The Debt Ch. 02

She heard it ring on the other end. At the same time she heard Bashir cough again, this time closer. He was coming back here.

"Hello?" asked a voice on the other end. She couldn't tell who it was.

"Hello? Hello?" she whispered frantically. She realized that she hadn't locked the door, but she couldn't reach it now, it was too far away.

"Hello, who is this?" she asked urgently.

There was a silence on the other end of the line. She realized that they wouldn't answer that question; she wasn't thinking clearly.

"This is Dhipa." she said quickly in a low voice. "Tell the Doctor he must come get me. At once. I'm in trouble."

"Dhipa?" Bashir called. He sounded like he was right outside her door.

"Please! Tell the Doctor! I'm in danger!"

She hung up the phone just as he opened the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said. "Didn't I tell you to change?"

For a moment Dhipa thought he had seen her hang up the phone, but he apparently hadn't noticed. He went to her closet and quickly sorted through her clothes, pulling things out, looking at them and throwing them on the floor. He pulled something out and threw it at her.

"This." he said. "Wash yourself off and put this on. And hurry or I'll teach you to disobey me! You're not in your British pimp's mansion anymore, cunt. You're back with your own and I'll show you how we treat whores and fornicators here, in case you've forgotten."

Dhipa looked at the garment. It was a blue negligee, no more than panties and a sheer top with no bra. Bashir had bought it for her for her last birthday as one of his jokes. For years he had bought her gifts of clothing of the sleaziest and sexiest kind: short skirts and tight tops, fishnet stockings and garter belts, open-cup bras and crotchless panties, things that even a husband would not buy for his wife. He always pretended that they were jokes, but Dhipa had always known better.

"Well," he said. "Put it on."

He made no move to leave the room. Dhipa glared at him and finally he laughed and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

She quickly stripped out of the shredded dress and removed her shoes and stockings, bra and panties. Shed wrapped herself in her old, worn bathrobe, found her bath things just where she'd left them, and quickly slid into the bathroom.

The shower was weaker than she'd remembered; nothing like the hot, hard spray at the Doctor's, and she wondered how she'd ever managed in the tiny bathroom. She stood in the shower and scrubbed herself, trying to waste as much time as she could, and trying to wash the feel of Bashir's hands off her body. She didn't know if the Doctor would get her message. She didn't know whether he would come for her even if he did. And she wondered is he might have known about this all along. Was that why he was so certain that she'd be back?

She stepped out of the shower and gasped.

The bathroom door was wide open and Bashir stood in the doorway watching her and stroking his crotch. She grabbed a towel and covered herself.

Bashir leered at her.

"Perhaps you're not my sister after all." he said. "Perhaps you're not forbidden. How could we know for sure?"

Suddenly she heard feet on the stairs. Bashir's leer turned to a look of panic.

"Hurry! Hurry!" He hissed, pushing her back into the bathroom. He shut the door and went to greet the guests.

Dhipa ran back into her bedroom and locked the door. She could hear men's voices outside. She recognized her brother Assad's voice and several others she did not recognize.

She was still drying off when Bashir rapped on her door.

"Dhipa? Dhipa dear, are you ready? Our guest is here and he'd like to meet you."

She thought of just staying in her room. What would Bashir do? No doubt he would break down the thin door and drag her out by the hair; that would gain her nothing.

She looked at the blue negligee. She should be paid for all the modeling she did, she thought bitterly. It seems that every man she met wanted her to put on some outfit and then have sex with her. She realized that she had indeed become a true whore. And why did that thought excite her?

She slipped into the thin panties and put on the sheer top. She quickly ran some lipstick over her mouth and shaded her eyes in the exaggerated way she knew Pakistani men liked.

"Dhipa? Dhipa?" Bashir's knocking was gorwing more impatient. More violent.

"All right. Just a minute." she called out.

She had no shoes to wear with this negligee. All she had were the black pumps she'd come in. They would have to do. After all, this wasn't a fashion show. She slipped them on her feet, took a breath, and opened the door.

The men were all waiting in the kitchen, just outside the door. The room was already smoky and she smelled kief and black tobacco. Bashir was leaning in the doorway with his back to her, and around his bulk she could see Assad and two more men she didn't know. They must be Ali's bodyguards. Ali himself sat at the table wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. His fingers were covered with gold rings and jewelry, and heavy gold chains hung around his neck.

"Ah, here she is." Bashir said with forced delight.

He took Dhipa's arm and pulled her into the kitchen, placed her in the center of the room and stepped back. Dhipa stood before all the men's eyes, her breasts and nipples clearly visible beneath the sheer top, the dark cleft of her sex likewise apparent. Her panties might as well have been made of cellophane for all the protection they gave her. Still she stood tall and held her head high, her shoulders back to thrust out her breasts, her back arched to emphasize her tight ass as she stood beneath their hot gaze. Why her pride invariably showed itself when she was put in these degrading situations she did not know. She only knew that she would not show her shame to these men. This was the body that God had given her, and if it filled these men with filthy thoughts that was their problem, not hers.

Ali looked at her and maintained look of bored disinterest, but glancing at his face, Dhipa saw the light of desire in his eyes and the crack of a smile on his thick lips. He made a small circle in the air with two bejeweled fingers and Bashir said, "Turn around for our guest. Let him see you."

Dhipa slowly turned in a full circle on the kitchen floor. All eyes were on her. She could almost feel the heat on her nipples and her ass as she turned. Every man's face was the same, the sleepy, snake like eyes, the open mouths, the heavy breathing. She kept her eyes up but unfocused, though she could see the bulges in the bodyguard's trousers. They were not as big as the bulge in Bashir's.

Ali made her turn again. Obviously he was enjoying himself. He looked over his dark glasses at Dhipa and cocked a finger, beckoning her.

Bashir quickly pushed her towards Ali, and the bodyguards gave a murmur of approval at her rough treatment. She was standing inches away from the young man. He reached up and gently squeezed one breast then the other, testing their resilience. He dropped his hand to her belly and pressed his fingertips into her, feeling the firmness of her flesh.

He grabbed her by the hips and quickly spun her around, squeezed both her buttocks in his hands, then slapped her on the ass loudly. He ran his hands down one leg, then the other and Dhipa grit her teeth to keep from moaning. It felt good. She was getting excited. She could not help it.

Finally Ali stood up. His chair squeaked across the kitchen floor. He stood facing Dhipa looking into her eyes, and what she saw there made her suddenly weak with desire. She couldn't help herself, Whenever she saw a man look at her like that, with raw desire and contempt—almost hatred--in his eyes, it melted her inside and brought a gush of hot blood to her pussy. She knew she was getting wet as she stood there.

Ali held one breast in his hand, feeling its weight. Then with the first two fingers of his other hand he slapped her nipple sharply, just barely touching it. Dhipa gasped with shock. It didn't really hurt; it was more like an electric charge to her body, and she felt her nipple immediately respond, tightening and reaching out towards him.

He repeated the gesture and then felt her nipple. It was as hard as a pebble, the little bud stretching forward as if looking for more punishment. He smiled.

He did the same to her other breast and this time Dhipa cried out. Ali grinned as this nipple too came to attention beneath his gaze.

Ali said something over his shoulder that Dhipa did not hear, and all the men laughed. The lust and the tension of sexual excitement was so thick in the room that she was afraid to breath. Dhipa worked hard to keep her breathing steady, to keep from panting like a bitch in heat. Everyone awaited Ali's next move.

The young man slowly reached down and inserted a finger between Dhipa's legs and she couldn't suppress a moan. She already knew what he would find there, that her pussy was wet and engorged with blood, ready for sex. He dug his fingers into her and wiggled them, and she bit her lip and willed herself to remain silent as she felt his finger work its way beneath the crotch band of her panties and against her naked pussy.

She didn't have to look at him to know that he was now staring at her with a satisfied smirk on his face. She felt the hot blood of embarrassment rush to her face.

"All right." Ali said softly. "Show me the bedroom."

At once Bashir grabbed Dhipa's arm again and propelled her through the doorway to the bedroom down the hall. "This way, sir, please." he said over his shoulder as he dragged her off.

He pushed her into the bedroom and glared at her while Ali entered, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie.

Bashir must have prepared this room, she realized. Unlike the rest of the flat it was clean and orderly, the bed freshly made up with plenty of pillows on it. Flowers stood in two vases on the dresser, and incense burned on the night stand.

Once Ali had entered, Bashir shoved the others out. "Watch the front door." he told Assad, shoving him down the hall. "Let no one in!"

With a final obsequious bow to Ali, he smiled his best smile. "Enjoy yourself, Sir!" he said nervously. He closed the door behind him as he went out.

And then they were alone.

Ali stepped out of his shoes and lowered his pants and shorts to his ankles as casually as if he were undressing for bed. He looked at Dhipa and pointed to the bed. She felt the urge to refuse him, to fight, but it was all happening too fast. She got on the bed.

"Take those things off." he said softly. "Lie back and spread your legs."

The look on his face frightened her. She rolled her panties down her legs and dropped them on the floor. She unhooked the top of the negligee but before she could take it off Ali was on the bed and kneeling between her spread legs. His cock was hard and standing straight out from his body. He was not circumcised and something about his penis made Dhipa think of a dog's, of dogs fucking in the street.

The image stuck in her mind, and suddenly she was filled with rage. She would not do it. With a sound somewhere betweeen a snarl and a scream she closed her legs, rolled to the side and kicked at him, her foot hitting his leg. Ali grabbed for her wrists but she managed to scratch his face and kick him again.

"Fucking whore!" he cried out. "Bitch! Pig! Slut!"

His cry was loud enough that the door flew open and his two bodyguards burst in, followed by Bashir. Bashir had a look of horror on his face.

"Hold her! Hold her!" Ali shouted. The bodyguards quickly grabbed her arms and pulled her away from Ali. They were much too strong for her and they pressed her arms down, forcing her to lie on the bed.

"Hold the cunt!" he said.

They hung on her arms, pinning them to the mattress as she struggled and kicked and tried to bite them, but nothing worked. Ali had her legs apart and she felt his hard cock slide along the wet crease of her pussy as he aimed for her hole.

"No! You motherfucker piece of shit!" she screamed. She was out of her mind now with hatred for all of them.

Ali struck her across the face, then did it again and she stopped struggling and fell back gasping for breath. Just then he raised his hips and dropped down on her, skewering her with his stiff prick.

Dhipa arched her back and went rigid as he entered her. She didn't know whether it was pleasure or pain she felt and she didn't care. She hated him but she knew it was only a matter of time until her body betrayed her and she would begin to fuck him, begin to grind her hips against his in her desperate search for pleasure, proving to them that she was indeed the whore they said she was, and she was determined that that would not happen.

Ali began to pump angrily into her without warm up or preliminaries. He was like a rutting animal with no sense of shame, slamming his cock into her as if to punish her. He snarled and spit at her, clawed at her tits, moaned, bit her as his two bodyguards held her down and watched with savage interest.

Dhipa looked at his face in horror. His face was angry and contorted, red with rage. With each violent thrust he grunted until he sounded like an ape as his hips pommelled against her again and again. He was trying to hurt her, trying to destroy her for her crime of making him want her so much.

Her eyes, wide with alarm at his savagery suddenly rolled back in her head as she yielded to the fierce pleasure his passion engendered deep in her body. She heard herself wailing, felt her own hips jerk up to meet him in masochistic frenzy she couldn't control. The pleasure overwhelmed her.

She turned her head and saw Bashir standing at the foot of the bed, his cock in his hand as he masturbated, his eyes locked on the place where Ali's cock disappeared into her pussy.

"Fuck her!" he chanted, "Fuck the bitch! Fuck her!"

Ali didn't hear him. He heard nothing. His hips rose and fell like a steam hammer, making the bed shake and slamming the cheap headboard against the wall.

"Oh!" he cried out. "Fuck! Whore! Cunt! Shit!"

His mindless words sent Dhipa soaring as she felt certain orgasm begin to uncoil within her. Just a little more, just a little more…

"Oh Fuck!" Ali roared. He pulled his cock from her and laid it on her naked stomach as it began to gush semen onto her flesh.

Dhipa squealed in frustration, watching his passion pour out of him as her pussy sucked at the air in her need. Ali spasmed between her legs and trembled with convulsions as his hot seed poured from his balls, his eyes rolling up in his head in ecstasy. As soon as he stopped coming her rolled off her and lie there panting.

Suddenly there was commotion in the front room. Shouting, heavy footsteps running on the stairs. Angry voices. Assad shouted "Look out!"

Instantly the two bodyguards were up They let go of Dhipa and stood there in a moment of confusion. Then one spoke rapidly to the other and they rushed from the room, their hands going into their coat pockets.

Ali still lay there, his trousers around his ankles, his limp dick lolling on his leg. He appeared unable to move after his orgasm.

Bashir's eyes went wide with alarm. He hadn't yet come but he rapidly stuffed his semi-erect penis back into his pants and grabbed Dhipa.

"Slut!" he hissed at her. "You called your pimp, didn't you? Whore! Get up! Get up!"

Dizzily, Dhipa got to her feet. Bashir pulled her by from the bedroom by her wrist, naked but for the negligee top she still wore. From the front of the flat they heard the sounds of a full-blown scuffle, men shouting and grunting. Glass shattered.

Bashir dragged her to the back door. Through the window he saw a big black Mercedes sedan pull up behind the flat and jerk to a stop. Four men jumped out and headed quickly for the stairs.

He swore. Something heavy fell over in the front room with a loud crash. Bashir whined in fear.

"In here! Quickly! Quickly!" he hissed, shoving Dhipa into one of the back bedrooms and pulling the door shut.

The bedroom had been Bashir's own. Quickly he went to the closet, pushed some clothes back and fumbled at the dark wall as Dhipa stood there dazed and confused. She saw that Bhasir's closet had a false wall, and that behind this wall there was a tiny room, just big enough for one or two people to stand upright in. A secret room. She could see a stack of pornographic magazines on the floor, no doubt Bhasir's. This was his secret room.

He yanked Dhipa into the closet and shoved her into the tiny hiding place, then squeezed himself in as well, and pulled the false wall back in place.

"Don't make a sound!" he whispered as the darkness enveloped them. Dhipa heard a sinister click and felt the point of a knife touch her cheek.

"It's the Doctor's men." Bashir whispered. "If they find me here I'm dead! And I'll make sure you are too!"

Dhipa didn't move. She stood in the dark pressed against Bhasir's bulk. The stack of magazines pressed into her legs.

The fight outside seemed to be over, at least the scuffling and banging had stopped. Now she heard men walking quickly through the flat.

"They're looking for you." Bashir whispered. He pushed the cold point of the knife under her jaw. "Don't make a sound."

Sure enough, it sounded as though men were searching through the flat and she heard voices in the kitchen. One of them belonged to Mickey, the Doctor's chauffeur.

"D'you see her when you came up?" he asked someone. "She might a' gone out the back."

"Naw, there was no one." another voice answered.

"Well you go down and check out back. Slick stay here with me. Find the phone."

Suddenly Bashir made a strange hiccupping noise. It startled Dhipa. He made it again and she realized that he was giggling nervously. In her whole life she had never heard him laugh, and she couldn't really call this a laugh. It was almost like a barely suppressed sob of fear.

"This is all your fault you fucking cunt." he hissed. "You whore!"

His mouth was right against her ear and she felt his breath, hot and moist. He smelled like cheap curry.

She was aware of another feeling too. Bhasir's hard cock was pressing into her naked leg. It made her sick.

She felt his hand at her breast and she twisted away. Bashir recaptured her and pinched her nipple painfully.

"Don't move!" he said. "Don't make a sound or I swear I'll kill you!"

She didn't move. She stood as he continued to caress her breast, the knife at her throat. He pushed his cock into her leg.

"You're not my sister." he said. "I don't have a whore for a sister. There's no reason why I can't fuck you here."

"Shut up!" she whispered back. "You touch me again and I'll scream."

"You scream and I'll rip off your pretty face you dirty cunt! They'll kill me anyhow so what do I care."

His hand was still on her breast. He lowered it, trailing along her body. His fingers found her pussy and dig in. Dhipa choked back a scream and Bhasir's breathing increased as he felt her pussy, still wet from the fucking she'd just had.

"If you weren't my sister I'd make you suck my cock and drink my juice." he said.

"I swear I'll bite it off and spit it out, you piece of shit!"

Bashir again made that same choked giggle.

"I didn't get to finish in there." he said. "I wanted to shoot my scum in your face, bitch. Everyone else does, why shouldn't I?"

Dhipa said nothing. He was still rooting around in her pussy, trying to get a finger into her. The thought of being molested like this by her own elder brother made her want to vomit. But she should have known it would come to this eventually. All his leering at her, his peeking at her when she dressed or showered, the filthy gifts he bought her, the suggestions he made to his sleazy friends about her. All along he'd been working up to this moment. Now the only thing that stopped her was his fear of the sin of incest, for which there could be no forgiveness and which would surely damn him to hell.