Afghan Bound

by Henry Morgan

  David’s finger slipped between the lips of the young American, searching for her happy button, which he duly pressed. She lurched forward momentarily before bringing herself back under control. David pressed again.

  ‘Does the midget screw you?’

  She shook her head. ‘Only the new girls. Once you’ve started work at the club he leaves you alone. He’s got a large house just outside the city. He keeps you there for a while after you arrive.’

  ‘But why did you come here in the first place?’ David asked. She seemed well educated and not as stupid and gullible as the midget had made out.

  ‘He told me he would sponsor the school I worked at. He arranged for me to have dinner with him one evening to discuss the details, but once I entered his house I never got out. The bastard fucked me constantly for a week. I tried to fight, tried to keep him away, but he’s stronger than he looks. There was nothing I could do. He had me tied to a chain so I couldn’t escape.’ She was becoming more and more wound up. ‘When he wasn’t fucking me he’d make me suck him until he came, and laughed when he did. If I didn’t he’d strap me until my skin was on fire. I had no privacy whatsoever. He watched every move I made. The man’s an animal.’

  ‘An animal?’

  Her eyes widened fearfully. Had she gone too far with her trust of him? Christ, if he told the midget she was planning to escape he would flail the hide from her. He would give her to Javed who would do whatever he wanted with her as an act for the show. Yet she had no choice. He was the first English speaking person she had seen in two months. She had to trust him – had to make him understand what she was going through. He just had to learn what was happening to the girls in the club.

  ‘Yes, an animal,’ she said carefully, watching for any adverse reaction. ‘There is no depravity to which he won’t stoop. When I was up at the house he kept me chained in his playroom. Not unlike this one.’ She pointed to the various implements adorning the walls. ‘Sometimes I was kept chained to a wall by a collar that had a hood attached. I couldn’t see and it had a large leather ball that he would push into my mouth, preventing me from making any noise. Then he forced me to wear a belt that ran between my legs and had two plugs that fitted up inside me, you know, in my front and rear. He’d leave me like that while he worked at the club, but after he finished there he’d come back to the house and start on me again. He liked to lash my breasts with a cat o’nine tails until they were red, and then he’d undo my bonds and force me to lick his balls.’

  David returned to the club chair and sat down. Her plan seemed to be working. Although she had no idea of his background in medicine, she sensed she had awakened a caring instinct in the man.

  ‘Do you know what he liked to do the best?’ she persisted. ‘He liked to strip me naked and hang me upside down by my ankles. He’d attach a bar between them so my legs were parted. Then he’d make me spread my lips apart so he could plug a huge dildo inside my vagina. He’d pull me up just far enough so he could push his cock in my mouth, and his face would be just about level with the dildo. I could feel his breath on me as he pounded the piece in and out of my body. He wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied I’d come. Then I had to suck him until he came. I hate him.’

  Her words conjured up images of the Afghan, hanging helplessly by her feet, and as he now knew, happy. How he loved the sight of that dusky body and the memory of Karl kissing her freshly shaved sex. His member rose again at the warm memory.

  The young American sensed the change in him. She saw his eyes widen and his chest rise and fall with excitement. She knew then she had gone too far. Instead of arousing sympathy, she had aroused desire.

  David rose and took her by the wrists. He wanted to put her over a low padded seat, but she drew away.

  ‘Over the bench,’ he said firmly.

  ‘No… think what you’re saying. You seem like a nice guy.’

  ‘I said over the bench.’

  She drew further into the corner of the room, shaking her head at the realisation that a good chance of escape had gone. There was nothing now for Donna from San Diego. There was nothing but a future in the International Club, Karachi, as a sex slave to any man with the inclination to screw her and with enough money to pay for the service. She suddenly felt completely drained. In a last desperate bid she pleaded softly. ‘I’m an American. My family has lots of money. They’ll pay you well. Whatever you want.’

  ‘Right now I want you over that bench,’ repeated David. ‘And I mean right now.’ He took a sjambok from the wall and whipped it several times through the air. It felt good in his hands; solid and masterful. It was time to see for himself how women responded to firm commands, to see for himself how much they needed to be controlled and governed. He tapped the bench with the tip of the leather stick. She nodded dejectedly in obedience and moved towards it.

  ‘I wasn’t asking you to help me escape,’ she whispered. ‘Honestly, I was just making conversation – trying to please you.’ She bent over the seat, hands on one side, legs on the other.

  ‘You’re going to please me all right,’ said David, attaching her ankle and wrist cuffs to buckles connected to the seat. ‘I’ve no doubt that you’re going to please me.’ He stepped back and admired her plump buttocks. They were clenched, already awaiting the kiss of the sjambok; tensed ready for its bite.

  He brought the first stroke across both cheeks. The contact of leather on skin brought an immediate shriek from the American. She bucked and writhed on the seat. Another stroke landed on her legs – then another, and another. Her bottom twitched and jerked, trying to escape the flailing sjambok. But David was accurate, surprisingly so for his lack of experience. He felt confident enough to alternate between thighs, and for his last stroke he brought the whip perfectly down between her cheeks, leaving a line betwixt them that terminated in the buttonhole of her anus.

  Drained from his exertions, he rested to admire her body and to gather his strength. Beads of sweat ran this way and that, following the lines of red stripes that criss-crossed her bottom. David removed his clothes and positioned himself behind her. Despite being several inches away from her body he could feel the heat radiating from the gleaming flesh. He slipped easily inside her available sex. She moved to his rhythm, keeping up with his pace and using every trick she could muster to squeeze his cock and satisfy him. Her efforts weren’t lost on David. He felt her muscles contract in time to his thrusts and knew once and for all that it was the whip that had made the difference. He allowed himself a few more minutes of pleasure inside her moistness, enjoying her warm, silky sheath, before withdrawing his rigid shaft.

  Feeling his cock pull away, a wave of panic flooded her. Was he dissatisfied? Had she done something wrong, or something to upset him? She expected more of the whip; that’s what most men gave her if she wasn’t pleasing them enough.

  David undid her shackles and guided her to a table where four cuffs and a pulley were attached to one end. Two cuffs were connected to each other and to the pulley in the shape of an upside down Y. David was secretly puzzled as to their use. He concluded however, that whatever the original intentions were, he could always improvise. He ordered Donna to lie face up and then secured her wrists. The other cuffs he clipped to her ankles with the stem of the pulley, which was itself only six inches away from her face. In a flash of inspiration he realised that by pulling on the pulley her legs would be forced up and over until she was folded like a sandwich. Indeed, he found he could bring her knees to rest on her chest while her feet were stretched way past her head. He paused for a moment to look at her bent double. In this position he could stand by her folded thighs and take delight in the sight of her open sex and anus.

  ‘Did the midget ever do this to you?’ he asked.

  ‘Whenever he wanted.’

  ‘Did he ever have anal sex with you?’

  ‘What’s all this interest in the midget?’ she moaned.r />
  ‘Answer me.’

  ‘Yes… he’ll do anything to get satisfaction.’

  David pressed the purple tip of his glans against her taut sphincter and watched as the swollen head push its way inside. He managed an inch or so, but found it uncomfortable to be stretched up on his toes. It then dawned in him that the height could be adjusted by working the pulley mechanism. He released the brake and allowed a few links to run through the sheath, lowering her bottom. Her position was now perfect for him. His cock slipped effortlessly along her secret passage.

  She was exquisitely tight, despite the constant attentions from a procession of clients. In and out he teased, sometimes stopping to enjoy the tickle of his hair as it brushed against her skin, and sometimes pounding as if lost in some voodoo trance.

  She loved it whatever; teeth marks on her bottom lip betrayed her true feelings and made him thrust all the harder. He knew she was not far from the ultimate sensation, and he also knew she loved a man’s power; needed his control and wanted his domination. His balls tightened as the muscles of her anus gripped tight. With a great final effort he forced himself deep inside her bottom and released a mighty flow of sperm that sent her over the edge with sobs of delight.

  Having slowly recovered, he left Donna shackled to the table. Releasing her now, he considered, would only spoil her enjoyment. He sat and scanned the other implements and contraptions in the room, only able to guess at the purpose of some. The functions of others were quite clear. An iron maiden lay in one corner, the only concession from its mediaeval forebear being the lack of spikes. On another table sat nipple presses, hoods, and spreader bars. The entire paraphernalia of a quality training school.

  ‘Are all the other rooms like this?’ he asked Donna.

  ‘This is the only one,’ she replied. Her voice was still trembling from the orgasm and the awkward position she was in. ‘This is Javed’s room. He’s the trainer. A girl is brought here to learn her place. Once you’ve learned you only come back if a client requests the room specially, or if you’ve been naughty. God help you if you have, because Javed will cane you until there’s no skin left on your butt.’

  The thought of the cane sent tiny eddies of pleasure through David’s body. He was rapidly learning the joys of administering its kiss and reaping the rewards of a submissive, suppliant female. Several of the wonder-sticks were displayed on the wall alongside a collection of sjamboks, pizzles, crops and knouts. There were thick canes, thin canes, and decidedly devilish split canes.

  Doubled over as she was, Donna couldn’t properly see what he was doing. She knew he was moving about the room because she had heard the leather creak as he got up from the chair. From the corner of her eye she saw him move into view. He was studying the display of whips and canes, running his hands over them, lifting some of them off their hooks and giving them a testing swipe through the air. Her stomach fluttered, hadn’t she suffered enough? Her poor bottom was still smarting from the two earlier beatings. Just then she heard the door open, and was relieved to see it draw his attention away from the canes.

  David turned to see Imran smiling broadly after his adventures with the Indian from Bangalore.

  Imran observed the red welts on Donna’s upturned bottom. ‘I see you have got into the swing of it already, my friend,’ he said to David. ‘So you like the cave of darkness too.’ The Pakistani banker prodded his thumb into Donna’s anus, his passage made easier by David’s recent emission. ‘She feels good. Perhaps I should try the same.’

  David watched his friend mount her and quickly ejaculate. Donna took it without complaint, even with gratitude. It was infinitely better than another caning.

  Shortly after the two men were enjoying a glass of scotch when the door opened and the midget entered. With little in the way of conversation he made his way across to Donna and began unbuckling her bonds.

  ‘What’s going on?’ demanded David, unhappy at seeing his American being led away.

  ‘I said you come earlier. The American is needed elsewhere. I got a group of Iranian’s waiting for a piece.’

  Donna was shocked, but dared not protest. She hated the Iranians, because they hated the Americans. As she and the midget neared the door she turned and looked imploringly at David. There was nothing he could do to help. A strange feeling shivered through him as he realised there was nothing he wanted to do to help. He was happy the way things were.

  9.

  Back at Imran’s house David was surprised to find Salim up and waiting for them. It was almost three-thirty in the morning, but she was undisturbed by their late appearance.

  ‘Water and soap,’ said Imran. ‘We want to wash.’ Turning to David he added, ‘Remove your trousers.’

  ‘What for? What now?’

  Imran was already out of his clothes and sitting on a marble bench, tapping the seat next to him for David. ‘You don’t want to go to your bed dirty. Surely not?

  ‘No,’ said a confused and weary David. ‘Obviously not. But—’

  ‘No buts. Take off your clothes and leave everything to Salim.’

  David remembered a time when such instructions would have been ridiculous. It seemed a long time ago now. Inhibitions and taboos were a thing of the past. He’d seen new peoples, new ways, new ideas. He was growing accustomed to once alien thoughts, and with little more ado he shed his clothes and joined Imran on the bench.

  Salim appeared a moment or two later carrying a large tray of fresh tea, a bowl of water, and some soap and towels. She handed them the towels and started on Imran first. After lathering her hands she gently took her husband’s penis, covering it with softly perfumed suds. She massaged the soap around his flaccid penis, washing it perfectly clean before lifting his legs to wash his testicles and bottom.

  ‘Calsoom has been sold,’ he informed her. Salim nodded, then asked who had purchased her daughter.

  ‘Zulfiqar, the spice merchant. He paid a handsome price.’

  ‘That is good,’ answered Salim, whilst matter-of-factly rinsing the soap from his private parts. ‘She will make him a good wife.’

  Imran handed his empty cup to her. ‘We have had a lot of good fortune since David entered our house. Tonight we witnessed the sale of Calsoom, and then celebrated at the International Club. I think David enjoyed it.’

  David nodded his confirmation. ‘I enjoyed it very much.’ His loins tingled at the memories, of Calsoom’s naked examination, and of the submissive Donna. He coloured a little as his penis stirred, but there was little he could do to hide or resist it, especially when Salim’s warm soapy fingers peeled back his foreskin and began to wash him. She appeared not to notice his erect condition, but continued the ablutions with great care, making David all the more embarrassed at being unable to control himself.

  He wondered if Imran would be offended by his behaviour, but the host said nothing. Salim dried them both and took away the utensils, returning with fresh drinks.

  ‘Will that be all?’ she asked.

  ‘Not quite,’ said Imran. ‘Our guest still has an erection. It would be impolite to leave him in such a state.’

  ‘No – that’s all right,’ David stammered. ‘I’m fine, no problem.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Imran smiled. ‘Salim will take care of you.’ He turned to his wife. ‘Take off your clothes.’

  David felt uncomfortable that Salim was made to strip for him, and tried to remonstrate. But Imran was adamant, assuring David that it was the least she should do for their welcome guest.

  Salim was now all but nude. Only her ever-present mask remained as she stood for David’s inspection. As he expected, Salim’s body was devoid of any hair. Her pubic mound was smooth and slick, as it would appear were all females in this part of the world, or at least those who belonged to their religion – the religion of natural domination.

  Her looks denied her years. Even though Calsoom was no
w seventeen Salim had kept a firm body. Her breasts still held their shape and there was little extra weight on her thighs. David leaned forward and ran his hands gently between her legs, returning the soft touches with which she had washed him. The wetness of her inner lips told him she would be easy to penetrate.

  ‘You cannot make love to her, I’m afraid,’ said Imran. ‘She was a virgin when I bought her, and I am the only man who has known her in that way.’ David felt somewhat cheated now that his desires had been inflamed, but he warmed to the knowledge that Salim was to use her mouth as compensation.

  ‘You will discover now,’ said Imran, ‘that those initial lessons provided by Ayub are more than worthwhile.’

  Salim’s mouth encased David in warm moist flesh that squeezed around the length of his engorged penis. Her tongue flicked and darted, and David was immediately lost in the most fantastic sensations ever. He wanted it to last – to go on forever, but the excitement grew stronger every time he slipped deeper into her throat. No man could resist this – no man would resist this. With a great shudder and a cry of relief he expelled bolts of hot sperm into her mouth. She dutifully swallowed every drop, and then knelt back, eyes downcast.

  ‘Now,’ said Imran to his wife. ‘You may retire to your bed.’

  10.

  During the coming week David’s time was spent in interviews with representatives from the Embassy by day, and at the International Club by night. He retold the events leading to his capture by the Mujahadeen and about the Russian designs to make him work for them time and again. The Embassy talked about making a complaint to the Russians, but there would be a diplomatic incident, and David didn’t want that. The Russians probably thought he had been killed in the attack on Herat, and that seemed the safest way to be; presumed dead.

  On his third visit to the Club David learned that Donna from San Diego had tried to make a break for it with a Japanese businessman. She never made it. The pair were picked up by Mohammed Khan’s henchmen on their way to the American Embassy. They had made the mistake of hailing a taxi owned by Khan. The driver had recognised them straight away and taken them directly to the gangster’s yacht. The foolish Oriental gentleman had not been seen or heard of since.