Taken to the export market

Safi held out a hand. Warily, I took it. He helped me up, and nodded toward the back of the jeep. I tried to read his expression, but it was just wickedry. I climbed back into the jeep, using some of the water to clean myself. Safi and the driver were laughing and talking again. I hoped that was a good sign. The jeep roared to life, and we turned right.

Heading away from the desert. I sighed. "Well Gwen, your mouth can get out of trouble as well as into it, eh?" I thought to myself. I didn't know what lie ahead, but the prospect of having to deal with some degenerate oil sheikh or Saudi banker was far, far more appealing than convincing a bunch of rocket wielding militants that I really was a nice girl if you got to know me. Or at least I hoped...

Within an hour, signs of civilization began to appear. The dirt path became a dirt road, then a rocky, broken concrete one. We passed one vehicle, then another. The sounds of helicopters occasionally reached me, but I couldn't tell from where, or whose they may have been. By nightfall, I may have crossed over into Pakistan for all I knew. Car horns started to blare, and before I knew it I was in the outskirts of a city. Could have been Kabul. Could have been Peshwar. I didn't know. The bustling city was a stark contrast to the unforgiving mountains. We pulled over to a street vendor and Safi got out. He picked up a few garments, and tossed them in the back.

"We'll stop so you can bathe. Put those on. Don't get any cum on them." he said. I held them up. It was a bellydancer's outfit.

"Great. Just great." I thought as the jeep rumbled over the broken pavement. It was fully dark when we arrived at a hotel. Safi got out first, then the driver. They were arguing again, but it was clear that Safi was losing, and badly. He glanced back at me, and got back into the truck; this time on the driver's side. The driver let me out of the jeep, and said in heavily accented Russian;

"My nephew tells me you speak language of infidel Russia. I fought them. You follow me to hotel room to clean yourself and rest. Then, we meet buyers tomorrow." I nodded, and started to walk toward the door. "No. Here, woman always follows. You run, plenty of thugs to keep you company in streets." I set my expression to show I understood, and followed him in.

The hotel would have been nice in better times. One thing I noticed was that some of the words were in English. Grand Eagle Hotel, Peshwar. "So I'm in Pakistan..." I thought; not that it made much difference in my current situation. I'd seen the anti-western demonstrations. I had no illusions that I was going to make it out of this situation by running. The out was through. I held my bellydancer outfit under one arm, and followed him to the elevator.

Our room was on the 4th floor. He unlocked it, and held it open for me. When I didn't go in, he nodded. "Good. You learn quickly." He entered, and for a brief moment I thought about it. Surely someone in the hotel would take me in, protect me...but no. I couldn't risk it. I entered the hotel room, and he closed the door behind me.

Safi's uncle sat on the bed, and pulled off his combat boots. I looked around nervously, not knowing what to do. "Relax. You are now guest." I nodded, and finally got a look at myself in the mirror. I was a total mess. Cum had dried in my red hair. Dirt stained my hands, knees, and clothing. Any hope I had that someone would help me evaporated then. Dozens of people had seen me like this, and not one even hinted at questioning what had happened. I sighed a defeated sigh, and sat down.

My captor started to unwrap his turban, and I was shocked to see a handsome face greet me. I expected a rough, ugly visage, but he would have been at home in Italy, or parts of Russia with his ruggedly handsome features and cleanly trimmed, dark red beard. He pulled the dusty tunic from his body to reveal a scarred, but well-formed body. The scars from Russian scrapnel, Taliban roadside bombs, or American drones, I couldn't be sure. It probably didn't matter one way or the other. I started to look away when pulled his trousers off, even though I'd just today sucked the cum from him. "Come. We shower." he said, opening the door to the bathroom.

I hesitated momentarily, but then unbuttoned the shirt and let it fall. I lowered the skirt and pantyhose, and followed him into the bathroom. I stood naked behind him as he washed his face in the sink, his muscled back a roadmap of scars and muscle that told the tale of this war-torn region. He started the large, walk-in shower, and motioned for me to wash my face. As I did, he never let his blue and amber eyes leave me. I looked at my now clean face in the mirror, and wondered how the fuck I'd gotten myself into all this.

Then I stepped into the shower with him, watching the water run down his body. My body shuddered. I was blushing badly. We washed ourselves, and then each other, my mind barely registering what my body was doing. After I had rinsed my mouth in the running water, I turned, and felt it coming. I closed my eyes as his lips met mine, and parted my legs as he leaned his body against me.

"You learn very quickly." he said as I guided his cock into my yearning sex.