SEX SLAVES OF EAST LONGSHOTT DOWN - PART XIV by Infidel Dog Authors' note: This story is a fantasy, involving the kidnapping of young teenagers for the pleasure of a Middle Eastern Pasha. The Pasha is not a cruel man, but his sexual appetite is not easily satisfied, and, when it comes to girls. he has a number of preferences as to their physical characteristics. He is rich enough to carry out a program of enhancement to the girls in his harem to make them meet his requirements. To Western minds, the Pasha and his tastes would be seen as perverted, kinky and sick. We prefer not to judge the man by Western standards, but offer this account as a semi-fictional documentary record of the doings of such a man. Please remind yourself constantly, in his land, his behaviour is considered normal and reasonable. If you object to scenes showing young girls being exposed to situations which Westerners would find intolerably humiliating, read no further. If you are below the age of consent in your community, delete this material at once. As this story is a semi-documentary, and much of the material comes from a Middle Eastern employee of a harem, there is a great amount of information about weights and measurements. This is unavoidable, but can easily be ignored by the reader who is more interested in the narrative. Up to now, weights and measurements in this story have been presented in metric units (metres, millimetres, kilograms and litres etc) as they were presented to us by our correspondent in the Middle East. For this final part, where they occur, their Imperial equivalents will be included. SEX SLAVES OF EAST LONGSHOTT DOWN - PART XIV by Infidel Dog Chapter 48:- Ready To Blow Helga had come over as well, and the twins. They were joined by Grandmother Eva. Now they were all together. They took turns in comforting Ziggi, who was horribly mixed up. She was glad to be out of her box, yet she longed to be back in it for the security, the food and the ease with which she was able to void her bowels without inconvenience or shame. Not to mention the spray douche she received immediately after each shit. And certainly not to mention the orgasm she got from the spray. The box had been a humiliating prison, but it sure had a lot going for it. Gretchen hugged the girl, trying to squeeze all of her into her arms. The twin masses of her breasts just wouldn't fit, no matter how she tried to arrange her daughter, or which way round she held her. She tried squashing them down against her body, but they kept popping back up again. Ziggi's massive hips and buttocks, too, made hugging her a full-time job. Yet at the same time, her tiny twelve-inch waist, despite the fact that it had been growing steadily since her release from the box's corsetry, made her feel as if she might easily snap in half. Several weeks inside a foam-lined box, even one with an en-suite shower and toilet, had done nothing for Ziggi's personal freshness, either. Eva could solve that problem, at least. Promising to bring Ziggi back to mother as soon as possible, she led the girl away through the still-goggling onlookers to the harem baths. There, along with Helga and the twins, Ziggi was given a good soaping and scrubbing down. Fatima appeared, at first asking kindly how Ziggi was feeling, but actually to insist that the barber shave the girl's pubic hair immediately. Only after she had been shaved between her legs and beneath her arms was Ziggi allowed to return to her mother. There, shrouded in huge towels, she was dried all over. That was when they discovered that as soon as they laid her on her back, she went to sleep immediately. She woke up as soon as they sat her up again. The twins thought this was a great game, and they would happily have played with their huge young sister like this until bedtime, if Helga hadn't intervened and shoo-ed them away to find some food. Since Ziggi's scatological performance next to the food table, many of the guests had lost their appetite, strangely enough. Even now that the evidence had been cleared away by three eunuchs with dustpans and brushes, and the area washed down by two medical orderlies with mops and buckets of disinfectant, the food table had been sadly neglected. The twins returned from the table with a basket creaking with food of every description, and the whole family, plus Candi and Fanni, joined in. Ziggi ate twice as much as anyone, of course, but this time, when her facial expression changed to one of urgent need, Helga quickly led her away to somewhere altogether more suitable. The orchestra was playing softly now. This time had been set aside for a final performance from Shaveema, but the belly dancer was no longer available. In any case, the Pasha had retired to bed early, evidently tired by his exertions, and accompanied only, to her total disbelief, by the dark-skinned girl with the long-hanging breasts who had sucked him off during Ziggi's release ceremony. Her friends were scandalised. A number of the younger girls were now swaying in what they fondly imagined and hoped were seductive movements. They shared the innate lack of grace and rhythm displayed by young girls in most parts of the world; but they seemed to be enjoying themselves, and there was no-one in the harem who was at all likely to take any interest in them anyway. "I wonder where they've got to", said Gretchen after ten minutes. "She can't still be on the toilet!" "Maybe she fell asleep", Steffi laughed, or it might have been Willi. Her twin suggested they went to look for their missing sisters, and they skipped away in the direction of the harem baths. Ten more minutes passed, and *they* hadn't appeared, either. ********** Hendrickje's eyes were accustomed to the darkness by now as she sat in the van. It was absolutely still out here, on a patch of waste ground behind the harem wall. Ahead of them lay the main road to the North. Once Hendrickje started the engine and floored the throttle, they would be on the way to Nahwaz, with nothing more than the odd sleeping settlement between them and freedom. Jane was in the passenger seat of the van, snoring gently. Hendrickje shivered. Turning chilly now, without the warmth of the engine. Even with these big woolly sweaters. Jeans would have been more cosy, but Mansoor was funny about jeans. She leaned across and covered Jane with a blanket. It had been easy for Mansoor. He had literally bumped into Fazal and Bastajian, Blue Suit's men, as soon as the van had quietly driven away. After quick handshakes all round, they had calmly opened the gate and walked in, locking the gate behind them. The plan now was for them to enter the harem by way of the main entrance, but there was a eunuch there on guard. No problem, said Hassan, and led the two round to the side door, and the laundry entrance. They slipped the key into the lock and turned it. It gave a satisfying scrunch. Fazal gripped the door handle, placed a finger on his lips and indicated for the others to follow in single file. Then he turned the handle and pushed. Nothing happened. The door wouldn't budge! They all tried it in turn, with no result. It was only after several minutes of increasingly fervent cursing and sweating that Mansoor put the key back in the lock and turned it again. This time, the door swung open immediately. It hadn't been locked in the first place. Five minutes lost, possibly more. They hurried inside, Bastajian carrying his holdall. From the laundry, only Mansoor knew where he was going. He stopped to get his bearings, peering through the window of the double doors into the laundry itself. Nobody around, but all the lights were on, and a faint hum of machinery told them that the night staff were on duty not far away. Strange, at this time of night, that the place should be so busy. Entering the harem from the laundry entrance, you pass through two sets of double doors into the laundry itself. There are two exits from the laundry room. The one to the left leads to the domestic quarters. Hassan's room is down there on the left. Further down the same corridor are the eunuchs' and matrons' quarters. There was a way round to the right by a devious route but Hassan couldn't quite remember his way round there. It led to the main rooms of the harem, passing the entrance to the Pasha's suite on the way. Best avoided. Tonight, they would be taking the right-hand corridor. This led past the engineer's workshop, round a few corners to an intersection. From there, one way turned sharp right and down a slope into the medical centre, another to the left led to the girls' accommodation. Straight ahead were the main rooms, the baths, the main hall and further beyond, the Pasha's suite. This part of the scheme had called for careful planning. There was a solid wall on the right, along here, opposite the doorway to the baths, which was the outside wall of the harem. Just outside that wall sat Hendrickje in the van. They had Blue Suit's assurance that the wall at that point was less than half a metre thick. Now, approaching this part of the corridor, Mansoor, Fazal and Bastajian had still not encountered anyone, although there was a sound of music and voices from just ahead. Mansoor held up a cautionary hand and crept ahead to peer round the corner. Shit! He scuttled back to join the others. The corridor was crammed with girls! There must have been a dozen of them, chattering away, all done up in their best harem gear, fancy hairdos, doused with head-spinning perfume. What was going on? He took another look. The girls were still there; if not the same ones, then another lot. They were hanging round the doorway leading to the harem baths. Mansoor returned to Fazal. "The baths, are the toilets there as well?" "Yes. From what I remember of the layout, there are ten toilets in the bath room area. Why? Didn't you go before you came out?" Mansoor ignored his remark. "It's full of girls round there. They're obviously waiting to go to the loo." "Girls always go to the toilet in pairs, have you ever noticed?" remarked Bastajian. Fazal agreed, and was prepared to discuss the phenomenon at some length. Just my luck, thought Mansoor, to get lumbered with a pair of behavioural psychologists! "How thick is the outside wall just here?" Mansoor kicked the wall experimentally. "Three quarters of a metre", said Bastajian immediately. "Not so good!" "Will we get through?" "We might. But if we don't, there won't be a second chance. And if the charge doesn't blow a hole clean through the wall, the blast will be reflected back into the corridor and do some permanent damage in here!" "Damage?" "To us! And the girls", added Bastajian regretfully. Decision time. There was no hope of getting round the corner, laying the charge and blowing a hole in the wall, not with all those girls round there. It was here or nowhere. Bastajian knew that as well as Mansoor. As soon as the policeman swallowed and pointed to the wall, Bastajian put his holdall down and started rummaging inside. "Try to find something heavy and soft. Sandbags would be best. But anything like that. It's our best chance of getting through." Fazal nodded. "I'll take a look in the laundry", he said, and scampered away. Bastajian knelt by the wall, scraping away at the plaster with a hook-shaped implement. A heap of plaster dust grew on the floor. He had made a sizeable hole before he nodded to himself and reached into the bag for the charge. Then two girls came round the corner. Helga and Ziggi had been horrified at finding the corridor outside the baths thronged with girls waiting patiently for their turn. Ziggi couldn't wait. The other girls were sympathetic, but not prepared to put off the inevitable any longer. Helga grabbed her sister by the arm and hustled her on round the corner. "We'll find somewhere else...!" she told her, as they rounded the corner and ran slap into two men. Two men, Obviously Up To No Good! Mansoor acted instinctively. He stood back against the wall and ushered the girls through. Being well brought up girls, they smiled politely at him and tried to squeeze past. Ziggi, though, failed to take full account of her now enormous width, and she became wedged between Mansoor and the wall. Mansoor's eyes boggled as he stared at Ziggi's gigantic tits, standing straight out from her body like a gravity-defying act. Helga's weren't much smaller! It took several seconds to disentangle themselves, during which time Ziggi's need became even more desperate. Once past Mansoor, they started down the corridor, then found a doorway on the right. Ziggi went straight in, followed by Helga, and moments later, Mansoor heard a resounding fart and a sigh of genuine relief. It was a few minutes before the girls came out into the corridor again, trying to look innocent, but succeeding only in looking sheepishly guilty. "Hold it!" rapped Mansoor in English, and the girls stopped in surprise. "You can't go back through there. Get back in that room." Mansoor followed them in and closed the door. The room was equipped as an office. The girls had cleaned up as well as they could after Ziggi's latest accident, but had hidden the evidence in a waste paper basket. Out of sight, certainly, but its presence could not be ignored. Ziggi blushed in shame, and started to whimper softly. Oh, no, thought Mansoor. Don't start crying! Anything but that! Helga put an arm round her sister's shoulder, looking at Mansoor as if it was all his fault. "Who are you two!" he asked Helga. "I am Helga, this is my sister, Ziggi." "We are looking for a Swedish woman, and a girl called Candi, she's English. Wait, you are German. Is your mother here as well?" Surely it couldn't be this easy! It was. "Sit over there and wait. Don't go away!" he hurried back into the corridor where Fazal had come back with several small bags of soda crystals. "Just the job, these, chief!" said Bastajian, packing the bags around the charge at the base of the wall. "What have you been doing with those two in there, having a quickie?" Fazal's eyes lit up. "You've got some girls in there?" he gasped eagerly. "Yes. Get in there and make sure they don't go away. Don't touch, okay!" They heard Fazal's exclamation as he went into the office. Faintly, the words, "Look at the fucking tits on these two!" came through the open doorway. Mansoor bent and watched Bastajian completing his work. It looked competent enough. A length of wire led out from the bundle of tightly-packed soda bags. "Radio aerial", Bastajian explained. He produced a small grey plastic box with a key-switch on top. He pressed a button and a red light glowed. "Okay, all ready to blow!" Then the twins came round the corner ... ********** The four girls sat in the little office, looking up at Mansoor. Fazal stared at them, still not quite believing his own eyes. He had every right not to. Helga sat facing him, her feet and knees apart, her flimsy top gaping open, revealing enough cleavage for Fazal to bury his head. As one of Blue Suit's henchmen, Fazal had bumped into many young and beautiful sex slaves. It went with the job. He ought to have been a eunuch, really, but somehow, he wasn't. And Blue Suit hadn't the heart to inflict it on him at his age. So Fazal suffered raging hard-ons practically the whole time he was supposed to be working. He was supposed to be working now. He tore his eyes away from Helga, but they only got as far as Ziggi. At least *she* wasn't draped in filmy see-through gauze. But even draped in a pair of enormous bath towels, Ziggi looked outrageous. Her breasts seemed to stick out further than her arms could reach. Her bottom was so huge she overflowed the sides of the chair. It was as well Fazal couldn't see her waist. Tearing his eyes away again, Fazal now found himself staring at the twins. At least, their breasts weren't bursting out of their clothes. Not quite, anyway. They were just two lovely young girls. He shook his head and tried to reorganise his groin, but all his clothes were suddenly far too tight. He hadn't heard a word Mansoor had been saying, either, which was a pity, because it had been some kind of briefing. He caught the end of it. "Helga, you go and tell your mother and the others to wait, but to be ready to get out here as soon as you hear the signal. The signal will be a bang and probably a cloud of smoke. Walk, don't run, past the bath room, round the corner here, and we'll be ready to get you all out through the hole in the wall." "Tell them, once you're out, to get straight into the back of the van. The doors will be open. As soon as you are all aboard, bang on the side of the van, and it will go. Hold tight. Hang on. Once you are on the road, you will find some clothes in a box in the back of the van. They may not quite fit you ..." he looked at Ziggi and Helga, "but there should be plenty of loose-fitting things in there. Good luck." "With any luck, everyone else will be running the other way, away from the explosion. You will be the only ones coming this way. Don't panic, even if the corridor is full of smoke. We'll be here. Right, Helga, on your way. The bang will go off in five minutes." Chapter 49:- Pluses And Minuses "Who's out there?" Candi asked eagerly. "Is it the television people? Have they got cameras with them?" "Didn't see any cameras. Only a bomb!" "A bomb?" Gretchen bit her lip. "What are they trying to do, blow the harem up, and us with it?" "There are three men. The one who gives the orders is called Mansoor. He said to ..." "Mansoor!" Candi burst out. "That's *him*! He was here before, when the others escaped. He came back! He came back for us!" "What did he tell us we have to do?" Gretchen asked, excitedly. "Wait for the bang, then we go", Helga whispered urgently. "That way. That's where the bomb will be. We go down there, and they'll show us the way out through the wall. When the bang goes, just follow me!" ********** I thought the evening had gone off quite well, on the whole. There were pluses and minuses, of course. The nasty business about Shaveema getting hi-jacked and replaced by the girl Candi. Candi falling in the goldfish pond. All black marks. But the Pasha had enjoyed Candi's dance act. Especially the climax. I'd never seen him laugh so much. And Ziggi's measuring had gone off well. With that little tart sucking him off, he really enjoyed that bit. Of course, it had all gone a bit sour after Ziggi had a crap on the floor. But the master had been well tired by then, he probably didn't notice. Off to bed with his new girlfriend. We would see in the morning, I thought. He'd give me a call and we'd discuss the evening like adults; how to improve on the arrangements next time, how to avoid some of the major disasters. Meanwhile, there was one small worry. His last words before going to bed had been to ask for Candi to be sent to his room for the night. Did that still apply now he had gone off to bed with young what-was-her-name? Better be on the safe side. I'll tell her, I thought. She can go along, and if he's busy, or asleep, she can have an early night. I looked around for her. There she was, in the same place. I went over. ********** "Oh, fuck, look!" whispered Candi. They looked. Hassan was making his way over, weaving between the swaying girls, avoiding the still damp disinfected spot on the marble floor. "Ah, Candi?" Hassan smiled around at the group. "The Pasha has retired to bed, but his last words to me were to request your presence in his bed-chambers tonight. He may not require your ... services, but it will be necessary for you to attend." Candi was looking at the others nervously, they were all edgy. Hassan looked from one to another, wondering what was going on. They felt the explosion before they heard it. The floor shuddered, a door burst open. A split second later came the explosion. It was more of a thump than a bang, the corridor leading to the baths lit up momentarily with a brilliant glare, and yellowish-grey smoke billowed out into the room. Instantly, a hundred girls were screaming, running from the direction of the bathroom corridor, falling over each other. Somebody pitched headlong into the pool. The food table went flying. There was a resounding clatter as Ziggi's box swung violently into the horizontal position, then fell on its side, spraying warm water fifteen feet into the air. Hassan ran, too. He ran toward the bathroom. Helga, Candi, Gretchen and Fanni headed the same way; as they had been briefed, walking, not running. They reached the doorway and met Hassan coming out, coughing. "No", he shouted at them, "not in there. That's the wrong way. You're going the wrong way!" The four doggedly pressed on through the doorway, then Helga, her nerve gone, broke into a trot. Three pregnant women followed at a more sedate pace. Hassan gaped after them as they disappeared into the smoke, then shrugged and set off in pursuit. ********** The van rocked on its springs and the whole patch of waste ground was lit up, as if by a photographer's flash. Hendrickje gripped the wheel tightly, not moving, as Mansoor had told her. Jane sat upright, blinked around for a second, then, without a word - of course - she was out of the door and heading for the harem wall. Smoke was gushing from a jagged hole. Jane bent and picked up scattered stones, tossing them out of the way. She bent and tried peering into the hole, but could see only smoke. The hole wasn't very big, either. She could barely get through there herself. She started tearing at the edges of the hole, breaking her nails, sobbing with the effort. Suddenly, she sat back on her haunches as a frightened face appeared in the aperture. Recovering her senses, Jane grabbed at the girl's hand and heaved. Steffi squeezed through on her hands and knees. Jane started to work on the edges of the hole again. Once more, she staggered back. The same girl was coming through the hole again! For a second time, Jane pulled the girl through, then watched with dawning comprehension as the twins, in the tattered remains of their harem clothes, clambered into the back of the van. She resumed her scrabbling at the hole in the wall. Suddenly, someone was helping her, another woman. Hendrickje was going to be in trouble, Jane thought, Mansoor had told her to stay at the wheel. Together, they clawed at the crumbling stones - one was coming loose - a big one - HERE IT CAME, and the two of them lost their balance and rolled over as a great chunk of stone came out of the wall with a crump and a landslide of dust. The hole was much bigger, a girl could come through now almost upright, although it was still rather narrow. A leg came through the hole, then the owner had second thoughts and it withdrew. There was a banging and a crashing from inside the building. They could hear voices., women screaming, men shouting. At last, Jane managed to claw another stone block clear, and a girl, a big girl, came squeezing through, stumbling over the loose stones, getting her bearings before diving for the open doors of the van. Three down. How many to go? Here was another one. A pregnant woman. Shit, if she could get through, the rest certainly would. Another one, pregnant as well! What did they get up to in this bloody place? And another, Jeesus, this one was a tight fit, but she made it. Candi scrambled through the hole, then turned and shouted, "one more!" Here she came, a little kid. Stark naked. Her head and shoulders came through, then she stuck fast. Jane and her unseen helper pulled and heaved at Ziggi's arms, until she came through like a cork from a bottle. Only a kid, but she had the biggest tits and the biggest ass Jane had ever seen in her life! There was something weird about this place... The engine was running, and the kid was already climbing into the van as Jane followed her, slammed the doors shut and banged the flat of her hand on the side panel. Hendrickje took off like a woman possessed, the best racing start she'd ever done. She had driven a hundred metres on pure adrenalin before she even thought of finding the switch and turning the headlights on. ********** Fazal and Bastajian had already escaped into the night and were hopping around uncertainly outside the hole in the wall, waiting for Mansoor to follow them out. He never appeared. Their orders were not to wait, not to go back inside. Mansoor struggled with Hassan. The big African no-ball had hold of the policeman's leg. He lashed out with fists and his free foot, but couldn't make contact. Suddenly, his leg came free and Hassan gave a grunt as if something had hit him in the balls. Impossible, of course. It gave Mansoor the two seconds he needed to scramble through the hole into the cool night air. He made it, and was about to stand up when Hassan grabbed his heel again. Mansoor lashed out in desperation, freed himself, and crawled on hands and knees across the tumbled stones, just as Hassan's face peered out. Emily picked herself up. She had been stunned and exhausted after the big stone came free. She saw Hassan's face poking out to the hole. It was all she needed. The bastard who had tried to stop the first escape. Who had followed them to airport and put the shits up her there. She picked up the biggest stone she could lay her hands on, and crashed it down on the man's frizzy head. Then she closed her eyes and sat on the ground. There was a terrible noise all around her, inside her head, and a great bright light in the sky. She took a last look back at the hole in the wall, and to her horror, saw Hassan's body being pulled back inside. A woman's face appeared. "Sprechen sie Deutsch, bitte?" it enquired politely? "English?" it tried again. Emily hollered yes. "Tell Gretchen; remember the name, Gretchen", shouted the woman, "tell her I'm staying. Say I never had as much fun in my life!" Whatever that means, thought Emily, as the noise and the light materialised into a helicopter settling down not thirty yards away. A voice was shouting above the roar of the rotors, "Over here! Quickly!" She ran with the men for the machine; strong hands pulled her inside. Panting, she stared around at the astonished faces. Fazal, Bastajian, and Mansoor. She flung herself into his arms. Up front, Blue Suit turned, gave a thumbs up to his pilot, and they pitched forward and rocketed away in the direction of police headquarters. ********** "Are we all here?" roared Gretchen over the reverberating howl of the engine. "Helga?" "I'm here, and the twins, is that you, Candi?" "No, that's Fanni, I'm over here!" "Where's Ziggi?" Gretchen screeched. "It's okay, she's here", shouted Helga, "she's asleep!" "Asleep? How can she sleep through all this ...?" "She lay down on her back, and off she went. Leave her for now. Who else is in here?" "Where's Grandma? We've forgotten my mother. We'll have to go back ..!" "We can't go back there ...!" "Maybe she'll get out anyway, she was only in the bath room ..." "She'll be okay, Gretch! She'll manage. She'll get away. Who else is in here?" Jane touched Candi's face in the darkness. "Who the fuck's that?" the girl screamed. Jane found her hand and squeezed it. "Leggo! Who is it? Can't you say something?" Jane gave up and felt her way around the swaying van. Pulling herself to her feet and clinging on tight, she fumbled above the rear doors, then the interior lights came on. Jane sat down, exhausted. "Who are you?" Candi asked. She took in the girl's sweat-streaked, dust-plastered face, her broken, bleeding fingernails. "Come on", she shouted, more softly, "Are you all right? Say something!" Jane said nothing, shook her head. "She's not from the harem; not dressed like that", Gretchen pointed out Jane's sweater. Jane shook her head. "She seems to know what we're saying, anyway", said Candi. "I'll ask her where we're going. Where are we going?" she bellowed in Jane's ear. The girl clapped her hands to her ears and shook her head, then pointed to the front of the van. She made a sign of a boat rocking on the water. "Boat?" said Candi, and Jane nodded vigorously. "We're going on a boat", Candi told Gretchen. "I know, I saw her telling you. So far, so good. She looked out of the rear window, shading the glass with her hand to cut off the reflections. Nobody following us. Where's she off to now?" Jane had crawled across the cold metal floor of the van and was dragging a large cardboard box out of a corner. She tipped it over, and a heap of clothing fell out. "Wow, a dressing-up party", Candi shouted. "Looks like we help ourselves!" ********** The helicopter thumped down on the pad outside police headquarters, the rotors immediately slowing and grinding to a halt with a moaning of gears. They sat and looked at each other, still deafened. Blue Suit appeared at the entrance to the cockpit, removing a headset. "Over to you, Mr Mansoor. I guess we're all under arrest?" "I guess we all go inside, Mr Abdijian." To Emily, he muttered, "a word with you later!" The police helicopter stood next to Abdijian's on the pad, tinkling sounds coming from it as the metal cooled in the chill of the small hours. They trooped into the brightly-lit building. A lot of activity tonight. There were a bunch of Europeans sitting together along one wall. They were presumably together as they were all Europeans, but they were dressed in a random fashion, and they were saying nothing to each other. No doubt they were discouraged from conversation by the policeman with the sub-machine gun who stood watching them intently. They all looked up at the tattered and dusty crew being led into the building by an immaculately-groomed man in a light blue suit. All of them stared at Emily with interest. What was a pregnant European woman doing with this scruffy lot? Why had she been arrested? Was she a sex-slave of some sort? A pregnant sex-slave? One of the men spoke. He was a suit, with a briefcase between his feet. "Excuse me miss ... er, madam", he addressed Emily in the loud voice Englishmen adopt when addressing someone who does not speak English. "Me, Ace Reporter! You, Fanni?" He wondered how she managed to get such power into a simple slap around the face. The other four men stared at him in sheer disbelief. Emily snarled at the suit as he ran his fingers across his stinging cheek. "Ah've had just about enough for one fuckin' night", she told him. "One more word out of you, Sunshine, and I'll get Hamid here to blow your face out through your asshole, okay?" The suit nodded. He had no idea what this coarse North-Eastern woman was doing so far from home, but one thing was certain: she was not the Fanni he was looking for. Mansoor had been going to have a stern word with Emily about defying him and stowing away on the van. Women had their place here in the Middle East. When the man gave an order, the woman obeyed without question. But then he heard Emily's closely-reasoned argument with the Ingleesi in the suit. Mansoor changed his mind. ********** They looked a motley crew, but at least they were all decently covered. The clothes box contained a variety of men's shirts and sweaters. There were several pairs of jeans and work trousers, and an outsized pair of blue overalls. Whoever had packed the box had then apparently remembered that harem inmates tended to be of the female persuasion, and had thrown in a few skirts in a selection of popular sizes and four capacious smocks. The twins quickly decked themselves out in skirts and sweaters, breathing deeply and sticking out their chests. But an unseemly scramble ensued for the smocks. With three pregnant women and two vast-breasted girls; someone, clearly, was going to be unlucky. Fanni and Gretchen immediately pulled rank and seniority and claimed one each. Candi grabbed another and snarled like a cornered beast when any of the others came near her. That left Helga and Ziggi to fight over the last one. They were in danger of tearing it in half. "Girls!" Gretchen shouted at them in German. "Neither of you will have it if you tear it in two! Helga, have a look and see if you can fit into a sweater and a pair of those trousers." Helga tried, but none of the sweaters, not even the biggest, would contain her breasts. "I can't breathe with that on", she complained petulantly, tugging it off over her head and flinging it against the side of the van. Jane silently offered her the blue overalls. "What do you think I am, a fucking plumber?" Helga stormed, and Jane's face crumpled. Meanwhile, Ziggi had struggled into the last of the smocks. It was nowhere near big enough for her, especially around the top, but having got into it, there was not much hope of getting her out again. She had all the elegance of a sack of potatoes, with her great tit-bags squashed down past her miniscule waist and pressed against her swollen stomach. If the dress had been big enough to accommodate her well-nigh five feet of hips and butt, it couldn't cope with a couple of tits the size of dustbin-liners in there as well! She looked down at herself with mingled pride and uncertainty. "You look wonderful, darling!" said her mother loyally. Helga snorted and grabbed the overalls from the floor and wriggled herself into them. Whatever else she looked like, it certainly wasn't a plumber! Candi looked at her critically. "Hey, you forgot the belt", she said, and moving up behind her, she quickly wrapped the blue self-material belt around Helga's middle, tying it tight. The effect was gratifying. Helga looked staggeringly voluptuous. "Shit, I could fancy you myself in that", said Candi. "You look fucking great! If there's any sailors on this boat, you'd better lock yourself in your cabin or they'll be frigging you in the rigging." Fanni never said much, but she spoke now. "I just hope there's going to be a boat at the end of this road." They all fell silent. The van roared on, then the engine note changed. They were going downhill. There was a lurch as Hendrickje changed down. "We're coming into a town", said Gretchen, "switch this light off, somebody." They were, indeed. The little port of Nahwaz slept, as well it might at this time of the early morning, but there were lights on down by the quayside. Navigation was no problem for Hendrickje, with Mansoor's instructions. All she had to do was head for the floodlights, the cranes, and the masts and rusty funnel of the salt-streaked bucket called Enterprise IX. And everything went according to plan. Eight assorted females scrambled out of the back of the van, which had squealed to a halt directly opposite the unguarded gangway. In seconds, they were on board, huddled in the deckhouse, and a man in greasy jeans and a once-white T-shirt was looking them up and down in utter disbelief. ********** "Lose the van!" That had been the order. Mansoor had been thinking of Hendrickje finding somewhere to park the van, somewhere it could be picked up later. Hendrickje, being a good Dutchwoman, took her orders more literally. The quayside sloped gradually downwards. She could lose this van for good and all, no problem. Hendrickje released the handbrake and the vehicle crept sluggishly forward, then stopped. Cursing, she swung the wheel helplessly from side to side, and somehow the van started to roll down the slope again. Gradually, it gathered pace, until Hendrickje was certain it would reach the edge of the quay. Time to leave, she thought, and flung open the driver's door. It wasn't like a normal car door. It was hinged at its rear edge, opening backwards, and the doorway was at a funny angle, so although she crouched in the doorway, clutching at the steering wheel, she was going to have to jump at least a metre to get herself clear of the side of the van. It was going faster now, and with a panicky glance she saw the edge of the dock coming closer. Sobbing in terror, she clung on tighter, then closed her eyes and hurled herself outwards. The swinging door caught her a whack on the legs as she went, and she lost balance. She felt the uneven cobbled surface beneath her feet as she hit the ground running, then she was pitching forward helplessly. The roadway was tough, hard on her hands and knees as she tumbled and slid along the ground. The van gave a metallic shriek as its front wheels went over the edge of the quay and it screeched along on its belly. Hendrickje's body slammed against something hard. Hard, yet somehow forgiving. She sat back on her bottom, all the breath driven out of her by the impact with the pile of sacks. Wool, was it, she wondered pointlessly. It had gone quiet. In disbelief, she turned to see where the van had gone over the edge. It was still there, rocking like a see-saw, balanced on its underside! "Oh, no!" she cried, and struggling to her feet, she staggered to the back of the wretched vehicle, pushing uselessly against the back doors. It rocked some more, and creaked, but it wouldn't shift. "Shitting thing!" she wailed, and pushed harder, her feet losing grip on the roadway. Suddenly, someone else was alongside of her pushing at the back of the van, and she was nearly falling on her face again. The stranded vehicle gave another yelp of tortured metal as it almost leapt forward, and for a moment Hendrickje was in danger of following it into the harbour. But someone grabbed her hand and hauled her back, just in time. "Come on", hissed an urgent voice, huskily, one she didn't recognise, "let's get back on this ship!" And Hendrickje felt herself being pulled along the quayside to the gangway. She faintly heard the splash as the faithful van took its last dive into the inky water and she followed her unknown helper below deck. There, in the glow of a bulkhead lamp, she saw who it was. "Jane!" she whispered. "You!" "Me!" said Jane. She held a hand to her throat and shook her head. "Hurts ... to talk!" But there was no need to talk as Hendrickje hugged her tight. All around them there was noise and bustle, as members of the crew bustled about, making their way on deck, casting off lines. The rumbling of the engines increased to a throbbing vibration beneath their feet, then the Enterprise IX was under way, her propellors churning the water. There was a barely-felt scrape from near the bows as the ship nudged against the H-Van where it stood on its nose beneath the surface, then the rusty freighter was away, heading for the harbour entrance. Chapter 50:- Together At Last "Where are we heading for?" Gretchen warmed her hands round a chipped mug of cocoa. Captain Valdassarides had brought out the best china for his guests. "Limassol", he replied, his eyes flickering across the three pregnant women gathered round the table in the saloon. The Enterprise IX pitched and wallowed in the swell, the throbbing diesels making the whole structure quiver. Every twenty seconds or so, the engines went through a periodic vibration which set the crockery juddering across the table. The women grabbed at their mugs. The captain didn't seem at all worried about the ship going down with all hands, but they could not share his complacency. The twins had turned in for the night, sharing a poky cabin with Ziggi. Jane and Hendrickje, after a long day, were almost out on their feet and had quickly become unconscious on the two leather benches across the forward end of the saloon. They never quite rolled off. The three mothers-to-be could see no way of getting comfortable anywhere on this ship, and were preparing to sit out the voyage right here, keeping going on cocoa and cheese sandwiches. "We should be due in tomorrow afternoon. I believe you will be met there by your friends." He shrugged. "That's all I know. Nobody tells me nothing. So long as they pay me ..." "You say we *should* be due in tomorrow." Gretchen looked him closely. "You mean we might not make it by then?" Valdassarides spread his hands. "The weather ...? They forecast a storm. We may be delayed ... We get there sometime!" Candi passed a hand over her forehead. "I think I'll try and get some sleep." She looked pale. "Where can I ... Ouch!" She sat down, clutching her belly. "Candi, are you all right, darlink?" said Gretchen. "It's okay, just a little twinge of something. I'll be all right in a minute if I lie dow ... Aaagh!" this time, she clutched at the table. Gretchen and Fanni looked at each other. "Is there anywhere our friend can be comfortable, Captain?" Gretchen asked. "I mean, *really* comfortable." The captain was looking at Candi with rising panic. Three pregnant women in his ship was bad enough, but if one of them was going to drop her kid before they reached Limassol, he was going to want extra pay for that. Shit, there she goes again, he thought, as Candi winced and gripped the table top with white knuckles. "How long have you been like this, Candi?" Gretchen asked softly. "Oh, not long. Just tonight. Well, a bit yesterday as well. But mostly tonight. In the van, once or twice. Not as bad as now, but it'll go away. I'm all right ...!" Her voice rose to a squeak as the two women took her arms and led her to the leather couch running across the aft end of the saloon. "No good, Gretchen, she can't have it in here!" said Fanni, shaking her head. "How about your cabin, Captain? Can she have it in there?" Gretchen was not asking, she was telling. "Have what?" Candi said in a bewildered tone. "Oh, come on, darlink! Baby's on its way, and you're not going to hang on until tomorrow afternoon, not the way you're going!" "Baby ...?" The captain was already leading the way to his accommodation. They led Candi in there and helped her on to the bunk. She lay back, and drew her knees up suddenly as another spasm of pain hit her. She was sweating. "I can't have a baby here. Not on a ship. I want it in hospital!" "Look at it this way, darlink, baby can be any nationality you like. What do you fancy, Cypriot? You could name him after the captain. What's your name, Mr ...?" "It's Andreas! I am honoured. Hey, look, can't she hold on? I'll ask the engineer for another couple of knots!" "If you can do anything to stop this baby arriving, Captain, we would be grateful to hear of it. Meanwhile, there are a few everyday objects we will need from you. Perhaps if you would have a word with the ship's cook ...?" ********** Caro and Erica refused a third cup of coffee. "I've got coffee coming out of my ears, Mrs Freshwater", Caro said wearily. "I wonder if there's any more news. Shall I try the office again?" Candi's mother shook her head. "They'll tell us as soon as they know anything. We just have to wait." Caro slumped back in her chair. "They must know something. They're just not telling us." She peered into the little agency office. Two girls in cool dresses sat typing beneath a slowly churning fan. A phone purred, and Mrs Freshwater turned anxiously. One of the girls picked up the phone and spoke in Greek. She sent an occasional frightened glance out in their direction. At last, she put the phone down and exchanged quick glances with the other girl. "What is it?" Mrs Freshwater stood up. "Is it news ...?" "It's news, Mrs Freshwater, but not very good news. We just heard from the police over there. The rescue party have all been arrested!" Candi's mother sat down, raised her hands, then let them fall in her lap. Caro buried her face in her hands. Erica looked as if she was having difficulty understanding the conversation, then she bit her lip and tears poured down her face. "I'm sorry!" said the girl from the news agency office. ********** The storm blew up that morning. By noon, it was raging. The good ship Enterprise IX had slowed to a lumbering crawl. Gretchen sent word to the captain, asking if there was any way he could make the ship ride more smoothly. The answer came back, yes, but not if you want to get to Limassol today. They turned and rode out the weather. At eight fifteen that evening, the rain stopped, the wind swung suddenly to a new direction and the motion of the ship became almost soothing as she crammed on all revolutions for the Cyprus coast. And Candice Freshwater held her baby girl to her breast, while her friends filed in to look at her in wonder. Helga was getting over her seasickness. The twins were too boisterous by half and would happily have taken baby for walkies. Ziggi wanted a baby of her own. Gretchen and Fanni sat proudly by the bed, as pleased as if the baby was theirs. Hendrickje came to see the new arrival. The others hadn't even *seen* Hendrickje until Jane half dragged her down the gangway at Nahwaz. They were astounded to discover that their rescue driver had been a girl. And in a night of miracles, Jane had managed to say a few more words. For the time being, she would only speak to Hendrickje. Apparently, her name was Elspeth, she was twenty years old - despite looking about twelve sometimes - and she came from Scotland. The Enterprise IX dropped anchor off Limassol at four the next morning. With her radio antennas damaged by the storm, the radio operator had been unable to contact anyone on HF, and only managed to make VHF contact half an hour before they arrived. Their arrival came as a surprise to everyone, especially the immigration authorities. ********** It was nine o'clock before Captain Valdassarides managed to get any sense out of anyone at the police station. He wanted to place an urgent call to a Mr Abdijian at police headquarters in another country, for heaven's sakes, what sort of a request was that? It was two more hours before he was connected and put through to Blue Suit in person. "The cargo is delivered! Is it safe to talk on this line?" "Delivered? Great news! How many?" "Eight, including the driver and her assistant. We embarked with eight. We arrived with nine!" "Have the arrivals been welcomed? Was anyone there to meet them?" "I can't tell anyone. I cannot reveal the nature of my cargo, it will screw things up for next time." "There isn't going to be a next time, Andreas. It's all blown up. No more cargo. Not from me, anyway. Go see the police, tell them you have brought in some women rescued from a harem ..." "Rescued from a harem? We're supposed to be in the business of *providing* harem slaves, not taking them away! Okay, I'll see the police. Then what?" "You'll find out. Andreas, listen, your money's in the usual place. But make the most of it, there isn't going to be any more! Good look, Captain!" ********** The flight was announced as an hour late. Air Traffic Controllers' dispute in France. The usual. Mrs Freshwater seemed to have shrunk to half her normal size as she sat between Erica and Carolyn. The man from the newspaper was silent, stunned. His colleague and his henchmen were being interned for an unspecified period. No rescue, no headlines, no story. The TV news people had flown in an hour ago and were now hanging around the airline desk, hoping for an early flight home. "Your attention, please! Mrs Freshwater, passenger for London, please contact the main enquiry desk. Mrs Freshwater, please. Thank you." Caro jerked round. She'd been asleep. Where was Candi's mother. Erica asked, "was that call for her? She's in the loo." "It might be urgent, I'd better go and see what it's about." She approached the desk nervously. "You called Mrs Freshwater?" "*You* are Mrs Freshwater?" asked the clerk, accusingly. "No, she went to the toilet, I'm Carolyn Lashmore, a friend." The clerk sniffed and picked up a phone from the desk; asked a few rapid questions in Greek. Then without a word, he passed the handset to Caro. "Hello?" she said, hesitantly. "Caro? Is that you?" "Yes, this is me ... who's that?" She hardly dared believe it. Surely not ... "Candi?" she whispered. "Who did you expect?" "CANDI!!! Where are you? Are you all right? Did you get out? Oh, help. Your Mum's in the loo. We're at the airport." She listened for a few more seconds, then frantically beckoned to Erica. "It's your mother!" she cried and thrust the phone at her, then hopped around impatiently as the man from the newspaper hurried up to them, closely followed by Mrs Freshwater. Erica was babbling away in sing-song Swedish, tears pouring down her face. She thrust the phone at Candi's mother. "It's for you, Grandma Freshwater!" The newsman was already on another phone. He dictated a few lines, then asked the clerk to get him a taxi, quickly. An hour later, they all met in an hotel foyer in Limassol, all twelve of them. Make that thirteen. ********** Gretchen had scrounged a few pounds from the captain and made a quick tour of the shops. "I'm sorry it's all cheap stuff, I was a bit short of cash. But it's better than nothing." She let the girls rummage among the bags. The twins were holding up tacky souvenir T-shirts and cotton shorts. Helga found the biggest of the T-shirts and a pair of jeans, abandoning her mechanic's disguise at last. Ziggi fought her way into the largest maternity dress Gretchen had been able to find, and looked presentable, if nothing else. From the same shop there were baby clothes, little pink and white things. "Everything she'll need there for a couple of days, darlink, and a big packet of disposables." Candi was still exhausted, and they had propped her up in an armchair. Baby was asleep in a cardboard cat food box, lined with the hotel's pillow cases. The management, once they realised that there was a news story here, had found them a lounge to themselves and were keeping the press and newsreels at bay, holding out for the best price. When Caro, Frida and Candi's mother arrived from Larnaca, the taxi drove straight round to the rear entrance, and the newspaper man found himself the only press representative in the room when the tearful reunion took place. 'I Was There', he said to himself. Frida clung to her mother. Mrs Freshwater clung to Candi, wondering how her daughter had managed to put on so much weight in little over seven months. Caro hugged anyone she could find, not that she knew any of them, although when she discovered that Hendrickje and Jane had been at Zed's house, they became instant friends. And when all the emotional greetings had quietened down, Baby Freshwater decided to have her turn. "Mum", said Candi, proudly, "meet your grand-daughter!" Caro looked at Mrs Freshwater. She didn't go ballistic. If anything, she looked quite pleased. There was no accounting for grown-ups, sometimes. ********** There was plenty of time to swap their stories on the flight home. Somehow, they had almost the whole of Club Class to themselves. Gretchen's family were flying to London and would be going on from there. Fanni and Erica would meet up with Mrs Carlsson and Frida at Heathrow. The lights glared and the cameramen jostled, but eventually it was all over, and the Swedish and German families set off home, to run the gauntlet of another reception. Meanwhile, a twenty-four-seater coach set off for Longshott. The press had discovered how much room Candi needed, and with Lucinda and Toots in there as well, they had decided on a larger vehicle than the twelve-seater they had originally hired. It wasn't a quiet journey home. Hendrickje and Jane had heard so much from Emily about Caro and Toots, and about the previous rescue. Now, they were able to meet the characters face to face, it brought the whole adventure to life. They couldn't believe the size of Cinders's and Toots's breasts, even though they had been prepared beforehand. Mrs Freshwater sat with Basil and Dawn Lashmore, proudly holding her grand-child. The adults looked around the bus at the laughing kids, comparing stories and experiences. They saw Hendrickje telling an animated story, illustrating a point by demonstrating the size of something tiny with two of her fingers. Toots and Jane were in convulsions. Caro was giggling behind her hand, hoping her parents couldn't hear. Then Cinders demonstrated the size of something else, holding her hands apart like a fisherman describing the one that got away. Not innocent kids any more, after all they'd been through. In the back seat, left together discreetly by the others, sat Candi and Piers. Fortunately, some of Piers's more extreme symptoms of Candi-mania had faded slightly since they had last met, or their mothers would have been rather embarrassed. But there was one effect of Piers's treatment at the hands of the harem physician which was quite permanent, as Candi noticed within the first few seconds of their meeting again. And Candi now had such a wondrously voluptuous earth-mother figure. Piers was so rock-hard as he sat next to her, he was convinced he was going to have an erection for the rest of his life. And Candi wouldn't have been too upset if he did. Nearly THE END EPILOGUE This story is over. The Lashmore family have sold their camper van. Camping in France has lost its appeal. Caro and Candi try to keep in touch with their friends who went through their terrible experiences with them. Sweden. Fanni had a baby boy, a brother for Erica, who returned to school to complete her studies. She wants to be a doctor, she says. A physician. Frida and Mrs Carlsson moved away shortly after returning home, and Caro has been unable to contact them. Kitty, sadly, could not go back to school, as movement had become almost impossible for her with the gigantic, and still increasing, size of her breasts. She was studying at home, but missing the company of normal girls and boys. Germany. The Family Schwalbenschwanz, as we shall call them, were re-united briefly, although Herr Schwalbenschwanz was singularly unimpressed by his wife's pregnancy. He had, apparently, made alternative domestic arrangements during the family's absence. Still, it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, and the now all-female family needed quite a lot more room than they had before. Gretchen had a little girl, called Candi. Helga is thinking of moving out and finding a lover. The twins plan on staying at home and caring for their mother and their younger sister. Ziggi is no longer the holder of the World Record smallest waist measurement. Within a few weeks, her measurements had become far less bizarre, as her breasts descended under their own huge weight, her waist ballooned to almost 52cm (20 inches) and her hips became a far more reasonable 112cm (44 inches). Still an hourglass figure, but these things are relative. The Middle East. No, we can't reveal the name of the country, but the sex slave trade took a heavy blow when the Abdijian organisation ceased trading. Blue Suit himself was permitted to stay in the country, and he now imports consumer electronic equipment. The Pasha lost interest in sex, preferring televised sport, and right-sized his harem - by natural wastage - to five girls and a senior matron, a German woman called Eva. The physician retired, fulfilled, and the engineer set up a museum aimed at the growing sex tourism industry. The weights and measures clerk became his Public Relations Officer. Hassan and Fatima disappeared, presumably together. Zulfiqar Malik was promoted to ex-Chief of Police with Special Responsibility For Extremely Remote Oil Pipe Lines. Mansoor and Emily have a son, and Emily plans to have several more. They live in a very nice house overlooking a town, with its own water supply and a courtyard shaded by leafy trees. There is room for a helicopter landing pad close by. East Longshott Down. The Lashmore Girls are no longer obliged to tell their tale every day at school. Cinders doesn't like boys any more, but she can't think of a way to get off with Fizzy Andrews. Toots has Seen the Light and stopped shagging every boy in Longshott. She now only does it for her friends. Candi is pregnant again, she hopes it will be a boy this time so she can call it Piers. If it's another girl, she said they would have to keep trying. Candi has never been a girl to give up easily. THE END Previous parts were released at weekly intervals, with the exception of Parts VII and VIII, which were posted together, all on alt.sex.stories. All parts can be found on ftp.netcom.com /pub/ac/acotto/stories/ in the /sexslaves subdirectory. Alternatively, contact gspot@nildram.co.uk