The American and the Arab Muslim Slut: Part 1

Forced
2008-07-05

Part 1:
   It was early morning and a young Carl Martin was waking up to go to work. His mind was numb from distrubing such a short rest. What a typical day, he thought. The sun was about to shine through a cloudless sky and here he was headed to a cramped cubicle, stuffed with the smell of office carpet and freshly printed paper.
    He sat up on the edge of his bed and scratched his head, peering between the shades over his window. His neighbour must've already left, his car was missing from the driveway. He was expecting to carpool with him because they worked in the same building. No matter, he thought as he rose and entered the bathroom. He had gotten so tired of the cold tile beneath his feet and yet he had done nothing to remedy the problem. Each day he would walk across the floor for a sharply sensual feeling. A hot shower would fix that.
    Breakfast was normal for a single young man. He prepared himself a cup of hot coffee and a few pieces of toast as he hurried out the townhouse door towards his car. He shared his home with two other college graduates. Not too surprisingly the house was not in top shape. In fact, Carl crushed a beer can with his foot on the way to his car.

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   He told himseld he'd pick it up when he came back home.
    In his car he turned on the radio to a news radio station so he could catch up on world events. As he drove, the speaker drolled on about rather standard happenings; from a Senator's current soundbites to the inevitable feel good story. Towards the end, before the commercial break, however, he heard about a terrorist plot that had been foiled by federal agents. Apaprently a group of Middle Eastern men had wanted to open fire on a local police station with weapons they bought from a gun store. The news seemed to strike Carl and it didn't sit well with him. After a few moments of dealing with heavy traffic he soon forgot about the incident and was listening to a local classic rock station.
    He pulled into the parking lot of his office and, as he walked to the building entrance, spotted his neighbors car. He decided to stop by and say hello during lunch break, he knew where Bill always ate his food. It was almost 9 A. M. and if he didn't hurry he would get another earful from his boss, who happened to be the nephew of the company president. He didn't mind the little stooge, but he didn't feel like dealing with him on a personal level, so he picked up his pace. He entered the lobby through a glass revolving door. In front of him, sitting on a marble floor was a towring fountain.

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   The front desk was just to the right beneath a a large ceiling hung sign that read "Welcome to Haikoma Plaza". The floor was bustling with people that carried stacks of papers, and boxes to and fro. He was headed to the elevator when, in his peripheral, he caught a black figure moving quickly in the same direction. His eyes turned and fixated on what stuck out so prominently and found a lady dressed in a long black cloth and black head cover. He immediately knew this was an Arab and he looked her up and down. Not much could be seen of her figure, as the black cloth masked it all. He was rather surprised to see her here because he had never seen one before. Before long he was stepping into the elevator and she had followed, situating herself on the other end between a few other passengers.
    His mind began to recall the events he heard about over the radio. Could she be a terrorist? he thought. What if she has weapons beneath that cloth? His fingers fidgeted slightly as the elevator came to a stop, he had stepped off and, sure enough, the Arab woman had followed. He really became worried now. Why did she have to get off here? I guess it doesn't matter. If she's already in the building it's bad enough. I'll have to keep an eye on her.

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    He settled himself at his desk after seeing the Arab enter the boss' office. He couldn't help but wonder what she was there for. Eventually his mind would wander back to his work. He was in data-entry for a large Bank. All day, everyday he would update and enter new data onto his computer. It was mind-numbing and time-consuming, not to mention draining. Before long it was lunch time and, after getting some food to go, he stopped by his friend, Bill's, office. Bill's team leader wanted them all in to finish programming on a project due tomorrow and Bill would probably need to stay until evening to get it done. Carl gave him a bit of sympathy before looking at the clock. His computer awaited.
    Just as he was about to sit down, his cubicle neighbor, Diane, peered around the entrance and startled Carl, "Carl, meeting at Davis's office. Seems we have a new employee he wants us to meet. "
    After a slight jump in his chair Carl responded, "Alright, be right over. "
    He had opened the door to a side room with covered windows. Inside he immediately saw Davis, "Carl, please take a seat.

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  "
    Carl nodded and turned to see several other employees that were also involved in data-entry. Seated beside Davis, though, was the Arab from the lobby. She must be the new employee he thought.
    "Alright guys, I called you in here because we have a new employee. " Davis continues, "Please welcome Marha. " Marha stood up slowly and everyone said their hello's. Carl was silent as he watched her. All he could see was her face, this time clearly. While they were in the elevator, she stood behind him and it didn't allow for him to get a good look. She had light brown skin and dark brown eyes. The strands of hair that escaped the hijab were black and they settled beside soft, round lips. When she spoke, she spoke in a thick accent. Carl wasn't sure what country the accent belonged too before Davis continues.
    "Marha is from Iraq and she learned English rather quickly. Four months, right?" Marha nodded.

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   "Ok, guys I want you to make her feel at home here. Carl, she'll be taking the empty cubicle beside you, show her the ropes. "
    Carl reluctantly nodded his head as the group trickled out of the room. Marha followed him to her cubicle where he let her in first. He showed her everything, from how to log in with her assigned username and password to how to submit files to the server. Her accent was quite thick, he kept thinking. Her English was also rather borken, he didn't understand why Davis gloated about her fast learning. Occasionally, the news report would creep into his mind before slipping away. Carl also noticed a strong smell of spices emanating from Marha. What had she been eating, he thought.
    As he sat at his desk, he decided to haze her. He knew her username from when he had helped her log in so he decided to send her an anonymous message. He typed her a message, "Marha, this is Davis. Come to the supply room, I want to show you some things. " Carl snickered to himself as he sent the message.

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   Soon her heard Marha rise from her seat and peer into his cubicle. Carl wiped the smile from his face before turning to her. "Carl, you know where supply rooms?" She said in her thick Iraqi accent.
    Carl nodded his head, "Yea, it's out the side door and down the hall to the left. "
    Marha thanked him and was on her way. Carl couldn't help but follow her. He got up from his seat and kept some distance behind her as she made her way to the supplies room.  
    The room she was headed to was not in fact the supplies room. It was part of the floor that was under construction and, at the moment, was empty. He followed her through the door and into the dimly lit hallway. She slowly entered the room at the far left and closed the door behind her. Smiling, Carl entered behind her. She turned to him with a confused look on her face. "Is this not supplies room?" She said.
    Carl laughed, "No, it isn't.

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   You really shouldn't be in here. You could get into trouble. "
   "I not know. It was mistake. " She said nervously.
   Carl stepped a little closer and spoke, "I think, since it's your first day and all, that we can make an exception. "
   Marha sighed and nodded her head, "Thank you. " She said before attempting to step towards the door. Carl had stepped in front of her and matched each side step she made, all the while keeping a grin on his face. "Please, let me goes. " She said, staring at the floor where his feet rested.
   "Oh , but Marha, when I said we could make an exception, it was dependent on one thing. "
   Confused, Marha responded, "What?"
   "Get over there and rest your stomach on the desk. " Carl said as he pointed to a temporary table set up to hold architectural plans. Marha became nervous and slowly approached the desk.

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   She didn't lay on it, however. She was still utterly confused as to what was going on, all she wanted was to leave and avoid getting in trouble. Carl approached her and held her wrist tightly. Slowly, he turned her body around until she was facing the desk. His mind was racing. Anger and lust overwhelmed him as he controlled her small statured body; he had a full six inches on her at 6'0. He rested his palm on the back of her shoulder and pushed forward, arching her back until her chest was resting on the desk. Marha couldn't move, and was still very reluctant to struggle to heavily. She could feel the firm grip he had on her delicate wrist, and her torso offered no resistance to his palm. "Stay there," Carl said in a stern voice. The smile on his face was gone, and all that was left was a light grimace and his emotions.
   He bent his back slightly and with his spare hand grabbed a handful of her black cloth. He lifted it up over her hip as Marha began to shake with moans protruding from her closed lips. Slowly, inch by inch her long, smooth brown legs was exposed. Eventually the curve of her buttocks came into view of the dim flourecent light.

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   With a somewhat evil smile on his face, Carl looked at her white panties, running his hand over the delicate curve of her cheek. He gave it a light spank with his hand, then did the same with the other cheek. He didn't want it to feel left out.
   "I didn't know you had such a nice body underneath this thing. " He said, mockingly.
   "Please. . . " Marha whispered, "This is wrongs. . "
   "Four months of English, huh? Maybe it isn't too bad afterall. " He said as his hand slid her panties down. It fell to her shaking ankles, resting above her black high heels. He removed his hand from her wrist and spread her cheeks to reveal her slit. "This looks like a nice Muslim pussy you have.

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  " He said as his finger ran along its lips, frequently sliding between them. Marha moaned and continued to plea with Carl to stop, speaking in light whispers and hoping no one would walk in. Carl pulled her shoulder up until the Arab was standing tall. He removed the black cloth completely, reveling her matching white bra. For the time being he left her hair cover on.
   He removed her bra slowly, letting it fall to the floor so that her 32B, Iraqi tits could jiggle free. The nipples at the ends were hardened and Marha was blushing heavily, her gaze resting on the floor. Carl pinched and flicked her nipples teasingly before he stopped touching her all together. "Ok, Marha. It's time to earn your keep in this great country. " He said, peering over her, "Lower yourself. "
    Marha didn't listen at first and it took a push down on her shoulder by Carl before her body began to drop. She was now on her knees in front of the American, "That's it you Arab bitch. " He said sternly as gazed down upon her, "Take my dick out. "
    At this point there was a large bulge poking out from behind his pants.

 

   Again, Carl needed to encourage the Arab by taking her hand onto his crotch. Marha reluctantly lowered the zipper of the pants after unbuttoning them. "Good girl. " Carl said in encouragment. She pulled the pants off and the boxers, clinging to the sides, slid off as well until his hardened cock bounced free. The contrast of the complexion between his white dick and her light brown face further arroused Carl. She was face to face with the giant pecker and the American took a hold of her head with both hands. "You're going to work a second job while you're here, bitch. " He said as he pushed the tip of his dick between her lips. Marha remained still as the dick slid between her soft and loose lips. Her saliva already began to coat his shaft as he moaned, holding her head tightly.
   Slowly Carl began to pick up the pace of his thrusts and his hands would pull her face down unto his shaft, overcoming the little resistance she could offer. The cock would move further into her mouth and saliva would drip down his shaft, along his swining sac. "This is all you filthy sand niggers are good for," he said evilly.
   The purple tip of his cock grew nearer to the back of her throat with every thrust into her mouth.

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   It was only a matter of time before it began to clog her throat and restrict air. Marha began to gag, and the sounds of the harsh face fucking filled the once silent room. His sac would slap her chin several times before he shoved his cock down her throat, causing her face to go red, her eyes to cross, and tears to run down her cheeks ruinning her mascara. He began to slap her tits red as he held his cock down her throat. She would gasp heavily for air each time he pulled back, strings of saliva and pre-cum attached to her mouth and leading to his sloppy dick. Slowly, he began to slap her face as his dick slid in and out, leaving permanent red finger marks. "You like that? You're going to like my cum too. "
   His sac began to tigthen and he discontinued his thrusts, pushing his cock as far as he could down her throat. Tightneing in his shaft soon followed and hot, slaty cum oozed out of the tip and down her throat. He looked into her crossed eyes and talked her through the ordeal, "Shhh. . Shhh. . "
   After he was done he pulled his increasingly limp cock out of her mouth and wads of spit and cum followed, landing on the floor. As he wiped himself off with a nearby towel he spoke with a grin on his face, "I hope it was good for you too.

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  " The evil and dirty man said. He threw her the towel and left to his office, sitting at his desk. He wondered what she would do, and sure enough he heard her sit at her desk and begin to type at her keyboard. He smiled as though he had just taken advantage of a woman and gotten away with it.
 
A message popped up on his screen. The user was anonymous and the message read, "Yea, Carl, I was. Next time I'll have to gag you with a dildo. ;). " Carl blushed lightly.  
 
.

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