Afghan Bound (9 page)

Read Afghan Bound Online

Authors: Henry Morgan

Tags: #chimera, #erotic, #ebook, #historical, #fiction, #domination, #submission, #submissive damsel in distress, #corporal punishment, #spanking, #BDSM, #S&M, #bondage, #discipline, #Slave, #mistress, #war, #Afghanistan, #voluntary, #medical, #pleasure

‘Cooler to do your business now,' explained Mr Ulhaq.

The Wolesley arrived and the two men climbed in the back.

‘Tell me,' said Mr Ulhaq as the car set off. ‘You say you were repulsed by what you saw in building eleven, and yet you still imposed yourself upon the Afghan female. Was it the power you wielded or her vulnerability which aroused you?'

David considered his answer very carefully before admitting he didn't really know. ‘The guards revelled in the prisoners' humiliation, and at first I was disgusted. What bothered me was my change of attitude in such a short space of time. Within a day or so they had me believing that women really were put on this earth simply for our pleasure. I mean, the Afghan was actually desperate for me to enjoy sex with her, and when I caned her in the desert she was really aroused. It was as if we were both fulfilling our true destiny. It was natural.'

Mr Ulhaq tapped the driver on the shoulder and said something in Urdu.

‘I hold similar beliefs, as does my wife. In fact, you will find most Eastern men and women do. It is not good for the sexes to be constantly battling for superiority, especially when in the West your governments are always having to create new laws to protect your women. Why would they have to do this if women were meant to be man's equal? It is a nonsense.'

‘Is that why your wife wears her mask indoors?' asked David.

‘That is why, yes. It is a mask like the one of your Miss Haines. She wears it because she knows I wish it. In return I protect and care for her. You see, there is no friction, no ill feeling. Each to their allotted position. It is the natural way of things.'

Although David liked what he was hearing, he was unconvinced. ‘And what if the woman does not want to be subservient? What then?'

‘Our culture is an ancient one, David. It hasn't been built on the fantasies of a thousand American movies. It has evolved over thousands of years. But I understand what you are saying. Sometimes our younger girls see the tourists, see their wealth, and wonder what having all those things would be like. They have momentarily lost their way, that is all. If such a thing happens we send them off to revision school. That is where we are going now. Wassim is driving us there. When you told me about Malek and the Englishwoman I thought you would like to see it.'

The car pulled up outside the one time home of an English tea merchant, on the opposite side of the port from Mr Ulhaq's house. Wide verandas ran the full length at the front of the property, constructed from ornate ironwork of a similar style to that used at the bank manager's home. Inside little had changed since the days of Merryman and Pearl; supplier of fine beverages to the Empire. The cream of Karachi's businessmen sat on the very furniture brought from England by the tea merchant to adorn his offices and home. Hepplewhite chairs and French sofas were arranged for easy congenial conversation between the like-minded men of the city, some of who were enjoying fine champagnes from heavy cut crystal glasses.

‘The best of both worlds,' David mused. ‘And why not?'

The two went further into the room where David quickly learned that it wasn't only occupied by men. A profusion of svelte females were parading amongst the guests carrying trays of drinks and snacks. Their bodies were by and large unencumbered by clothing, except for leather eye masks, some of which were decorated with metal rings and studs. Several of the girls sported gold pins through their nipples, the metal shining brilliantly against their dusky skin. One or two even had their labia pierced, and occasionally a guest would take the weights that hung there and roll them between their fingers.

‘Beautiful, are they not?' enthused Mr Ulhaq. ‘Each one so eager to please.'

Just then a large well-dressed man appeared in the doorway, calling to Mr Ulhaq. All that David understood was the exchange of names, until Mr Ulhaq introduced him and spoke in English.

‘Have you come to purchase a wife?' asked Ayub. ‘Perhaps Imran's daughter would be suitable. She has finished her training and is sure to be taken soon.'

David turned to Imran Ulhaq. ‘Your daughter is here?'

‘Certainly – why ever not?'

‘But they're naked,' exclaimed David. ‘They're parading naked while these men talk business and look at them!'

‘My, what a prudish man you are,' chuckled Imran in mock disbelief. ‘This house is where I purchased Salim. Now she has presented me with a daughter, what better place to find her a husband than here?' He turned to Ayub. ‘Where is Calsoom?'

‘I shall fetch her immediately,' said Ayub. ‘She is being surveyed by Zulfiqar, the spice merchant.'

Imran returned his attention to David. ‘This is a club where men share the same ideals. Wealthy men too. I have no doubt Calsoom will be well cared for. When she reached the age of fifteen I brought her here to learn the art of obedience. She has been training for two years now. With her skills she shall be able to keep a man happy for many lifetimes. A man who buys from the house of Ayub will not regret it.'

A Pakistani girl with the deepest amber eyes offered drinks from a salver.

David chose a long wine cooler to help combat the heat. ‘Who pays for the training?' he asked with stirring curiosity and excitement.

‘I do, of course,' answered Imran. ‘I pay a monthly premium until Calsoom is ready for sale. Then Ayub takes his commission and I receive the rest. The purchaser has a wife he knows will please and look after him. Calsoom knows that a man willing to pay the price Ayub asks will treat her with respect. And I am rewarded for my investment. There is no loser, David. Everyone is happy.'

As he finished Ayub returned with a girl, and despite the leather eye mask David could see she was of such exquisite beauty that he could not suppress an involuntary gasp of appreciation. With measured strides she walked before Ayub and Zulfiqar the spice merchant, stopping just in front of her father and his new friend. Around her neck was a polished silver choker, upon which no join or clasp could be discerned. Through her nipples she wore silver pins, about an inch and a half long and terminated with silver spheres.

Imran reached between his daughter's legs and jiggled two rings that hung from the lips of her vagina. ‘I insisted on these from the first week she was here,' he proudly announced. ‘They enhance her beauty, do they not?'

David could do little but agree. It was, after all, the truth. By the time Imran had finished showing off his daughter Zulfiqar was getting a little impatient. He had made the first offer for her when Ayub announced the sale, but he only had one hour to confirm his intention or he would have to drop out.

‘Please, Imran,' put in the spice merchant. ‘We have little time. Let us withdraw to the sale room.'

The party, David included, retired to a room dominated by a contraption which reminded him of an exercise centre so adored by the keep fit exponents back home. It was surrounded by desks, behind which sat those who had come to witness the sale and by those who were there to take part in the event.

Ayub took up his position to orchestrate the proceedings, and alongside him was the recorder. His job was to document the qualities evident in the girl up for sale. The chair next to him was reserved for the prospective purchaser, although he was free to get up and examine the girl himself, if he so chose.

Calsoom was placed on a platform raised about a foot off the ground and in a central position. The mask was removed and the examination was started by Zulfiqar's representative.

‘Hair,' he began. ‘Black, full bodied and to her waist.'

The recorder began his log.

‘Skin. Dark, smooth, one minor blemish; a birthmark on her left inner thigh. Nails, clean and healthy.'

The man stepped down and was replaced by an optician, who examined her eyes with an ophthalmoscope, declaring them free from any defect, and then, almost as an afterthought he gave their colour – dark teak.

A dentist replaced him and began an examination of her mouth, from which he informed the recorder that she was without disease or any sign of tooth decay. Each specialist gave his opinion, including a chiropodist and finally a gynaecologist. He had Calsoom lie down on a bench where her feet were placed in leather stirrups that bent and opened her legs. The men of the room gathered around the business end of the bench awaiting his judgement. Carefully the doctor slipped a speculum inside her, then eased open her vagina to enable a thorough and intimate examination. While this was proceeding Calsoom remained calm and emotionless, passively looking at the ceiling until she was pronounced a virgin and told to stand for the physical tests.

To ensure her fitness she was taken to the exercise machine and made to run for several minutes whilst her heart was monitored. She passed with flying colours. Ayub was not surprised; part of his training included quite severe exercise. Maintaining his girls in excellent condition was one of his main priorities.

A few other tests followed, the most interesting for David being the squat lifts which meant Calsoom had to lift weights from a crouching position up to a standing one. When she bent her knees her lips spread wide and the rings dangled down quite a distance. It was a glorious sight for everyone in the room.

When the tests were over Calsoom was refitted with her leather mask, covering her eyes and nose once more.

Imran explained to David that the mask was only removed during a sale. ‘A woman's beauty is not something to give away lightly by showing it to anyone. That is why she is covered; to protect her from the lascivious gaze of men.'

Zulfiqar was duly satisfied and agreed to the price. Calsoom had flown through both the medical and physical examinations, and was to be bought for the sum of four hundred thousand rupees. Ayub signed her documents and exchanged them for the appropriate cheque.

‘Don't you have to do anything?' David asked Imran. ‘Surely as her father you have to agree to it, or sign something?'

‘I signed my contract two years ago when Calsoom first came here. Ayub has the final say regarding any of the girls. Now, if you go through to the main room I shall say goodbye to Calsoom and then join you there.'

David had polished off several glasses of wine by the time Imran returned. It had left him relaxed and anxious to sample the delights of the beautiful girls parading in front of him.

‘How much does it cost to sleep with one of these girls?'

Imran turned with a shocked expression. ‘To have sex with them, you mean?'

‘Of course,' David quipped. ‘Why else would I want to sleep with them?'

‘I'm afraid you have the wrong idea about this establishment, my friend. These girls are being taught to serve gentlemen. You may look at them, you may touch them, but you cannot have sex with them. Each one is a virgin.'

‘But,' stammered David. ‘I thought you said they're taught to please a man in every way. How can they do that without having been fucked?'

Imran laughed. ‘There is more to sexual pleasure than simply sticking your penis up a woman. Here she is taught to relax her man, arouse him, sense his needs and his desires. Of course Ayub shows them how to move and bend their bodies to provide variation for the husband, but penetration is reserved strictly for him. As for things such as oral relief, Ayub allows them to practice on him. He teaches them how to suck on his prick and drink the seed of a man.'

David looked around the room at all the nude girls and shook his head. ‘It's a job I suppose,' he said to himself. ‘Someone has to do it.'

Imran offered his bemused guest some more champagne. ‘I can see you are wanting some relief, David,' he said. ‘Drink up and I will take you to a place where the women are not so well treated. It is a place I sometimes visit after a difficult day at work. I shouldn't really go, it is against my beliefs. But I am a man too, and I have a man's weaknesses.'

The car had built up a little momentum before Wassim pulled up outside the International Club. ‘You will see why it is so called inside,' said Imran.

It cost the equivalent of fifty pounds for entry, and the proceeds were not going on lighting and decoration. A man in a long dirty white khurta brought them a hookah each and sat them at a table near the wall. His departure to fetch the pitcher of lager they had ordered was followed by a hushed warning from Imran. ‘Watch your back in here,' he whispered. ‘The only white skin you are likely to see in here is on a woman.'

David peered through the gloom and haze of countless hookah pipes. There were no other white people, and no women either. Imran nudged his arm and motioned for him to start using the hookah.

‘Don't stand out more than you already do,' he advised.

The dry vapours swirled in David's throat until he felt like he could smoke a kipper with one breath, but he had to admit it was relaxing stuff, and when the man in the khurta returned with the drinks he bolted the first one down in one. The two flavours didn't mix, but the combination was explosive; David's inhibitions all but left him. He was conscious of the need for sleep, but a desire for experience prevented his eyelids from closing, and a further prod by his friend drew his attention to dozens of cages hanging by chains from the ceiling.

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