The Specialist – The Good ol’ days

this story was written based on the ideas of a reader. However the plot and descriptions are mine. it contains extreme violence and cruelty. Please note that the author wishes to describe a fictitious world which has no connection to any place, person or sentiment whatsoever.

If you do not like extreme violence, including murder and mutiliation, don’t read this. If you can take it, hope you enjoy it.
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The Specialist
“Good evening Rashid. I hope you are well.”
The man in the chair looked up with half closed eyes, the tiny torch in the room insufficient to tell his expression. The man circling him however, did not seem to need such information, he had all he wanted. Well almost.
“What do you want ?” asked the man in the chair, getting up menacingly. “How did you get in here?”
“Wouldn’t it be wiser to ask who we are ? Or do you already know ?” the well-dressed man who’d been circling the former, now stopped and asked.
“Yes I know who you are. But what do you want ?”
“Depends on whether we’re satisfied with you. Suffice it to say that we’ve heard a lot of good things about you, and we’re impressed. But before we can trust you, we’d like the whole story.”
“If you know so much already, I’ve nothing more to tell you. If you don’t know, you don’t need to know. Now get the fuck out of here.” He took two quick steps towards the man, before jumping back cursing, rubbing his forearm.
“I see you have a deep mark on your wrist, Mr Rashid. Care to begin with how you got it ?”
“Some bitch bit me.”
“Exactly, now if you don’t want to be treated like a stray dog” he waved his curved blade casually “kindly give the details. And yes, you can have a seat.”
Rashid sat down cursing, surveying the room for more assailants. He quickly noticed two more blocking the doors to the stairs and the balcony. Though hidden by the low light, Rashid’s instincts told him they were armed. Escape was impossible. The man began his story.
“You seem to know quite a lot about me. Iqbal said I could trust you with the whole story, but the way you barged into my room-“
“Cut to the chase Rashid”
“Fine, fine. Where do I begin ? You know I’m not a native, my skin colour says as much. You would also know by now that I’m an illegal immigrant from a damned place filled with nothing but guns and sand. And oh yes, a few dozen tribes always at each other’s throats. Anyway, I belonged to one of them. Let’s call it the Jamalliya tribe.
My dad was a close relative of the headman, so I’d a good chance of becoming one when I came of age. Unfortunately, the other families feared just that, and they removed him soon after I was born. My mother gave me to a relative who’s husband and son had been killed during a recent raid. I never saw my mother again. My new family consisted of two girls and a fat mother, who grew steadily fatter as the girls grew curves and I developed muscle. But in these waste lands there’s little time to enjoy family life, and men and women are generally expected to live apart and do their own work. If you excel in your work, you get a position on the tribal council, otherwise you’re mocked and (if you have a beautiful wife/daughter) killed and your family taken away.
There’s little to distinguish oneself in in those arid lands beyond warfare if you’re a man, and producing children, if you’re a woman. I had potential in the former, having learnt to ride a horse by the time I was ten, and could shoot from the saddle by 16. I also had a cruel streak, they used to say. When we raided the villages of the enemy tribe (and once a foreigners’ oil company office), the men used to first kill all adult males, then take the women. By women I mean any pussy that was ten years and above. We were left with the rest. Among them were the old women and the children. I developed a habit of plunging my sword into the bellies of those old men and women, hearing them scream in their cracked voices before spasming and going limp. Sometimes I’d carry the heads of my kills back to the village, where they’d be placed beside those of the men and women killed during the raid.
Now you’d say, what glory is there in killing old women ? None, it’s just something I did, and still do sometimes. But a man needs real glory if he’s to find a position of power in the tribe. All the more so in my case since there were those who were determined to prevent me getting the headship. So I formed my own group of raiders, composed of men of my age. With them I used to raid the villages without support, sometimes being forced to withdraw when things got too hot. At other times however, when we succeeded in entering a poorly defended village who’s women had not fled or killed themselves, we had some fun.
First we would go from house to house, searching for any remaining men. Unlike some of our tribal leaders, I didn’t order all the teenaged boys to be killed. Instead, they were taken back, and based on their talents, made part of our group. The women on the other hand, were grouped by age. The oldest died first, their bodies having nothing to offer in return for sparing their lives. I followed the usual methods of stabbing them in the belly, or sometimes in their sagging dried up tits, watching them implode in a bloody mess as their eyes rolled in their skulls, and more often than not, golden showers erupted from between their legs.
The second group consisted of women between 30 and fifty, who were perhaps too old to be bred, but young enough to be raped. They were tied by their hands to the poles, their asses either resting on the ground or raised in the air. Their legs were then stretched till they touched those of the next woman; these were then tied, forming a long line of bound women with exposed pussies. Leaving two to three men in charge of the youngest group, the rest of us would unbuckle ourselves and get down to business. Each woman was different to be honest, and most tried to give their best to persuade us to let them live. Some however, glared at us as we violated their most intimate areas. This led to their being stabbed in the eyes before the assault resumed again.
I could tell you about a dozen or so women who stood out for their exceptional tightness and indeed, performance on my cock. Sadly a good majority of them must have been prudes, for they glared at me all along, and barring one 32 year old woman (more about her later), they all were blinded and eventually killed. Indeed if a woman was blinded there was little use in keeping her alive. She was “used up” so to say, almost everyone taking a turn on her to sample her before her end. Once we’d decided who would be spared, we’d kill the rest. Some killed them while fucking, plunging a knife into their lungs and watching them die slowly. Or into their heart itself and ejaculate to the feeling of a dying woman spasming on your cock. Others gutted them after raping them, one even managing to scoop out some of the bloody semen from her gaping cavity.
I preferred to kill them directly, beheading them with one quick stroke of my sword. I guess you haven’t seen a beheading except on film have you? Well it’s something we’d learnt to do right from the time we’d learnt to ride a horse, so to speak. And there’s something unique about the way her heavy head, eyes still pleading with you, comes off, toppling like a big round ball placed atop a thin receptacle. If you were good enough, you could grab the head as it fell, perhaps plunging a knife held in your other hand into the soft neck as well.
Anyway, once the second group had been raped, and a good many killed off, the few who wanted to take souvernirs did so, chopping off limbs, heads (if they’d gutted the woman) and tits as the rest of us surveyed the most crucial of the three groups. This last group consisted of the youngest females, from zero to twentynine. The point was to get the women who could be future breeders, and more importantly wives. You see the recurrent raids meant loss of good females for all tribes. We had to secure females from others if we were to survive at all.
There were women in our tribe who would inspect the huddled females and decide who was fertile who was not. For the moment however, it was the physical attributes such as the curve of the waist, the weight of the breasts (verified by ripping off the burqa) and the wideness of the thighs, which decided who would get whom. Being the leader of the gang, I got the first pick. The ones I picked were usually not more than 20, though I didn’t rape women younger than 18 usually. Nevertheless, I took the best stuff, the ones whose heavy tits hung like ripe melons on their chests, just waiting to be plucked. My choices had thin waists, preferably with long hair that covered their back. And I liked women who were a little feisty.
One such feisty woman was Farhana. I’ve forgotten what her tribe was, we conducted so many raids you see. But she was a real beauty. Have you seen the female slaves brought from Tarmait ? Do you see the white colour of the best of them, with milky breasts that defy gravity ? Do you notice the way they stand, their hips thrust out waiting for a man to breed them ? have you noticed the look of lustful love in their demure eyes ?
Farhana was one of them, standing at a shade 5’5” and weighing hardly 50 kgs. By this time I was 21, about 6’4 and more muscular than any in my gang. My “mother” said I was handsome. It didn’t matter when we raided though. The raid that caught Farhana was a particularly arid one, yielding just four fertile females and an old witch we tied to the back of the donkey cart carrying the women. Someone said it was Farhana’s aunt, which may explain her passionate hatred for me. Hatred made more appealing by her exquisite Oriental face and large eyes.
I’d noticed her standing in the middle of her small hut, defending a short man of about forty. Once I’d dispatched of the coward, I personally grabbed her and dragged her to the middle of the village. This appeared to be a particularly poor village, lacking even a good stables. Since there were so few women, we decided to simply throw them on the ground and have them. I noticed the others noticing Farhana as I threw her on the ground, her burqa lifting to show her thin white legs. Giving a warning glare to the others, I asked them to take their own women and get down to work.
For my part I prevented her from getting up by placing a foot on her abdomen, gently pressing her down. She responded by thrashing about under me, eventually raising her hands to scratch me. I wasn’t amused, and landed quite a few kicks on her thin waist. Pointing my blade at her chest, I forced her to face the fact that her independence, or whatever she’d enjoyed upto that point, was over. She continued to glare at me, but this time I did not blind her. Instead I stared directly into her eyes, boring into them, making my supremacy and power over her frail form patent.
She couldn’t keep up the intensity for long, looking away with a look that said she’d understood what would happen to her if she disobeyed me. Removing my foot, I lowered myself beside her. Words were impossible as the screams of the rest of the women drowned any speech. Looking up, I saw Tarqash lubricating a woman with his sword handle, as the horrified woman looked on, thinking he was about to impale her. He saw me looking , and mouthed the words “Eventually I would. She’s not that good.”
I laughed, and looked down upon my own quarry. She’d lain silently at my feet, but as I grabbed her hijab, she protested again. I didn’t care, ripping off her instrument of modesty in a brutal move that casued some of her hair to tear off as well. I pocketed it as a souvenir. Farhana had beautiful hair, now mixing with the dust as it spread out in luxurious folds around her head. Her lips were full and pink, the way l liked them.
Immobilizing her hands with mine, I lowered myself till her tits touched my chest, her face just inches away from my hungry lips. Pressing down further, I touched my lips with hers. They were like soft petals, parting at my touch to allow me to suck them, as a real lover would. Parting them further, I probed deeper with my tongue, loving the way her mouth tasted. I sought out her tongue, finding the organ as it sought to avoid contact, but it could scarcely escape. Instead it was forced to play with mine as I forced her to look at me. Those beautiful brown eyes were now filled with a plea, a woman’s plea to be treated like a wife. I chuckled at her naivete, seeing the hope turn to ashes in those brown pools. My lips parted hers, and I raised myself.
Farhana was again looking away as I placed my hands on the cones my chest had felt earlier. They were soft and large, like soft bags waiting to be mauled and pinched by my rough callused hands. Grabbing her thin burqa, I began to rip it off. The glare in her eyes returned, but it was immediately replaced by a weak plea “Please not in public. Not like this.” I continued to tear away, shifting myself so I could rip it right down to her thighs. Pushing the soft black material away, I quickly disposed of her thin undergarment, finally revealing her magnificent tits to my hungry gaze.
They stood up like small hills even as she lay flat, making me wonder how much they’d have stood out had she not hidden them under her burqa when I dragged her out. I couldn’t control myself as I grabbed her puffy brown nipples, each a liquorice nub an inch and a half long, pulling them hard. Her voice joined the chorus of screams around us, but I could still make out her musical scream. “Please master, stop it hurts”. Laughing again, I placed my palms on the nips, enjoying the feel of their hard tips. Pressing down till my fingers covered her entire mounds, I began to pull the flesh into my palm, till my fingers were buried in her chest, clamping her meat into my vice like hands.
I stayed like that for a moment, loving the silky flesh against my rough hands. The sight too was magnificent, her fair flesh exposed and abused by my large palms as she began to weep silently. Releasing her tits, I marvelled at the deep red marks made on her tits, one of which was leaking a trickle of blood. Smiling, I pressed down again, this time squeezing with all my might, causing her eyes to widen to their maximum extent, her lips opening wide to complete an expression of utter agony. Someday, I’d thought then, I’d ask an artist to capture that look for me.
But time was running out. The few men who’d not been caught could return at any moment to wreak havoc on my distracted men. Getting up, I wiped the blood from her tits on her torn burqa, before beginning to rip the remainder of that useless garment away. This required the freeing of her feet, and the moment I did so, she kicked out at me. Unfortunately for her, a poorly aimed kick hit me on the nose. Stopping my assault on her dress, I moved higher, till my angry visage was directly above her terrified one. Before she could mumble any excuses, I’d landed to hard slaps on her cheeks, causing one to turn blue. Blood erupted from her lips, which I sucked away before tearing the rest of her burqa off.
Her underskirt was made of a thick material that could not be easily torn. I simply raised it till it was bunched round her waist. This exposed her thrashing but nevertheless lovely legs to my gaze. Grabbing the thin brown ankles, I forcibly pulled her legs apart, causing her to wince and whimper. She made a vain attempt to raise herself from the dusty ground, but one hard punch on her flat tummy ended such ambitions instantly. As she lay down again to cry, I examined her pussy. It was unkempt and bushy, making me wonder if she’d ever had sex. I was also annoyed at not finding a clean pussy. Grabbing a handful of her pubes I ripped them off, causing her to jump on her ass in pain. Another clump came off, then another, till her skin was irritated and bloody, while tears freely ran down the red and blue streaks on her cheeks.
My dick was hard as obsidian by now, straining against my tight riding attire. Pulling it off, I looked down to see her shake her head in disbelief, for before he stood a man with a 10” manhood, and quite thick too. Her eyes followed my dick in disbelief as it made its way towards her tight cunt. When it touched her, she finally spoke up,
“Please, it’ll tear my dry orifice. Please, at least lubricate it.” She realized the implications of her request too late. My dick traced a trail of pecum over her abdomen and tits as I moved higher, till it was dangling over her lips. This time I didn’t even listen to her pathetic requests, the moment her mouth opened for an entreaty my dick went in. As her eyes bulged along with her abused cheeks, I felt a tight moist feeling engulf my dick. Eager for more, I pushed harder, slamming my dick against the back of her head. She was now directly underneath me, our bodies connected by my shaft as it pressed against her skull. In this position, it’d be hard to push it down her throat, that’d have to be for later, For now I began to saw the part that could go in, in and out of her mouth, making it nice and wet for her nether lips.
I don’t think she’d ever taken a dick in her mouth before, for she was soon gagging, trying to shake her head. This had the effect of causing my dick to slap against the insides of her cheeks, which had presumably been damaged by my hard slaps. She winced and gave up the attempt, breathing through her nose as I instructed her. I picked up pace, fucking her tight mouth with greater vigour, but careful not to cum yet. I’m sure she’d have hoped at some point that should I cum, I’d be spent enough not to assault her pussy. Sadly for her, I didn’t cum, instead moving my now moist cock out of her abused lips, and aiming it at her pussy. Her mouth was not yet capable of speaking, and I used this silence to mean she was prepared for her vaginal invasion.
As with every assault I’ve ever made, this too was without preamble, without any hint of tenderness. In one swift stroke I was in, realizing only when I’d broken it than she had been a virgin. Pulling it out, I admired the red streaks on my cock, before burying it fully into her pussy. She had been right about her pussy, it was remarkably tight. This was not surprising given I’d just taken her virginity, and I was determined to make the most out of this stroke of fortune. Still marvelling at the tightness of her hole ,I grabbed the sides of her thighs, and gradually pulled out, only to push back again with greater force.
My lover howled in pain, shaking her head and making incoherent movements with her limbs as she tried in vain to escape from the searing agony that must have been pulsing through her body from her vagina. I now began to fuck her with greater force, pummeling her tummy and tits every time she tried to shift herself. A slight sound told me I’d likely broken one of her ribs, but I didn’t’ care – she existed for my pleasure,and I was getting it. It was as if her body was designed to provide me pleasure directly in proportion to her pain, for as she screwed up her eyes and screamed into the sky, her pussy muscles seemed to squeeze me harder and harder, till she sent me over the edge. Sometimes I kill them when I cum, but this time I kissed her, forcing her abused lips to accept me again, this time with no hope of any tenderness.
Farhana was especially good, and I came for a long time. When I was done, I saw Yaldir, the youngest of my company, staring at me with eyes that clearly envied me. Yaldir was a good lad, having saved my life in a previous sortie when a horseman almost had me from the back. He had been left to guard the entry to the village, and though this was customary for the youngest of the gang, he clearly rued the missed chance. Seeing me looking at him, he turned away in shame and walked off. That’s when I decided that Farhana had one hole left still. I called out to Yaldir.
The lad turned around abruptly, his face clearly showing the punishment a person found spying on his chief (even if he was fucking a captive in the open) could expect. Instead he heard his chief calling upon him to show his manliness to the whore who’d birthed the enemy offspring. For a moment he couldn’t believe what I’d just said, then he timidly came up. Farhana appeared to have thought her ordeal was finally over. Now as she saw a virile young man join her rapist, she began to crawl away, her eyes showing a desperation seen in a deer who was being hunted.
Yaldir wasn’t sure what to do with his boss’ whore, whether to grab and rape her or to wait for me to lead the way. Finally, as she was going past him on her knees, he grabbed her and knocked her down. I walked over casually, surveying his physique with appreciation. Nodding at him to remove his clothes, I pulled the woman towards me, throwing away the remnants of her burqa. Her plump ass was exposed to me, allowing me to examine her ass hole as Yaldir’s 7 inch cock was exposed. I signalled him to start with her mouth as I began to prepare for the invasion of her ass.
Farhana had clearly expected me to act as some kind of referee during this phase of her violation. These hopes would have been rudely shattered when I pressed my dick against her asscrack, before parting her anus with my fingers. Yaldir had already made his way into her oral orifice, her body gently rocking as he fucked her. For a moment I wished I’d used her mouth in this position, but hell, let the kid enjoy himself. I on the other hand aimed directly at her puckered brown hole. The slime from her mouth and pussy and my cock still there to act as lube, I plunged my member into her last virgin hole.
Farhana would have screamed had Yaldir not been taking her mouth. In the event she gagged on his cock, causing him to pull out. This led to her completing her scream, before I signalled him to push his dick back in. On my part, her backdoor, even tighter than her pussy, coupled with the melodic scream emanating from her mouth, caused my cock to harden inside her body. This growth made her ass seem all the more tight, her anal muscles likely tearing as they suffered the first invasion of her short life.
My pleasure, and also that of Yaldir was interrupted by the appearance of Mirwaiz, who was our chief scout. He had just gotten news that I was needed in my village. He too, however, couldn’t stay aloof from the sex scene unfolding before him. I handed him my horse whip, instructing him to whip her across her back, but avoid our cocks or her hands and legs.
The first blow of the horsewhip made her gag and struggle again, but Yaldir knew better than to pull out this time, instead enjoying the extra constriction of her throat. At the same time the pressure of her anal muscles on my cock was unbelievable. Timing my next stroke for the next blow, I was again treated to the exhilarating combination of a woman’s anal muscles squeezing one’s cock desperately as the thick corded whip landed on her thin waist. I pulled out and (Whack!) slammed in again. Whack whack whack. Her white backside was developing red welts, which crisscrossed, blood erupting at the crossings. Whack on her shoulder blades, whack on her lower back, then diagonically across her backside. Yaldir and I had developed a rhythm by now, fucking her like a long pole with our cocks buried at each end. We fucked her harder and harder, our bodies and Mirwaiz’s whip forming an orchestra of which the instrument was Farhana.
I fucked her harder and harder as I approached orgasm, forcing the others to keep in tune, forcing the whore between us to adjust till she could adjust no more. As a whiplash appeared right across her lower back to complement the six already there, I looked up at Yaldir to see him close his eyes in ecstacy, holding Farhana’s head to his groin as he came in her mouth. As he finished up, I realized I too could not hold for long. Taking a smaller whip, I signalled Mirwaiz to stop. Instead I aimed the whip straight across her back and brought it down upon all her other wounds with tremendous force. Her voice rang out across the sands as her ass squeezed down on my cock like a velvet vice. My self-control collapsed, the flood gates opening in her asshole as I whipped her again and again like a useless mule, causing her anal muscles to spasm, milking my cock for all it was worth. Spent, I pulled out of her, allowing her to pass out on the ground.
You may ask what I did thereafter? Well, Farhana was half dead by this time, so we hoisted her up over the edge of a spear, and then lowered her gradually. She briefly gained consciousness as the metal tip ripped through her bowels, spewing blood down the shaft of the spear. Unfortunately for her the angle wasn’t exact, and though we’d negotiated her lower bones, it got wedged among her ribs, preventing her from dying a quick death. I left her there, staring at me with half glazed eyes as her ass leaked cum and her pussy blood.
It was by now time to go back. Some of the other women who’d been used by the raiders were similarly dispatched. The shaft of a spear broke when mounting a particularly fat cow, leaving half of it wedged inside her. Medical knowledge being what it is, we left her like that as she blubbered and convulsed on the bloody ground. While we were fucking, three more women had been caught from a nearby barn. One of them was a very short thin girl, barely 18, with little of tit or ass. Still she fitted in the saddle well, and it fell upon her to lie flat on the horse’s back her pussy accessible to my cock. The other women were either tied and put in the donkey cart or, in case of one who’d bitten a raider, dragged behind the cart.
It was a pleasurable ride back, my cock sawing in and out of her tight orifice as I rode on the horse. It was a special chief’s privilege (not formally of course) to rape a woman on horseback, and as I pumped my load into her defenceless pussy, I felt that I’d finally become capable of becoming a real chief of my tribe. Sadly, my fate was different.
The first signs of the ill wind were received in the very hour I returned from this excellent raid. A few of our prize horses had been stolen by another tribe, and the pursuing party had been killed in combat. Among them was my cousin, and this incensed me no end. Leaving the women to be tended by the attendants as they saw fit, I headed straight for the chiefs’ hut, where worried and anxious faces met me.
“Rashid, do you know what happened ?” asked Qader Jan, the current head of the tribe.
“I heard.”
There were murmurs of annoyance at my abrupt reply, but Qader Jan didn’t seem to mind. Instead he told the group about the horses (and women ) I’d captured during the raid. Most of them listened to the details with unusual interest, the reason for which became clear only when I learnt that the raid by the regular leaders on a different tribe had been a signal failure.

I’m not one to gloat over my victories, rather I’d prefer to head into another battle. This time however, the next battle came from an unexpected quarter. Qaglich Khan, an elder who had a hereditary dislike for my family, stood up “My brethren, it becomes clear that the rash actions of this young man are the reason behind the failure of our raid today. He took our best horses, reduced our numbers, and forced the elders to attack a lesser place.”
I was stunned. The horses belonged to us, captured personally by me and my friends during the previous raids. As for the men, it was an open secret that they wouldn’t have been included anyhow. With a voice choked with anger I pointed this out. His argument was even more ridiculous as the attack on a lesser area had failed. But the elders were by now looking at me with a mix of bitterness and anger, which I found difficult to deflect. My cause was further harmed by the fact that whereas my detractors had a good backing in the council, I had none. The arguments were getting heated-“ “
‘Mr Rashid, there is no need to describe the tribal arguments in detail. You were thrown out shortly prior to the annihilation of your tribe by the Yalitiz tribe. You went to Markaz, a city on the sea. But records tell us there were only three people in the group that arrived. Where did the fourth go ?”
Rashid looked with a sullen expression at the man who’d interrupted him. Swearing under his breath, he said “if you interfere, why don’t you continue the story?”
“You know very well we’re here to hear you speak Rashid. Please continue.”
“Fine. Have it your way, the sooner we’re done the better. So where was I ? Oh yeah. After the decision was taken, I was asked to leave within twenty four hours. All our cattle were taken away in return for the paltry sum of 5000 dirhams. All we were left with were a donkey and my horse. To make matters worse, as I was leaving, that asshole again spoke up
‘And take your slut sister with you. We don’t want her ruining our boys’ manhood.”
I took it as an offhand insult. Cursing the state of affairs, I wondered if I could get the council to reconsider the decision, taken so unfairly and hurriedly. Maybe I would have succeeded, had it not been for that insult turning out to be true.
My home back then was at the edge of a small ridge, a fall from which would not kill you but break your limbs. It was separated from the village proper by a small distance which housed the stables of the tribe. As I checked on my horse to make sure it was in good health should I actually have to evacuate the next day, I was surprised to find the sound of a girl coming from behind them.
Wondering what on earth was happening in my own tribal base, I peered round the edge of the stable, and was stunned to find my older sister with a man. Worse, not only was she stark naked but he was in fact a member of one of our rival tribes, one which had waged a war of vengeance against us not long ago. He must have sneaked into the village, but that didn’t explain why he was with my sister or why she was moaning loudly as he rammed into her wet hole.
Uptil that time I’d known myself as a balanced person, one who could control himself and his anger. That was the first time I lost this self control, and all because of a stupid slut of a sister. Letting out a roar, I had my sword in my hand before either of them were aware of my presence. The man was apparently ejaculating, and remained stuck in her cunt as I swept the sword in an arc an inch from my sister’s terrified face, slicing her lover’s neck into two His head, the expression of pleasure still carved upon it, fell to the ground even as his body continued to twitch from the mixture of ejaculation and death spasms.
When he stopped writhing, I signalled her to push him out. This she did in a daze, her eyes filling up with tears at this violent turn of events. I would have strangled her to death then and there for the act she’d done, but to my misfortune we were discovered at that very moment. Worse, it was the cousin of that old fart, Qaglich Khan.
The scrawny bastard had been watching the proceedings even before I’d arrived, and he now appeared for a brief while from his hiding place behind a rock. I brandished my sword at him, and he ran straight into a tree. Getting up, he ran again till he was out of sight. I knew the elders would be hot upon the scent the moment the kid went and told them.
To make matters worse, she had, in her reckless passion, headed behind the stables leaving her clothes behind a shrub that was in the present circumstances a mile off. Cursing I headed there to retrieve her clothes, but saw a crowd gathered there by the time I returned. The kid had cooked up as story about how the man and I had been jointly fucking her. He had (so he said) killed the enemy but preferred to confer with the elders before doing anything with me.
Pissed as I already was, I held my nerve now, explaining what had actually happened. It unfortunately had very little influence on the minds of the prejudiced minds of the elders. When that stupid fart called Qaglich spoke of how the spirits were unhappy with me and my family, it was the end of any hopes I may have hitherto entertained. Worse, they ordered that I be flogged publicly for not controlling the women of the household, instead encouraging them into immoral acts unbecoming of a great tribe.
You’d understand that the pain was nothing to me, hell, I’d felt much greater pain in combat. It was the humiliation that hurt me most. That old fart’s son wielded the whip, and fifty strokes were what I got, swearing to avenge each one of them on the cause of my shame. There was talk of stoning the whore to death, but I wanted to punish her myself. So my friends were surprised when I asked that she be left alone. The elders agreed on condition that we packed up and left before dawn the next day.
My back burning, I headed back with my gunny sack covered step-sister beside me. I think she was trying to say something, but I was having none of it. The moment we got home, she landed hard on the floor from a backhand slap on her fair cheek. My stepmother came running upto us, asking me what had got the women of the tribe so worked up. I explained in as many words that we were leaving.
She didn’t comprehend it immediately, and it was not until I had shoved her into the separate sleeping room for the females that she began to sob. I was too pissed to think about the future immediately, rather I wanted to punish the whore. But Qaglich’s henchmen were roving around like hawks, causing me to devote my time and attention to the task of packing things. Not that there was much to pack. We aren’t a rich tribe, and ever since my father was removed things have gotten worse – he atleast knew how to trade.
As I tended to the horse and donkeys, getting them ready, my mother and sister packed up, the guilty one simply sat in a corner crying, too stunned by the brutal end of her lover to react. The packing was done by midnight, and we were ready to leave by the time the first rays of the sun were breaking through the rugged hills in the distance. It was cold, but I refused to let the culprit wear anything beyond the gunny bag she’d been given by one of the village girls upon being discovered naked.
The villagers gave us none of the customary greetings given to those departing, rather that Qaglich threw a few stones behind our caravan (my mother had persuaded the chief’s wife to two camels instead of the donkey, we had originally owned four horses and four camels apart from the donkey), as we moved out of the palisade gates into the huge expanse that covers two thirds of our country.
As the palisade wall grew smaller, I turned back to the three women in the back, and was annoyed to find the elder of my step sisters clad in a burqa. My stepmother sensed my anger, and sought to intercede.
‘Please she’s a young girl, give her a chance.”
“Chance. Because of her we’re leaving. Because of her I had to take lashes from that half breed Qaglich’s wimp. And you say I spare her?”
She went quiet. M younger stepsister was weeping silently, hugging the older one. Neither of them said anything. I looked back, the half-baked road was all that lay ahead and behind us. The next stop was a good twenty miles away. I decided this was as good a time as any to punish my whore sister. Stopping my horse, I asked the women to get down.
All three sensed what I was about to do, and they wrapped themselves round the slut. Annoyed, I grabbed the younger girl by her long hair and pulled her down onto the hot sand, where she lay whimpering and writhing in discomfort. The old woman came next, pulled bodily down and thrown away. The slut, whose name was Sahiba, crawled away from my grasp till I grabbed her buttocks and pulled her towards me.
She made one last effort to get away, scratching me till I punched her in the face, knocking half her white teeth down her throat. Blood erupted from her mouth, as she fell to her knees, her hands folded as she begged me with wide eyes. For the first, and last time in my life, I noticed how pretty she was. Having a roundish face like her mother, she had wide brown eyes and hair that could pass of as brown. At 19, she still had freckles, but appeared well developed in the body. Good enough for a rape, you’d say. I’d have agreed, for that’s what I did.
Grabbing her roughly by the hair, I yanked her up. Her hands flew to her abused mane, her mouth, resembling that of a 7 year old child now, making mumbling noises. I held her up before me, looking into the scared eyes, boring into them with all the pent up hatred that the lashes, the expulsion and the gloating face of Qaglich had filled me with. Smack! My hand almost dropped her as the force of my slap on her cheek rocked her thin body. More blood erupted from her face, her eyes now screwed up in pan from the mixture of fear and pain.
As the other two females looked on in terror, I threw her on the ground, landing three hard kicks on the burqa clad figure. She rolled into a fetal position, her face wrinkled by an expression of acute pain. You’d ask me how I could punish my own sister like that. Well I have no doubts I would have punished a thousand of my sisters like that, and worse, if they did anything of the sort. Plus I’d never regarded them as sisters, or my stepmother as my mother. They simply existed so I could do my duty to the tribe while they did the work at home.
Hence I felt no pricks of that thing you call conscience as I watched the female writhe in agony on the hot sand. In fact, I landed another hard on her ribs, causing a cracking sound. She looked at me with an expression of awe and horror, never having expected her own “brother” to be so cruel. At that moment however, I felt gnarled hands on my chest, and looked up to see “mother” beseeching me to let her go. She even suggested that I whip her, but not kill her so. I told her that she was partly responsible as she’d raised a whore like Sahiba, and she should be repenting instead of asking for clemency. She returned to Anima, the younger girl, and both resumed their crying.
The girl had lain on the ground for some time now, and in spite of her pain, must have realized that the sand was as hot as an earthen oven. She began to crawl away, a look of utter desperation on her face. If she’d shown the same desperation while trying to resist that man, she wouldn’t have suffered this fate. But she’d instead willingly allowed him in. She had to suffer.
Upto this point I’d had no particular aim apart from punishing her to the fullest extent possible. It was likely she wouldn’t survive the ordeal, but it wouldn’t be anything new for a whore to die for shaming her family. Unfortunately for her, as she made another attempt to crawl away, the lower part of her flowing garment rode up her ass, exposing her meaty thighs to my gaze. Almost imperceptively I found myself wanting to see more of her body.
Back in the village I would have abstained from any such action, as that may have earned me an expulsion as well. Now however, there was no one for miles around, and she was not the rude youthful girl but a sobbing creature who would anyhow be punished. Might as well make this hard work a little more pleasurable for myself.
She collapsed on the hot ground as she saw me bend down. Did she expect me to grab the hem of her burqa and try to rip it off ? Likely she didn’t, but that’s exactly what I did. Infact, the material of the burqa was comparatively thin, causing it to tear in my hands, leaving her ass exposed to my gaze. Amid renewed howling and curses from the woman that had birthed the whore and her sister, I pulled Sahiba up by her waist.
The hot sand helped again, for it burnt her exposed skin, causing her to willingly allow me to pick her up. Infact, I soon had the girl in my arms, having spared her the torture of the hot sand. Her terrified eyes, now very close to me, appeared torn between escaping me and the terror of returning to the hot sand bed. As she considered the alternatives in that stupid mind of hers, I kissed her roughly, tasting her salty blood in those full pink petals for the first and last time. She resigned herself to the kiss, preferring it to the prospect of being brutally raped on the ground. But I had no intent of sparing her any of her agony. Pulling away, I ripped off the rest of her burqa as she danced on the hot sand, then threw her hard on the ground again.
Her scream wasn’t as melodious as that of Farhana, but it was pleasing amid the dreary desolation of the desert. I kicked the writhing figure on the ground right in between her legs, eliciting another musical howl from my “sister”. Much as she’d have liked to remain in the curled up position she now assumed, the sand would not let her. Unwindng she made a desperate attempt to escape. This only placed her in a temporary doggie style, allowing me to press my sandal down on her still covered back, slamming her against the ground. As her body met the ground again, she screamed, this time begging me to kill her quickly. I simply told her that wasn’t my intention.
I’d spend enough time punishing her, and the sun was getting high over our heads. Soon, she would be roasting on the sand if she lay there: I had to move fast. She was again in a crawling position, almost up on her feet this time. I allowed her to get up, and run a few paces, before grabbing her. She struggled fiercely, perhaps thinking she’d have made it if I’d let her go. As we scuffled, I was surprised to find the younger sister turn up, pulling in vain at my strong arms as they held her slut sister. As I finally began dragging her back, I felt a burning pain in my wrist. The bitch had bitten me!
TO make matters worse, the slut whore, whom I was restraining, used my surprise to break free and run even as her sister remained latched onto my bloody wrist. Smarting under the pain in my wrist, I broke free from the younger girl with a hard punch to her abdomen, before giving chase to my fleeing captive. She did not make it far. For some reason she’d decided that she could make off on my horse. As she learnt to her dismay, the horse was more loyal to me than she had been, and refused to budge. Her clumsy pulling at its reins caused it to land a hard kick on one of her legs, causing her to collapse on the sand. I reached her and landed half a dozen hard kicks on every part of her body, breaking her teeth, ribs and arms. I stopped only when she no longer had the strength to get up from the sand though it was turning her back from a bright red to brown.
Wasting no more time, I kicked her legs apart and freed my member from its confines. It instantly hardened at the prospect of fucking a fresh cunt. Lowering myself onto her, I rammed into her whore hole as she continued to writhe in pain. Like Farhana she could not bear to look into the pure hatred in my eyes, and this time I didn’t force her to. Instead I grabbed her fleshy mounds, smaller than Farhana’s, but bigger than the average cunt you find in those parts. Mauling and pinching them hard, I looked at her face, which was sweaty, bloody and red all over. She seemed to be on the verge of passing out from the pain in her loins and in her back, forcing me to slap her a few times to ensure she felt every moment of her torture.
Meanwhile I’d been ploughing in her pussy for some time. It was tight, warm and had it not been the open desert with its relentless sun, I’d have taken greater pleasure in raping her. Not that I did not enjoy her charms, especially the periodic squeezes on my cock when her already roasting flesh touched more scorching sand, or my hand played with the various parts of her slutty body. Unlike Farhana, she had lubricated easily, which under the circumstances a good thing as it was made fucking her easier.
I picked up speed, my thrusts causing her to rock like a rag doll on the ground, her eyes rolling in her head from the intense pain in her body. On purpose I pressed down on her waist, thereby avoiding contacting the sand myself while forcing her to press down upon it even as my thrusts caused her soft skin to rub against the rough grains. As I approached orgasm, she again appeared to be passing out, and this time I had to grab her nipples, pulling her up by their weight. Any relief this would have given her from the sand was more than made up by the agony in her breasts, for she howled out like a thrashed dog. Her pussy clenched tighter than ever on my cock, asking for her “brother’s” seed. My cock obliged, exploding in her cunt with an intensity which caused the desert and the heat to disappear for a moment as I was lost in pure bliss.
I came for what seemed like an eternity. By the time I was done she had passed out, but had a faint pulse. Not wishing to waste any of our precious water on the whore, I instead pulled her onto the horse like the cunt the day before, signalling to the two sobbing women to follow. They had little choice in the matter, complying with my command like two thrashed donkeys. Satisfied that it was leaving nothing to the desert apart from the shreds of Sahiba’s burqa, I mounted my horse, which neighed in gratefulness. Giving it a small treat for the patience it’d shown, I took the reins. Before ordering it to move however, turned the slut ‘sister’ over, so that her fair tits were replaced by the brownish-red back. Spreading her ass cheeks, I aimed my cock at her rear entrance. She offered no active resistance, still being passed out. Her asshole was surprisingly easy to penetrate, making me wonder if that man had taken her anally as well.
Not bothering about such possibilities, I pushed my hardening cock into her arse. Satisfied that it was indeed inside, I raised her hands and tied them behind my neck. This put her weight upon my neck, but it was the only solution as she wasn’t as short as that other cunt. It had the added attraction of causing an intense pain in her arms when she came out of her unconsciousness. Once everything was ready, I took control of the horse with one hand and my legs, having been trained to fire bows from horseback in this manner. The free hand went to her tit, mauling it as I moved into a trot, resuming the journey across the barren wastes at the head of my “family”.
(to be continued…..)
Written by Pandorius999
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Constructive criticism and suggestions, including how the plot should proceed, are always welcome. Inconsistencies, if any, are regretted.
Thanks for reading.

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