of whiplashes, a pattern that became more detailed and complex over my breasts and thighs. My nipples were excruciatingly tender to the touch and I realised now the full significance of the pain in my anus and cunt. Clearly my body had been well and truly used and abused, whether by one man or by many I had no way of telling. Throughout the experience I had either been unconscious or so deeply under the influence of whatever drug had been fed me that I retained no memory of the actual events. The hope I had felt earlier began to ebb away again. How could the perpetrators of these acts ever let me go? Perhaps the box in which they’d locked me was coffin-shaped with intent. I’d regained consciousness but I could not escape. I doubted that there was any point in trying to attract attention to myself but it would be stupid beyond belief not to try. I moistened my dry lips and tried to find my voice. Quaveringly at first, but then increasingly strongly, I began to call for help. My voice grew in volume and I began once more to struggle within my confines, thumping my body against the walls of the box. I shouted and screamed and kicked and hit, over and over, until sweating with effort and shaky with weakness, I once again gave up the struggle. Lying there panting in the foetid darkness, once again I listened, desperate for a response, any sort of response, any liberation from the hell of the box, even if it meant pain and renewed assault. But nothing and no-one responded. Silence reigned supreme. I was alone in the dark, utterly abandoned, forgotten or ignored, and there was nothing whatsoever I could do about it. I gave in to despair. Worse things happened to innocent people every day all over the world. Why should I expect my life to be better than theirs… Into my well-ordered life Chaos had come and destroyed me indifferently. My sufferings were real and enormous to me but they amounted to nothing in the sum of human misery. I was merely one more creature, a thing of flesh and blood, whose life could be snuffed out like a candle and the world would not stop turning for a single second. Tears of self-pity leaked from the corners of my eyes, dripping down into my ears, unheeded, unnoticed, unseen. I didn’t even realise that I was moaning aloud, I shut down my senses and my mind and retreated into nothingness. I would not think, I would not feel, I would cease to strive against the futility of my lot. Perhaps I slept again… I don’t know. There was no way of measuring time apart from by my increasing thirst and the pangs of hunger. There was a taste of salt in my mouth and after recovering from my episode of abject self-pity my over-riding need was for water. My mind tortured me with visions of waterfalls, fountains sparkling in the sun, blue glass bottles full of mineral water, ropes of water twisting out of taps, lakes of the stuff lying placidly under summer skies… Thirst was now my major enemy - I knew thirst would kill me long before starvation did. How long had I been in here and how long ago had I last had something to drink? The sweat had dried on my body or I would have scooped it off and sucked it from my fingers. My throat was parched, I felt that deep dryness one sometimes feels after sleeping open-mouthed, a dryness that seems to reach right inside you. Nothing but water could save me now. They must come and release me soon, either that or they intended me to die. If the latter, I hoped I could simply drift off to sleep once more and not wake up. I no longer cared so much about life - just that my death should not be too agonisingly prolonged. I’d always been a coward and it began to seem to me that death would come as a welcome release. A release from the pain, from my raging thirst, from the fear of what might or might not happen, from the unknown. If the thirst didn’t get me soon, the lack of air would. Evidently the box was not hermetically sealed, but the amount of air that was exchanged was insufficient to sustain life indefinitely. My head throbbed already, my body protesting at the lack of oxygen. Add to the visions of fountains the sensations of wide open spaces, miles of air and blue horizons. My mind was beginning to wander, but now, rather than torture, I felt it as a pleasant escape from the grim realities of my situation. I realised, as if given a gift of revelation, that it didn’t matter any more. I’d been worrying about nothing really. The key to escape was there all the time, safely locked inside my mind. Vast landscapes stretched before me, enticing, beautiful. Should I head up, towards the mountains, the clear air and the dashing, dancing streams, or down, towards the lush green valleys and the pellucid blue of the lake? Wherever I ventured, the earth was sweet and I was free to travel within it. Everything I wanted and needed was spread before my feet. The walls receded, the ties melted away, I filled my lungs with the scented air and stooped to drink my fill from the stream at my feet. I looked up into the face of the sun. I was at peace.

(story continues from Emma’s Entombment 3) Part 4 It was Emma who awoke first, cradled in her husband’s arms. Seeing the sun rising over the wonderful Cairo skyline. She sighed and snuggled closer to her man… knowing… knowing… Knowing this might be their last day alive! In the months after her surprise release from the casket by Rashid Feroz and his men, she, and her husband had endured a living hell at the hands of the Egyptian authorities. Yet at first it seemed to have been all right. Emma had stood in the sarcophagus for what seemed hours, convinced now that she was permanently entombed, when suddenly her ears heard a ‘thump’ “Surely… not?” she whispered, then minutes later her eyes blurred with tears as the faint sounds of what appeared to be digging reached her. “Oh Emma, I’m sorry… they’ve come after all!” she wept, part wanting freedom, but also now wondering if this was Tony alone as it got louder. But why was he digging anyway? The sarcophagus only had to be hooked up then winched out, unless that had somehow broken. Gradually she could hear voices… not just Tony when he’d yelled, hoping for her to reply. Trouble being that Emma didn’t want to be freed now if it was not just something between them. The idea she’d get opened up like some exhibit terrified Mrs Cline so the girl didn’t reply. “Please Emma, fight for me… ” she sobbed, those veils soaked with tears and sticking to both cheeks now. Tony was relieved when they arrived there. Himself and Rashid Feroz, plus two men from the museum but the Professor’s wife Fatima was also here; brought by her husband to look after Mrs Cline if she’d survived. Feroz was amazed when Cline showed him the room and his eyes swept the walls, the Brit however was appalled to find the place empty! “But it WAS here Rashid. I promise you… IT WAS HERE!” he said, jabbing at the floor. The two workers looked baffled, their boss guilty as he stared at Cline. “My turn to confess Tony… ” he said. Only Cline’s professionally trained responses to a crisis stopped him killing the Egyptian right there when Feroz told him about the police report. Simmering down after he finished, his boots scraping around and eventually finding the edges of the hatch. “OK, guess we’re as bad. But let’s not waste any more time.” So they began. Cline assembling his winch while the workers dug. Feroz preparing a drill to make some air holes. The three local men’s eyes widened on hitting the top of the sarcophagus. Cline just relieved and it was he who started yelling to his wife, praying for her to respond. Not knowing she was weeping quietly below. The sound of the drill was terrifyingly loud as it bored into the top. Feroz easing it down, worried that he might end up killing Mrs Cline himself. So he did holes in the corners away from where her head should be, several now showing darkness against the sandstone. He stopped after doing ten. Lying on the edge then banged on the top. “Mrs Cline, its Professor Feroz. Are you alright… ?” he said. Everyone listening intently… Twice more he tried and was about to admit defeat when… “Yes Rashid… I’m fine… Is Tony there?” they heard faintly. The two workers looked stunned, each hugging the other, as it appeared their mission was successful now. Cline was in tears, his face buried in both hands before he went and embraced the two men. Fatima standing to one side looking amazed. Her lips moving as she prayed thanks to her God for the deliverance of this lady. Delivering Mrs Cline to the surface took another hour. Now she’d accepted the idea of freedom Emma began to talk to her man as he briefed her on what had happened. She took it well, knowing they would be in Rashid’s debt for many a year now. Either financially or something else. More holes were drilled around the top, obliterating the face now then the whole front part of the head fell away, revealing… The Egyptian group stared at the sight of the white veiled figure inside as they looked down. Tony had not told them about Emma’s attire and he knew the level of embarrassment would get worse as more of his wife’s lovely body was revealed. More digging from the side now and soon they were down halfway. Her chest visible now and the workers stunned as they stared at her breasts. Her face inside rocking slightly, that gold collar around its neck and she was still crying as well. When they stopped for a break everyone except Tony went outside. Leaving him to cradle Emma’s face and try to unlock the first of her restraints. Searching for the lever brought a puzzled look. “They fell out, all six of them,” she shrugged on being asked. Then Cline heard the rest and it made him shudder. Realising that they were going to have to smash the whole sarcophagus apart, in-situ and his heart sank… .only to see her suddenly starting to smile at him. “What’s so funny… honey,” he began, smiling now at the rhyme. She grinned back, trembling as he crouched down and the couple had a long kiss. Emma’s eyes beginning to water again at the thought of freedom seconds away. “The pins are all upright. Now you remember that surely Tony? You put the restraints on. It’s easy. Just put your hands under my arms… and lift!” His head fell against hers and they kissed again before he bent down, sliding his buckets, firstly over those breasts making her squeak before getting into position. Under her armpits and… Emma Cline squealed as she felt herself rising. Neck, back, the legs and her wrists all suddenly loose from their pins. The weight coming off her feet for the first time in ages was SO good as she clung on. Bursting into tears as he brought her up and out of the sarcophagus and laid her down on the sand. Grabbing a blanket that Fatima Feroz had been sitting on while the others had worked. Wrapping Emma’s torso to protect her modesty as she kicked off those shoes with a groan. “Bit late now, those two have been staring at them ever since that big chunk came off. Which, unfortunately is more than can be said for my ‘jewellery.’ They all tightened again after the sarcophagus was closed. Then the handles fell out too. You’re going to have to grind them off!” The collar was going to be the problem. Far too tight to cut from inside out and the other way would risk slicing into an artery. It took Tony long enough to remove the veils, at first feeding them through. Before ending up chopping the material apart from above with a knife then tugging the fragments away. NOW they could properly kiss. Lips locked together and it felt so good as he stroked her cheeks. Dabbing them dry with a hankie, amazed that despite her ordeal Emma still looked lovely, if a little red around the eyes. Make-up was smudged too. “You’re a bloody mess!” She laughed now, hugging him tightly, the tears soon restarting however and that was how the others found them. Locked together and only a polite cough split the couple apart. Rashid Feroz was amazed to see her free. Staring at the gold loops around her limbs, the collar too. Thankfully the blanket covered her body but those long slim legs were clearly visible through the material of her dress. Fatima just looked shocked, but eventually came closer and was hugged by the ‘victim’ as she still thought of the girl. The other two men looked on impassionless now. Seeing as their job was done. Feroz spoke to them both and lots of nodding was done. Cline came up and personally thanked them, then Emma staggered to her feet, wincing in pain but walked over with Fatima’s assistance. Taking their hands and kissing them on both cheeks. It seemed to satisfy the pair, Cline noticing the younger guy had stroked Emma’s ass! They packed away the winch then left, taking the truck with them. Tony intending to drive the other two back in their jeep. Firstly they had to get those restraints off Emma’s body and led her out of the dig. The girl breathing fresh air, even though it was way after dark. Two long hours later Emma Cline was genuinely ‘free’. The last loop cut into three segments lying on the workshop table. She picked up the bit marked ‘Emma’ and briefly kissed it before Tony brought in a suitcase and his wife went alone next door and dressed herself into… well something a little less revealing! Fatima Feroz held Emma’s robe and cradling it to her face with a sigh as the girl returned. Rashid saw this and grinned, his wife starting to blush and she turned away. Mrs Cline taking it from the lady, folding it carefully then ‘presenting’ it with a bow. Feroz saw a look pass between them then the ladies hugged again. The Egyptian’s wife looked to her man and he nodded. An embarrassed smile on Fatima’s face then they all laughed as she went red. She tucked it into a bag then suggested it was time they went home. Cline looked at his watch and winced. Nearly 10pm now and he guessed the hotel ought to be told they were going to be very late. He asked Feroz to call them and the man did, but during the conversation Tony realised something was wrong. Rashid jabbering away then he nodded, seeing Fatima too appeared to be agreeing with him as the call ended. “They thought you were not coming, especially as most of the other guests couldn’t get there either because of the accident.” The two Britons looked puzzled before he explained “Sorry Tony, but a container ship broke free from its moorings and hit your boat, splitting it in two! It’s OK, nobody got killed as the tour hadn’t started receiving guests. The crew is fine too. Some a bit wet, as they had to dive off the back. But it means no vessel, as the company only have the two and the second is up river.” Emma looked disconsolate now, only cheering slightly as the Feroz’s invited them to remain at the house as their guests. Cline didn’t want to impose but it was Fatima who insisted. Rashid going along with it, though he did laugh and asked Emma’ if she’d like to return to her sarcophagus instead! That cracked everyone up and they departed, getting to the Feroz apartment just after midnight. Rashid saying he hoped that they would stay the weekend… as he wanted a longer look at the extra bits at Neen-Al Tudlobry. Now he had the ‘experts’ he hoped more interesting artifacts would appear. Tony looked at his wife and she glowed, the girl intending to be more honest and reveal the existance of the storeroom. So that was agreed and on the Friday afternoon the Professor and both Clines’ returned. Fatima was at work so was unable to come. “Some of us have proper jobs. Unlike you three playing games,” she’d said with a twinkle when they’d prepared to depart. A great day was had; Rashid astonished as he saw the storeroom then asked what else they knew about. Slightly dismayed to find this was ‘it’. As far as the couple had got. “However,” Tony said. “We’re not due to be back in Cairo for six days. If you want, as the cruise is off we’ll do some exploring until then. Get all these documented as well, yes?” Pointing to the hieroglyphics on the wall. Rashid Feroz was delighted, agreeing to that so everyone went back to Cairo where Fatima was told of the plans. Mrs Feroz taking Emma off to go food and supply shopping for the British pair. She was still amazed at what Mrs Cline had endured and they had a ‘girlie’ chat about what it had all been about. Emma finding out that her host had a wonderful sense of humour and they’d enjoy their day out together. A dinner for four at a local restaurant then back to their place. Emma and Tony sitting outside late on as the others had retired early. Going past the couple’s bedroom to use a bathroom Mrs Cline couldn’t help listening. Returning to her own she saw her hubby and slyly grinned. “I think Fatima’s getting full use of my ‘robe’” she murmured. Sunday saw them departing Cairo. Hugs and kisses all round before Tony drove his wife away. The pair now armed with enough stuff to last the week, but also official permits and translated documents from Rashid’s office allowing them to be there too. “I wasn’t able to speak to the police but show them these and you’ll be alright. Good luck… and don’t get stuck again!” he joked and they all laughed at that. The rest of the day the couple worked hard in the room. All the hieroglyphics were photographed and e-mailed to Rashid. Getting a ‘well-done’ in return. They had dinner in the open, sitting outside looking up at the stars once the sun had vanished. “You know Tony, I really thought my time had come, will not happen again,” Emma said cuddling him. Turning in later on he came to the dormitory to see his wife dressed in… “Might have guessed. You’ve been waiting all day to get into one of those haven’t you Mrs?” he grinned. Emma now blushing as she sat on the bed waiting for Tony’s wandering hands that were heading towards her breasts. Monday dawned cool and clear so after breakfast Emma dressed conservatively in her blue maxi-dress, this time without the jacket. Trainers applied and Tony had nodded in approval. Now she was striding towards the dig entrance long after lunch when she heard a jeep coming along the track. It drove right up to her and two policemen got out. Promptly grabbing the girl and naturally Emma screamed as they started yelling at her. When she didn’t reply one of the men slapped her hard across the face and she fell backwards and tumbled to the floor in a cloud of dust. Tony heard the commotion and hurried up the passageway, emerging to see his wife being handcuffed then dragged to the jeep and hurled against the side. Shouting at the cops to stop he advanced. Only for one of them to draw a pistol, ordering him in Arabic to raise his hands. Well, the gesture appeared to be that so Cline obeyed. The driver now got out, obviously the senior man and it was Tony’s turn to get the treatment. Of course being a physically imposing specimen he too was cuffed before the couple were led to the dormitory. The policemen seeing the footprints leading to and from the building and knowing where any other people might be found. Both Britons were told to sit down. Emma looking very scared as she was ‘dusted off’ by wandering hands then she was helped to a chair by the two smirking young officers. Her cuffs digging into the wrists and she was already worried about nerve damage as they were far too tightly applied. Cline did his best. Indicating where Feroz’s permits were and one of the men grabbed the file. Leafing through them and muttering something to the boss. He shrugged and nodded. To their relief both sets of cuffs were removed and the pair allowed sitting next to the other. Emma’s hands being cradled by her husband. Mainly to stop them seeing how frightened they both were. A bottle of water appeared and was tossed across. Cline’s great reactions preventing it striking his wife’s face as she recoiled. The language barrier was an obvious problem. Neither of the Clines spoke Arabic and if their captors knew English then they were not letting on as they rabid on for ages. The chief was getting cross now and eventually pointed to them, then the door and Tony guessed this might mean trouble. Emma stared in shock at the gesture to stand up then put her arms behind. Slowly doing so then the officers produced their handcuffs. She made to move towards Tony for protection but a loud command made her freeze. Emma trembled as the cuffs were applied, wincing, as again they were too tight before he pointed to the door and she was led outside. Tony stood helpless as she vanished, hearing her start to cry before her footsteps had faded. A loud squeal of ‘No!’ made him glare at the boss… who drew his own pistol and cocked it! One man returned… smiling and jabbering to the boss. Who now grinned then Tony was led out, the guy surprised not to have been cuffed. To see only the jeep and their own. No sign of his wife and he turned, getting angry now. “Where is she?” he stormed. Itching to go to the police vehicle, as she must be in the blacked out back. But he was forced at gunpoint by the boss to get into the driver’s seat of their own jeep then indications were that he was to lead, the others would follow. Emma was terrified as she’d been bundled into the vehicle and made to sit on the bench. One of the men followed and Mrs Cline shook as he grabbed more cuffs and her ankles were secured together. Another set was applied to a strut below the wooden slats and it’s other loop attached to her restraints between those trembling legs. Pinning her into position. A shout to his mate getting in up front and the driver fired up the engine. She didn’t hear Tony at first then his voice, making her smile briefly before a slap wiped that off her face. Emma made to kick him, only to gasp as the cuffs did their job, digging into her skin and she yelped. A wagging finger from the smirking officer made it worse. Away they roared. Emma trying desperately to hang on, grabbing the slats as the driver tried to keep up with Tony and once more Em wished he wasn’t trying to be a rally-driver. At one point she almost slid off the bench. Only the officer’s hands grabbing her torso stopped Mrs Cline doing that. Of course it gave him an opportunity for a grope too and Emma squealed, making the Egyptians laugh. A barrage of chatter flying between them, before the driver said something in English! “We’ll see you alright Mrs… ” then laughed in a way that made the girl shiver… Emma was shocked; launching into a right rant, going on for a few minutes as the pair just grinned at her. Making Mrs Cline furious now. She threatened to tell their boss what they’d done to her while he was out of view. The one in the back stuck his face close to hers. “We haven’t done anything to you,” her captor grinned… “Yet.” She lost control now. Aiming a head-butt that only just missed as he ducked back. That was a serious miscalculation on her part. More jabbering as he leaned against the partition at the front then said something sharp to his mate. The driver stood hard on the brakes and no way could Emma Cline hold on. Launching forward she tumbled off the bench smacking headfirst into the divider. The anklecuffs digging harshly into her legs and Emma screamed. Shaking her head at the blow and falling to the floor as he accelerated again. The guy in the back moved swiftly now as she rolled about face down, unable to help herself get up. He unlocked the cuff from the strut and tugged upwards. Emma’s feet lifting before he pulled forward and bent her legs towards the wrists. Easing the loop around and relocking it in a hog-tie. Now Mrs Cline panicked before her chin was grabbed and he shoved an oily rag in there, wrapping another over the top as Emma went berserk. This was intolerable but there was precious little she could do except scream. But like Abdul it just seemed to be spurring her assailant on. He laughed to his mate, the driver turning to look and that was SO frightening as the jeep swerved and wobbled over the road. Now she quietened down, hoping this would be enough but young policeman had other ideas for pretty foreign lady. She had things he and Rasul, his mate upfront didn’t. Lifting underneath Emma’s armpits he hauled the girl up onto her knees then forced Mrs Cline back onto her haunches, facing the front away from him. NOW he could get to work. Unzipping Emma’s dress, ignoring her frantic squeals as she realised this was only the start of some serious abuse. He eased the shoulder straps down over her arms, pinning them to her torso. Revealing the lacy black bra and the twin treasures it contained. Deftly that too was undone and her perfect 36C’s were laid bare for them to ogle. The driver guffawing as his buddy placed both hands and squeezed. Emma screamed now as he manipulated them, the driver saying something to him. Pointing to the traffic that was building rapidly in front as they came down the valley into Cairo. The earlier braking had already seen Tony and the boss pulling away and it seemed these two bastards were in no rush to get to the station as he laughed in reply. Mrs Cline would later describe this as ‘Traffic Tit Torment’ as she was fondled in time to the movement of the jeep. Any left turn and that breast would be grabbed. Go right and the other would get it. Braking or acceleration would get both nipples pinched and the girl was soon in agony, not knowing they’d been past the Police station at least three times already! Eventually he tired of this and she was roughly redressed. A sigh followed by a squeal as he let go, pushing Emma forward and her body slammed into the floor, banging the side of her face as she tried to brace for the impact. She was relieved when they pulled through an armoured gate and the jeep parked up. The door opened and her tormentor undid her leg cuffs then dragged Emma out. Marching her past a bunch of his mates, playfully slapping away at least two wandering hands that reached towards her. Arriving in what she assumed was the custody area of course her first intention was looking for Tony as she was made to stand in the corner. ...