Tessa Valmur - Bought and Sold

'You like the plug or you prefer the real thing?' the youth demanded, laughing as he circled her. Zoe grunted through the gag as the weights dangling from her aching labia were tapped and her swollen sex lips felt a sudden increase of downward pressure. God, they had to take them off... she couldn't take anymore, Zoe thought, certain that she'd faint before long if this torture was sustained.

'Okay then English girl...'

The butt plug was deflated and withdrawn from her aching rectum. Zoe groaned in dismay as two thumbs slipped inside her anus and applied sideways pressure to her now tender muscle. She knew what was going to happen next and was certain that her body couldn't take another battering. She lifted her head weakly, gazing pitifully over her shoulder. The youth flashed a grin of white teeth and Zoe felt her anus being forced wider as a cock head was slowly but relentlessly driven into her.

Please, no... she thought, no more...

The cock eased back almost completely from her exhausted body then with a sharp thrust it was rammed back into her to the hilt. Zoe dragged her arms and legs against the straps that restrained her. She shook her head vigorously and looked up imploringly at the other youth. The assault on her body continued, mercilessly hard and when she thought she would certainly faint under the constant battering from pain and pleasure, her head was lifted by a hand clasping a fistful of her tangled hair and her face slapped until she recovered her senses.

'Come on now English girl stay awake. After my brother, I give you another good fuck!'

Her head was kept held back now, so that the youth could watch her distressed expression. When she closed her eyes, he slapped her cheeks and she was forced to watch as his cock recovered its hardness while the agonising shafting of her tender rectum by the other youth continued relentlessly.

Major Mosafa climbed out of his RangeRover, stretched his legs and wiped the perspiration from his face with his navy blue silk neck scarf. He then poured water from a flask over the silk and retied it loosely around his neck. He gazed down at the punctured tyre and took a long swig from the water bottle. He glanced back down the track the way he'd come. The dust thrown up by his RangeRover still hung in the air. The track stretched into the distance, void of any signs of life. Removing his sunglasses for a moment he ran his damp hand over his face, blinked and peered down the track in the direction he was heading. The horizon blurred into a shimmering heat-haze where the track climbed a ridge and disappeared from view, perhaps a mile or two away. Even though it was late evening now it was still exceedingly hot. He swore quietly then picked up the mobile phone that lay on the front passenger seat. A moment later he heard the smooth, rather bored tones of the Englishman, Sir Rodney.

'Sir Rodney, it is me, Major Mosafa. I have a puncture. I don't think I can be more than about three miles from you. Send the boys in the Mercedes. They can change the tyre for me. It's too hot to be out here working. Just wait till you see this young girl I've got.'

'What girl?'

'The one I told you about, when you called me at the airport.'

'Sorry old chap, but I never called you.'

'Then someone else did who was pretending to be you, Sir Rodney!' Mosafa glanced anxiously around him. 'Tell the lads to get their arses down here fast and to come armed! And keep the tower bolted as soon as they leave!'

Mosafa finished the call and slid the phone into his jacket pocket. He glanced inside the RangeRover.

The young English girl lay stretched along the back seat, her ankles and wrists bound with hemp rope, adhesive tape across her mouth. She was still sleeping from the injection he'd administered. She'd looked as slim and vulnerable as a gazelle he thought, as two of his guards had carried her to his car slung under a pole by the ropes around her wrists and ankles. She was still lying in the same position as they'd left her, naked except for her bra. She had magnificent breasts, the Major thought, staring down at the sleeping girl. High, full and firm, her nipples and areoles were clearly visible under the fine white fabric. He imagined her chained against the wall of his tower as he stroked her breasts, her young body writhing obligingly, arms and legs twisting and struggling as he stroked her, hardening her nipples in preparation for them being clamped. He looked at her sleeping face, her slender features looked calm now but soon her eyes would be wide with distress, her generous mouth would be twisted as she howled and cried, begging him to stop. That was the beauty of working on the girls at the tower. Miles from anywhere there was no need to gag them and their breathless crying was music to his ears. He would have this bitch begging him for mercy soon enough, he smiled to himself, dragging his eyes reluctantly from the girl's prone body.

Looking around the lifeless sand dunes for reassurance that he was alone he yawned and stretched. It was good to be out of that suffocating airport. He glanced back down at the punctured tyre and wondered how the Englishman was enjoying the British agent? He smiled, recalling the look of terror on her face as she had been smothered by the chloroform soaked handkerchief brandished by the Guards Captain. Mosafa had watched through the observation window as the young woman had been subdued. Her slim body had tensed, writhing for a moment before she'd lost consciousness. His cock had pressed, aching with arousal, inside his trousers as he'd watched her being dragged across to the interrogation bench by the two female guards. It hadn't taken long to make her confess to who she really was. The Guards Captain was good at his job, he had to admit. A bit heavy handed perhaps, a bit over zealous, but he got results. Mosafa himself was content to work more slowly, more subtly. He imagined the Guards Captain enjoying the girl after he'd left him with her in the airport interrogation room. Doubtless he would have taken her, as Mosafa had given him permission. He himself had strolled around to his favourite coffee shop, taken some coffee and had a smoke then he had visited a woman he used for massage when he wished to completely relax. The talented Arab girl had diligently massaged every inch of his body with almond scented oil then she had obligingly sucked his cock with her skilled and generous mouth until he'd come. All in all, up until now, the day had been unfolding quite pleasantly.

The sun was now a ball of orange shimmering as it began to dip over the hills on the horizon. As soon as it went down the temperature would drop quickly. Mosafa swung around, a noise making him jump. Deciding it was nothing, perhaps just an animal behind the nearest ridge, he relaxed. Then, in the last rays of the sun, something glinted, catching his eye. Maybe forty metres behind the vehicle he saw that the light was catching a dozen shining small items that littered the track. He picked one up and turned it in his hand. Crude metal, spiked and twisted, each one no larger than a coin, but each one effective enough to bring his RangeRover to an abrupt halt.

Mosafa's left hand dropped to his hip and he slid the catch free on the leather holster of his 9mm automatic. He pulled the pistol out, released the safety catch and drew the barrel casing back so the first bullet in the magazine was loaded into the chamber. Slowly releasing the casing he lightened his hold on the weapon, aware that he was clutching it unnecessarily tightly. Perhaps with the increased rebel activity it would have been prudent for him to have some bodyguards, he thought, chastising himself mildly, now he found himself stranded and alone. Of course he was anxious to keep his tower's location a closely guarded secret. It wouldn't do if everyone got to hear about what he used the place for. Still, maybe the time had come for him to keep some loyal men close by him as guards. The two young lads who served him were to be trusted and they were keen of course, but they were no soldiers.