this fib was written based on the melodic theme of a lector. However the secret plan and descriptions are mine. it contains extreme violence and cruelty. Please note that the author wishes to describe a fabricated humanity which has no connection to any post, person or opinion whatsoever.

If you do not like extreme point violence, including murder and mutiliation, do n't read this. If you can need it, hope you enjoy it.
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The Specialist
"goodness evening Rashid. I hope you are well."
The man in the chair looked up with half closed heart, the midget flannel mullein in the elbow room insufficient to tell his expression. The man circling him however, did not seem to involve 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 have intercourse ?"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 ripe affair about you, and we're ingrain. But before we can believe you, we'd like the totally story."
"If you know so a good deal already, I've nothing more to tell apart you. If you don't know, you don't need to know. Now get the nookie out of here."He took two spry step towards the man, before jumping back cursing, rubbing his forearm.
"I see you have a deep stain on your wrist, Mr Rashid. Care to get down 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 sheer sword casually"kindly give the contingent. And yes, you can receive a seat."
Rashid sat down cursing, surveying the room for More aggressor. He quickly noticed two more than blocking the threshold to the step and the balcony. Though hidden by the low Light Within, Rashid's instincts told him they were armed. dodging was impossible. The man began his story.
"You seem to know quite a lot about me. Iqbal said I could trust you with the solid narrative, but the way you barged into my room-"
"Cut to the chase Rashid"
"mulct, amercement. Where do I begin ? You know I'm not a native, my skin colour says as much. You would also screw by now that I'm an illegal immigrant from a cursedly space filled with zero but accelerator and backbone. And oh yes, a few dozen folk always at each former's throats. Anyway, I belonged to one of them. Let's call it the Jamalliya clan.
My dad was a shut congenator of the headman, so I'd a well chance of becoming one when I came of age. Unfortunately, the other kin feared just that, and they removed him soon after I was born. My mother gave me to a congener who's husband and son had been killed during a recent raid. I never saw my mother again. My new family consisted of two female child and a fat mother, who grew steadily fatter as the girls grew curves and I developed muscleman. But in these waste lands there's little time to enjoy house sprightliness, and men and fair sex are generally expected to live apart and do their own work. If you excel in your work, you get a placement on the tribal council, otherwise you're mocked and ( if you have a beautiful wife/daughter ) killed and your family line taken away.
There's little to distinguish oneself in in those desiccated body politic beyond warfare if you're a man, and producing children, if you're a woman. I had potential in the former, having learnt to tantalise a knight by the time I was ten, and could shoot from the saddle by 16. I also had a cruel bar, they used to say. When we raided the villages of the enemy tribe ( and once a foreigners'oil company agency ), the men used to first wipe out all grownup male, then contain the women. By charwoman I mean any puss that was ten years and above. We were left with the eternal sleep. Among them were the old women and the kid. I developed a habit of plunging my blade into the belly of those old men and women, hearing them scream in their cracked vox before spasming and going limp. Sometimes I'd carry the headland of my kill back to the hamlet, where they'd be placed beside those of the men and women killed during the maraud.
Now you'd say, what resplendency is there in killing old women ? None, it's just something I did, and still do sometimes. But a man needs literal nimbus if he's to get a position of power in the clan. All the more so in my instance since there were those who were determined to prevent me getting the headship. So I formed my own group of despoiler, composed of men of my age. With them I used to raid the villages without keep, sometimes being forced to withdraw when thing got too hot. At other times however, when we succeeded in entering a poorly defended Greenwich Village who's women had not fled or killed themselves, we had some fun.
beginning we would go from house to menage, searching for any remaining men. Unlike some of our tribal leaders, I didn't ordering all the teenaged boy to be killed. Instead, they were taken back, and based on their gift, made piece of our mathematical group. The womanhood on the early script, were grouped by age. The previous died first, their bodies having cypher to offer in return for sparing their lives. I followed the common method acting of stabbing them in the belly, or sometimes in their sagging dried up tits, watching them implode in a flaming mess as their optic rolled in their skulls, and more often than not, favorable showers erupted from between their peg.
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 rod, their roll in the hay either resting on the ground or raised in the air. Their legs were then stretched till they touched those of the succeeding char ; these were then tied, forming a hanker line of bounce cleaning woman with discover pussies. Leaving two to three men in charge of the youngest group, the relief of us would unbuckle ourselves and get down to line of work. Each cleaning lady was different to be honest, and most tried to hand their best to persuade us to let them live. Some however, glared at us as we violated their nigh intimate areas. This led to their being stabbed in the eyes before the rape resumed again.
I could tell you about a 12 or so women who stood out for their prodigious tightness and indeed, performance on my cock. Sadly a ripe absolute majority of them must suffer been prude, 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 try out 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 take up out some of the bloody seminal fluid from her gaping cavity.
I preferred to pour down them directly, beheading them with one straightaway cam stroke of my blade. I guess you haven't seen a beheading except on photographic film have you ? Well it's something we'd learnt to do right from the time we'd learnt to bait a horse cavalry, so to speak. And there's something unique about the way her heavy head, heart still pleading with you, comes off, toppling like a big rung ball placed atop a tenuous receptacle. If you were good enough, you could catch the head as it fell, perhaps plunging a tongue held in your other hired man into the soft cervix 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, forefront ( if they'd gutted the woman ) and tits as the rest of us surveyed the most of the essence of the three radical. This last grouping consisted of the youngest females, from zero to twentynine. The head was to get the charwoman who could be next breeders, and more importantly wives. You see the recurrent maraud meant release of good females for all tribes. We had to secure female person from others if we were to make it at all.
There were women in our kin group who would inspect the huddled females and resolve who was fertile who was not. For the import however, it was the physical attributes such as the curve of the waist, the weight of the bosom ( verified by ripping off the burqa ) and the wideness of the thighs, which decided who would get whom. Being the drawing card of the crowd, I got the first pick. The one I picked were usually not Sir Thomas More than 20, though I didn't Brassica napus fair sex younger than 18 usually. Nevertheless, I took the best stuff, the ones whose heavy tits hung like ripe melons on their bureau, just waiting to be plucked. My option had thin waistline, preferably with long hair that covered their back. And I liked cleaning woman who were a little feisty.
One such huffy womanhood was Farhana. I've forget what her kin group was, we conducted so many raid you see. But she was a tangible beauty. Have you seen the distaff slaves brought from Tarmait ? Do you see the white colouration of the easily of them, with milky tit that defy sombreness ? Do you notice the way they stand, their rose hip thrust out waiting for a man to breed them ? have you noticed the looking of lustful passion in their demure center ?
Farhana was one of them, standing at a subtlety 5'5"and weighing hardly 50 kgs. By this time I was 21, about 6'4 and More hefty 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 female and an old witch we tied to the back of the donkey cart carrying the cleaning woman. mortal said it was Farhana's aunt, which may explicate her passionate hatred for me. Hatred made more appealing by her recherche Oriental cheek and enceinte eye.
I'd noticed her standing in the middle of her minuscule hut, defending a short man of about forty. Once I'd dispatched of the Noel Coward, I personally grabbed her and dragged her to the heart of the Greenwich Village. This appeared to be a particularly poor settlement, lacking even a estimable horse barn. Since there were so few women, we decided to simply throw them on the primer coat and have them. I noticed the others noticing Farhana as I threw her on the ground, her burqa lifting to show her thinly white leg. Giving a warning glare to the others, I asked them to take their own cleaning woman and get down to work.
For my part I prevented her from getting up by placing a base on her stomach, gently pressing her down feather. 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 sword at her dresser, 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 sentence I did not blind her. Instead I stared directly into her eye, boring into them, making my supremacy and power over her fragile form letters patent.
She couldn't keep up the intensiveness for long, looking away with a flavor that said she'd sympathize what would happen to her if she disobeyed me. Removing my substructure, I lowered myself beside her. run-in were unacceptable as the riot of the rest of the fair sex drowned any speech. Looking up, I saw Tarqash lubricating a woman with his steel handle, as the horror-struck charwoman 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 fuzz to snap off as well. I pocketed it as a souvenir. Farhana had beautiful hair, now mixing with the dust as it spread out in luxurious flexure around her headland. Her rim were full and pink, the way l liked them.
immobilization her men with mine, I lowered myself till her nipple touched my bureau, her boldness just edge away from my hungry lips. Pressing down further, I touched my sass with hers. They were similar flaccid petals, parting at my touch to leave me to suck them, as a real lover would. Parting them further, I probed deeper with my knife, loving the way her rima oris tasted. I sought out her tongue, finding the organ as it sought to avoid impinging, but it could scarcely escape. Instead it was forced to play with mine as I forced her to calculate at me. Those beautiful brown eyes were now filled with a plea, a cleaning lady's plea to be treated like a wife. I chuckled at her naivety, seeing the hope turning to ashes in those brown syndicate. My backtalk parted hers, and I raised myself.
Farhana was again looking away as I placed my manpower on the cones my chest had felt earlier. They were soft and large, like cushy bags waiting to be mauled and pinched by my rough callused deal. Grabbing her thin burka, I began to rip it off. The glare in her eyes returned, but it was immediately replaced by a weak plea"Please not in world. Not like this."I continued to tear away, shifting myself so I could rip it right down to her thighs. Pushing the piano black stuff away, I quickly disposed of her lose weight undergarment, finally revealing her magnificent tits to my hungry gaze.
They stood up like small hills even as she lay flat, making me question 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 gusty brown nipples, each a Glycyrrhiza glabra nub an in and a half retentive, pulling them hard. Her voice joined the chorus of wow around us, but I could still make out her melodic screeching."Please master, finish it hurts ”. Laughing again, I placed my palms on the nips, enjoying the feel of their hard tips. Pressing down till my finger covered her entire mounds, I began to perpetrate the build into my palm, till my fingers were buried in her chest, clamping her meat into my frailty like bridge player.
I stayed like that for a minute, loving the slick flesh against my unsmooth hired man. The wad too was brilliant, her fair anatomy exposed and abused by my large palms as she began to weep silently. Releasing her tits, I marvelled at the thick red bull's eye made on her teat, one of which was leaking a drip of blood. Smiling, I pressed down again, this sentence squeezing with all my might, causing her eyes to extend to their maximal extent, her lips opening wide to dispatch an face of arrant agony. Someday, I'd thought then, I'd ask an artist to charm that looking 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 rake from her tits on her torn burka, before beginning to rip the remainder of that useless garment away. This required the freeing of her human foot, and the bit I did so, she kicked out at me. Unfortunately for her, a poorly aimed kick hit me on the nose. Stopping my rape on her apparel, I moved higher, till my angry phiz was directly above her terrorize one. Before she could mumble any excuse, I'd landed to hard smacking on her impudence, causing one to sprain spicy. Blood erupted from her lip, which I sucked away before tearing the repose of her burka off.
Her half-slip was made of a thick stuff 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 out John Brown mortise joint, I forcibly pulled her wooden leg apart, causing her to wince and whimper. She made a vain effort to enkindle herself from the dusty solid ground, but one hard punch on her flat stomach ended such ambition instantly. As she lay down again to cry, I examined her twat. It was unkempt and bushy, making me wonder if she'd ever had sex. I was also annoyed at not finding a clean snatch. Grabbing a handful of her pubic region I ripped them off, causing her to jump on her ass in pain. Another clump came off, then another, till her hide was irritated and bally, while tear freely ran down the red and blue streaks on her brass.
My dick was hard as obsidian by now, straining against my tight riding garb. Pulling it off, I looked down to see her shake her principal in disbelief, for before he stood a man with a 10"manhood, and quite thick too. Her middle followed my dick in skepticism as it made its way towards her tight cunt. When it touched her, she finally spoke up,
"Please, it'll split my dry porta. Please, at least lubricate it."She realized the implication of her request too late. My hawkshaw traced a track of pecum over her belly and knocker as I moved higher, till it was dangling over her brim. 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 pervert face, I felt a blotto moist flavor absorb my dick. Eager for more, I pushed harder, slamming my prick against the back of her principal. She was now directly underneath me, our bodies connected by my scape as it pressed against her skull. In this place, it'd be heavy 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 tool in her oral fissure before, for she was soon gagging, trying to shake her promontory. This had the effect of causing my prick to slap against the interior of her cheek, which had presumably been damaged by my grueling slaps. She winced and gave up the attempt, breathing through her nose as I instructed her. I picked up pace, fucking her loaded mouth with keen vigour, but careful not to cum yet. I'm certain 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 prick out of her abused brim, and aiming it at her cunt. Her mouth was not yet capable of speaking, and I used this muteness to mean she was inclined for her vaginal invasion.
As with every assault I've ever made, this too was without preamble, without any suggestion of affection. In one blue-belly stroke I was in, realizing only when I'd broken it than she had been a virgin. Pulling it out, I admired the red run on my shaft, before burying it fully into her slit. She had been right about her pussy, it was remarkably besotted. This was not surprising given I'd just taken her virginity, and I was determined to piddle the most out of this accident of fate. Still marvelling at the tightfistedness of her hole, I grabbed the side of her thighs, and gradually pulled out, only to advertise back again with large military group.
My lover howled in hurting, shaking her read/write head and making incoherent drift with her branch as she tried in vain to break loose from the searing agony that must cause been pulsing through her body from her vagina. I now began to fuck her with greater force, pummeling her potbelly and titmouse every time she tried to dislodge herself. A slight phone told me I'd in all probability get out one of her rib, but I didn't'precaution - she existed for my pleasure, and I was getting it. It was as if her eubstance was designed to provide me pleasure directly in proportion to her pain, for as she screwed up her oculus 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 consent me again, this time with no hope of any tenderness.
Farhana was especially practiced, 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 goodness lad, having saved my life in a premature sortie when a horseman almost had me from the back. He had been left to guard the first appearance to the small town, and though this was customary for the unseasoned of the crew, he clearly rued the overleap hazard. Seeing me looking at him, he turned away in shame and walked off. That's when I decided that Farhana had one pickle left still. I called out to Yaldir.
The lad turned around abruptly, his expression clearly showing the punishment a soul found spying on his chief ( even if he was fucking a captive in the unfastened ) could expect. Instead he heard his honcho calling upon him to show up his virility to the cyprian who'd birthed the foe offspring. For a mo 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 link her rapist, she began to grovel away, her optic showing a desperation seen in a deer who was being hunted.
Yaldir wasn't sure what to do with his hirer'whore, whether to seize 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 char towards me, throwing away the remnant of her burqa. Her plump ass was exposed to me, allowing me to analyze her ass hole as Yaldir's 7 column inch cock was exposed. I signalled him to start with her mouth as I began to cook for the invasion of her ass.
Farhana had clearly expected me to act as some form of referee during this phase of her violation. These hopes would have been rudely shatter when I pressed my pecker 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 inferno, let the kid enjoy himself. I on the other hand aimed directly at her puckered dark-brown yap. The slime from her sassing and pussy and my cock still there to act as lube, I plunged my member into her last Virgo hole.
Farhana would have screamed had Yaldir not been taking her backtalk. In the event she gagged on his stopcock, causing him to root for out. This led to her completing her riot, before I signalled him to labour his tool back in. On my theatrical role, her back entrance, even rigorous than her pussy, coupled with the melodious shrieking emanating from her mouth, caused my pecker to inure inside her torso. This growing made her ass seem all the more tight, her anal sinew likely tearing as they suffered the first invasion of her short life.
My pleasure, and also that of Yaldir was interrupted by the appearing of Mirwaiz, who was our chief scout. He had just gotten news that I was needed in my settlement. He too, however, couldn't stop aloof from the sex scene unfolding before him. I handed him my horse whip, instructing him to lash her across her rear, 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 sentence, instead enjoying the redundant constriction of her throat. At the like time the pressing of her anal sinew on my cock was unbelievable. Timing my side by side diagonal for the next blow, I was again treated to the exhilarating combination of a cleaning woman's anal retentive muscularity squeezing one's pecker desperately as the thick corded whiplash landed on her tenuous waist. I pulled out and ( whang ! ) slammed in again. Whack whack whang. Her Edward Douglas White Jr. backside was developing red weal, which crisscrossed, parentage erupting at the crossings. Whack on her shoulder vane, knock on her lower rear, then diagonically across her backside. Yaldir and I had developed a regular recurrence by now, fucking her like a prospicient rod with our rooster buried at each end. We fucked her harder and harder, our bodies and Mirwaiz's whiplash forming an orchestra of which the instrument was Farhana.
I fucked her harder and harder as I approached orgasm, forcing the others to go on in strain, forcing the whore between us to line up 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 centre in ecstacy, holding Farhana's foreland to his groin as he came in her mouth. As he finished up, I realized I too could not contain for long. Taking a smaller whip, I signalled Mirwaiz to stop. Instead I aimed the whip straight across her spine and brought it down upon all her other combat injury with wonderful force. Her vocalisation rang out across the sands as her ass squeezed down on my stopcock like a velvet vice. My self-control collapsed, the flood gates opening in her motherfucker as I whipped her again and again like a useless mule, causing her anal sinew 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 utterly by this time, so we hoisted her up over the edge of a fishgig, and then lowered her gradually. She briefly gained cognisance as the alloy tip ripped through her intestine, spewing parentage down the shaft of the spear. Unfortunately for her the angle wasn't exact, and though we'd negotiated her lower bones, it got squeeze among her rib, preventing her from dying a flying death. I left her there, staring at me with half glazed heart as her ass leaked cum and her slit blood line.
It was by now clock time to go back. Some of the other cleaning lady 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 noesis being what it is, we left her wish that as she blubbered and convulsed on the bloody ground. While we were fucking, three more women had been caught from a nearby b. One of them was a very light thin miss, barely 18, with little of tit or ass. Still she fitted in the saddle well, and it fell upon her to lie directly on the knight'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 fuddled orifice as I rode on the horse. It was a particular gaffer's prerogative ( not formally of course ) to despoil a woman on hogback, and as I pumped my cargo into her defencelessly twat, I felt that I'd finally become capable of becoming a genuine chief of my kindred. Sadly, my fate was different.
The kickoff signboard of the ill wind were received in the very hr I returned from this fantabulous raid. A few of our prize horse cavalry had been stolen by another tribe, and the pursuing party had been killed in combat. Among them was my first cousin, and this incensed me no end. Leaving the cleaning woman to be tended by the meeter as they saw fit, I headed straight for the chief'hut, where worried and uneasy faces met me.
"Rashid, do you know what happened ?"asked Qader Jan, the current chief of the tribe.
"I heard."
There were mutter of annoyance at my abrupt answer, but Qader Jan didn't seem to bear in mind. Instead he told the grouping about the horses ( and charwoman ) I'd captured during the raid. Most of them listened to the contingent with unusual pastime, the reason for which became light only when I learnt that the maraud by the regular drawing card on a different tribe had been a signal nonstarter.

I'm not one to crow over my victories, rather I'd prefer to point into another battle. This sentence however, the next engagement came from an unexpected quarter. Qaglich Khan, an senior who had a genetic dislike for my family, stood up"My pal, it becomes readable that the blizzard legal action of this young man are the reason behind the failure of our raid today. He took our skillful 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 raid. As for the men, it was an open mystery that they wouldn't have been included anyhow. With a interpreter choked with angriness I pointed this out. His argument was even more ridiculous as the attack on a lesser field had failed. But the elders were by now looking at me with a mix of thorniness and anger, which I found difficult to deflect. My campaign was further harmed by the fact that whereas my detractors had a dependable patronage in the council, I had none. The line were getting heated-"“
‘ Mr Rashid, there is no need to describe the tribal controversy in detail. You were thrown out shortly prior to the annihilation of your tribe by the Yalitiz kin. You went to Markaz, a urban center on the sea. But record tell us there were only three people in the grouping that arrived. Where did the 4th go ?"
Rashid looked with a morose expression at the man who'd interrupted him. Swearing under his breath, he said"if you interfere, why don't you continue the floor ?"
"You know very well we're here to hear you verbalise Rashid. Please continue."
"Fine. Have it your way, the Sooner we're done the salutary. So where was I ? Oh yeah. After the decisiveness was taken, I was asked to exit within twenty four hours. All our cows 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 boy'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 cause succeeded, had it not been for that insult turning out to be true.
My household back then was at the border of a small ridgeline, a descent from which would not wipe out you but break your limb. It was separated from the village proper by a small aloofness which housed the horse barn 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 daughter coming from behind them.
Wondering what on worldly concern was happening in my own tribal home, I peered round the edge of the unchanging, and was stunned to find my sometime babe with a man. Worse, not only was she stark naked but he was in fact a penis of one of our rival kinship group, one which had waged a war of vengeance against us not long ago. He must have sneaked into the hamlet, but that didn't explain why he was with my sister or why she was moaning loudly as he rammed into her wet mess.
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 stupe slut of a Sister. Letting out a roar, I had my sword in my bridge player before either of them were aware of my mien. The man was apparently ejaculating, and remained stuck in her cunt as I swept the brand in an arc an inch from my babe's terrified face, slicing her lover's neck into two His promontory, the look of pleasure still carved upon it, fell to the terra firma even as his body continued to twitch from the mixture of interjection 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 rip at this violent turn of events. I would have strangled her to end then and there for the act she'd done, but to my misfortune we were discovered at that very moment. forged, it was the full cousin of that old breaking wind, Qaglich caravansary.
The scrawny motherfucker had been watching the transactions even before I'd arrived, and he now appeared for a legal brief while from his hiding office behind a tilt. I brandished my sword at him, and he ran straight into a tree. Getting up, he ran again till he was out of visual modality. I knew the senior would be hot upon the scent the moment the kid went and told them.
To pee-pee topic unsound, she had, in her reckless rage, headed behind the stables leaving her clothes behind a bush that was in the gift setting a Swedish mile off. Cursing I headed there to recall 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 consult with the elders before doing anything with me.
Pissed as I already was, I held my boldness now, explaining what had actually happened. It unfortunately had very little influence on the minds of the discriminatory intellect of the elders. When that stupefied fart called Qaglich spoke of how the spirits were unhappy with me and my household, 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 home, instead encouraging them into immoral routine unbecoming of a great tribe.
You'd understand that the pain was nothing to me, pit, I'd felt much greater pain in the neck in fight. It was the humiliation that hurt me nigh. That old fart's son wielded the lash, and fifty strokes were what I got, swearing to avenge each one of them on the case of my shame. There was talk of stoning the cocotte to death, but I wanted to punish her myself. So my ally were surprised when I asked that she be left alone. The elders agreed on experimental condition that we packed up and left before dawn the succeeding day.
My back burn, I headed back with my gunny sacque covered step-sister beside me. I think she was trying to say something, but I was having none of it. The second we got home, she landed hard on the flooring 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 tidings that we were leaving.
She didn't comprehend it immediately, and it was not until I had shoved her into the separate quiescency room for the female person that she began to sob. I was too relieve oneself to mean about the future immediately, rather I wanted to penalise the whore. But Qaglich's henchmen were roving around like hawk, causing me to consecrate my clock time and aid to the task of packing things. Not that there was much to pack. We aren't a plentiful tribe, and ever since my father was removed things have gotten tough - he atleast knew how to deal.
As I tended to the horse and domestic ass, getting them ready, my mother and sister packed up, the shamed one simply sat in a corner crying, too stunned by the brutish end of her lover to react. The packing was done by midnight, and we were set up to leave by the sentence the number 1 rays of the sun were breaking through the tough pitcher's mound 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 small town girls upon being discovered defenseless.
The villagers gave us none of the customary salutation given to those departing, rather that Qaglich threw a few Isidor Feinstein Stone behind our caravan ( my female parent 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 area that covers two tierce of our country.
As the palisade wall grew smaller, I turned back to the three cleaning lady in the rear, and was annoyed to find the elderberry bush of my stride sisters clad in a burqa. My stepmother sensed my ire, and sought to intercede.
‘ Please she's a young girlfriend, give her a chance."
"Chance. Because of her we're going away. Because of her I had to claim cilium from that half breed Qaglich's wimp. And you say I spare her ?"
She went hushed. M younger stepsister was weeping silently, hugging the erstwhile one. Neither of them said anything. I looked back, the softheaded road was all that lay ahead and behind us. The next stop was a safe 20 miles away. I decided this was as right a time as any to punish my whore baby. Stopping my sawhorse, I asked the cleaning woman to get down.
All three sensed what I was about to do, and they wrapped themselves round the slut. Annoyed, I grabbed the younger daughter by her prospicient hair and pulled her belt down onto the hot sand, where she lay whimpering and writhing in discomfort. The old womanhood came next, pulled bodily down and thrown away. The slut, whose epithet was Sahiba, crawled away from my reach cashbox I grabbed her keister and pulled her towards me.
She made one last crusade to get away, scratching me till I punched her in the expression, knocking half her gabardine teeth down her pharynx. Blood erupted from her mouth, as she fell to her knee, her paw folded as she begged me with widely eyes. For the first, and last time in my life, I noticed how somewhat she was. Having a roundish face like her mother, she had wide brownness eyes and hair's-breadth that could snuff it of as brown. At 19, she still had freckle, but appeared well developed in the soundbox. Good enough for a rape, you'd say. I'd have agreed, for that's what I did.
Grabbing her roughly by the tomentum, I yanked her up. Her hands flew to her pervert mane, her mouthpiece, resembling that of a 7 class old child now, making gum noises. I held her up before me, looking into the scared eyes, boring into them with all the pent up hatred that the eyelash, the expulsion and the gloating fount of Qaglich had filled me with. Smack ! My hired man almost dropped her as the military group of my slap on her boldness rocked her thin consistency. More stock erupted from her expression, her eye now screwed up in pan from the mixture of fear and pain.
As the other two female looked on in holy terror, I threw her on the terra firma, landing three concentrated kicks on the burqa clad figure. She rolled into a fetal position, her face wrinkled by an formulation of ague painfulness. You'd ask me how I could punish my own baby like that. Well I have no doubts I would stimulate punished a one thousand of my sis like that, and defective, if they did anything of the form. 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 incision of that thing you call moral sense as I watched the female person 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 face of awe and horror, never having expected her own"comrade"to be so roughshod. At that moment however, I felt gnarled hands on my dresser, 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 lady of pleasure 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 soil for some time now, and in maliciousness of her pain, must experience realized that the George Sand was as hot as an earthen oven. She began to cringe away, a look of stark desperation on her case. If she'd shown the same desperation while trying to resist that man, she wouldn't have suffered this destiny. But she'd instead willingly allowed him in. She had to suffer.
Upto this point I'd had no specific aim apart from punishing her to the wide extent possible. It was belike she wouldn't survive the ordeal, but it wouldn't be anything new for a working girl to die for shaming her mob. Unfortunately for her, as she made another attempt to crawl away, the crushed part of her flowing garment rode up her ass, exposing her meaty thigh to my regard. Almost imperceptively I found myself wanting to see More of her body.
cover in the village I would have abstained from any such activity, as that may have earned me an exclusion as well. Now however, there was no one for knot around, and she was not the rude youthful girlfriend but a sobbing beast who would anyhow be punished. might as well get to this operose work a little more enjoyable for myself.
She collapsed on the hot primer coat as she saw me turn away down. Did she expect me to seize the hem of her burqa and try to rip it off ? probable she didn't, but that's exactly what I did. Infact, the fabric of the burqa was comparatively thin, causing it to tear in my hands, leaving her ass exposed to my gaze. Amid renewed howling and nemesis from the cleaning woman that had birthed the whore and her sister, I pulled Sahiba up by her waistline.
The hot Baroness Dudevant helped again, for it burnt her peril skin, causing her to willingly allow me to pick her up. Infact, I soon had the girl in my blazon, 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 Amandine Aurore Lucie Dupin bed. As she considered the alternatives in that stupid mind of hers, I kissed her roughly, tasting her salty line of descent in those full pink petal for the inaugural and last time. She resigned herself to the osculation, preferring it to the outlook of being brutally raped on the ground. But I had no intention of sparing her any of her agony. Pulling away, I ripped off the residuum of her burka as she danced on the hot sand, then threw her hard on the soil again.
Her scream wasn't as melodious as that of Farhana, but it was pleasing amid the drab bleakness of the desert. I kicked the writhing anatomy on the ground right in between her ramification, eliciting another musical howling from my"sister ”. Much as she'd have liked to stay on 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 eubstance met the ground again, she screamed, this clip 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 fountainhead. Soon, she would be roasting on the sand if she lay there : I had to actuate fast. She was again in a creeping stead, almost up on her feet this time. I allowed her to get up, and run a few stride, 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 warm coat of arms as they held her slattern sister. As I finally began dragging her back, I felt a burning botheration in my wrist joint. The bitch had bitten me !
TO make matters worse, the fornicatress tart, 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 botheration in my wrist, I broke release from the young miss 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 sawhorse. As she learnt to her dismay, the cavalry was more firm to me than she had been, and refused to budge. Her fumbling pulling at its reins caused it to shoot down a heavily bang on one of her legs, causing her to collapse on the backbone. I reached her and landed half a dozen hard kicks on every part of her physical structure, breaking her teeth, ribs and arms. I stopped only when she no longer had the intensity 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 expectation of fucking a unused cunt. Lowering myself onto her, I rammed into her whore hole as she continued to wrestle in pain. Like Farhana she could not assume to look into the pure hatred in my eyes, and this fourth dimension I didn't force her to. Instead I grabbed her sarcoid heap, smaller than Farhana's, but magnanimous than the mean cunt you find in those portion. Mauling and pinching them voiceless, 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 annoyance in her loins and in her back, forcing me to slap her a few prison term to ensure she felt every moment of her torture.
Meanwhile I'd been ploughing in her pussy for some time. It was tight, warm up and had it not been the open desert with its relentless sun, I'd have taken groovy pleasure in raping her. Not that I did not relish her magic spell, especially the periodic clinch on my cock when her already roasting flesh touched more scorch sand, or my hand played with the several constituent of her slutty eubstance. Unlike Farhana, she had lubricated easily, which under the circumstances a good affair as it was made fucking her easier.
I picked up amphetamine, my jabbing causing her to rock like a rag doll on the ground, her oculus rolling in her headspring from the intense pain in the ass in her body. On intention I pressed down on her shank, thereby avoiding contacting the Amandine Aurore Lucie Dupin myself while forcing her to press down upon it even as my drive caused her soft hide to rub against the rough grains. As I approached sexual climax, she again appeared to be passing out, and this time I had to grab her nipples, pulling her up by their free weight. Any easement this would have given her from the sand was more than made up by the torment in her white meat, for she howled out like a slam dog. Her kitty-cat clenched smashed than ever on my cock, asking for her"crony's"seed. My cock obliged, exploding in her cunt with an volume which caused the desert and the passion to melt for a moment as I was lost in pure blissfulness.
I came for what seemed like an timelessness. By the time I was done she had passed out, but had a faint pulse. Not wishing to waste any of our cute 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 trivial choice in the affair, complying with my mastery 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 thankfulness. Giving it a small dainty for the patience it'd shown, I took the reins. Before ordering it to propel however, turned the slut ‘ Sister'over, so that her fairly mammilla were replaced by the brownish-red rachis. Spreading her ass cheeks, I aimed my turncock at her seat entrance. She offered no active agent electric resistance, still being passed out. Her asshole was surprisingly easy to imbue, making me wonder if that man had taken her anally as well.
Not bothering about such possibilities, I pushed my solidification cock into her prat. Satisfied that it was indeed inside, I raised her script and tied them behind my neck. This put her weight upon my neck, but it was the only solvent as she wasn't as short as that other cunt. It had the impart attractive force of causing an intense pain in her weapons system when she came out of her unconsciousness. Once everything was gear up, I took control of the horse with one handwriting and my legs, having been trained to fire fore from hogback in this style. The exempt hand went to her tit, mauling it as I moved into a trot, resuming the journeying across the barren wastes at the oral sex of my"family line ”.
( to be continued….. )
Written by Pandorius999
( pandorius999 @ gmail.com )
Constructive criticism and suggestions, including how the plot should proceed, are always welcome. inconsistency, if any, are regretted.
Thanks for reading .