4.

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I turn back to the man who's supposed to 'take care of me'. He's pursing his lips as he looks me up and down. Then he starts circling me. The other men watch. Some are sniggering, others are grinning. The rest are looking at me like he is—like I'm competition.

'You're a strange-looking one, like no man I've ever seen before. What's happened to you?' He smirks. 'Gone a bit wild, have we?' I slap his hand away as he curls a finger through one of my chest hairs.'

He drops his eyes to my crotch before I can cover myself again.

His smirk widens. 'Unkempt down there too. Filthy. Disgusting. Unmanly. No woman would have you.' He gives a dramatic sigh. 'It's going to take us all day fixing you up, isn't it fellas?' He turns to his friends, who nod in agreement. The man seated closest to me flicks his hair back. The one next to him curls his lip. 'The question is, are you worth it?'

He starts circling again, and I yelp when he suddenly grabs my arse.

I turn and shove him, not hard enough to knock him down but enough to make him stumble. 'Keep away from me,' I snap in English.

He frowns, then sneers. 'What is this gibberish? Sounds like a wombossa's snagged your tongue.'

One of the men giggles.

'My name is Shereen.' He flicks back his hair, then places his hands on his hips. 'And you would do well to do as I say. You might be attractive but that's not going to do you any good if you cause problems, so I suggest you do as I say. Got it?'

I struggle not to sneer.

'Good.' He snaps his fingers. 'Boys.' The two brushing each other's hair stand to attention. 'Come, we've got work to do.'

The 'boys' are giggling as they seize my wrists and drag me into the hut. I look over my shoulder, hopeful that you might come back to save me from these terrifying girly men before they can ... do things to me.

But, of course, I'm sorely disappointed. I turn back to the hut, my heels dragging through the soft earth as they haul me through the entrance.

For the next few hours all I know is pain and humiliation. Despite agreeing that I would meekly do what they say, I just can't do it. The last thing I want is to be one of them. I wouldn't call myself a man's man but I'm man enough that the prospect of being made beautiful horrifies me.

But it's not just that. These men are cruel and shameless. And it makes me wonder about the kind of things women back on Earth must have to go through to be deemed 'acceptable'. If our two cultures are in any way similar—which from what I've studied, they are—I've never felt more lucky to be a man. Present day excluded, of course.

Seven of them are holding me down in a bedding of cushions and blankets, my arms and legs firmly pinned.

'Let go!' I shout.

But all they do is giggle and hold me down harder.

'He's a strong one!'

'And pretty.'

'Too pretty.'

Shereen scowls at them as he smears some kind of paste over my chest. 'Shut it and keep hold of him.'

It's crowded in the hut—and hot, made worse by so much body heat. Two windows let in a small amount of light and a light breeze.

An eighth man enters the hut and begins to circle me, gazing down at my naked body. He's tall and slim, with golden hair so long that it almost reaches his arse.

He crouches beside me as Shereen continues smearing me with paste. Though he's pretty for a man, he's wearing an evil smirk. 'Firm,' he says as he pokes my hip and pelvis area. 'Too firm.' He sniffs. 'Didn't you know that the women like their men soft?'

'Hey!' I jerk my head up as he suddenly seizes my cock.

'Hard in the wrong places. Soft in the wrong places.' He smooths his hand over my limp shaft. 'You're all kinds of wrong aren't you?'

He continues to rub me. I turn my head with a wince as I feel myself respond. The sound of him giggling makes my guts swirl with nausea.

'What's the matter? Don't you like it?' he says.

Finally, I snap. Raising my head, I snarl in their language, 'Not by you, you ugly penong.'

Shocked, he releases me. A hush falls over the hut as the rest of the men stare at me. Even Shereen has stopped smearing his paste.

A penong is similar to one of Earth's domesticated pigs, except bigger and uglier, with bellies that sag so low they drag across the ground. It's the most insulting thing you can call a man.

The blonde's eyes fills with tears before he turns and rushes out of the tent. A friend hastens after him, calling his name. Stars light up the hut as Shereen suddenly slaps me hard. I gasp as fire burns down my cheek.

His eyes are wide and furious. 'How dare you say such a thing?! You'll pay for that!' He reaches over to grab up a strip of fabric and smooths it over the paste until it's firmly stuck against my hairs.

My eyes widen as I suddenly realise what he's doing. 'No, no, no, no, no!'

His lips curl as he grabs the top edge. The men holding me down grip my arms and legs more firmly. All I can do is close my eyes as he yanks it off. The slap is nothing against the waxing. It's not just my chest but my whole body that feels like it's on fire.

It takes everything I have to stop myself from screaming. I open my eyes and everything is a blur, but it's far from over. I can already feel him smoothing on the next one. Where I've been waxed is so tender the simple feel of him breathing against it makes it sore.

I feel like a piece of meat.

'Stop,' I murmur dazedly.

He grabs onto the edge of the fabric, preparing himself for the next waxing. 'If you think this is bad, just you wait until we do below.'

He pulls again and the hut turns red.

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