Taliban Concubine Ch. 03

He tapped my head; he was now offering me his cock.

For the briefest of moments I considered defying him; showing my friends all was not lost; that there was hope for rescue; that we could resist these bastards and maintain a shred of personal dignity.

Who was I trying to fool? I didn't believe any of those things. The only thing defying Sayid would get me is a sound thrashing, or worse.

I eagerly took hold of his offering and sucked it into my mouth. I performed eagerly and with enthusiasm in case he'd noticed my nanosecond of resistance.

Once again, he never did get fully hard, and when he finally managed to climax it was as weak and unimpressive as the day before. I doubted Dmitri's claim of last night that Sayid had given him a good fucking-how was that possible?

I once again kissed his feet and paid tribute to him. I felt only slightly bad that Eddy and Georgie had witnessed my capitulation to The Drug Lord, but after what they had been through, I was sure they understood.

I remained bowed before Sayid, staring at his feet. He said something to Dmitri and, while still on my knees, I was led to where my friends were standing. They both had erections. I wondered if their bodies were still feeling the effects of the green paste.

Dmitri positioned me in front of Georgie's short, fat cock and in a commanding voice he said to me, "SUCK."

If Sayid's game was to complete my humiliation by forcing me to service my friend's cocks, he was mistaken. The three of us were past the point of no return; our natural inhibitions and cultural taboos regarding male-male sex had long been shattered by the sexual demands of the soldiers.

I no longer experienced shame, guilt or embarrassment by holding and caressing a hard penis; and when I opened my lips wide to take his cock into my mouth, I felt lust and desire-not humiliation.

On the contrary, a surge of exhilaration rushed thru my veins as I gripped Georgie's prick, and sucked the glans deep into my mouth. I felt nothing but a powerful, overwhelming urge to pleasure my friends; to give them both the much needed sexual satisfaction I was sure they were craving.

It took less than five-minutes to make Georgie cry-out; for his body to shudder and shake as I forcefully sucked cum out of his balls. I was delighted to swallow five-six mouthfuls of jizz as I listened to his cries of joy. I even held his legs steady when his knees began to buckle.

As Georgie's flaccid penis slipped from my lips, I licked-up cum that had escaped my mouth. Then, without being told, I shuffled on my knees from Georgie to Eddy.

I stared at his long and thick member and felt my balls begin to ache. I found myself intoxicated by the sight of his cock, and the manly aroma emanating from his crotch. My head swooned; I had to take a deep gulp of fresh air to steady myself.

Eddy's cock presented more of a challenge. My jaws had been trained to open wider than normal, but Eddy was actually larger than any of the Taliban soldiers, and when I was finally able to accommodate his entire glans, I felt a glowing pride and deep satisfaction.

Except for the loud slurping and sucking noises I made, there was total silence in the room. I was positive everyone was watching with awe and amazement as I worked on Eddy's big cock.

I became all-to-aware of the growing urgency I experienced from my own cock and balls.

Pre-cum had leaked from my slit when I was sucking Georgie, but now, the front of my harem pants was saturated with it. My cock, straining against the smooth and sleek fabric, sent electric jolts thru-out my body. I began squirming, and lewdly rotating and grinding my hips so my cockhead would press harder-and-harder against the sheer material.

I heard the chuckles of the men watching my shameful performance, but I didn't care. All that mattered was Eddy's cock in my mouth, and rubbing my own dick on the soft and smooth material of the pants.

I marveled at the size of Eddy's balls; my hand was too small to hold them both. I gently massaged them as I sucked. My hand could not encircle his girth as I stroked and squeezed his powerful shaft.

My hips were now thrusting and wildly gyrating; the sensations on my cock shot straight to my brain; nothing mattered except getting Eddy to shoot in my mouth.

I worked in a frenzy of depraved lust; I was obsessed with making him cum. Finally, his huge balls contracted, a guttural, animal-like groan escaped from his gaping mouth, and his big cock swelled, stretching my lips even wider.

Suddenly, the first cannon-shot of cum filled my mouth; I was so caught up in Eddy's excitement I responded with a climax of my own.

My hips and thighs shook and contorted with delicious spasms of ecstasy as cum erupted from my balls; I couldn't help myself; I reached down, grasped my cock and rubbed the sheer material of the pants back-and-forth on my throbbing shaft.

I wanted to cry out, to let the world know I was cumming but I had to concentrate on swallowing Eddy's semen in order not to choke or drown; my lower body jerked and bucked as the delicious feel of the harem pants seemed to coax more semen from my balls than normal.

We must have presented to the Taliban soldiers a spectacle of western decadence; two weak-willed American boys losing control of themselves before the eyes of their captors, but at that moment, neither me nor Eddy gave a damn what the Taliban thought of us.

Our mind-numbing orgasms were a form of victory over them. They could threaten us with violence and death, but they could never strip us of our uniquely American spirit.

I lapped up the last strands of semen from Eddy's cock-slit. His dick shriveled to normal size and I let it slip from between my lips. I heard him gasping for air above me.

I was proud and happy that I could give my friends pleasure. I was able to temporarily erase their memories of all they had been thru, and all that was sure to follow.

Sayid clapped his hands together and shouted something to Zayd and Dmitri. He sounded angry.

The two men lifted my arms until I was standing. I felt Dmitri's hot breath in my ear.

"Sayid not give you permission to climax...you be punished for defying him," whispered my Russian lover, as he choked-back a sob.

I panicked and struggled with the men holding me. I was no match for their strength.

They led me to a corner where two over-head circular rings were dangling from the ceiling. I'd seen them the day before and wondered about their purpose.

My wrists were attached to the rings above my head, and suddenly the rings were raised until I was forced to stand just on my toes. It was a very precarious position, and I soon discovered how helpless I was trying to balance myself on my toes.

I felt someone's hands grasp the lace waistband of my pants and push them down to the floor. In the process, a gentle hand reached between my thighs and lightly squeezed and rubbed my balls; I guessed Dmitri was trying to reassure me everything would be alright.

I figured Zayd would slap my bare ass with the cane; maybe six or seven strokes for the benefit of Georgie and Eddy.

The moment I heard the whooshing noise I knew I was in big trouble: it was most definitely not the cane.

I cried-out in both shock and pain. Zayd was using an actual whip on me. Tears filled my eyes and my body shook and trembled with fear. I knew this was going to be very, very bad.

Dmitri appeared before me; he stroked my face as he stared into my watery eyes.

"Say nothing-you may cry...but say no words...Padrooga, I so very, very sorry-I lied to you—Sayid not give me permission to make love with you—he forbid it-he knows what we did-I so, so sorry-I love you, Padrooga!."

The pain from the whipping was like nothing I'd ever experienced in my young life.

I was able to take four stokes of the whip with only tiny yelps and muted expressions of discomfort. When the leather kissed my flesh for the fifth time I began softly crying. By the time the seventh stroke emblazoned my tender skin, I began sobbing, and after that my tears were flowing down my cheeks non-stop and I cried like a baby.

Sayid shouted and the whipping stopped. My wrists were released and I was able to plant my feet on the floor. My knees buckled but someone held me upright.

I decided as soon as I was able, I would crawl to Sayid on my hands and knees and kiss his feet for as long as necessary. He was my Taliban Master and I would do whatever it took to convince him I would be his obedient American prisoner.

Instead of releasing me, I was led to an apparatus where they tied me face-down, pushed my legs wide apart, and secured them to metal bars.

In my new position, I was acutely aware of being bent-over with my legs so far apart my buttocks were pulled open and I could feel cool air on my exposed anus. My groggy-mind could not comprehend the purpose of this until I heard another WHOOSH fill the air behind me.

I cried-out in surprise as what felt like a hundred thin strands of barbed material came down hard on the back of my thigh. It felt like this new whip had torn open a hundred paper-cuts on the sensitive flesh of my thighs.

The second stroke of the new whip landed precisely next to the first one. I coughed and choked on my sobs as another hundred stinging 'paper-cuts' opened my tender flesh.

Zayd worked first on the back of my left thigh then applied his cruel whip to my right thigh expertly landing the thin, coarse straps just inches from the previous blow; an extremely slow torture.

The final two strokes were the worst. He aimed the strands of the whip between my open buttocks. I screamed and fought against my bonds; I desperately tried to wriggle and move my hips out of harm's way, but my lower body would not move.

The last stroke opened tiny cuts on my perineum and very close to my anus, as well. I blacked-out; the next thing I knew someone was forcing a small open jar below my nose. The foul-smelling aroma from the jar caused my eyes to fly open and I shook the cobwebs from my head.

Suddenly, someone was close to my head; whispering broken English in my ear, it was Zayd.

"Sayid very angry you steal Dmitri from him...you lucky he allow you to live..."

My God! What on earth was he talking about? We had one night of passion—that was it! Sayid is a madman-he must be insane!

Suddenly my bonds were released, I'd never felt such relief. I would gladly grovel and humiliate myself before everyone's eyes, I would make amends with Sayid, and assure him Dmitri was loyal to him—not me, but no, I felt hands roll me over and re-fasten the restraints until I was spread-eagle on my back.

Zayd went to work on the front of my so-far unblemished inner thighs. By the time he was done they were covered with hundreds of tiny cuts, and I was near unconsciousness again. Someone shoved the smelling-salts below my nose until I was fully awake.

The bonds holding my legs apart were unfastened and I sighed a huge breath of relief.

Sayid shouted and suddenly Georgie and Eddy were on either side of me. The restraints had been removed from their arms and they each took hold of one of my legs, forced me to lay further on my back, then stretched my legs upwards and outwards until I thought I'd snap in two. My entire crotch was nakedly exposed and vulnerable. A blinding, terrifying fear shot thru my immobilized body.

A blood curdling scream escaped from deep inside me when the whip opened a hundred stinging cuts on my genitals.

The whip came down again hard on my penis—I screamed one more time. When the whip viciously struck my scrotum I tried to scream but nothing came out. When it struck me again and cut open the flesh of my ball sac I passed-out.

My mind was drifting on a cloud somewhere far away. I could hear birds singing full, throaty-songs of contentment; children were playing; their high-pitched squeals of laughter and joy made me think of my own childhood.

I shifted on the hard mattress but the intense pain from my waist to my knees immediately shocked me into reality.

My eyes snapped open; the room was pitch-black save for a small crack in what appeared to be wooden shutters insufficiently covering a window to the outside world.

The room was small, like a walled-in prison cell. Did they toss me in a medieval dungeon?

I lay still, and yes indeed, I did hear birds singing and children playing.

I tossed and turned but there was no position I could achieve to escape the excruciating, stinging pain. My mouth uttered a constant stream of mewling cries and sobs.

I rolled to the edge of the bed and forced myself to sit-up. My buttocks felt as though a thousand bumble-bees had implanted their stingers in my soft flesh. .

I planted my feet on the floor and tried to stand, but immediately fell backwards on the bed.

Oh my God! The bottoms of my feet had the same paper-cut-like wounds as my thighs.

Sayid was very thorough; he had included the whipping of the bottoms of my feet in his diabolical torture of me.

I couldn't stand, sit or lay in any position without feeling Sayid's wrath.

Tears flowed down my face. I couldn't fathom why Sayid would think I had stolen Dmitri's affections from him.

Yes, it was true I had strong feelings for Dmitri. He was helping me thru my transition from free, human being to Taliban captive. He taught me what I needed to learn in order to survive.

And yes, he also taught me how to give a man pleasure; how to make me an invaluable, pleasure-giving boy to convince my captors to keep me alive.

And perhaps, sometime during our brief, heated time together, our souls merged into one and our affection turned into a passionate love.

So, maybe Sayid was right. He must have sensed something was different with Dmitri.

It had to have been yesterday morning when Dmitri pleasured him. After so many years together, lovers know each other's slightest change of moods. Sayid is more perceptive and sensitive than Dmitri gave him credit. Sayid noticed a change in his concubine and blamed me for it.

Maybe it became obvious to him that Dmitri and I were in love. Maybe I had indeed, stolen Dmitri's affections from Sayid. I would have to rectify the matter as soon as possible with Sayid.

I needed to relieve my bladder and bowels in the worst way. In the thin light from the crack in the shutters, I saw nothing that could serve as a toilet. I braced myself and stood on my sore feet, stinging pain shot from my feet to my head. I concentrated hard on shutting-out the discomfort.

I took careful steps to a darkened corner. There was a faint smell of urine. I squinted in the dim light and saw a hole in the concrete floor. It was round, maybe two-feet in diameter.

When I took hold of my penis and aimed it at the hole, I flinched from the pain and remembered how the whip had cut into my most tender of flesh. I let loose a torrent of piss and heard it splash several feet below the surface of the floor.

Well, I thought, this will be fine for urinating, but what do I do about the other? Do they expect me to sit over the hole?

I heard the creaking of the door and someone enter the room as I relieved myself. Then I heard Zayd's voice.

"You sleep long time...I bring food..."

"Zayd...where's the toilet-I really have to use a toilet!"

He laughed and said, "You at toilet-open legs wide and squat over hole like woman you are now..."

I couldn't protest his insult. He was right. I was now more like a woman than a man. Besides, the gnawing ache in my belly told me there wasn't much time. I squatted over the hole and emptied myself.

"Use pomegranate leaves to clean..." he said.

I hadn't seen them in the near-darkness, but to the left of where I was squatting was a pile of soft leaves. They weren't large leaves; it would require a handful of them to wipe myself.

I never felt so primitive. Squatting over a hole in the ground—crapping into the hole-and wiping myself with leaves. It brought to mind the complexities of human existence before the age of modern conveniences.

"Come to me on knees," he said when I was finished.

I thought it was just another demeaning command to remind me of my status as a prisoner, but as it turned out, it was far less painful walking to him on my knees than my wounded feet.

When I was inches from his standing form, he raised his garment and said, "Suck cock-then you eat!"

Nothing had changed with Zayd.

I had become adept and knowledgeable about the nuances of his erection, and the areas where he derived the most pleasure from my lips and tongue.

Sucking men's cocks had become somewhat of a game. The sooner I was able to coax them into discharging in my mouth, the greater personal satisfaction I experienced for myself.

It took six minutes of sucking, stroking and caressing until Zayd filled my mouth with semen. I swallowed his gruel in triumph.

I remained on my knees while I ate; he sat on the bed in silence watching me.

The moment I finished, he forced my hands behind my back and cuffed them together. He then attached a tight-fitting collar around my neck; I choked and gagged when he pulled it tight, but he did not loosen it.

He then attached a long leash to one of the metal ringlets in the collar. He opened the door, tugged on the leash, and I was forced to follow behind on my knees.

We emerged into a hallway I'd never seen. There was activity on both ends of the hallway. Mostly women, they appeared to be working on one chore or another.

Zayd yanked the leash upwards, forcing me into a position where my head was held high, and my back was straight in perfect posture.

My heart sank when I realized his intention: he was going to parade me down the hallway in front of all the women and show me off to them.

The Taliban are a cruel and cunning people. So soon after inflicting great physical torture, I was going to be subjected to humiliation and psychological torture, as well.

I could feel my self-identity gradually slipping further away. I knew their goal was to destroy my spirit and self-confidence and eliminate all traces of my former personality until I was under their total domination and control.

It was almost too perfect—too scripted. We casually strode by the women and they would turn and point at my small genitals and laugh with scorn and derision. Some of them spit on me.

Even though I knew deep inside this was planned and pre-arranged, it did little to assuage my embarrassment and utter humiliation.

To my shame and horror, their plan was having its desired effect: I found myself wanting nothing more than their acceptance, and I was willing to perform any despicable task, or renounce my morals and beliefs to earn their trust and approval.

To this day, I believe it was that long walk of shame down the hallway that cemented my fate.

I remember thinking: What possible use or worth do I have in this life other than to obey and please my Taliban captors?

I counted five sunrises thru the thin crack in the wooden shutters. The previous four days Zayd had guided me thru the same routine:

I would satisfy his morning lust before being permitted to eat; he would cuff my hands and lead me naked by a leash down the long hallway.

The women's demeanor had changed from ridiculing me to patronizing me. They would stroke my head and face, smile and say the same things every day.

When I asked Zayd what they were saying, he laughed, and said, "They say you pretty boy—that you will make Amir very happy..."

There was a room at the end of the hallway with a tub of hot water where Zayd would bathe me. The sweet smelling soaps and fragrances were rather girly, but I loved the aroma, and the feel of Zayd's hands as he personally washed every inch of my body.

The stinging cuts on my thighs and crotch healed-over in three days; and the purple welts on my buttocks and thighs were fading as well. My skin was becoming soft, and very white from lack of sunshine.