Saving Brigit (12 page)

“You did so well last night, Brigit, they have arranged another pleasure room for you this afternoon.” Fatima stepped into the bathing pool and sat beside Brigit.

Startled, Brigit turned, rippling the water. “I thought we only met men at night.”

“We meet guests whenever they want us. I have had only a few afternoon encounters. But being with someone today ensures you will be free tonight. If you do well today, you will have your own room. You will be on your own.”

Alone! She already felt so alone she didn’t know what to do. “But I don’t want to leave you.”

“We’ll see each other often, in the garden or here in the bath. You know no language other than English, and right now I am the only girl who speaks English. They will allow it.”

A surge of relief ran through Brigit. “When do I need to be ready?”

“In an hour. We should go and do your hair.”

Brigit looked up and saw one of the omnipresent guards. “If I’m going to be living alone, I need to do these things myself. You stay here.” She jerked her head toward the guard. “I’ll have him take me back.”

Fatima stared at Brigit. “I will not be there today, but the rules remain the same. If you do something to deserve punishment, I will receive the same or worse.”

Brigit patted her friend’s hand. “Don’t worry. I can do this. I’ll find the strength until someone comes for me. It can’t be long now.”

“There is no help, Brigit. You must accept that. I have heard men refer to this place as The Spirit’s Paradise, but we women have another name for it. The Mountain of No Hope. Once you are here, you stay.”

“Not me,” Brigit said, lifting her head. Fighting the despair that had threatened to overcome her in the past weeks had been difficult. If she was to survive, she had to believe, even if her faith was forced.

Fatima shook her head and shrugged. Brigit waved the guard over, rose from the water, and left.

An hour later, naked under a velvet cape, she was led to a pleasure room. Two men awaited her, Brigit’s first surprise since normally Fatima arrived ahead of the guests.

The tall, large man had skin darkened by the sun instead of by ethnicity, though he wore a loose robe, and his head was wrapped in the style of the native men she’d seen. He sat at the low brass table and drank, eyeing her inquisitively. The other man was shorter and swarthy. He leered at her from under a thick unibrow. Beneath a droopy moustache, his thick lips fairly smacked in anticipation.
His
look was hungry rather than questioning.

The first man gestured toward her and said something in what sounded like Russian. The second man laughed. With his left hand, he made a circle with his thumb and index finger, then jabbed the hole with the middle finger of his right hand. The first man grinned. Brigit almost rolled her eyes. She knew what they were there for, and they obviously did. She wished they’d just get on with it.

A female servant came forward and removed the cape, revealing Brigit’s body to the men. The taller of the two, who had a rugged handsomeness about him, stared with admiration. The second practically drooled. He said something to the first. They seemed to squabble, but shortly, the first man slapped the table, laughing. Whatever they’d discussed, Tall Man had given in.

Brigit tilted her head, throwing her shoulders back and exposing her breasts in the best way possible. “Hey, you,” she called in a low voice.

“No words!” The guard started toward her threateningly.

“Stop.” The single word held such command, the guard’s eyes opened wide, but he halted mid-step. Brigit, who’d taken a step back at the guard’s approach, turned wide eyes to the tall man, who now stood beside the table, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“My friend and I are not displeased with a woman who has a little flintiness. She will not be punished for her action.”

Oh, God, he’s American!
Surely he wouldn’t leave her here. Surely he wasn’t like the other men who came here.

The shorter man shifted his gaze from his companion to the guard. Finally, the guard bowed slightly. “Sir,” he intoned and then stepped back into the corner.

“Are you all right, miss?” Tall Man asked in a softer tone.

Brigit’s heart lodged in her throat. All she had to do is say no, she’d been kidnapped and wanted to go home. And then…?

Then, if she was being set up, tested, she’d be punished. The memory of the girl and the Violet Wand filled her mind. The men who came to visit the women were not ignorant of what this place was. If the American was here, it was because he was just like all the others.

But oh, she wanted to say something, anything. If he knew how she’d come to be here, he couldn’t just leave her to rot. She looked again. He was American, but he dressed like the enemy. She slid a glance to the guard. He seemed to be staring into space, but he knew English, and he’d be listening to every word.

She made her decision. If there was one thing Fatima had taught her, it was to trust no one. “I’ll be fine as long as you and your friend like cats. I have a little pussy that needs to be stroked.”

Tall Man stared, examining her eyes. If this was a test, did she pass or fail? Would she and Fatima be in the dining hall tomorrow being punished before the rest of the women? Brigit held her breath.

Shortie stood. A servant rushed forward to help him remove his robe. “I love pussy,” he said in a heavy accent. He reached down and caressed his thick erection jutting from his groin like a short club. Beside the other man, he looked even smaller, but he didn’t seem to mind. His chest was a mat of dark hair, as were his legs.

A smile touched Tall Man’s lips, and he relaxed. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “Let’s meet for an early dinner. We haven’t concluded our business.”

“Business, business. You never take part in the rewards of dealing in this establishment.” Shortie shook his finger at the other man. “I’m beginning to think you like boys.”

The other broke into laughter. “No, my friend. This little one is tempting, but I like women, not girls. And here the courtesans are too tame. I like the lioness rather than the lamb.” He slapped Shortie on the shoulder. “But I think you’ll have fun today. This one seems to have a spark of life left in her.”

“Yes.” Shortie stroked his cock again and turned all of his attention to her. Tall Man cast her one more look and left them.

Shortie came at her in a rush. “Does the pussy like to be stroked hard or gentle, little one?” His English was broken, but not bad.

She decided to play the temptress since she’d started that tack. “Pussy likes it however she can get it,” she purred. She gave a pointed look at his erection. “Surely you can do both?”

Brigit was taller by a couple of inches. He looked up into her eyes and laughed, though his eyes gleamed with lust. “We have hours to find out.” He stepped forward, lifted her leg over his hip, and drove into her.

She grunted in surprise and pain and grasped his shoulders to keep from toppling over.

“Tight,” he groaned in her ear. “Good.”

It took a couple of hard strokes before her juices smoothed his way. He wasn’t long, but his jabs swiped her G-spot, and before she knew it, the pain of his thrusts melted into sublime pleasure. Her pointed nipples tangled in his chest hair, teasing her, aiding her descent into the chaos that always filled her body before an orgasm. Tension curled in her belly, and a crackling anticipation darted from nerve to nerve, setting her body on fire.

He held her close by grasping her butt. His fingers squeezed her cheeks and pulled and pushed, maneuvering her hips. She hiked her leg farther onto his hip. Her heel rubbed his ass. He hummed in approval and took her mouth.

His tongue pressed for entry, and she opened to him. He explored in a hurried rush, tickling, stroking, tasting each part of her. One finger on her butt pressed her back opening. His tongue curled over hers. He poked her once more, and she went over the edge.

He held her close. She was mildly aware of the pulsing against her pussy and the warm spurts of cum filling her. Her breath came hard and fast. She tore her lips away from him and laid her forehead on his neck.

What might have been minutes later, he pulled away. “Your pussy likes stroking very much,” he said with a grin. “But look what your kitty has done to my poor Czar Ivan.” His cock hung limp and wet from their combined release.

“I have ways of bringing him back to his full royal stature,” Brigit assured him. She took the bowl of warm water and the cloth from the servant who had seemed to materialize beside her. Dropping to her knees on the provided pillow, she washed him thoroughly.

Shooing away the woman who would have cleaned her, too, she took his member into her mouth. She used one hand to hold the base of his cock and twist it as she felt the need. Her other hand fondled his balls. Groaning in pleasure, he braced her head with his hands, holding her steady to insert his entire shaft. Brigit took him with ease.

She used her tongue to stroke the bottom of his club and to probe the tiny slit on the crown. Her lips nuzzled his rounded top. She sucked him strongly before letting him pop out and then took him all the way again. Before long, he fucked her mouth like a steam engine. His cock may have been short, but he shot stream after stream of cum down her throat before finishing.

“You good girl,” he murmured. “Czar Ivan like you.”

“I’m glad,” she said. “I’m here only to please you. And the
czar
.” From the corner of her eye, she saw the guard. His stance was relaxed as he watched her. He even nodded once in what she took as approval, and she relaxed. As long as she continued pleasing the czar, she and Fatima would not be in the hot seat. She not only wanted safety from punishment for herself, but for Fatima who, while not exactly a friend, was the closest she had in this asshole of the world.

She cleaned the little Russian again and this time allowed the woman to clean her, too.

“Instead of pussy,” he said, caressing and pulling at his cock, “Ivan want doggy. That is what you call it, yes?”

“Woof,” she said, dropping to all fours. She nuzzled her head against his groin and licked his balls and cock until his shaft was hard and straining. Then she turned and stuck her ass in the air.

“Arf!” Wiggling her butt in invitation, she waited for the next invasion and wondered how long he could keep up this pace. When she felt cold cream smeared over her bum hole, she knew the afternoon wouldn’t end soon.

Thia sighed tiredly. This was their second night on the trail that crossed the razor-sharp edge of the mountains. In addition to the altitude, she suffered from lack of sleep. From when she’d gone into Islamabad to meet Omar, to the night of his confession and quick assessment of their plan, she’d fought to stay alert and part of the action. She knew Rashid would gladly leave her behind and fall back on an attack of his own devising if she proved she couldn’t handle the trip. She didn’t plan to allow him that option.

They’d saved time by hiring a private plane to a small Pakistani town named Chirtal. Rashid assured Thia that the Cessna belonged to a friend who wanted to help find the Claw. They’d stayed with another “friend” in Chirtal who outfitted them with a four-wheel-drive pickup and supplies. Yet a third friend offered to come with them to help guard and control Omar. Thia kept her distance from their new companion, with his grim expression and hooded eyes. That meant their journey was a lonely one since Rashid remained quiet and removed, allowing her all too much time to worry over their arrangements.

They had decided in Islamabad to follow Thia’s plan, using her to gain entrance to the women’s quarters. In due time, Rashid would come to the brothel as a customer. He’d wave a lot of money around, pretend to get drunk, and demand two women to service him. Two American women. When they were together, he’d find a way to overpower the guard, and the women would guide him through the halls until he recognized the way out. It wasn’t the world’s greatest idea, but somehow when Rashid described it, it sounded okay. She wondered if he harbored the same fears about their chances as she did, but she was afraid to ask. She did notice that the closer they got to the Claw’s domain, the more his mouth pulled into a tight frown and the less talkative he became.

“Do I really need to sleep in the truck again?” she asked.

This was their last night camping, according to Omar, who was handcuffed all the time and gagged at night. From a distance, he looked free, but Rashid had insisted that they take no chances with the man who could not only spoil their plan with one phone call, but get them killed. At times, Thia found herself sympathizing with Omar. His eyes held a hunted, fearful look. But it took only one moment’s thought of Brigit, and her soft feelings disappeared.

“I’d really prefer to sleep out under the stars with you men.” Thia swept her gaze across the mountainous but empty landscape. “There’s no one around for miles and miles.”

“You never know in the mountains,” Rashid said. “There are tribes who burrow deep into the valleys or on the mountainsides. You might not see them, but they can see you. We aren’t hiding our presence here.” He gestured to the campfire. “People do come along this trail for all kinds of business—none of it good,” he said with a pointed look. “I want you as safe as possible. That means in the truck.”

“Okay,” she said, giving up with a wave of her hand. She washed her face and hands in a nearby stream while Rashid watched on, then went behind the largest rock she could find to go to the bathroom. Still wearing her clothes, she climbed into the back seat and pulled a blanket over herself.

What had to be hours later, something woke her. She listened, but heard nothing. Turning her head, she saw millions of stars dotting the black Tajikistani night. A breeze struck the window, but nothing else moved or made a sound. Chastising herself for being nervous because of what the next day would bring, she straightened her blanket and rolled over.

No sooner had she done so, a hand slapped over her mouth. Harsh breathing filled her ears.

“Don’t even think about fighting me,” a man whispered.