Afghan Bound

by Henry Morgan

‘I can tell you are wondering who I am.’

  David shook his head, believing the less he knew the safer it would be for him.

  ‘I am Malek. My father sent me to school in England, hence the accent. “Go get an education”, he said. “Iran will need men of knowledge soon”. When I graduated from the London School of Economics my country had gone back to bartering and anyone with a mind of their own had to be on their guard. But there is always a way to make money for a mover of people.’ He swept his hand around the tent where several servants stood obediently waiting upon his command. ‘I give them a good life. I took them out of the gutter and put food in their bellies.’

  David hungrily fed a roll of lamb stuffed with olives into his mouth and nodded as a token of his appreciation and attention.

  The chief continued. ‘We are on our way to meet the force that attacked your camp. They weren’t supposed to move for several days – until we arrived with the hardware. That is how we survive. I exchange weapons for drugs.’ He rose and motioned for a guard. ‘But that is enough about me. Tomorrow we go on our way and you will go yours, but tonight we shall have a banquet to celebrate the fall of Herat.’

  David wanted to enjoy more of the food and wine, but was taken to a tent where fresh clothes were laid out ready for the night’s festivities.

  By the time the guard came back to fetch him, David felt completely relaxed. Malek’s promise to release him in the morning had removed any remaining anxiety and left him happily looking forward to the evening ahead. The first sight of the tent’s interior did not disappoint and fulfilled his expectations. Flames bobbed and twisted in great braziers that kept the chill of the desert night at bay and threw shadows of the swaying dancers upon the gold and red walls of the tent. Occasionally a servant would throw cakes of incense into the flames and clouds of sweet scented vapours would fill the air, relaxing and soothing the congregation that lay on a great circle of silk cushions. Malek motioned for David to join him and the four women who surrounded his bolster. All four were heavily veiled and seemed anxious to pander to their chief’s needs, offering him wine and food constantly. Of their faces the only part visible was the eyes, but their bodies were unmistakable beneath transparent silk pyjamas. Despite the see-through material no dark triangles were evident between their thighs, confirming David’s belief that most Arab men kept their women shaved.

  ‘Sit down,’ said Malek. ‘Have some food.’ Trays of kebabs, sheep’s kidneys and liver were immediately brought and laid at his side. The two servant girls who had carried them then sat at his feet awaiting his instructions. David was amazed to see that in sharp contrast to the rest of the women present, one of the two was pure blonde. The surprise on his face was so obvious that Malek laughed out loud and said, ‘Meet Miss Haines, my maths lecturer.’ The economics don lowered her eyes in acknowledgement. ‘She came with me from London. Said she would do anything as long as she was with me. What else could I do?’

  David studied her carefully. Like the others she was veiled, but her eyes were steel-blue and her breasts very much heavier, perfectly complementing the bigger frame of European women.

  ‘Is she your wife?’

  ‘One of them,’ answered Malek. ‘Although she no longer sits with me. She’s slipped down the batting order, so to speak.’ The Arab leaned forward to caress her large breasts. If I get the urge for these wonderful orbs I send for her. They are gorgeous, don’t you agree?’

  Before David could react Malek spoke again. ‘Sarah, bare your breasts and show them to our guest.’

  David could only sit transfixed as the beautiful Miss Haines did as she was told without the slightest murmur. The lecturers had never been like this when he was in university. With a straight back she pushed her breasts out for his inspection.

  ‘Feel them David,’ urged Malek generously. ‘Touch them.’

  David’s fingertips nervously brushed her nipples, until Malek urged him to squeeze them harder. ‘Don’t be afraid, Sarah knows how to please you. There was a time when she wanted to go back to England, but I sent her to my brother in Mashhad for training. Now she lives only to please.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ David asked. ‘Training?’

  ‘Your western women are too selfish, only interested in me, me, me. In the East our women know their position in the way of things, but if they are contaminated by western ideas we send them to schools to be re-educated. Sarah was a little apprehensive at first, but look at her now, straining to please.’ He signalled for her to stand, then added nonchalantly: ‘Remove your clothes.’

  Without hesitation the woman who once dressed in smart skirts and jackets for her lectures now teased down the silk trousers which, her veil apart, were the only garment between her and total nudity. Divested of the flimsy material she stood proudly for the attention of Malek and the Englishman.

  ‘Does she please you?’

  David could only gape and nod.

  ‘Do you like her cunt? She is the only one of my wives who I’ve allowed to keep her hair. It is so blonde and soft she almost looks shaved anyway. Touch it.’

  It felt like wisps of cotton wool between David’s fingers. Fine gossamer strands that failed to hide the swollen lips beneath. Eagerly his fingers slid between her engorged labia, seeking her entrance now slippery with juice.

  ‘Fair compensation?’ asked Malek.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘I have granted you a night with Sarah in return for the kind gift of your lovely Afghan.’

  There was little point in argument, especially if he wanted to come out of this in one piece. Nonetheless he knew life would be different without the dusky beauty. She had possessed his thoughts since the time he first saw her strapped to the table in Herat. He had made love to her, saved her life – but now he must give her up. In order to save his own skin they must part. Looking at the veiled, almost naked figure of Miss Haines, he considered it not too bad a loss.

  Suddenly a crash sounded from a cymbal near the entrance, and in through the flaps came David’s Afghan, surrounded by at least a dozen Arab women, all attired in veil and silk. The party travelled to the centre of the floor where, at some invisible signal, everyone except the girl began to dance. For ten minutes their bodies swayed and turned in rhythm with the music then, as suddenly as they began, they stopped. Each girl fell to the floor, and then crawled backwards until she was left at the centre of everyone’s attention.

  It was, to say the least, a short wedding ceremony. The girl was held on her knees in front of Malek who, taking up an iron offered by one of the guards, burnt his insignia onto her thigh. It was an abacus, with which he said, a man could keep tabs on his possessions. The pain from the branding iron clearly seared through her body until she fainted and hung limp in the hands that restrained her. Malek was unperturbed, he had branded many wives and many were unable to stand the pain. He returned to his cushions, which was the cue for the woman to take the girl and prepare her for the marriage consummation. To restart the festivities Malek clapped his hands and a line of women were marched into the tent. Each was attached to the other by a metal chain connected to a collar.

  ‘Russian soldiers,’ he explained. ‘When we are finished with them they will be sold in Iran. Big healthy women like these are worth a lot of opium. If you like any of them, feel free. Sarah won’t mind. She knows the art of female love too.’

  The line of Russians was brought to a halt near a pole in the ground and the first was attached to it. The last was attached to another pole in likewise fashion, leaving the whole group looking like clothes on a line. Before long the first of the men came to inspect them. He was a short muscular Iranian who considered his choice very carefully, weighing their breasts in his hands before running his fingers between their legs, and finally finishing each examination by inspecting their teeth. He chose a prisoner with broad shoulders and a pinched waist that led to wide hips. Taking
her left breast he wrapped a leather thong tightly around it before unclipping her collar from the chain. Then he led her by the strap back to his cushion and ordered her to kneel. When he was satisfied by her position he ran the thong through a hoop in the floor and forced her to bend forward until her breasts and face were squashed to the ground. In this position her sex was fully exposed at the rear, and was having a definite effect on David’s libido.

  This pattern of selection, strapping, and tethering continued until each man had a prisoner bent before him and each prisoner’s buttocks pointed into the inner circle of the tent. David studied the proceedings closely and was amazed when the men remained reclined on their cushions. The reasons for this were soon made apparent when a guard unclipped the remaining women and led them to where a tray lay on a silk cloth laid out on the floor. On the tray were numerous lengths of sandalwood, smoothly rounded and lovingly worked into the shape of a phallus, and each one was covered with a camels foreskin. Once they had made their choice, each woman was taken to stand behind the pouting bottom of a comrade, and while the Arabs continued to eat and talk they were made to ease the thick dildo’s up the exposed sex of a fellow soldier. With faces pressed firmly to the floor the tethered women could do nothing but allow themselves to be fucked with the camel-skinned dildos until Malek’s new wife had been prepared and the consummation began properly.

  With growing arousal David watched the highly erotic performances. The whole circle of Russian captives was systematically fucked by their own women, until Malek rose from his place and entered the ring. As he passed behind each pair the dildo was retracted enough for him to run his finger along the wet shaft. He inhaled the scent of each woman and tasted her juice. If he judged that one needed more lubricating he would order a guard to strap the culprit until she masturbated her comrade more thoroughly. Only when satisfied did he move on to the next.

  Eventually he returned to his bolster. With a snap of his fingers he brought forth a fanfare of sound, and the beautiful Afghan was brought into the circle once more.

  She was carried in kneeling on an H shaped litter. Her knees were resting on the crossbar and her arms and legs were on each parallel batten. She was fixed to the contraption by leather thongs which were wrapped tightly around her ankles, knees, elbows and wrists, and her face was veiled with a leather mask which was clasped and locked behind her head. The guards placed the litter on prearranged poles that held her delightful bottom at a height to match Malek’s hips. They then marched the Russian women back to the chain, leaving the dildos embedded in the vaginas of their kneeling and restrained comrades. When the prisoners were secured the Arabs positioned themselves behind their chosen one to await the moment of penetration by Malek.

  With great ceremony the Arab chief positioned himself between the legs of his newest bride, while his youngest wife stood beside him. Carefully taking his penis, she lowered the stiff member until his engorged glans nudged at the entrance of his new bride’s sheath. Then with the other hand she gently teased open the girl’s lips, and guided him easily inside.

  With their leader firmly embedded in his new wife the Arabs removed the dildos from each kneeling woman and eagerly replaced them with their cocks.

  The sight of so much sex was more than David could bear. Taking Miss Haines by the wrist he led her to his own tent. Except for the veil she was still naked when David sat her on the bed.

  ‘Here,’ he said quietly as he fiddled with the veil, ‘let me take this off.’

  ‘No!’ Sarah instantly protested and grabbed his hands. ‘You mustn’t.’

  He took no notice but found the clasp impossible to release.

  ‘Only my master can remove it,’ she added. ‘I belong to him, and it is his wish.’

  ‘When did he last take it off?’

  She looked away from his searching gaze. ‘He has never taken it off. I wear it always.’

  ‘But that’s incredible. How long has it been?’

  ‘Six – maybe seven years,’ she replied. ‘I can’t really remember exactly.’

  He pulled away from her and rested on one elbow.

  ‘Sit up on your knees.’ She did as he ordered. ‘Now hold up your tits for me to bite.’

  Without a thought she held out her breasts, and even when David bent forward as if to bite them she didn’t flinch.

  ‘You would have let me do that, wouldn’t you? You would have let me bite your tits.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Why?’

  She remained on her knees offering her breasts. ‘I belong to my master. Malek has given me to you for one night and I am to obey you as I would him.’

  ‘But why?’ David was confused. ‘Why give up a good job to be a slave and concubine? Why do it?’

  ‘Malek wanted help with his maths. When I first went to his rooms to tutor him he seduced me. He made love to me like no other man. After that I could have no other – only Malek. I pestered him constantly, and when he rejected me I did anything I could to attract his attention. Eventually his degree finished and he was to leave England for Iran. I begged and pleaded with him to take me too, and even said I would do anything he wanted me to do.’

  ‘Even to be his slave?’

  ‘Even that; he has total dominion over my body. I gave him that in return for his protection and attention, no matter how little. Any mathematician will tell you that the difference between zero and one is greater than one in a million. I am content with my one. Even when it means that I must sleep with a man that I have never met and don’t even know. If my master decrees it, then so be it.’

  David’s erection rose further than he thought possible as he lowered Miss Haines onto the bed. It was hard for him to imagine what she looked like behind the visor. He could picture the prim and pristine miss in front of her class. Twenty young men hungry for knowledge of figures and the figure of miss, dreaming of her naked breasts beneath her satin blouse, of stockinged thighs under a knee length skirt.

  She told him of her time in Mashhad with Malek’s brother; the only time doubt had crept into her thoughts. Mashhad had stopped all that. The training to please, the feel of the cane as Malek’s brother taught her to love and obey. Each lash of her bottom brought back the desire for her master and the need to please him. The pain of every whipping, though great, was insignificant compared to the pain of their separation. She would have taken a thousand such punishments if they brought her to Malek sooner. She told him of the humiliation of being kept naked for weeks at a time and being forced to wait hand and foot, not only on Malek’s brother, but on his wives and children. They had a large house on the edge of the desert and she was detailed with keeping it clean. It was also her responsibility to ensure any visitors to the house were entertained. Some of those visitors had taken their entertainment from her several times in one night, and on more than one occasion she had been forced to please more than one visitor at a time.

  David toyed idly between her thighs as she spoke, slipping his fingers in and out of her moist vagina, stopping only to kiss and caress her firm, heavy breasts. Instinctively her legs rose and bent at the knee. He took them in his hands and folded her so that they rested against her shoulders, and then slowly and effortlessly he entered her. His orgasm erupted with a burst of semen that flooded her totally. Neither moved nor spoke until David’s flaccid member flopped from her slick passage. Only then did he lift his weight from her.

  ‘God, I wish I could see you just once,’ he moaned.

  ‘It’s impossible. Only Malek may see me. We have one night. Let’s just enjoy each other.’

  Her hands reached out for him and he accepted their invitation to a night of ecstasy and unconditional giving.

  5.

  It was no wonder the morning arrived too early for David. Pleasant exhaustion still remained when he woke to the sound of a great commotion outside. Sarah lay beside him covered only by a fli
msy sheet of sheerest silk, which he smoothed away from her body with a gentle sweep of his hand. She woke at his touch. He kissed her intimate parts softly, teasing her juices from her one more time, but as he rose to mount her she raised her arm and stopped him. David fell back on his elbows.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

  Sarah began wrapping the cloth around her to make a sari. ‘Malek granted you one night. That is over. I’m sorry.’

  ‘But – but what about last night?’

  ‘I enjoyed it very much, thank you,’ she replied. ‘But one night is all he has allowed.’ She made to leave.

  ‘Wait. I don’t want you to go.’ His mind searched frantically for a reason why she should stay. ‘You know Malek regards you as a second-class wife. Come with me back to England. Start again. You could return to teaching.’

  She hesitated for the tiniest moment. ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated before leaving the tent.

  David dressed slowly, wondering what possible hold a man could have to make a woman like Sarah Haines behave like that; to give up her career, her home, her life. Part of it was love, but part of it was training. Like the training given to the Afghan, and the training Sarah had undergone in Mashhad. That was the answer, he was sure.

  By the time David had dressed the noise outside had all but stopped. He pulled aside the tent flaps and stepped once again into the desert. Straight away a group of men began taking down the tent, while the remainder of the camp was already packed and ready to move.

  Malek appeared with morning greetings and a leather sack containing food.

  ‘You’ve missed breakfast,’ he said. ‘We will be leaving the moment your tent is down.’ He pointed across to David’s motorcycle. ‘I had it brought over for you. It is of no use to me. For these roads you need camels. Still, I wish you luck. Just keep going west.’

  The men finished with the tent and the group began to leave. In the middle of the caravan David caught sight of the Afghan. She was wearing Malek’s facemask, and going off to who knew what. Near the rear was Miss Haines, just one camel in front of the Russian captives who were walking naked and still chained in a line. For several minutes he watched them, until eventually they rounded a bend and disappeared from view. Then he was alone in a vast expanse of searing sand and rock. He had lost the Afghan, Miss Haines had spurned his proposal, and no doubt Malek’s coffers were considerably heavier with his gold.