Afghan Bound (7 page)

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.

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 flimsy 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.

The prospect of the journey filled him with awe, but for the first time in ages he felt a great sense of relief. With only himself to think about he was confident of his chances, although one thing was for certain; he wouldn't make it through the mountains with a sidecar attached to the bike. Under the early morning sun he set about detaching the bike from the car. Searching for the tools he was amazed to discover his socks were still there, and still full of gold. So the Arabs must have considered the bike worthless, and hadn't bothered to search it. They had let a fortune slip through their fingers. David smiled; things were turning out rather well.

Once the bike was free David spent the rest of the day travelling in search of civilisation. He did as Malek had told him and headed west for Iran. It was no surprise then that the first village he came across was in North West Pakistan, two hundred miles to the south of his desired destination. The first thing he needed was Pakistan rupees, and the most obvious course to take was to sell the bike. It wasn't difficult, any form of transport in this region raised the owner to the status of movie star. He managed to wrangle seven hundred rupees from the owner of a one-pump garage, and he suspected the man had got himself a bargain. The money meant he could at least buy a bed for the night.

Unfortunately Jalpuri was devoid of hotels. In fact it was devoid of most things, although it did have two pushbike repairers and a cobbler. But an Englishman is not alone for long in such a remote part of the world. Within a few minutes an assortment of children had tried to sell him everything from half a bicycle chain to a broken cricket bat. It brought a wry smile to his face; they probably thought an Englishman wouldn't know what to do with a complete bat.

‘You want room sir?'

The sound of an English voice amidst so much jabbering immediately caught his attention.

‘You want room sir?' she repeated. ‘Good room. Cheap room.'

He looked into her pretty young face and answered instinctively. ‘Yes. Yes I do. Thank you.'

The girl took him by the hand and led him through the throngs of milling children.

‘Ten rupees,' she said, as they neared her rooms. ‘Cheap rooms. Plenty food.'

Seven of them lived in three rooms above the village butchers; Yasmin, the oldest daughter, her three sisters, one brother, and two parents. Yasmin had taught herself English from the radio and any books she could get her hands on; mostly by begging them from tourists. Not that Jalpuri got many visitors.

The entire household fell silent the moment they entered the house. Yasmin spoke to her father and gestured as if to hand him money. This smoothed over any initial reservations, and her mother motioned for David to sit and have some food with them. It was getting quite late and he was glad of the meal, although it was a lot spicier than anything he had tasted before. Afterwards the youngest girls took the dishes away for cleaning and David asked where he could sleep. Yasmin took him to a room at the back of the house, which was usually used by the young ones.

‘They sleep with my parents,' she told him in reply to his questioning look. ‘They sometimes do that anyway.'

‘I don't want to cause any problems,' he protested.

‘You have not,' she answered coolly, then turned and left.

The bed was little more than matting in the corner of the room, but to David it felt like the best divan in the shop. He stashed his gold laden socks inside some clothes and made a pillow for himself. He climbed gratefully into his bed and was asleep in seconds.

Sometime during the night, exactly what time he didn't know, an exploring hand found its way beneath the covers. Although quickly awake, David lay frozen for a while to consider his actions. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the light, focusing gradually on a stooped figure near the bottom of the bed. The hand crept further along his leg, no doubt searching for any valuables it could find. With the benefit of surprise David lunged towards the figure, knocking it backwards with ease. In an instant he was atop the shadow, rolling, fighting, grappling, until suddenly he felt the unmistakable shape of a woman's breast. Small yes, firm certainly, but a breast it definitely was. He seized her wrists and held them firmly above her head, and there in the faint light of a breaking dawn he saw Yasmin, breasts heaving, her body soaked with perspiration and her face a mask of fear and excitement.

‘What the hell are you doing?' he demanded.

In a soft, almost childlike voice, she said in her broken English. ‘I never seen a white man's thing before. I only wanted see yours, to see what it look like.'

With such clear innocence she could only be telling the truth. David was shocked at her candid admission, but smiled warmly and shifted his weight off her lithe frame.

‘How old are you, Yasmin?'

‘I am old enough, sir.'

David put her at about seventeen or eighteen, and very pretty. He should send her back to her room, but…

He leant back against the wall and opened his legs, his prick rapidly rising in concert with his pounding heart.

Yasmin remained motionless, her brown saucer-like eyes fixed to his now swollen penis. She licked her lips, her innocent expression one of undiluted hunger, and then inched nearer until her spellbound face was inches from the smooth and purple glans.

‘It is big,' she whispered.

The compliment added a further inch to its girth, bringing it ever closer to her lips. He wanted to reach out and guide her face down onto him; to feel his cock inside her hot young mouth. There was no need. Her tongue slipped from between her soft lips and flicked at his helmet, tickling and teasing as it did with the men of the village. As it did with the fat butcher downstairs, who gave the family free meat after he had first given his meat to the pretty daughter. As it did with the sandal maker and the manager of the farmers' co-operative. It was a way of life for the pretty girls of the village.

With a knowledge far beyond her years, her head bobbed along the full length of his shaft. Such pleasure was difficult for David to believe. He ran his hand along her thighs, searching for her entrance, seeking out that wet line. He found it unprotected by any knickers, and more slick than hot butter on muffins. He adjusted his position and dipped his head in order to lap at her as she lapped at him. The butter was salted and highly scented. It sent the blood pounding ever harder into his cock. With uncontrollable desire he tore away her nightclothes, exposing her fit brown body. Then he plucked her up and planted her firmly onto his lap, where his erection ran its way into her sex like the expert lunge of a fencer. Yasmin jerked her hips backwards and forwards, urged on by the finger wriggling inside her tight anus. Her small breasts trembled as she moaned throatily. Holding back his orgasm was no mean feat. The moment he felt her vaginal muscles grip he released his venom, sending it deep inside her belly in spasms of intense delight. She responded with great cries of relief and fell exhausted and panting to the floor. In the growing light of the morning he watched his come dribbling down the crack of her exquisite little bottom, the white fluid glowing in contrast to her smooth brown skin.

She was unbelievably fantastic, and David wanted more.

He moved to kneel behind her head, then with a leg on either side of her upturned face he lowered his hips and fed his limp cock into her irresistible mouth. Her bright smile revealed her pleasure at prolonging their lovemaking, and she eagerly licked at her own juice, copiously smeared along his flesh. Life was returning rapidly to his groin when he realised they were not alone. In the shadow of the door stood Yasmin's mother, watching the proceedings and witnessing her daughter wantonly giving her body to him in the most carnal ways possible. How long she'd been standing there David didn't know. It was too late to stop; he was too far gone, his erection increasing with every clever flick of Yasmin's tongue. If she wanted to watch that was up to her; nothing was going to stop him spraying his come down her daughter's throat.

Yasmin's mother however had different ideas. She knew about her daughter's behaviour; knew about the butcher downstairs screwing her for the cost of half a chicken, and about the co-op manager who liked to loosen her up a little with the handle of a hoe before screwing her over the sacks in the grain store. At first she had been shocked, but the extra food was very welcome and Yasmin came to no harm. She seemed to enjoy it even, and no doubt the hope of a few rupees was again in the back of her mind. It was in her mind too; she also wanted the money, and if she had to sit on the Englishman's penis to get it, so be it.

Yasmin seemed less surprised than David when her mother joined them. She had taken her clothes off and presented herself doggy fashion to him, and he was left in no doubt as to what was required. Yasmin, however, beat him to it. She covered his cock with saliva, guided it to the waiting cleft between her mother's legs, and lifted her head to kiss his balls and watch him slip inside.

After his initial exertions David took a long time in coming, much to the pleasure of Yasmin's mother. With her long black hair she was still attractive, even after five children and a life of squalor, and it pleased David that she was enjoying it so much. He felt her vagina clench him several times before he finally discharged into her. His milky jism ran in tiny rivulets along her swollen lips before dripping into Yasmin's grateful mouth below. The older woman shuddered with the afterglow of several orgasms that really required a soothing caress to bring her down gently. Cupping her breasts David eased her backwards and sat her down on her daughter's face. He then stood astride Yasmin to face her mother and present his prick to her mouth for cleaning.

Drained and satiated, David dropped down on his bedding and watched as the two finally tired of pleasing each other. The morning had arrived fully by the time they gathered their clothes and left him alone to snatch what sleep he could.

Chapattis with lime and mango chutney greeted him for breakfast. Despite his initial reservations the efforts of last night insisted he took something. Yasmin brought the food, making no comment about their nocturnal activities; her mother was similarly discreet. If it wasn't for the wonderful memory and his exhausted penis he may have doubted that anything had happened at all.

‘Do any buses come through here?' David asked.

‘Two,' said Yasmin. ‘One to Ouetta and one to Karachi. Ouetta is nearer.'

The thought of Ouetta brought a smile to David's lips; he'd seen quite enough of Ouetta.

‘Why you smile?' she asked. ‘What is funny?'

David shook his head. ‘Nothing. When does the Karachi bus leave?'