Afghan Bound Read online

  Title Page

  AFGHAN BOUND

  by

  HENRY MORGAN

  Publisher Information

  Afghan Bound published by

  Chimera Books Ltd

  www.chimerabooks.co.uk

  Digital edition converted and published by

  Andrews UK Limited 2010

  www.andrewsuk.com

  New Authors Welcome

  Copyright © Henry Morgan

  First printed in 1997. Reprinted in 2001

  The right of Henry Morgan to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Chimera - a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy

  Advisory Note

  This novel is fiction – in real life practice safe sex

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Introduction

  ‘Now then, my little temptress. I want you to perform oral sex on me. Have you ever done it before?’

  She knelt between his feet, a hot blush upon her cheeks. ‘No… never.’

  ‘Never, master,’ he insisted, letting her feel the tawse across her raised bottom. ‘Never, master.’

  She felt a tear rise but forced it away. She wouldn’t let him break her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her crying. ‘Never… master,’ she whispered.

  ‘Good. You may begin.’

  1.

  With the binoculars Justin could easily make out the name of the yacht pulling rhythmically at its anchor in the bay. She was called Scharnhorst. Although her fifty feet of polished woodwork was impressive it didn’t quite match up to the original bearer of the name. Beneath the middle mast were the only visible people on board, two naked females, laying face down on brightly coloured beach towels, oblivious to the intense gaze from the cliff top. White bottoms betrayed the fact that the girls usually sunbathed in at least the lower half of bikinis. They were motionless as if asleep, when something from below decks – probably a call – caught their attention. The two girls rose and lazily rolled up their towels while Justin allowed the angle of his field glasses to drop. Both girls were shaved clean as a whistle, so it was impossible to say if they were true blondes. Teutonic sisters, Justin assumed, considering the name of the boat, so he went with the blonde’s notion. As they tucked the towels beneath their arms a man in his mid-fifties joined them. He wore light cotton sailing clothes with deck shoes, and carried himself with the confident gait of a captain. He ran the back of his hand across the smooth mound of each girl before all three went below decks. Justin lowered the glasses, weighing them carefully in his hand.

  ‘Such wonderful things,’ he said to himself. ‘They bring everything so close, make it all seem so large.’ A satisfied smile crossed his lips as he pondered the possibility of time binoculars, for letting you see into the future. If a few days ago he had seen what lay ahead of him he would have taken his set back to the shop and said they were broken. And if David had owned a pair he wouldn’t have invited Justin to stay after their fateful meeting, and he wouldn’t now be attached to a cock chain at the beck and call of Sabrina.

  The two men had once been close friends at university, but Justin had been forced to drop out because of money, or rather the lack of it. The last he’d heard David had finished his degree and was working in a busy Manchester general, in the casualty department. By that time Justin had set up his own business installing displays in museums and art galleries. He had soon secured the contracts for several very large exhibitions that were doing the rounds of the various institutions up and down the country. It was at the opening of one such event that he bumped into his old friend…

  David stood nursing a glass of wine in front of a small bronze of a naked woman. He was eagerly studying the sculpture, passing only occasional comment to a companion Justin assumed to be his wife. For a while Justin simply watched him, assuring himself that it was in fact his old friend and not some doppelganger that would lead to embarrassment for both parties. Once he was satisfied he strode across and cleared his throat to attract attention. A brief moment of indecision passed before David exclaimed: ‘Jesus, it’s Justin. I can’t believe it. How the hell are you?’

  The two gripped each others hand in a warm exchange of affection.

  ‘Come and have a drink,’ enthused David. ‘It’s been absolutely ages. What on earth are you doing here?’ He guided Justin in the direction of the bar while the woman walked along behind, almost unnoticed. As he raised a glass of cheap but cheerful Rioja Justin remembered his manners, apologised, and asked his friend’s companion what she would like to drink. The woman didn’t answer but looked at David, who told her to try a glass of the same.

  ‘This is Charlotte,’ said David by way of an introduction. ‘But everyone calls her Charlie. She’s a friend of mine.’

  Justin smiled politely while Charlie reciprocated by licking away some drops of red wine from her equally red painted lips.

  ‘Here,’ David offered Justin another glass. ‘Let’s sit down, we’ve got a lot of talking to catch up on.’

  All three made their way to a seating area where the two men sat on benches, their backs against the wall. Charlie sat in an armchair facing them. Hers was a low cushioned seat, which meant her skirt rode up exposing the very tops of her stockings, and Justin thought he caught a glimpse of black panties. Charlie made no attempt to cover her exposed thighs, and for some reason Justin could not fathom, David never once looked at her lovely legs.

  After more than an hour of incessant conversation David looked at his watch, and then invited Justin down to Camelot, his hideaway cottage near Tintagel, before announcing he had to leave. Immediately Justin took up his old friends offer, and plans were summarily made.

  The weekend arrived and Justin made his way down to Cornwall where David had planned to meet him at the old post office in Tintagel village; apparently the cottage was quite out of the way and almost impossible to find without a guide.

  Tourists lined the post office wall like starlings on a washing line, Justin among them. Right on cue his friend arrived, and the two made their way for a pub lunch of peppered trout followed by the customary scone and strawberry jam.

  ‘Is there time to visit the castle?’ Justin enquired. ‘Or do you have other plans? I haven’t been here since a family holiday when I was a kid.’

  David looked at his watch and shook his head. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Charlie’s husband will be here to pick her up quite soon. I’ve got to get back to see her off.’

  Justin threw his friend a quizzical look. ‘She’s married? She hasn’t been at your place since Wednesday, has she?’

  ‘Not since Wednesday, no,’ David replied. ‘Charlie’s been with me for the last month.’

  Justin held up an open hand. ‘Enough said,’ he smiled, slightly bemused. ‘None of my business.’

  David wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and threw it on his plate. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘we’d better get going. And stay close; Camelot’s a hard place to find.’

  Within fifteen minutes the two vehicles had pulled off the main road and were travelling along rutted and pocked dirt tracks that did nothing for the suspension of either. Suddenly th
e cars dipped as the track fell off in a steep incline that brought the sea, calm and hazy-blue, into sight. David brought his vehicle to a halt alongside an old run-down shack, and Justin drew up beside him.

  ‘We’ve to put the cars away in here and walk the rest of the way. I hope you’re still fit,’ laughed David.

  They walked a good five minutes before the diminishing path dropped still further and an old stone cottage came into view. In single file they reached the weathered building.

  ‘Camelot,’ announced David with a sweep of his arm.

  ‘You were certainly correct when you said it’s isolated.’

  ‘Precisely!’

  The sea-facing front door stood between two huge storm-shuttered windows. The shutters were an absolute necessity in winter when the icy Atlantic gales blew angry and determined against the cottage walls. They were open today, allowing the summer sun to flood the house with warming beams that bounced with brilliant flashes off the many brass nautical instruments that now served as ornaments.

  ‘Have a sit down Justin. I’m just nipping upstairs to see if Charlie’s already left.’ David closed the door, leaving his friend to take some welcome rest in a large leather bound chair. Outside the sea lapped lazily up the beach and in the distance a merchant ship headed for a distant land.

  Charlie was struggling into a very tight corset when David entered the room. He saw her predicament and went across, put his knee in the small of her back and tugged on the laces. Her waist narrowed as the garment squeezed itself tightly around her.

  ‘Is he here yet?’ she asked.

  ‘No, it’s just a friend,’ answered David, slipping a hand into the front of her panties. He ran his thumb and forefinger down each lip of her smooth pubic mound. ‘You’ve forgotten your rings,’ he told her, quietly. Charlie’s eyes widened at her mistake and she gasped her apologies.

  ‘It’s the excitement of seeing Paul again. Please – I’m so sorry. It was an honest mistake. Don’t punish me.’ She fell to her knees in front of him, her forehead pressed to the carpet, her young rear end straining towards the ceiling. ‘I don’t want Paul to see my bottom with cane stripes, not today. Not today of all days.’

  He left her, face down, and moved across to the wall where several canes hung menacingly in a display cabinet. Choosing one of the lighter ones he whipped it viciously through the air behind her, taking pleasure in the sight of her bottom clenching in anticipation of its sting. The milky flesh was unblemished and flawless, and as smooth as alabaster.

  ‘Assume the position,’ he ordered.

  In an instant Charlie had pulled down her panties and bent over the brass metalwork at the foot of the bed.

  ‘Please,’ she pleaded, pitifully. ‘I’ve been totally obedient for two weeks. Don’t cane me now.’

  It was Charlie’s last day and he didn’t really want to punish her. She had been a good student – one of his best. He had even taken her out a week earlier than usual because she was so servile. To cane her now so that Paul could see the marks would look bad and that could reflect on business. Nonetheless, he couldn’t allow this transgression to go unpunished. Spare the rod, as the old saying went, and spoil your slave. Anyway, Charlie had been one of his favourites, so a little self-indulgence was acceptable and to be expected; he decided on having one last fuck just for himself.

  He moved to the side of the bed and placed the cane in front of her face. He then took up his position behind her. He didn’t usually fuck the girls on their last day because he liked to keep them tight for their new master, but Charlie had to remember that she must never forget who you are and what you are. He pulled the black satin panties right off her, and then released his cock. He eased his swollen erection along her purse, feeling her warmth and wetness spread along the full length of it.

  ‘Is this better than the cane?’ he asked. Charlie’s body juddered as he stabbed his cock home.

  ‘Yes master,’ she groaned, grinding her bottom back towards him. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much. You’ve been so kind to me.’

  If he hadn’t been concentrating so hard on getting Charlie to her knees and his cock into her warm mouth before he wasted his come on the carpet, David may have heard the downstairs door opening. As it happened she was licking the thick liquid from his shaft when Justin shouted up the stairs that Charlie’s husband had arrived. On hearing that Charlie’s eyes lit up, but she remained at her task until David was satisfied she had taken every last drop. Then he allowed her to rise and stand before him.

  ‘Don’t get too excited,’ he reminded her. ‘Now fetch your labial restraints and I’ll help you to get dressed.’ Charlie fetched the golden loops from her jewellery box and handed them to David to thread through her pierced labia, which he did with the speed of a practised hand. He watched her finish dressing, and then said he was going downstairs to meet Paul and would ring for her when they were ready.

  He found Paul in the morning room chatting idly with Justin. It was the first time David had seen Charlie’s husband since he had left her there exactly one month ago. That was one of David’s rules. Once the deal was signed and half the fee was paid up front no communication was permitted either by phone or by letter. As everyone had always agreed to the rules there was never any problem.

  ‘Sorry Paul,’ he said. ‘I should have told Justin where the drinks are. What would you like?’

  Paul got up from his seat, reaching inside his jacket pocket to pull out a chequebook. ‘If it’s all right with you, David, I won’t have one. I’d really like to be on my way.’ There was a tremor of excitement in his voice. ‘Is she ready?’

  David poured himself a large measure of Glenfiddich, inquired if Justin would like the same, which he did, and then turned again to Paul.

  ‘She’s ready.’

  Justin watched as the noughts on the cheque continued along to two thousand pounds. Whatever David did for a living, he thought, he must do it well. Paul tore the cheque from the book and handed it over.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Will you excuse us for a minute or two Justin?’ said David. ‘I’ll only be in the other room. Help yourself to drinks.’

  He led Charlie’s husband across the hall to another room. Once inside he motioned for Paul to pull a chord that hung by the fireside. Upstairs a bell rang as a signal to Charlie that the men were ready for her. As befitting a newly trained slave she did not keep them waiting. Her entrance was met with a mixture of emotions; Paul, excited at the lifetime of pleasure his submissive wife would provide and David, anxious that the hours of work he had put into her training would not let him down. As one of his favourites he was sure he would miss her pouting lips caressing his cock on a nightly basis.

  In line with her training Charlie refrained from smiling at her husband despite being overjoyed to see him again after a month’s absence. She had wanted to serve him from the day they met; had wanted to obey him as her vows demanded. That was why she had agreed to come to David. He had shown her how a man should be treated; with respect, and with awe. She brought herself before him and dropped to her knees.

  ‘Master! You are back,’ she cried. ‘I am yours. My body. My soul. My very life.’

  Both men turned to face each other triumphantly. She was truly a slave. Without saying a word they both dropped into opposite armchairs. Charlie remained on her knees, arms by her sides.

  ‘Does she use her mouth now?’ Paul asked.

  David shrugged with an air of nonchalance and said, ‘Try her.’

  ‘Charlie,’ coughed Paul nervously, his voice suddenly hoarse with excitement. ‘Come here, take my cock out of my trousers, and put it in your mouth.’ His new slave crawled to him on hands and knees, knelt between his legs, and did exactly as was instructed. Paul watched with amazement as his wife, the very woman once so disgusted by the act of fellatio, sucked and kissed adoringly along the length of his
rapidly swelling muscle. ‘What of the rest?’ he panted.

  David downed the rest of his whisky and spoke very matter-of-factly. ‘I’ve relaxed her anus and removed any inhibitions in that direction. Your wish is her command, Paul, your desire her desire, your pleasure her very reason for living.’

  ‘And what of the labial restraints? Did you manage those?’

  ‘They are in place, as we discussed.’

  ‘Stand up,’ commanded Paul. ‘I want to see your Venus Rings.’

  Across the hallway Justin was searching for some ice to take the sting out of his Glenfiddich. Realising there was none he made for the other room to enquire of the kitchen, but stopped dead in his tracks at the foot of the stairs. Through the gap in the doorjamb he saw Charlie standing in a tight waspie and stockings while David and her husband examined two golden rings that hung from her labia. Thoughts of fetching any ice soon melted at the sight of the two men tugging at the golden circles that dangled and glistened between her legs. Unbelievably Charlie appeared detached from the entire scene, staring straight ahead. No, not straight ahead, she was actually watching him as he surveyed the close examination of her body. She had spotted him spying on them and simply stood there, silent and accepting.

  God! Justin screamed to himself. What were they doing with her?

  Suddenly Paul finished toying with the metal rings and asked to see his hallmark. At his instruction Charlie bent forward and pushed out her arse for the two men to study.

  ‘Excellent artistry, don’t you agree?’ said David.

  Paul moved closer still, inspecting the family crest that now adorned his wife’s bottom. ‘I have to congratulate you, David. It’s perfect, and completely healed.’

  David looked pleased at his customer’s obvious approval. ‘It’s a new technique. I bought a specialist pump from the Far East that blows the ink under the skin, no needles. There’s hardly any damage to the epidermis.’