by John Ringo
“You handled it fine,” Mike said, then chuckled. “Sorry, reminded me of a guy I knew in jump school.”
“What is that?” Anastasia asked, curiously.
“Where they teach the Army to jump out of planes,” Mike said. “You have to get cycled through it for SEAL training, even though you spend the rest of your time free-falling. Anyway, was this guy in the stick I was in that had never flown in a plane before he went to jump school. He did all five jumps without landing, so I don’t know when he actually landed in a plane.”
“Do you… jump from up this high?” the girl asked.
“No,” Mike said then paused. “Okay, I know one group that did, but it was a special case. Most jumps are under fourteen grand, fourteen thousand feet. That way you don’t have to use oxygen. High altitude is twenty thousand to thirty. Very, very few people have ever jumped over thirty thousand. Go ahead and look out the window,” he said, unbuckling and getting up to cross the plane. “It’s too unreal to feel high,” he added, pointing out the small window.
Anastasia looked out for a moment, then turned away.
“It still looks very high,” the girl said. “And very big.”
“It’s a big world,” Mike said, gently, sitting down next to her and taking the window seat. “I take it you didn’t do a lot of traveling in the harem?”
“No,” Anastasia said. “Or before. I grew up on a farm in Russia. A scout for Otryad saw me at a fair and arranged the marriage with my parents. I went from the farm to the household and have been there ever since.”
“May I ask how old you are?” Mike said, carefully.
“Twenty-six,” Anastasia said, closing her eyes. “I have been from the farm to the house and occasionally to Samarkand. I was a girl in the harem until I was seventeen. Then I was brought into training to be a manager. I took over as assistant manager at nineteen and full manager at twenty-one. I have managed his harem ever since.”
“And never been in a plane,” Mike said, a touch angrily. “Has Otryad ever traveled?”
“Yes,” Anastasia said. “But it wouldn’t be… right to take his women with him. It would be unseemly.”
“Not to me,” Mike said. “If I have to travel, you can figure on coming with me. Unless you really don’t want to.”
“Oh, I would like to,” the girl said, breathing out finally. “I have wanted to see the world. But I’m afraid of it as well. I have been… inside for so long. Not only in a house, but like being trapped in a cage. Like the tiger in too small a cage, I pace and pace, but if the door is open, I’m afraid to walk out.”
“Well, the door in my house is always open,” Mike said. “I’m hiring you, not buying you. You’re free to go any time. You’re a full adult and have some training in people management if nothing else.” He saw her fearful expression and sighed in exasperation. “That’s not kicking you out, damnit. I’m just saying you’re free to be whoever you want to be. If you don’t like working for me, I’ll find you another job. The door to my harem is always open. For one thing, I don’t think of the girls as just mine. I have people who work with me, friends who visit, and if the girls want to mess with them, they can feel free. For that matter, four of the girls currently in the house are rented hookers. They are, very specifically, for the comfort and support of the trainers that who quarters in the house. The rest of the girls… I’m not so sure.”
“If you would take my advice,” Anastasia said, diffidently, “they should not be given to other men. Girls of the hareem are not whores. There is a great deal of difference, in the head if nothing else. They may be gifted to subordinates as wives, especially as they age. This is traditional in Uzbek society at least. But they should not be passed around like… sweetmeats at a party.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mike said, grinning. “And, yes, that’s exactly what I wanted you for. How much are you supposed to get paid, by the way?”
“I had a small stipend from Otryad,” Anastasia said, shrugging. “To buy clothes and jewelry. And he would give me gifts.”
“That’s it?” Mike asked, shaking his head. “Well, that won’t work for me. The girls get that. I’ll figure out a salary. He said something about education. You can read and write, right?”
“Yes,” the girl replied. “And do mathematics. I can read and write in Russian, Uzbek, Arabic, German and English. For that matter,” she continued in not badly accented English, “I can speak all of them as well.”
“And he kept you locked up in a harem,” Mike said, shaking his head. “What a fucking waste. Pardon my language.”
“The master need never apologize,” Anastasia continued in English. “In fact, it is a sign of weakness that the girls will exploit.”
“Hmm…” Mike said, thinking about that one. “I think we might have some differences in approach and we’ll have to see how it works. For one thing, this harem will not be entrapped except by situation. And I’m not going to be married to any of them, or you for that matter. On the other hand… Western militaries handle their soldiers differently from most of the militaries in your area; had you noticed that?”
“Not really,” Anastasia said, frowning. “I do not associate with soldiers.”
“You’re going to be associating with a bunch of them as early as tomorrow,” Mike pointed out. “But in developing nations, the troops are treated like dirt and the officers don’t even think about talking to them as equals. In American militaries officers, good officers, treat their subordinates like humans that have their job to do. Officers have the job of making or expanding decisions for their unit and they give the troops their orders. The troops have the job of expanding on those orders to the limit of their position and ability but they don’t see the officer as God or something. They treat him with respect and the good ones with admiration. But they don’t hesitate to bring up alternatives if asked and if an officer has screwed up, he’ll admit it and work on ways to change that.”
“And this is how you would treat the girls in your hareem?” Anastasia asked, frowning. “I’m not sure how they will respond to that.”
“I don’t understand any of their responses,” Mike admitted. “I thought when I brought up them staying as… concubines they’d freak. Most of them looked as if they wanted to get on their knees and give me a blowjob right then and there.”
“I think I can explain that, at least,” Anastasia said after a pause. “They were girls from small farms in the area, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And they had been sold by their families to be whores,” the girl continued. “The house you live in is much like that of the sheik, you said. They had been taken from their small farms, where they had to work very hard for very little good in their life. They had very little of their own, maybe only their clothes and those are usually from older sisters, and they lived in a place that was very… rough. They had thought they would be whores, to be used by any man who had the money and sometimes in very bad places. Instead you offer them security in what to them is a palace. I can understand it very well. I was sad, very homesick, when I had to leave my family. But to live with the sheik was… paradise.” She stopped and shrugged at his expression.
“My greatest fear in life was what I would do when I grew too old to be with Otryad anymore. He had discussed finding me a husband but anything would be a step down from being his hareem manager; I was not going to find a rich husband, you understand, not in Uzbekistan. I would be the wife, maybe not the first wife, of someone less important than Otryad. My… status was not high enough to get better. I was not a virgin, among other reasons. Otryad is very good about sending his women out into the world; he tries to find them husbands and if he cannot he sets them up with money of their own. But he likes young girls; I was only still in the hareem because I was a good manager. But Darya was old enough to take over while still being younger, and fresher, than I.”
“Well, I didn’t see the rest of his hareem,” Mike said, using her term. “But if he was
kicking you out of his bed he was an idiot.”
“There are women aplenty in the world to a man with money,” Anastasia said, shrugging.
“Not many that are as good looking as you,” Mike said, then frowned. “Okay, except among the Keldara, I’ll admit.”
“These are your retainers?” Anastasia asked, curiously.
“I don’t know what to call them,” Mike admitted. “I hate just calling them tenants. I suppose retainers is a good word. The men are generally pretty damned handsome and the women are fucking outstanding. The beer’s good, too. Great place to live. Not that I wouldn’t mind going back to the States some time. But, for now, the valley’s a good place to live. I’m doing good work there, getting them up to speed on modern farming, I got them equipment so they could retire their horse teams, and I’m training them so they can defend themselves. Not much of that, yet. That’s why I’m hurrying back; training starts on Monday after this planting festival.”
“You will be training them?” the girl asked, curling up in the seat and leaning forward to listen.
“Not day-to-day,” Mike said. “But I’m going to be out there for specific items. I’ll probably have to lead them in some of the stuff they’re going to be doing. So I’ll probably show up for each new item, prove I can do it, and then retreat. If I demonstrate my ability when they’re just getting introduced to it, it should look like I’m such a fucking master they won’t believe it. Take running; I’ll probably lead the first run. After they’re fully trained, there are probably a few that will be better than me; they’re mostly younger for one thing. But if the first time they go out, the Kildar smokes them, well that will stick in their mind. The Kildar can run, the Kildar can ruck, the Kildar can patrol and the Kildar can shoot. That way when we go out to actually do something, they’ll be confident in my abilities, even if by then some of them are better than I am.”
“It sounds like it’s a good thing I’m an expert in massage,” Anastasia said, smiling.
“Oh, I’m pretty dialed in,” Mike said. “I’ve been working out since I got there; the muscles are as good as they’re going to get with all the damage. I won’t mind having somebody to help me get out of bed in the mornings, though.”
“You have trouble with that?” the girl asked.
“Bad joints,” Mike said, shrugging. “Mostly a legacy of beating them to death on the teams. Any time I stay still for a long period of time, and I don’t move much when I sleep, they freeze up. So getting out of bed is a pain. It passes after a while. Mostly,” he added, rubbing one elbow absently. Ever since getting caught in an unpressurized wheel well on a mission he’d had trouble with that joint. “So, I hate to ask about the sex thing, but where are we on that? From one point of view you’re an employee. As far as I’m concerned, you could be married to someone else and do your job…”
“I think not,” Anastasia said, carefully. “You are my master.”
“Be careful with that term,” Mike said. “That has a very specific meaning in sexual relations. Unless you meant it that way?” he asked, glancing at her.
“You are the master of the hareem,” Anastasia said, cautiously. “But, yes, I’m aware of the meaning of the term. I don’t know you well, hardly at all…”
“I don’t even know your last name,” Mike said. “Is it Otryad?”
“I have not been married to Otryad for more than twelve years,” Anastasia said, frowning. “My last name was changed to my maiden name when I divorced: Rakovich. He keeps four wives, as the Koran dictates. All the others are concubines. He marries and then, when it is time to get a new wife, divorces and keeps the girl in his hareem. This way he can approach families with an offer of marriage.”
“Personally, I’ve got problems with that,” Mike said, his jaw working. “But that’s his society.”
“He is not unpleasant about it,” Anastasia said, sighing. “But it is hard, knowing you are but a temporary addition to his household. However, you are the master of the hareem and my job is to manage the hareem and provide you with sex in addition. I do not have a problem with that, in fact I look forward to it; you are very beautiful.”
“That’s the first time anyone’s said that to me,” Mike said, laughing. “Be aware, I’m used to either dating for sex or buying hookers. I’m not sure how to handle this relationship.”
“Try not to treat me as a whore,” Anastasia said. “Think of me as a wife whose job is very specifically to provide sex. But… I have needs,” she added, carefully.
“I’m generally considered decent to good,” Mike said, glancing at her again. “But I tend to be a bit rough by preference.”
“Rough is good,” Anastasia said, sighing in relief. “Very rough is very good.”
“Really?” Mike asked, raising an eyebrow. “How rough?”
“As rough as you can manage,” Anastasia answered. “Do you know the term masochist?”
“You’re serious?” Mike said. “In that case, we need to negotiate carefully. Rough is a very broad term.”
“The rougher the better,” Anastasia said, looking at the floor of the plane. “Otryad was not… rough enough. And there was never enough sex with so many girls in the hareem. I was lucky towards the end if I had one night a month with him. And he was never strong enough with the whip.”
“O-kaaay,” Mike said, with a whistle. “I can see where this is going. I don’t have a bondage dungeon set up yet but it can easily be arranged.”
“That would be wonderful,” Anastasia said, delightedly. “I had access to the internet, yes? I saw some of the bondage dungeons on there and they excited me very much. I would love to have you take me to a bondage dungeon and treat me roughly as a slave to be trained.”
“But you’re already trained,” Mike pointed out.
“I could be bad,” Anastasia said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “They had a terrible time with me at first; I was often bad just so that I would be beaten. When the hareem manager then, that was Shahla, realized what was going on she was very angry. After that I was good, just so that I could be properly beaten from time to time. Shahla was very good with the whip; I miss her. After she left Otryad had to do it and he never really had the same touch.”
“Yeah, but we still need to negotiate,” Mike said with a sigh. “I don’t know that… experienced as you are, you were in the hareem. The rules are different on the outside. For example, what about being whipped in front of people you don’t know very well? A scene as they call it. Or play ‘sold’ to another man? Have you ever been butt-plugged and then put in a submissive position and auctioned off?”
“No,” Anastasia said, breathlessly. “But it sounds terribly exciting!”
“Oh, good God,” Mike said, flipping up the seat arm. “I need a blowjob and I need one now.”
“Yes, master,” Anastasia said, leaning over and unzipping him. With her teeth.
Mike leaned the seat back and closed his eyes as she began to slowly lick his member like a lollipop to be savored. After a moment he snorted.
“Master?” Anastasia asked, lifting off of him.
“Never mind,” Mike said, slapping her lightly on the back of the head. “Get back to work.”
The snort was for the situation. He was in a private jet being blown by a fucking expert. One that looked like she should be making a million a year as a supermodel. It had been a long damned route to this moment.
And Anastasia was an expert. She’d started by licking him and pumping him to get him fully engorged then taken him in her mouth, slowly stroking at first. Despite not using her hands, it was one of the best blowjobs he’d ever gotten. She had tremendous suction and her lips pressed around his dick as firmly as fingers. As she continued she sped up, stroking up and down so far that he could feel his dick entering the back of her throat. She alternated with taking him all the way down, right into the throat, and swallowing so that the muscles sucked his head down her throat.
She sped up slowly, final
ly going into a long continuous stroke at high speed that had him right on the edge of bursting. At which point he realized he’d forgotten to negotiate one thing before starting. On the other hand, to hell with it; she was a harem slave. With that thought he started pumping in her mouth.
Anastasia caught it all, choking a bit at first and then sucking him dry.
“Was that good, master?” she asked, straightening up and tucking him away.
“You can do that any time you’d like,” Mike said.
“Good,” the girl said. “I like giving blowjobs. Otryad did not like them that much but he would let me give them since I enjoyed it. That is why I tried to learn to give them well, so he would enjoy them also.”
“You’re great,” Mike said, leaning back in the seat. “Very, very good, and I say that as a guy who has gotten a fair number of them in his life.”
“Is there any wine?” Anastasia asked, cautiously. “I like the taste of cum, but the aftertaste is… not so good.”
“In the back,” Mike said, thumbing over his shoulder. “There’s a wine cooler with white and a rack with red.”
“Would you like a glass?” Anastasia asked, getting up and looking to the rear of the plane.
“No thanks, I’m a beer drinker,” Mike said. “On second thought, see if they have a Johannesburg Riesling. I could do with a glass.”
“Then you will go to sleep, yes?” Anastasia asked, walking back to the gallery area.
“I could sleep,” Mike admitted. “It’s been a long day.”
Chapter Eighteen
As it turned out, Anastasia slept. Mike reclined both of the seats and the girl had snuggled down next to him, arms held vertically over her breasts so her hands were folded under her chin, pushed in hard against his side and in a few minutes was fast asleep. It had been a long, tough day for her too, Mike figured. Torn away from the only home she’d known since she was twelve, flying for the first time, possibly being with the first man other than Otryad that she’d ever had sex with. She seemed comfortable, though, content. She wasn’t having bad dreams, at least.