Transfer of Power

ANNA RIELLY CLUTCHED her stomach with one hand and the wrist of the terrorist with the other. Her shoes had fallen off, and she could see them halfway down the hallway as the thug dragged her across the carpet.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and the pain from the kick to her stomach was so intense she thought she might vomit.

Abu Hasan liked the fight. He considered it part of the thrill, part of the domination. This one, the dark one, was much better than the one he had taken care of last night. The blonde had turned out to be boring.

There was no fight in her, only tears. Hasan smiled widely as he rounded the corner and saw the door to the president’s bedroom. It was the perfect place to rape this American whore. Hasan thrust open the door with one hand while he held on to Riellys ponytail with the other.

After dragging her another ten feet, he violently lifted her off the ground and threw her onto the king-size bed. Drawing his knife, he yelled at her, “Take your clothes off, you bitch.”

Rielly started to get back up. There was no way she was going to give in. She would rather die than be raped again. The terrorist blocked her arms and sent the butt end of the knife crashing down and into Rielly’s temple. The blow knocked her unconscious, and Rielly went limp, leaving her completely motionless and vulnerable on the bed.

Abu Hasan wasted no time. Taking his knife, he began cutting off her clothes. The more skin he revealed the faster he cut. Once he had her pants off, he ripped at her blouse, and then stopped for a second.

Lustfully, he looked down at the young woman before him and admired her tanned, firm body.

Slowly, he reached down and ran his hand over her leg. He stopped at her black lace panties, and then with a violent yank, he tore them from her body.