Erotica The Harem

[Mink]

Hi, I'm Alice Conway. This story begins in the year of our Lord 1952. In early summer I celebrated two milestones at the same time: my graduation from high school and my eighteenth birthday. No way I was going to college: I wanted to get out of my parents' house and earn my keep! And I figured that wouldn't be too hard. Living in the wholesome Midwestern town of Kearney, Nebraska, I felt there were plenty of prospects for someone who was reasonably bright and personable. Maybe I'd have to start as a secretary or something, but I figured I could move up the ladder eventually.

But for the rest of that summer, I wanted to have a little fun. I can't say I was the brightest student in high school, but I did okay—and getting that diploma made me and my parents proud. So they were willing to let me relax a bit before I hit the pavement to look for work.

Well, things didn't turn out quite the way I expected. As I stepped out of a movie theatre (I'd just seen Scarlet Angel) late one night, I felt a little prick in the area of my left elbow. Before I had a chance to turn around and complain to whoever had poked me, everything went black.

The next thing I knew, I was in some strange place I'd never seen. It was a huge room with what looked like a twenty-foot ceiling, with pillars (marble, it seemed) all around and big windows on two walls that allowed a nice view of the outdoors. The general terrain looked pretty dusty—maybe even desert-like. And there were craggy mountains in the distance. This place certainly didn't look like the cornfields of Nebraska! So where was I?

Then I looked down at myself. I was still pretty groggy (I guess I must have been drugged—maybe from a hypodermic jabbed into my elbow), and it took a while to realize that I wasn't dreaming. I was wearing a two-piece outfit—a pair of long, loose-fitting pants and a blouse that exposed my midriff; both of these items seemed to be made of silk, and were kind of pinkish-purple, I guess; they were also practically see-through. Luckily, I was wearing panties and, instead of a brassiere, a tight chemise that held my breasts in place—so tightly, in fact, that I sported some fairly impressive cleavage, thanks to the low neckline of the blouse. My feet were covered with pretty little sandals.

I definitely wasn't in Nebraska, that's for sure!

Only now did I begin to be aware of the presence of other people. It took me a while to figure out that they were all women—I guess there must have been at least twenty of them, maybe more. They were lying or sitting up or squatting on various pieces of furniture—beds, divans (what our Victorian grandmothers called "fainting couches" because their corsets were so tight that they would sometimes faint on them), sofas, chairs, and so on. Some of the girls—they were all pretty young, some as young as me, some a few years older—were chatting together, or playing games (maybe chess or parchesi or backgammon), or reading books, or just sleeping.

I began to have a bad feeling about this.

It was when I tried to get up, groaning with the exertion and feeling pretty dizzy, that I noticed a man—the only male to be seen anywhere—in one corner of the room, near what seemed to be the one door to the place. He was heading in my direction.

This guy was a sight to behold. He was also wearing loose-fitting silk clothes, although of a darker and more masculine sort. But the guy was huge—probably six and a half feet tall, and with incredibly broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms and legs. He was copper-colored in complexion, and entirely bald. This was one guy you didn't want to tangle with! And yet, as he came closer, he didn't look all that menacing; in fact, he had a more or less kindly expression on his face, and his eyes twinkled.

He now loomed above me, as I'd fallen back to the couch I was on, unable to get to my feet. As I looked up at him, he said in a deep, resonant bass voice:

"You have awoken, Miss Alice."

Curiously, his English was flawless, and there was only a faint trace of a foreign accent. In fact, it sounded more like snooty highbrow British English.

"Yeah, I suppose so," I said. "But I'm pretty bushed."

His slight frown made it clear he didn't entirely understand what I meant.

"I'm tired, guy. Get the message?"

"Ah, I see," he said with a broad smile. "No doubt your long trip has fatigued you."

"Long trip?" I said. "Where the hell am I, anyway?"

He ignored my profanity, although I did catch him wince slightly when I said it.

"You are in the harem of the Ahkoond of Swat," he said with dignity.

"The What of What?" I cried. "You mean the Sultan of Swat?" But Babe Ruth had retired ages ago—and, as I now recalled, had been dead about four years.

"No," the guy said, "I mean the Ahkoond of Swat. Are you telling me you are unaware of the kingdom of Swat?"

"Sorry," I said, "I guess my high school geography class didn't get to that."

"We are a small but mighty kingdom close to the northern border of Afghanistan and the newly established nation of Pakistan. The Ahkoond is our absolute ruler. Praise be to his name!" The guy held out both of his hands in a prayerful gesture.

"Yeah, fine," I said. "What am I doing here, anyway?" Then the significance of a single word of what the guy had said before crashed into my brain. "Omigod, did you say harem? Are you telling me that I'm a—a white slave?"

I nearly fainted at the thought. You gotta understand, I'd never set foot outside the state of Nebraska—and, more to the point, never shed my clothes (well, not all of them) in the presence of any man, American or otherwise. And yet, it now dawned upon me that, not only had I been kidnapped from my hearth and home, but someone—whether this guy or some other—had stripped me naked, tossed away all my own clothes, and dressed me up in this corny harem outfit. I could only guess what was to come.

"Who are you, anyway?" I said, peering closely at him.

Once again he drew himself up with vast dignity. "I am Akmat Beg, Eunuch of the Harem."

"Eunuch, huh?" I said. I immediately glanced down in the direction of his—well, you know. Even though I didn't have any experience in that area, I knew something of male anatomy—and it sure didn't seem as if this guy was lacking in certain essential parts.

"I thought," I went on, "a eunuch was, um—how shall I put this delicately?—deficient, if you catch my meaning."

He gave me a surprisingly genial smile. "You seem to have a somewhat antiquated view of what constitutes a eunuch. Perhaps too much reading of the Arabian Nights? Let me assure you that I am fully functional in certain vital functions; it required a very simple and non-intrusive operation to render me incapable of fathering offspring through carnal congress with a female."

"Yeah, okay, I get the message," I said. "So why pick me? I'm no raving beauty."

"On the contrary, Miss Alice," he said gallantly, "your particular concatenation of attributes, both physical and mental, is exactly of the sort that will appeal to the Ahkoond."

"How the hell do you know about my 'concatenation of attributes,' whatever that means?"

Akmat gave me a sly look. "We have spies all over what you call the Western World, specifically Europe and the North American continent. The Ahkoond is—you will pardon the crudity—very partial to white flesh, and he finds that women from the United States, Canada, and England are most to his liking."

"Well, your English is pretty good, I must say."

"I attended Oxford University, Miss Alice."

"Well, bully for you. So what happens now? Do I get to meet this Ahkoond sometime?"

"Indeed you shall. It is our understanding that you are what in the Latin language is called virgo intacta—an 'untouched virgin.'"

"How the hell do you know that?"

"We have ways."

"Well, so what?"

"The Ahkoond finds it particularly pleasing to—how shall we say?—deflower the virgin."

"Is that so?" I said, my anger rising. "Well, I was saving myself for my husband—my American husband!"

He glanced down at me as if I was an unusually thick-witted schoolgirl. "I fear that will not be possible. In fact, I shall now be obliged to undertake a test to make sure you are in fact a virgo intacta."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

In place of a reply, the guy sat down next to me on the couch, grabbed me by the waist, and flipped me over so that I was lying across his lap, like a disobedient girl about to be spanked by her father.

"Hey, put me down, you big lug!" I bellowed.

He paid no attention. Instead, he briskly peeled down that silly pair of pants I was wearing so that they rested at my knees, taking the panties along with them. Now my bare bottom was exposed to him. I'd never felt so humiliated in all my life! But worse was to come.

"You goddamn son-of-a-bitch!" I shrieked. "Don't you dare put your fingers—"

But it was too late. The eunuch licked his fingers—since I wasn't particularly wet—and stuck two of them into my twat. Sure enough, after a few inches he encountered that little obstacle that all men seem to get a kick out of puncturing. He felt it gently, making sure not to puncture it himself (he'd probably have gotten into huge trouble if he'd done that); satisfied that I was "intact," he gently put me back on the couch, on my back.

I was breathing so hard with wounded dignity that I couldn't speak. Akmat got up, wiped his fingers on a handkerchief that he pulled out of a pocket of his pants, and peered down at me.

"You will be called when you are ready," he said.

"When I'm ready?" I said, confused. "Don't you mean when your Ahkoond guy is ready?"

"Miss Gertrude"—he made a gesture with his head, indicating a woman who was now approaching me—"will explain." And with that, he stalked out of the room.

This Gertrude person came over and knelt down beside me. Her eyes were shining: there was no question that she had seen how I'd been treated by the eunuch, and she seemed kind of excited about it. She was quite an attractive little piece—maybe in her early twenties, a little heavier than me, and with plenty of curves all over. Of course, she was wearing pretty much the same dopey outfit I had on, except it was of a different color. And when she spoke, I found she had such a broad Cockney accent that I could hardly understand her at times. I won't attempt to render that accent here; you'll have to use your imagination.

"So you're Gertrude?" I said with a notable lack of enthusiasm.

"Call me Gerty," she said. "So you're really intact?"

"Of course I am!" I said indignantly. "I'm a good girl!"

She smirked out of the side of her mouth. "The Ahkoond is finding it harder and harder to find full-fledged virgins these days. So you're special!"

"Well, la-di-da," I said, not really warming up to this girl. "I was raised in a proper Christian household, I'll have you know!"

"I'm sure you were," she said formulaically. "But you'd be surprised how many women who really and truly are virgins still don't have that little hymen anymore."

"Why the hell wouldn't they?"

"Oh, you know . . . they stick things up themselves—a banana, a zucchini, even a dildo if they can find one—just to see how it feels, and they end up rupturing their own hymens."

"I've never stuck anything up myself," I said with a shudder, still remembering the feel of Akmat's fingers in my coochie.

"So what other experience have you had with men?" she asked.

"None, I tell you!"

"None? None at all? You've never put a cock in your mouth?"

"Yuck! Are you kidding me? I've heard it smells real bad."

"Only if the guy doesn't practice good hygiene."

"Well, pardon me for saying so, but it's not something I care to do."

She raised her eyebrows at me. "You'd better get used to it, duckie! The Ahkoond will expect it of you. And you won't have much to say about it."

"Maybe the cavalry will come and rescue me."

"Not half! So you're telling me you've never touched a cock."

"Never!"

"Have you even seen a cock?"

I was reluctant to admit the truth, but figured there was no harm in telling this girl. "Okay, once."

"Ah, that's better! Maybe you were cuddling with a guy?"

"Something like that."

"And he touched you—down there?"

"No! But I did let him touch me—up here." I grabbed my own boobs to clarify.

"Over your clothes? Or did you bare your tits to him?"

"I let him take my blouse off."

"And bra?"

"And bra."

"And he touched them?"

"Actually, he did more than that. He sucked on the nipples."

"Oooh!" she said, shivering with vicarious delight. "That must have been nice."

"Yeah, it was okay."

"And . . . he pulled out his cock?"

"Yeah."

"And what did you do?"

"Nothing, I tell you! With one hand he kept squeezing my boobs, sometimes licking them, and with the other hand—" I made the appropriate gestures.

"Oh, I see. And he came?"

"Yeah. He made quite a mess."

"Guys do. Can't be helped."

I wanted to get off this subject. "So look, Gerty, what's going to happen to me?"

"That should be pretty obvious," she said with a knowing wink.

"You mean this Ahkoond is going to . . . deflower me."

"That's just for starters, dearie!"

"What do you mean?"

"I told you. He's gonna want you to put his thing in your mouth."

"Okay, fine. Anything else?"

Again she gave me a look as if I were a dunce. "There's another spot where he'll want to put his thing."

Maybe I was a dunce, because it took me a while to figure that one out. After screwing up my face in puzzlement, I let out a huge gasp of horror. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me! Not back there!"

"Yup. He likes that quite a bit—almost better than the normal way."

"God in heaven!"

"Oh, you'll get used to it."

"I don't know if I want to get used to it!"

"Well, as I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, I don't have much choice in the matter. So when is this gonna happen?"

"Well," Gerty said, suddenly all business, "that's why I'm here. You gotta tell me about your monthly cycle."

I was dumbfounded. "I gotta tell you—what?"

"Your cycle," she repeated precisely, and with a bit of annoyance. "You see, the Ahkoond doesn't want to get us knocked up. There are about thirty of us girls here, and he likes to have a different girl in his bed every night of the month. And if a bunch of us were pregnant, that would cut down on the number of girls he could have, wouldn't it? So he goes out of his way to make sure we're ready for sex without awkward consequences. So I gotta figure out when your period is, so that we can schedule you for his bed at the proper time."

I was totally blown away. "You mean . . . this Ahkoond has sex with some girl or other every single night?"

"Pretty much. Sometimes, when he's had a hard day, he'll just cuddle for a while and go to sleep. But I'd estimate that he does us about twenty-five days out of the month."

"Good Lord! But that basically means that any one of us will only be with him once a month at most, doesn't it?"

Gerty looked away, not responding immediately. "Well, not exactly. If he takes a liking to you, he may want you three, four, or five times a month. And there are some other things that might happen."

"What on earth does that mean?"

"Nothing, nothing." She was obviously not willing to talk about this subject.

I didn't have the energy to pursue it. "What's this guy like, anyway?" I said.

"Oh, he's quite a sweetheart, really. He's one of these guys who's not content to, um, know you physically; he actually ends up falling in love with us! He just can't get enough of females!"

"How old is he?"

"Not sure exactly—maybe in his late twenties, early thirties."

I gave her a keen look. "Exactly how, um, big is he?"

He gave me the same look back. "Oh, you mean down there?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he's pretty big. I won't say he's huge, but it's nothing to sneeze at."

"How big?" I pressed.

She held out her two hands about eight inches apart.

"Good Lord!" I cried. "I'll never get that in me!"

"Oh, you'll manage all right, dearie."

"But—the first time—"

"Well, of course that'll hurt, but after that—"

"And what about the back way? Jeez, he'll split me in two!"

She patted my hand in a motherly sort of way. "Now, now, Alice, don't you worry about a thing. He'll be as slow and gentle as he can be—especially with a true virgin like yourself. He doesn't get those very often!"

"Oh, so I'm something special, am I?"

"You bet you are?"

"But what happens afterwards? After he's popped my cherry, will he just discard me like an old shoe?"

"Nonsense! I told you, he generally falls in love with all us girls. That's why he's so keen on us not getting pregnant: that would get in the way of his, um, enjoying us. Anyway, his wives wouldn't like that."

I wasn't sure I'd heard her correctly. "His what? Did you say wives?"

"Yes," Gerty said blandly, "he has three wives. They're the ones who actually produce the royal offspring. If we get pregnant, our offspring just end up in the army or some place like that."

"Pardon my asking, but when does he have the time to beget offspring from these wives of his? We're the ones spending the night with him, right?"

"Oh, he's pretty keen on what he calls afternoon delight. Sometimes even we are asked to participate in that. But mostly it's the wives."

"This guy doesn't seem to have much to do except—"

"Well, it's not exactly the most difficult kingdom to run. I mean, it's about twenty square miles total, so it's not as if he's kept busy night and day with government affairs."

"Just other kinds of affairs," I said, making a feeble joke—but Gerty duly laughed.

"Very funny. But I really do need to know about your cycle."

So I told her. It turned out that I was just about to have my period, so it would be about a week before I'd be ready to be summoned to the royal bed. In the meantime I got used to how things operated in this harem. There actually wasn't much to do, since our only stipulated activity was at night—and even then, that was only for one of us. So we spent the time lounging around the palace grounds, chatting up with the other girls (most of them, as Gerty indicated, were from the English-speaking world, although there were a few from France, Germany, and even Russia), and—eating.

I couldn't complain about the grub, let me tell you. All kinds of exotic stuff—stews, shish kabob, eggs stuffed with some kind of pâté, roast pheasant, and desserts of more kinds than I'd ever seen before, made of honey, rice, chocolate, you name it. But don't get the impression there was an endless array of food available. The Ahkoond didn't want us harem girls to get fat! Even though a few of the girls were a tad on the hefty side, it became clear that the guy liked them slim but curvy. So our intake of food was strictly regulated by that omnipresent eunuch and his underlings.

So, even though I missed my family and friends back in Nebraska, I couldn't say I was being mistreated. But then, about ten days after I'd arrived, the time had finally come when I was to be led into the royal chambers and—well, you know.

*

The call came around 10 p.m., so far as I could estimate. There were no clocks anywhere around, so I couldn't be sure. But about two hours after our evening meal, Akmat loomed over me as I was resting on my divan, crooked a finger to indicate I should get up, and said, "It's time."

I must say a shiver ran through me. And why wouldn't it? A girl gets deflowered only once in her life, and some older girls I'd known back home had said it wasn't all that nice an experience. Aside from the blood and other mess, they told me that some of the guys weren't exactly sympathetic to their plight. I mean, they never felt any pain in the process: to them it was just a little bit of heaven. They would just ram their members right through our maidenheads as if it was some annoying barrier to the fulfillment of their desires—which, I guess, it was. And afterwards, the guys would just lie there self-satisfied, even if the girl was writhing in pain or crying her head off. Not very considerate! Whether any of my girl friends had done it the back way, they never said; but I suspected a few of them had, and they probably liked it that way even less than the normal way.

 

[Mink]

So I wasn't at all certain I was going to like this whole thing. Okay, it's something every girl has to go through. But why the hell did God make it painful for us but not for the male of the species? Pretty bad design, if you ask me.

I was trembling all over as I followed the eunuch to wherever he was leading me. The palace seemed huge and labyrinthine, and I lost all track of where we were going: I'd never be able to find my way back to the harem room without guidance. But that was the least of my worries.

Finally we came to a set of double doors, made of brass (I think) and full of all kinds of ornate carving. Very pretty! There was a guard on either side of the doors, each armed with a mammoth axe or something. Akmat opened one of the doors and wordlessly told me to go in.

I crept in, feeling just a bit like Dorothy entering the wizard's room in The Wizard of Oz—except that I didn't have the Cowardly Lion and other folks as company. The Ahkoond—for I assumed it was him, as he was the only person in the large room—was at a desk, scribbling away at something. The bed in the room was enormous. It was round, quite low to the ground, and surrounded by wooden pillars on which a gauzy canopy was hung. I sure couldn't have had a more impressive place to lose my virginity.

When he heard the door open, the Ahkoond turned around, and I caught sight of his face.

It was, I had to admit, quite a nice face. He was bearded, as I'd expected, but the beard was trimmed pretty close to his cheeks and chin and not scraggly in the manner of some medieval alchemist. It was jet-black, although I thought I detected a few gray hairs here and there. And when he stood up, he proved to be only of modest height—maybe five foot eight (I'm five foot five myself). It was hard to get a look at his figure, since he was wearing a white, loose-fitting robe that went down to his ankles; but he seemed thin, wiry, and muscular around the shoulders, chest, and thighs.

But it was his face that I focused on. It was kindly, genial, and yet tinged with a vague melancholy. Something about its expression squeezed my heart in a strange way. And, to my surprise, the guy had the brightest blue eyes I'd ever seen, even though his overall complexion was a dark brown.

He approached me with a smile, but seemed curiously diffident. Extending both arms toward me, he said, "You must be Miss Alice."

"I must be," I said stupidly.

He came up to me and gave me a warm but gentle hug. It was then that I felt his body, from throat to feet. There was definitely a lot of muscle there, and I suddenly felt like a rabbit in the grasp of a black panther.

He pulled me away from him but held onto my shoulders, just gazing deeply into my eyes. That gaze was so intense that I began to shiver uncontrollably.

His expression became troubled, and he stroked my cheek tenderly.

"You mustn't be upset, sweet raisin of the sun," he said. "I wish you no harm."

That's easy for you to say, I wanted to reply. You're not going to have an internal body part destroyed in a few minutes.

"Let me get a look at you," he went on.

And with that, he pulled up my blouse and chemise over my head at the same time, and then stripped me of my silly pantaloons, actually kneeling down in front of me to remove my sandals with his own hands. In under a minute I was entirely naked.

I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror mounted on a wall—and I have to say, I looked spectacular. My glowing pink skin, sloping shoulders, flat waist (with that cute little mound lower down), strong thighs, tapered calves, and delicate feet were just scrumptious; but of course a man would want to focus on my large, high breasts, my round, firm bottom, and the thin coating of fine black hair over my delta.

Did I mention that I'm a natural blonde? And I like to think my face—with its slender nose, Cupid's-bow lips, and high cheekbones—is pretty nice too. The Ahkoond seemed to think so, as he silently looked me up and down and actually licked his lips as he did so. Then he made me turn around so he could admire my backside.

"You are a treasure, O gem of the West," he said fervently.

"Thanks," I said shortly. "You certainly went to some effort to get me."

He smiled out of one side of his mouth. "My spies told me that you were a particularly succulent morsel of feminine loveliness from your country's heartland. Pure and unspoiled."

"Well, I don't know about that," I said modestly.

His expression suddenly clouded. "You mean you—?"

"No, no, I didn't mean that!" I said hastily. "I'm quite untouched, as far as that goes."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Zothra for that. Let us repair to the bed." (Zothra was the god they worshipped in Swat.)

Okey-doke, I said to myself, trying to get into the spirit of things. As I made myself comfortable on the round bed, he took his own clothes off in about five seconds, just undoing a sash around his middle and letting the two halves of his robe (or whatever it was) fall off his shoulders. Omigod! He really was a tempting specimen of manhood! There was not a hair on his chest, which looked as if it could have been sculpted by some ancient Greek master; and as I directed my gaze toward his groin, I saw that his organ was magically swelling and rising by the second, until it achieved its maximum length of eight inches.

Now I became frightened again, my head filling with horrible thoughts about the torments I was about to undergo. The Ahkoond seemed to realize my apprehension, so he did something I didn't expect. He had me lie on my back and spread my legs. Initially I thought he was just going to plunge into me without so much as a by-your-leave; but in fact, he flung himself down on his knees, wrapped his arms around my raised legs, and buried his face in my muff. I let out a little squeal as I felt for the first time a man's lips and tongue on my crevice, which was already oozing with moisture. He started gently, licking the labia up and down, inside and out, and then focusing on the little nub that was swelling just the way his thing did; he licked and sucked and nuzzled it with all the experience of a man who's had dozens, perhaps hundreds, of ladies in this same position. Meanwhile, his hands had slid down and grabbed my bottom, giving it some good squeezes.

It was pretty obvious what was going to happen. As I stared open-mouthed at him, his head bobbing against my twat, the juices flowed out of me like a little river, and I knew that the culmination couldn't be long delayed. I continued to gawk in amazement at him as my orgasm began to wash over me, starting in my delta and coursing through my body until it created a sort of explosion in my brain, causing me to gasp and cry out in a strangled moan.

This guy was good: he knew that you could extend a woman's climax almost indefinitely by continuing to stroke and lick gently. (I'd tried to do that during my infrequent self-pleasuring sessions, but somehow couldn't quite manage it.) Maybe it was just the novelty and excitement of the whole business: here I was, thousands of miles from home, being serviced by the king of a country I'd never heard of in a palace that could have been snatched from the time of the Crusades. Whatever it was, it seemed to me that my orgasm kept on going and going, minute after minute—until finally I couldn't take it anymore, and I had to shove the guy's head away from my coochie lest I faint right away.

Dizzy and exhausted as I was, I caught a glimpse of the Ahkoond, now standing up, his cock seeming even bigger than before. There was a gentle smile on his face, as of a job well done. But it was clear that it was now my turn to perform.

He slid onto the bed next to me in a kneeling position, bringing his erect cock right up to my face. What else could I do but obediently open my mouth and get as much of it in as I could? That wasn't very much, as it was the first time I'd ever tried this; but I shifted onto my side and grabbed the base of the cock with one hand while licking and nibbling at the huge thing in my mouth as best I could; with the other hand I reached down to tickle his balls, since several girls had told me that kind of drives men wild. He responded with a suppressed grunt of pleasure, so I guessed I was on the right track.

I could have kept on doing this forever—there was a weirdly comforting feeling about having a warm, hard cock buried in your mouth—but he clearly wanted to move on to other things. Gently pulling away from me, he positioned me on my back and gazed down at me, from head to toe, drinking in what I hoped was my inexpressible allure.

Okay, I said to myself, this is the moment of truth.

To any guys out there reading this, here's exactly what happens when a girl gets deflowered. When the Ahkoond got on top of me, I confess I felt a little nervous. I mean, here was this big, strong guy, with a long, thick dick which he was going to stick into my small and "untouched" vagina. At first he just held his cock in his hands and rubbed it up and down between my labia. Sure, I was pretty wet, and the tip of his thing felt kind of nice—but I sensed that, in a moment or two, it might not feel so nice. So then he stuck it in—only an inch or two at first. This wasn't so bad as far as any pain was concerned, but I started getting all weird about what was to happen, and I felt my body shiver all over.

Then that cock encountered the barrier. I could feel it push against it—gently at first. But when that wasn't enough to break through, the Ahkoond pushed harder—a lot harder. The guy was determined to rupture my little hymen at all costs; that's why he'd gone to all this effort to kidnap me from my home in Kearney, Nebraska, and bring me out here to the back of beyond.

Let me just say that, when he finally did ram his way in, the pain was quite a bit more than a pinprick but quite a bit less than a knife-thrust in the belly (not that I've ever had that done to me!). But the destruction of my maidenhead wasn't the whole story; as the cock made its way into that tight channel, I felt stretched in a way that is impossible to describe—and, I suspect, impossible for a guy to understand. There's this strange feeling that the entire guy is forcing his way into your body; you feel filled in a way you've never felt before. What is happening is that the muscles of the vagina are stretching to accommodate this new object that it has never had to make room for—and that, in fact, is more painful (although it's really more of an ache than anything else) than when the hymen bites the dust.

And yet, I have to give the Ahkoond credit: he tried to be as gentle and considerate as possible. He didn't thrust all eight inches of his cock into me at once, proceeding inch by inch until it was (so far as I could tell) about two-thirds of the way in. Then he started pumping back and forth slowly, making sure my vagina gradually got adjusted to the sensation.

But even so, I was in a lot of pain. I unconsciously clenched up, trying (absurdly) to force him out of me—but with him lying on top of me and his cock firmly embedded in me, that just wasn't going to happen. And so I started to cry. I felt like a stupid little girl, but I couldn't help it. I'm no weakling, and I hadn't really cried (from pain) in years and years; but I couldn't help myself.

The funny thing was that my body seemed to react instinctively to his invasion of me. Without thinking, I raised my legs and bent my knees, making the angle of his entry into me a lot better, so that the pain was a bit less. And my arms snaked around his back and shoulders, as I clung to him in a kind of crazy desperation. Meanwhile, he was kissing me all over the face and neck and shoulders, and once he even bent down and sucked one of my nipples. His hands were pretty busy too, stroking my back and thighs and bottom and giving my breasts some good squeezes.

I guess the tightness, wetness, and warmth of my twat was having its effect on him. After about ten minutes his eyes widened and a curious little gurgling sound came out of his throat—and then he shot his load into me. I have to say I couldn't really feel his seed filling me, although I thought I sensed a little more wetness down there than before. It's not really something a woman can feel: if she says she can, she's probably lying.

The guy seemed to be surprised that he'd come so fast—and that actually made me happy and proud. I mean, here's this guy, who's probably had hundreds of women over his lifetime (all apart from his three treasured wives)—but I'd managed to make him come sooner than he'd expected! Chalk one up for me. When he was finished, he kind of collapsed on top of me: I guess he'd still had to work pretty hard and must have been tired. For a while I liked the weight of his body on me; it can really be quite comforting, making you feel safe and protected. But I soon got uncomfortable, so I whispered into his ear:

"Say, guy, could you come out of me now?"

He let out a weary groan, pulled himself out, and rolled off of me onto his back. I gave a quick look at his cock—and, sure enough, it was streaked with blood. My blood! There wasn't all that much, but it was the brightest red I'd ever seen. I was almost scared to look down at my crotch.

The Ahkoond noticed the blood himself, and he pulled a thick rope that hung down from the ceiling next to the bed. It didn't make a sound, but I was pretty sure what it was for.

In a matter of seconds, a girl probably no older than me tiptoed in, carrying a small bowl of what looked to be hot water (I could see the steam rising up from it) and a little hand towel. With a fractured smile she slipped into bed, dipped the towel into the bowl of water, and wiped away the blood from my cleft. I was a bit surprised she did me first, rather than giving attention to the Ahkoond; but maybe he wanted to make sure I wouldn't stain these expensive silk sheets. The water actually felt pretty good, although the whole area was now throbbing painfully. After she'd cleaned me up, she blandly gave the Ahkoond's cock some wipes so that it was clean too. Then she tripped away and closed the door.

Somehow I knew that the Ahkoond wasn't finished with me. After a little while he encouraged me to get on top of him, holding me and stroking me and giving me little kisses. That was really nice—I was beginning to think I could really start liking this sex business! I wondered how many sessions it would take before my poor little pussy wouldn't hurt anymore: I knew that the more a girl did it, the less the pain would be—in fact, she would start to really like it and want it more and more. But that wasn't exactly what the Ahkoond had in mind.

Without giving me much of a say in the matter, he reached over and dipped his fingers into a little jar that lay on a low table next to the bed. Some thick white stuff now coated his fingers, and he then directed those fingers to—my butt! Not just my butt, but the little hole that lay there between the cheeks.

Omigod! He's not really going to—?

I'd vaguely heard of guys doing this—but they only did it to other guys, didn't they? But then I realized that everyone has an anus, so everyone could in theory be on the receiving end of this procedure. Suddenly a weird little episode in my own house flashed through my mind. One morning, as I was having breakfast, my parents came downstairs to the kitchen. My mom seemed pretty angry—and she was rubbing her bottom as if she was in pain down there. When she sat down, she winced—and then glared venomously at my dad, who only grinned sheepishly and looked away. But I could hear him chuckling in glee, as if he'd done something naughty and got away with it.

Could my dad really have done my mom in the butt?

I didn't have any more time to think about that. As soon as he'd coated my orifice inside and out—and the feel of his fingers in that delicate place was in some ways more repulsive than the thought of his cock going in there—he slid me off of himself and got right on top of me. I was lying face down, and his whole body was draped over mine. He actually had a little difficulty finding the right place, but then all of a sudden he slipped in several inches at once, and I let out a huge gasp.

It's surprising how different this feels from the normal way. Let's face it, a cock really isn't supposed to be there, so to that extent it's an "unnatural" act. And believe me, this hole is a whole lot tighter than the other hole—and unless you're used to it, your first instinct is to tighten your sphincter so that nothing can go into it. But it was too late, and he was about halfway in already. He kept pushing and pushing until it felt as if he was all the way in; worse, it was like his cock was forcing its way through my body and would come out of my throat! I know that's crazy, but that's how it felt.

The other thing is that in this position the girl is totally helpless—I mean, totally. You're just lying there, taking this cock into your derrière, and there's literally nothing you can do. Even if the guy is propping himself up on his elbows (as he does when he is in your vagina), you feel as if his entire body is crushing you. Once he was in place, the Ahkoond slipped his arms around me and grabbed my boobs, giving them some good squeezes every so often. His head was nestled in the crook of my neck, and he was giving me little kisses on my cheek and shoulder whenever he could manage.

But it was the pounding of his member into my little hole that I felt most of all. I suddenly felt so overwhelmed by the utter inequality of the sex act—he could go into me, but I couldn't go into him—that I just lay there, passive and almost comatose, waiting for him to finish. But after a while he did something that made me a tad less passive. He slid one of his hands down my body and started playing with my coochie, fingering my labia and clitoris—which, incredibly, were even wetter than before—while continuing to pound my butt. Now he was stimulating all three of my erogenous zones (breasts, pussy, and butt) all at the same time. That was a first!

Well, you could predict what happened. As he exploded in me, I exploded on my own with a thunderous, bone-shaking orgasm. Both his stream of come and my climax seemed to go on forever—and even though I felt something like a stuck pig, I still found the whole experience quite heavenly. Pretty intense, let me tell you!

The Ahkoond, well versed in this procedure, pulled out of me as slowly and gently as he could—but even so, I felt a little twinge when the bulbous tip of his cock came out of me. Aside from that, I just drifted off into a kind of dazed languor. I figured we were pretty much done, unless the Ahkoond could revive for a third round.

But I didn't expect what happened next.

The guy pulled that hanging rope twice—and, after a minute or two, who walked in but the eunuch! With a little shriek I attempted to cover myself with the thin sheet on the bed. The last thing I wanted was for this big ape to see me naked after this intimate session with the Fearless Leader. But he seemed to take little notice of my condition. Instead, he just came right up to the side of the bed, blandly pulled the sheet away from me, and picked me up as if I were a newborn kitten.

It took all my effort not to say, "Get away from me, you creep!" But I figured he was the Ahkoond's right-hand man, and that neither of them would take kindly to such abuse from little old me.

I had assumed that I'd be spending all night with the guy, but it turned out that he didn't get good sleep with someone else in his big round bed. So it was curtains for me. Even so, I felt mighty uncomfortable lying naked in the eunuch's arms as he carted me away—presumably back to the harem room.

 

[Mink]

But no, we made a detour. He took me down a different corridor to what proved to be an enormous bathroom—and I mean that literally. The place was full of large marble bathtubs, one of which was already about two-thirds full of steaming water. The eunuch lowered me into it. I was afraid the water might be too hot, but it was just the right temperature. Oh, man, it felt good!
I thought I might fall asleep here, but the eunuch had other ideas. He got a big sponge, poured some kind of liquid soap on it, and started lathering me up. Heavens to Betsy, I hadn't had someone give me a bath since I was a kid! My embarrassment and mortification were going through the roof—and yet, if I could put those feelings aside, I had to admit that the eunuch was pretty good at his job. He washed me thoroughly but tenderly, paying particular attention to the space between my legs: gotta make sure I'm clean down there, for whenever the Ahkoond might want me back in his bed! Later he flipped me over and made sure my derrière was clean too. At one point he tossed the sponge aside and finished the job with his bare hands. I noticed he was focused a bit more than was strictly necessary on my boobs, pussy, and butt.
Afterwards, he lifted me out of the bathtub and dried me off. Then he snapped his fingers twice, and some assistant (female, thankfully) came in with a new set of clothes—chemise, blouse, pants, and sandals. She led me back to the harem room.
The moment I walked in, all the girls—those who weren't already asleep—stared at me and pointed at me. I guess word had gotten around that I was the newest virgin that the Ahkoond had punctured. But I was too tired to receive any accolades. I just curled up on my divan and went to sleep.
And I have to say, I slept very sweetly.

 

[Mink]

I felt a bit sore the next day, but I expected that. It really did seem as if I was the darling of the harem—"gem of the West," as the Ahkoond called me. That became my unofficial nickname, sometimes used mockingly by other harem girls who seemed jealous of me. In fact, the Ahkoond summoned me to his bed three or four times over the next two weeks. After that, there were worries that I might be "fertile," so it was hands (or cock) off. (Of course, the Ahkoond could have done other things—oral or anal, as the case may be—but evidently he couldn't stay away from a woman's vagina, no matter how much he liked sticking his thing into other places.)

And yet, in between spreading my legs for the Big Guy, other events proved to be more or less diverting.

There was one girl—a Canadian named Myra—who took a shine to me. She was also eighteen and had been there for only a few months. The whole experience was still pretty overwhelming to her, and she sorely missed her family in Vancouver. So we ended up forming a bond, reminiscing about our lives back on the other side of the world.

But things took a peculiar turn when, after dinner one evening, she sidled up to me and lay down next to me on the thick mattress that served as my bed. It was pretty big, easily suitable for two, but I'd never had another girl lie right next to me on it. In fact, Myra didn't just lie next to me. After a bit of idle chatter, she slid over and lay at full length on top of me, with her head between my breasts.

Well, that was okay. Maybe she was feeling particularly lonely or homesick. But when she took both of my breasts in her hands and started squeezing and kissing them, I began feeling a little strange. True, my bubbies were covered by my chemise and blouse, but their outlines—including the nipples, which now began to protrude embarrassingly through the thin cloth—were pretty evident.

"Myra," I said gently, "what are you doing?"

She didn't respond. Instead, she slid up my body, looming over me almost the way the Ahkoond did (except that her long dark hair now hung down and tickled my cheeks), and kissed me full on the mouth.

That kissed lasted a long, long time. At first I was so startled that I didn't know what to do; later, I concluded that it actually felt kind of nice, so I just let it happen. I mean, all the harem girls bathed every day and were usually given perfume to put on, and even our clothes seemed to have a nice scent to them. So this was a pretty nice kiss, all things considered. No way I could mistake it for a man's smooch! And the press of her ample breasts against my own was—I have to say—pretty fabulous.

I started feeling some tingling down between my legs.

You gotta realize, I'd never done anything like this before. Back in Nebraska, one of the worst insults you could direct at a girl was that she was a "lesbo." So I got brainwashed into that kind of attitude—or prejudice. But now that I was actually experiencing it, in a mild way, I thought, You know, there's something to be said for this.

After all, my pussy (and bottom) were still aching from the Ahkoond's repeated invasions of them over the past several days, so I welcomed the thought of getting some enjoyment without that annoying cock poking into everything.

But I felt weird doing it right in front of all the other girls.

"Isn't there somewhere we can go?" I whispered to Myra after she finally pulled her lips away from mine.

"No need," she said, her eyes shining. "We can just do it right here. Other girls do it all the time."

That was news to me! Maybe I'd just been inobservant, but I'd never noticed any such goings-on. But of course it made sense. I mean, we girls really didn't have a lot to do in the course of a day except to beautify ourselves on the off-chance that the Ahkoond would summon one of us for an evening romp—and some girls, once they'd reconciled themselves to being captives, felt that they might as well get as much fun out of the experience as they could.

So I shrugged my shoulders and threw off my clothes. Myra did the same.

She really was a looker! But of course, we all were. The Ahkoond had good taste! There was a kind of natural purity and innocence about Myra that made me think of her as some kind of woodland nymph—a nymph with perfectly round, firm boobs, just the hint of a swelling in her tummy area, and a really nice, curvy bottom. I wanted to eat her up—and that's exactly what I did!

But first, we just got comfortable with each other's bodies, kissing and stroking and nuzzling until we were both fired up. Our skin glowed with excitement, and Myra's eyes got this strange predatory air that frightened me just a bit. But she was the very personification of softness and gentleness—or maybe she just went easy on me, realizing that I was pretty new to the "lesbo" business. After casting her hands all over me, she fastened her fingers to my pussy, opening up my dripping labia with two fingers, inserting two other fingers deep into my vagina, and then using her thumb to stimulate my clitoris up and down. Oh, man, she knew what she was doing!

At this point I just lay back and enjoyed the sensation. And in a couple of minutes, my eyes grew wide as a surprisingly quick orgasm radiated out from my sex all over my body. I let out curious little choking sounds as I stared up at her. She had this look of pride and satisfaction, knowing that she had satisfied me thoroughly and efficiently.

Now it was my turn. I pretty much tried to imitate what she had done—and, of course, since I was pretty familiar with the apparatus (although every woman responds a little differently to this sort of thing), I had a good idea of what to do. Pretty soon she was pounding my mattress with her little fists and shrieking like a banshee, arching her back as her own climax overwhelmed her. She really made a spectacle of herself!

You gotta realize that while all this was happening, the other girls were paying not the slightest attention to us. I guess they were used to this kind of behavior.

I figured we weren't at all done. After resting a little, clinging to each other's body (and getting another feel of our breasts pressed up against each other—which, to me, was the best thing about lesbian sex), we got ready for another round. This was going to be what they call sixty-nine. Myra got on top, burying her head in my muff while almost shoving her own twat into my face. I have to say, the first taste of another woman's pussy was really quite an experience. The smell and taste were surprisingly different from mine. Who knew? I thought all women's twats would have smelled and tasted exactly the same. Live and learn.

Familiar as I was with my own pussy from self-stimulation, I found Myra's to be subtly different in all manner of ways. Her labia were thicker and darker than mine, and her clitoris a bit bigger, especially when it swelled up from my stroking it. And she sent out a virtual river of fluid out of her cleft and right down my throat. And yet, I could barely pay attention to what I was doing, since her own stimulation of me was vigorous almost to the point of violence. She licked and sucked my whole area almost as if she was munching a succulent piece of candy, and she didn't stop until—again unexpectedly—she induced a sudden climax in me that had me screaming. (That scream would have been a lot louder if her own pussy hadn't been mashed against my mouth.)

I think we got a total of four orgasms each—which, I have to say, is something the Ahkoond never managed! Don't get me wrong: he found great pleasure in turning his women on, but the most he ever got out of me in those early months was three climaxes. Understandably, he was just a tad more concerned with his own pleasure than with his partner's.

Once we'd settled down, I asked Myra outright, "Are you a lesbian?"

"I'm bi," she said, her lips still glistening from my juices. It took me a while to figure out that she meant "bisexual." "I mean," she went on, "I really like women—but I'd never say no to a nice cock!"

"The Ahkoond has a pretty nice cock," I said conversationally.

"Yes, he does. But—" She cut herself off abruptly.

"But what?" I said.

"Oh, nothing," she said. And strangely, she was blushing. I could tell this wasn't from the excitement of our lovemaking. She was embarrassed about something. I didn't know what—but I soon found out.

*

I figured that, during the two weeks that I was fertile, I'd just lounge around, eating dates and making sure my coiffure was just right, so that the Ahkoond would welcome me back into his bed once my period was over. But something very different happened.

One day, around mid-afternoon, the eunuch showed up, towering over me as he always did. I gave him an indifferent look. I really didn't dislike him; in fact, aside from being a little rough with us at times, he actually took pretty good care of us. But I didn't exactly welcome his company.

"Yeah, what do you want?" I said. I had to bite my tongue not to add "you big lug."

He gave me a curious smile and said cryptically, "It's my turn."

I had no idea what he was talking about. But I wasn't given a chance to ask him, because he just scooped me up in his arms and carried me out of the room. I saw the other girls gazing after me, their eyes wide with apprehension—although I could swear that some of them (the ones who had expressed a certain amount of envy at how much the Ahkoond liked me) snickered behind their hands.

"Put me down, you oaf!" I bellowed at the top of my voice. "Where the hell are you taking me?"

He said nothing. Pretty soon we came to a door, which he managed to open with one hand while holding me with the other. It was a pretty small room, and practically the only thing it had in it was—a bed.

The enormity of what this guy was going to do suddenly dawned upon me.

"Are you crazy?" I shouted. "When the Ahkoond hears about this, he'll tan your hide."

"Miss Alice," he said in an infuriatingly mild tone, as he dumped me on the bed, "you misunderstand the situation. Now that the Ahkoond has—praise be to Zothra!—deflowered you thoroughly and enjoyed you on several occasions, it is my humble reward to sample you myself. Since it is impossible for me to impregnate you, I can have you during those unfortunate times when your body is off-limits to him. So please stop making a fuss and strip."

I mechanically followed his orders, realizing I had little choice in the matter. With amusing modesty, the eunuch turned his back to me and undressed also. When he turned back around to face me, I let out something close to a shriek.

"Holy mackerel!" I cried.

For you see, his cock was at least two inches larger than the Ahkoond's—in other words, about ten inches long. And pretty thick.

"You may be new, O gem of the West, to the practice of lovemaking," he said in that infuriatingly tranquil voice of his, "but I believe your parts have already been sufficiently stretched to accommodate even my ample girth."

I wasn't at all sure of that, but what could I do about it?

Over the next two hours, Akmat Beg had me every which way—front, back, mouth, you name it. The guy was insatiable. He didn't even require much rest and relaxation between climaxes—if you could call them that. Of course, he let out loud groans like a rampant steer, the way most men do when they come—but nothing came out of his member. I could feel it quivering in me, but that was it. It was all very strange.

The guy did take pity on my anus and went in only about halfway—but even that was a little more than I could comfortably take in, and I pleaded for mercy as he pummeled me. I warned him not to do me any actual physical harm: that would surely not make the Ahkoond happy! But my body seemed, just as he said, to take in his monstrous organ with surprising ease, although not with entire comfort.

By the time the session was over, I was all in. But, considerate to the last, he carried me into the bathing chamber and washed me all over, even dousing me with the Ahkoond's favorite perfume afterwards. That was all very nice, but I spent the rest of the afternoon writhing on my divan, alternately clutching my pussy and my bottom in reminiscent pain.

Myra came over to me at one point. She stroked my head gently, saying, "So he did you?"

"I'll say!" I exclaimed. "I feel as if I've been run over by a semi."

"Yeah, he's pretty—big."

"Does he do all the girls?"

"Yes. I hear he actually doesn't get paid very much, so I guess he figures this is a perk he is owed."

"Well, he makes full use of it." After a pause: "Has he done you?"

"Oh, yes. It usually takes me a couple days to recover."

"I'm surprised I didn't bleed all over him. My period's going to start any day now."

"Apparently that's happened to some girls when he's doing them. He just laughs and laughs and laughs."

"Strange sense of humor he has."

"Yeah. He's replaced a lot of sheets in that bed."

It was only about a week later when the next strange thing occurred.

It was early morning, and we'd barely finished a light breakfast. I heard the thunderous sound of footsteps in the corridor—it seemed as if hundreds of people were out there. What the hell was going on? Was there a revolution or something? As I looked around at the other harem girls, I saw that they too were alarmed—but not because they didn't know what was happening. I sensed they were frightened precisely because they were all too aware of what was to come.

I rushed over to Gerty and burst out: "What's all this? Who are those people?"

"The army," she said laconically.

"The army? What does that mean? Are they rebelling? Is the Ahkoond going to be overthrown?"

"I wish," she said with a bitter smirk. "No, they're coming here."

"Coming here? To do what?"

She looked at me as if I was a dumb third grader. "What do you think?"

"You gotta be kidding me," I said in a hollow voice.

In a matter of seconds, she explained the situation to me. The army of Swat consisted of a grand total of about five thousand men (they were all men—no women). Like the eunuch, they didn't get paid very well, so to ensure their loyalty the Ahkoond allowed them to, um, enjoy the harem every so often. The commotion outside was the first wave of what was to be quite literally an onslaught upon our bodies that would last all day.

Before I knew it, about fifty guys—all naked—rushed in and began picking up or lunging at whichever harem girl was closest to them. Some of the girls ran around shrieking their heads off, but you could tell by their smiles that they were just play-acting, and they allowed themselves to be caught pretty easily. As for me, I just lay their stunned on my divan until some guy stood over me, picked me up, tossed me onto my mattress—and fucked me. There is no more elegant word for the process. This was no lofty lovemaking of the sort that the Ahkoond practiced with some chosen female from the harem; this was raw sex, rough but mercifully short.

Because there were approximately twice as many men as women in the room, the guys quickly paired up and had each of us two at a time. That was a first for me—and I have to say I didn't mind it. The preferred method seemed to be that we would all lie on our sides, with one guy in front and one guy in back. They stuffed their cocks into the appropriate orifice and did their duty. As I say, they were pretty quick, since they'd not had a woman in a while. Ten minutes was about the most that any guy lasted. The eunuch, trying to supervise the chaotic scene, made sure to usher each guy out of the room as soon as he had shot his load.

Over the next nine hours or so—with, mercifully, a little break for lunch—my various holes were pretty much constantly plugged by one, two, or even three men. Triple penetration was not so much to my liking, as that required a bit more work on my part and was quite a bit more tiring. But I managed it well enough, I think.

One time a big brute of a man lifted me up as if I were a feather and impaled me on his huge cock as he remained standing. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn it was at least a foot long. While this was going on, some other guy came up from behind and stuck his thing into my bottom. They managed to come almost at the same time—which elicited coarse laughter on their part.

There was one guy who seemed really young—about my age, I suspect—and quite shy. He cast his eyes all around the room and at the bewildering array of carnal acts going on. His member was quivering with excitement, but he didn't seem to know which girl to poke. I happened to be unoccupied at the moment, so I curled my finger at him and said, "Why not try me?"

He leaped at the chance. The first thing he did was to bury his head between my breasts and give them a lot of attention—licking, sucking, kissing, and even nibbling on the nipples. The guy really had a breast fixation! Then he mounted me—or tried to. As he fumbled with his cock, trying to find the narrow pathway to heaven, it suddenly dawned on me that the guy was actually a virgin. He was almost crying with frustration, being unable to find my crevice, so I took pity on him.

"Let me do it, sweetie," I cooed in his ear.

I took his cock in my hand and guided it into the proper channel. When he slipped in, his face took on this radiant look of ecstasy that I'll never forget. He lasted only five minutes, but his discharge seemed to go on forever. When he pulled out, it leaked out of me in a flood.

"That's quite an emission!" I said, duly impressed.

He gave me a strangely chaste kiss on the mouth and said, "Thank you, lady." And then he walked dreamily away.

The eunuch was kept busy mopping up the girls, whose orifices were overflowing with come. But a quick wipe of our pussies or asses with a wet washcloth seemed to do the trick. It interested me to note how many guys liked rear entry. It occurred to me that the male anus and the female anus aren't all that different; and I cynically reflected that the guys probably did each other during the long weeks when we weren't available to them.

For the thirty girls of the harem ended up doing about half the army that day—about twenty-five hundred men. I suspect that I myself did about eighty or ninety guys during that memorable day. Toward the end, I was just being tossed around from one guy to another like a rag doll. And yet, I was not at all sure I was the most popular girl in the group; some of the heftier lasses seemed to be more to the soldiers' taste.

Once the ruckus was all over, I asked the eunuch how the Ahkoond allowed this mayhem to occur. Wouldn't a lot of us girls get impregnated by these randy soldiers? He assured me that that happened quite rarely; perhaps, he conjectured, all those sperm fighting for supremacy in our vaginas somehow cancelled each other out. Anyway, if a girl did get pregnant, her offspring would be recruited for the army in any event.

*

I stayed in the harem of the Ahkoond of Swat for twelve years.

It quickly became apparent that I was the queen of the harem, and the Ahkoond had me anywhere from three to seven times a month. Other girls stayed on for no more than about five years. When the Ahkoond lost interest in them, he magnanimously returned them to their hometowns—with a fairly substantial monetary subsidy, so that they could get on their feet (and off their backs) in their own societies.

Surprisingly few of them complained about their treatment—for in fact, there was very little to complain about. For many girls, a life of eating fine foods, covering herself with elegant clothing and expensive perfume, and spreading her legs for a powerful but gentle and civilized man is just about the pinnacle of what she can expect out of life.

 

[Mink]

As for me, I seemed to preserve my youth—and the tightness of my vagina and anus—in spite of the frequency with which those orifices were filled. I calculated that, in those dozen years in Swat, the Ahkoond had me about seven hundred times and the eunuch about two hundred times; and I must have serviced the soldiers about twelve thousand times. I won't say I didn't enjoy myself: early on I lost track of how many orgasms I myself had, but I'd have to say it was a little bit more than what I coaxed out of the various men who poked me.
In 1964, the country was overrun by a small but elite force hired on the sly by the C.I.A. in conjunction with the spy agencies of Canada and Great Britain. It seemed that these nations were getting a bit tired of the Ahkoond snatching so many of its females as white slaves, so they decided to overthrow him. The job was easily done, and the Ahkoond ended up in some dank prison, alone and without any place to put his well-used member.
As for me, I came home to Nebraska a changed woman in a changed time. The conservatism of the 1950s had given way to a new outlook on life, especially among the young. A long-haired group of Brits called the Beatles had just created a sensation, and a year after I came home something called the Pill was invented that liberated us girls to have as much sex as we wanted without worrying about the tedium of unwanted babies. What a time to be alive!
I eventually found a suitable man—well endowed and capable of coming over and over again—and settled down with him. We had several children, and they've had children of their own. I'm now an eighty-five-year-old grandmother, and my life of sexual dalliance is largely behind me. But every now and then I don't mind putting the cock of some young and virile college student between my lips. I may be an octogenarian, but I look a lot younger—and I've never found a guy who didn't want to deposit his seed in my mouth.
It's been a great life! And I can't help having fond memories of my long-ago lover, the Ahkoond of Swat.