Fort Whore free porn video

Fort Whore

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Copyright Oggbashan December 2010
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

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Fort Vauxrein was the worst Foreign Legion posting in Algeria. It was originally built to protect an isolated water hole on a significant camel-trading route. It gradually lost its purpose as other water holes on the route failed, making the camel route impracticable.

No one came. No one passed the fort. No one challenged its hold on useless desert. The only people who came to the fort were replacements for its tiny garrison. The posting was for the Foreign Legions misfits, not its criminals, but those deemed incapable of becoming competent soldiers. In the 1930s it had become an embarrassment to the French authorities in Algeria.

The only officer was a superannuated Ensign. He wouldn’t accept retirement because he had nowhere to go. The Legion had been his whole life once his aristocratic family had discarded him as unsuitable even for breeding stock. His only success in life was in persuading his superiors to keep Fort Vauxrein as a base for incompetence. He enjoyed reading in his library, drinking fine wine in moderation, and the luxury of sole command that had nothing to do.

The four sub-officers had shown, over and over again, that they had no leadership skills. The handful of the eighteen privates who knew how to load their rifles couldn’t hit an elephant at fifty yards. The Legion had equipped them with the most useless and ancient rifles in their stores.

Fort Vauxrein had guns. Plenty of guns. They had been hauled over the desert in the mid-19th Century and carefully mounted to command all the approaches to the Fort. Apart from the test firing on installation, they had never fired a shot, and shot was all they fired – g****shot or solid iron cannon balls.

The soldiers drilled with those cannon several times a week. Even they couldn’t make errors with 18th Century muzzle-loading cannon. The fort’s Commandant wasn’t convinced. They loaded canvas cartridges filled with sand, rammed the cannon balls down the muzzles, stood with lit tapers and applied the taper to the touchholes. On Bastille Day and New Year’s Day something would happen because they placed a small sprinkling of powder on the cannons’ touchholes for the celebrations. The set of small flashes was Fort Vauxrein’s firework display.

Once a quarter the garrison fired real cannonballs. The sand-filled cartridges were replaced by gunpowder-filled ones. The sub-officers made sure that no soldier stood in front of the muzzles, and one by one the Commandant ordered the cannon to fire. They fired half the cannon in the morning, stopped for the midday meal and a siesta, and fired the remaining cannon in the early evening. The sand dunes around the fort showed deep scars caused by the cannon balls. The next morning a detail had to collect all the cannon balls and bring them back to the fort for re-use.

The fort had only one asset. It had a resident cantiniere, Anne-Marie. She was the cook, the barmaid, the laundress, the supplier of small items such as tobacco and sweets, and the fort’s whore.

No one knew how old Anne-Marie was. She had been a fixture even before the Commandant. She was a large, plump woman who admitted she had never been attractive even in the remote past when she was young. She had come to Fort Vauxrein long before the First World War because she knew she would be the only woman there. As the fort’s cantiniere she would have no competition for her trading activities and her body. At any other fort or garrison she would not be the whore of choice.

Alone of all the fort’s inhabitants, Anne-Marie had contacts with the local tribe. She traded with them, exchanging goods from the capital for fresh goat’s milk, vegetables, meat and anything else that the fort needed. She exchanged information with the tribeswomen to their mutual benefit.

Each time she wanted to trade she would take a couple of loaded mules and ride the third. Some of the soldiers felt sorry for the third mule, carrying Anne-Marie’s heavy body.

Anne-Marie was reputed to be the richest cantiniere in Algeria. The fort’s garrison spent almost all their pay with her, either for goods or for sex. Twenty-three men’s pay wasn’t a fortune, but that pay over many years had built up to a considerable sum because Anne-Marie’s prices weren’t cheap.

Each man could have a night with Anne-Marie once a month, if he could afford it. Almost all of them did. The sub-officers could pay for more than one night a month. Anne-Marie went to the Commandant’s bed every Sunday night.

Although her physical charms were very faded, her sexual skill in providing whatever each individual soldier wanted was legendary. After all, she had practised on generations of soldiers. For the past twenty years her skills were demonstrated in a darkened room. Anne-Marie, with the lights out, could be any soldier’s dream partner. In broad daylight in the desert sun, she could be his nightmare.

The sub-officers and soldiers of Fort Vauxrein had one skill that they had brought to perfection through repeated practice. They could paint. They painted the buildings. They painted the fort’s walls. They painted the rocks. They painted the fort’s horse drawn carts, the sand-wrecked armoured car that would never move again. This palled after a time and they began to experiment with murals. The inside walls of the soldiers’ quarters were painted with erotic scenes of imaginary women in lascivious poses.

The murals were painted time and time again becoming more erotic with every renewal. Any visiting officers were given a guided tour of the artwork and marvelled at what could be produced with the inspiration of the one elderly fat woman present in the fort.

Life at Fort Vauxrein had been the same, year in and year out, for dozens of years until two separate decisions were taken, far apart, but about the same time.

The French government decided that Fort Vauxrein should be abandoned to the desert. It was a convenient dumping place for useless soldiers but another place could be used. Resupplying Fort Vauxrein was expensive.

The local tribal chief had too many sons and his eldest son was worried about his inheritance being cut into too many small pieces for his brothers and half-brothers. The sons would become adult at twenty-one years. If one son inherited, any sons who were not adult at the time of the chief’s death were likely to perish from ‘c***dhood illnesses’. Any who were adult might have a ‘hunting accident’. If the inheritance was divided then the process of elimination might involve civil war before one could become undisputed chief.

The son, known as Ahmed the Reckless for his propensity to rush in where fools feared to tread, challenged his father to declare that the eldest son should inherit the whole of the tribe’s meagre assets and the large area of infertile land they controlled.

Ahmed’s father had never been convinced that his eldest son would be suitable to lead the tribe. Ahmed was a lightweight, even by the standards of his tribesmen who were always close to starvation. He was shorter than the tribe’s norm and lightweight in applied brainpower as well as body. Apart from being reckless, Ahmed had a chief adviser, Suleyman (known, but not to his face, as ‘the Slimy’) who had ambitions to be the real power behind the chief. Suleyman kept Ahmed’s bed supplied with a succession of willing women eager to be the mother of a c***d in line for chief’s son.

All the women knew they owed their chance to Suleyman, and reported exactly how Ahmed had responded to them, what his sexual preferences were, and anything Ahmed said that he shouldn’t. One of Ahmed’s repeated wishes is that some of the women would wear European clothing including underwear. So far Suleyman had been unable to meet that request but thought that it might be possible if Anne-Marie was approached through intermediaries.

The chief wanted to dash Ahmed’s ambitions so that a more suitable heir could be appointed and didn’t want Suleyman anywhere near the reins of power. The chief also knew exactly what his eldest son’s sexual preferences were because the women reported discreetly to him as well as Suleyman.

The chief told his son that he would consider whether Ahmed was suitable to succeed as chief of the tribe if Ahmed would successfully complete a challenge that his father would set. If Ahmed failed – he would be passed over for another. If Ahmed declined the challenge – he would be passed over for another. Would Ahmed accept the challenge?

Ahmed instantly agreed. His father sighed. Ahmed was being reckless, again. He should have tried to find out the terms of the challenge before answering.

“Very well, Ahmed,” the chief said. “I think you might need the help of your friend Suleyman. Both of you come at dusk. I will assemble the elders of the tribe and tell you, and them, the terms of your challenge.”

Ahmed saluted his father and left to seek Suleyman. Suleyman was not pleased.

“What is the challenge? What will you have to do? You have no idea but you have accepted? Suppose your father asks you to fly to the moon. You have already accepted the challenge. You would fail and your status as presumed heir would be lost.”

Ahmed tried to persuade Suleyman that the chief wouldn’t be so unreasonable as to set an obviously impossible task. Suleyman was not sure. He knew that the chief was wiser than Ahmed believed.

When Ahmed and Suleyman appeared before the assembled elders, Suleyman was worried. This could mean the end of his plots, his long-term plan to rule through Ahmed.

Ahmed was excited. If the challenge was reasonable, he was sure that he could succeed and become his father’s heir.

The chief announced the terms of the task that Ahmed had to perform. Suleyman carefully wrote down the chief’s words as he spoke them.

“Ahmed. The task I am setting you is to convince me that you might (the chief emphasised ‘might’) be a suitable successor to me when I die. You agreed to accept the challenge earlier today, didn’t you?”

Ahmed tried to produce a sonorous reply to match his chief’s formal words. It came out as a squeaked “Yes!”

“Very well. Our traditional enemies, the occupiers of our land, are the French. They are far more powerful than we are. We cannot face them in open battle so we must harry them when we can. We have to practise deceit, to act secretly, to strike and then vanish into the desert, yet what do we achieve? Our best and boldest warriors die to inflict pinpricks on the French that scarcely trouble them.

Your task is to do something more than a pinprick. Yet I am reluctant to lose more of our warriors. So…”

The chief paused to allow Suleyman’s frantic scribbling to catch up. He spoke very slowly and clearly so that every word could be heard by the elders and the wider population of the tribe.

“…without losing the lives of a single one of our warriors, nor incurring injury to any of our warriors, and without being humiliated in any way, you must take something from the French garrison of Fort Vauxrein that they are unwilling to lose. If you can do that, I might consider you as a potential successor. No more than that. A potential successor.”
Ahmed looked up at the repeat of ‘potential successor’. What did his father mean?

His father looked back at him.

“I said ‘potential successor’ because at present you are not. So far your life and conduct has not been suitable for a future chief. If you succeed, you might have changed my opinion of you, and more importantly, the opinions of the council of elders who will decide after my death, no matter what my wishes might have been in life, exactly who will become the next chief.”

The elders nodded. One of them stood up, walked across to Ahmed, and handed him a scroll.

The chief spoke again:

“That scroll contains the exact words of the task I have outlined. Your advisor has been scribbling unnecessarily.”

At same time as Ahmed was being told the terms of his task, the fort’s commandant was re-reading a letter he had received with the supply delivery. The letter told him that Fort Vauxrein was to be abandoned. None of its stores, armaments, nor equipment were considered worth saving.

The only item the authorities were concerned about was the fort’s magazine full of gunpowder. Gunpowder was useless to any other unit but it should not be allowed to fall into the hands of the tribesmen. The commandant was instructed to expend all the gunpowder without damaging the fort. The structure might have a future use, if only to protect the waterhole from the encroaching desert.

The next day was a Sunday. That day Anne-Marie set out with her three donkeys to the tribesmen’s encampment. She had some unusual items in her trade goods. In response to some of the women’s requests she had raided her wardrobe for the underwear and clothing she had worn many years ago when she had been comparatively slim. She also had a couple of mail-order catalogues of cheap women’s clothing. She could order for the tribeswomen, get the items with the fort’s next supply train, and bring them on her donkeys.

At the encampment she retreated with the women into the darkened ladies-only tent. There she produced her battered suitcase of ancient clothing. The women were disappointed. Even in their backwater they were aware that voluminous directoire panties, ankle-length slips, hobble skirts and Gibson-girl corsets were not fashionable however well made. They agreed to look after the suitcase for Anne-Marie and sat down for the real business of swapping gossip and examining the delights of the mail-order catalogues.

Their main item of information was the challenge that the chief had given Ahmed. They had the challenge word-perfect and had even written it down for Anne-Marie to take with her. None of the women considered Ahmed to be a suitable chief, almost all preferring anyone but Ahmed.

Who else might be suitable depended at first on the particular woman’s male relatives. The arguments were fierce but the majority thought that the chief’s third son, unusually named James after his maternal grandfather, was the best of a limited choice. Unfortunately James was still too young to succeed if his father were to die within the next two or three years, but after that? He would be their choice.

Anne-Marie asked if she could meet or perhaps see James. His aunt went to fetch him. At his age of nineteen he could still enter the women’s quarters, if more than one woman was present, without causing a scandal. Next year that would be difficult, the year after, impossible.

When James arrived the other women left, except his aunt.

“What do you want from me, Anne-Marie?” James asked in French.

“You speak French, James?” Anne-Marie was surprised.

“And English. I went to school in Algiers. So, what do you want from me?”

“You know of your father’s challenge to Ahmed?”

“Yes.”

“And you want him to fail?”

“Of course. I don’t want to die. Being Ahmed he will probably fail anyway, but I might be prepared to assist in that failure.”

“And accept help?”

“Ah. Accepting help means accepting an obligation. It depends whether the help is worth the obligation, Anne-Marie.”

“OK. What I need is permission to continue to trade with the tribe. Until now it has been of mutual benefit…”

“…your prices are rather high, Anne-Marie, but taking into account the delivery costs and the ten per cent commission you pay to the chief,
not wholly unreasonable. If I were fortunate enough to become chief, we could probably continue the arrangement to our mutual benefit. It would of course expire when you do. You are not likely to live as long as me, unless something untoward happens to me…”

“…and that we will try to avert, James.”

“Very well. What do you suggest?”

“If Ahmed is going to take something from Fort Vauxrein, he can’t do it from here.”

James nodded.

“He will have to set up a base much closer, and there is only one possibility, the Well of Miriam.”

“True.”

“If he were to be surrounded and ambushed there, he would have lost his challenge.”

“Also true, but that could be dangerous both for those unfortunate enough to follow him, and to those who ambush him, that is assuming that the ambushers will be Fort Vauxrein’s incompetents. They might kill one of ours by mistake, or worse still, one of their own. I wouldn’t trust any of them with live ammunition unless they were five miles from me.”

“James, have you considered any suggestions for making Ahmed fail?”

“Yes, Anne-Marie. Humiliation is one of the fail factors. Humiliation of Ahmed would be sufficient. I wouldn’t want any of our tribe humiliated even if they are led by Ahmed.”

“How could he be humiliated?”

“That’s where you can help.”

“Me? You mean me, personally?”

“Yes. You have an enviable reputation for sexual prowess that belies your, forgive me, appearance. Our women have learned much from you. If Ahmed is informed of your skills he will be determined to experience them for himself. If you can get him into an embarrassing situation, he will have failed his challenge, no one will be injured, and the way will be clear for me in a few years’ time. Do you think you could contrive that, with help from our women?”

Anne-Marie considered James’ question for a few minutes.

“I think so. If I could be ‘captured’ by Ahmed’s men and brought to the Well of Miriam, with help from the women with him, I have an idea that will humiliate him. I don’t think you had better know what my idea is. Can you arrange for the women to cooperate?”

“I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t even know that there is a plot. But my aunt can.”

James spoke rapidly to his aunt in the local dialect. He knew that Anne-Marie could understand him. His aunt agreed to help. He left the two women together to work out details.

Anne-Marie returned to Fort Vauxrein that evening. Unusually she asked to see the commandant. In his office she asked whether she could speak to him in private. The commandant raised his eyebrows and ordered the duty sub-officer from the room.

“What is it that is so secret, Anne-Marie?” he asked.

Anne-Marie explained what she had learned, the discussions with James, and produced the written details of the task set for Ahmed. The commandant laughed. From the drawer of his desk he produced the letter he had received ordering him to abandon the fort. He handed it to Anne-Marie.

“You see? Ahmed can’t take anything from us that we are unwilling to lose. We are abandoning the fort and everything in it except the gunpowder, and the authorities don’t want even that.”

“There is one item you and the garrison don’t want to lose…” Anne-Marie said slowly.

“…and what’s that?”

“Me.”

“You?”

“Think about it, commandant. I’m the only person or thing that the whole garrison value, if only for the credit I give them between pay allotments. If Ahmed captured me, he would have met his father’s challenge.”

“But he doesn’t know that you are the only thing of value, does he?”

“Nor does his father, nor James. But if he were to capture me, he might try to persuade you to surrender the fort in exchange for my release.”

“And that letter gives me authority to surrender the fort. But then Ahmed would appear to win. That wouldn’t do. He could be an embarrassment to the authorities.”

“But if I escaped while the exchange was being negotiated? That would embarrass him.”

“It would. Can you guarantee your escape?”

“Yes, commandant. Everything has been arranged. I will be ‘captured’ at the Well of Miriam where Ahmed will be preparing to raid the fort. I will suggest that I could be exchanged for ‘something the French value’ up and to the fort itself because I am the commandant’s mistress…”

“Which you are, every Sunday night,” the commandant interrupted.

“…but he will want to sample my body before the exchange.”

“Will he?”

“Yes. He is being softened up for that now. The women who visit him each night are telling him how much they have learned from me, how expert I am, and by comparison they are mere beginners, and how he could reach undreamt-of passion in my arms.”

“Has he seen you, Anne-Marie?”

“Yes. Many times. He has also heard about me, and my skills, many times.”

“I hope, for your sake, that he is convinced.”

“I’m sure that he is. When he is alone with me he will discover that my skills include sexual bondage which I will persuade him to try.”

“I don’t think I want to know exactly what you intend. Poor Ahmed.”

“Poor Ahmed indeed. Once he is restrained, I will escape. Ahmed will have failed to take something of value, he will be personally humiliated, and no one will have been hurt.”

“And you have a trade agreement with James, the chief’s probable successor.”

“Yes, but if the fort isn’t garrisoned, I might have a problem getting my goods to the tribe.”

“Possibly not as much of a problem as you think, Anne-Marie. If your plot succeeds, I might tell you how you can continue to trade from Fort Vauxrein when the garrison has gone. But now, you have been alone with me too long for the garrison to accept. I will see you tonight?”

“Of course, mon commandant! For the usual fee.”

“Until then, au revoir.”

That evening Anne-Marie came to the commandant’s bed. She enjoyed her nights with him. Apart from being paid more than her usual fee, she had little to do. She cuddled the commandant to her voluptuous naked body, cradling his head between her breasts. She had to be careful. One night she had nearly suffocated him before his impotent struggles woke her.

His bed was the most comfortable in Fort Vauxrein and she could sleep undisturbed once the commandant had begun to snore softly. In the mornings she would roll over him, propping herself on her arms as he thrust underneath her. Her breasts surrounded his head as he tried to plumb her depths. She could barely feel his prick inside her but would encourage him with appropriate words as he came inside her. Another quarter of an hour of smothering him and she had earned her pay.

Sometimes while in the commandant’s bed she regretted the frantic pounding of the younger soldiers as they tried to arouse her to passion. However well endowed the soldier, Anne-Marie could accommodate his erection and wring him dry. But she would have appreciated the youthful ardour in a more comfortable bed.

That morning, unusually, the commandant asked her to stay once she had dressed.

“I need to send a message to the chief,” he said, “and you, Anne-Marie, are the only one who can take it safely.”

“What message?”

“I need to tell him that the army is intending to abandon the fort, that we are going to destroy all our gunpowder, and to ask whether he would consider a business proposal. At present, I don’t want to reveal the business proposal. I want Ahmed’s plot to fail first.”

“And I will try to ensure that the plot fails.”

“If you get the chief to agree, not to help you, but not to hinder, then you probably will. Ahmed’s own incompetence might not be enough.”

“I’ll need an excuse to return so soon, commandant.”

“Perhaps you’ve received a new catalogue? It doesn’t have to exist, just be the excuse.”

“That’s easy. I have several old catalogues that look right.”

The garrison was slightly surprised when Anne-Marie set off for the tribesmen’s’ camp with a single donkey. It was so unusual that they talked about it for most of the day.

At the camp Anne-Marie met the women who were curious about her sudden return. She explained that she needed to speak to the chief, in private, but that the excuse for her visit was a new clothing catalogue.

While the women pretended to be deciding on their purchases from the catalogue, the chief slipped into the inner part of the women’s tent.

Anne-Marie gave him the commandant’s message. She also explained how she intended to foil Ahmed’s task by allowing herself to be captured at the Well of Miriam, and then escaping.

The chief sighed.

“Is it such common knowledge that Ahmed is an idiot?”

“I know, and because I know, the commandant knows. You know. Most of your tribe knows. The women certainly know…”

“…the elders know. They and I would prefer James to be my successor. As yet he is too young…”

“…but he already has the wisdom that Ahmed lacks.”

“That is true. But Ahmed is of age. He must have some role in the tribe. We don’t have the useful post of village idiot.”

“With my help, and with that of your women, he might win that post.”

“I cannot be seen to help you, Anne-Marie, but I will tell my women to cooperate.”

“You do not need to do even that, O chief. They will do that willingly. They are irritated by Ahmed’s sexual demands on them.”

“Then I will leave it to you, and them.”

“Ahmed will take some women with him when he goes on his task?”

“Of course. He will take his large tent, his bedding, the long mirror in which he admires himself, and his women. He is stupid. For a raid you should take nothing but the absolute minimum, weapons, water and a little food.”

“Then the women, and his mirror, will be his downfall.”

“I need to know no more, Anne-Marie. I will send one of my elders with Ahmed to monitor his hoped-for failure. Good luck. But what about the commandant’s business proposal?”

“I know no more than I have said. He would like your agreement in principle to cooperation between you.”

“Then he has it. I would agree to anything that might improve the finances of our people. We have so little.”

“I will tell him. Thank you, O chief.

The chief left. Anne-Marie joined the women and explained her plan to them. One suggested a small change. If Anne-Marie were to be captured, it would be better if the women captured her. If she resisted the men, she or they might get hurt. The women’s capture would be a set-up and Anne-Marie need only pretend to struggle. Anne-Marie agreed. She asked that her suitcase of elderly clothing should be available near Ahmed’s tent.

She was surprised that the women already knew the day on which Ahmed would go to the Well of Miriam. She arranged to be riding close to the well, but out of sight of it, to a place where the women would ‘accidently’ find and capture her.

Anne-Marie left and returned to the fort. While she had been away the commandant had summoned the sub-officers and given them the news that the fort had to be given up and the gunpowder destroyed. He wanted the gunpowder to be used to widen the passes on the fort’s approaches.

The sub-officers arranged for barrels of gunpowder to be placed where they would meet the commandant’s intentions. It would take several days for the charges to be placed correctly.

Unfortunately for Ahmed’s advisor Suleyman, the several days to place the charges coincided with the time taken for Ahmed to move his raiding party into place at the Well of Miriam.

Suleyman went to reconnoitre the fort’s activities, crawling up the reverse side of a dune as a gunpowder charge was set off in the rock face supporting it. He was thrown high in the air, landing again in the soft sand, half-buried in it, but then peppered with falling rocks that cut and bruised him. His plight was observed by the chief’s appointed elder who had remained at a safe distance.

The elder had to assist Suleyman from his covering of sand and rock.

“You won’t tell the chief, will you?” he asked anxiously. “I’m not really injured.”

The elder didn’t reply but had to support Suleyman several times as they made their way slowly back to the Well of Miriam. Suleyman had to admit to Ahmed that his scouting had revealed nothing except the unexplained blasting. He undertook to return to overlook the fort tomorrow and then limped back to his tent to have healing salves applied to his wounds.

Fortunately for Suleyman, that afternoon the pre-arranged ‘capture’ of Anne-Marie was successfully carried out by the women. Brought before him, she admitted that she was the commandant’s mistress. Suleyman hastened to Ahmed’s tent, forgetting his injuries.

“O Ahmed,” Suleyman said, “Fate has smiled upon us. Anne-Marie, the fort commandant’s mistress, has been captured. We can exchange her for something that the French do not want to give up, and you will have succeeded.”

“Anne-Marie? Isn’t she reputed to be endowed with incredible sexual skills?”

“So our women say. It seems unlikely. She is a fat old woman.”

“I know that. I have seen her several times but the stories about her are legendary. If she has remained the commandant’s mistress for so long despite her appearance, there must be something exceptional about her.”

“Perhaps, O Ahmed, but she is a useful bargaining counter.”

“She will be just as useful tomorrow. She is not a virgin. I would like to know whether the legends about her have any foundation. Let the women bring her to me at midnight.”

“Are you sure, O Ahmed?”

“Of course I’m sure. Do it! You are dismissed.”

At midnight Anne-Marie was hustled by the group of women into Ahmed’s tent. They forced her to kneel before him. Two women put the battered suitcase of clothing in front of the long mirror.

“What is that?” Ahmed asked.

“In there are some of the tools of my trade, O master,” Anne-Marie said. “You want me to perform at my best, don’t you?”

“Silence, slave!” Ahmed ordered. “You are at my mercy. You women, leave us!”

The women left.

“So, Anne-Marie, you are mistress of all sexual enchantments, are you?”

“Yes, master, but I cannot show you the path to exquisite delights except in darkness. You do not need to see my miserable body, only to feel and experience it. If you could put out the lanterns?”

“Very well. What else do you need?”

“If you could undress yourself and lie on the quilts?”

“And then what?”

“Then you will feel what I can do.”

Ahmed put out the lanterns. Marie moved to her suitcase and opened it as Ahmed undressed. She joined him on the bed.

“What is this? You are still dressed, Anne-Marie.”

“At the moment. I don’t need to undress to start. I am your helpless captive, aren’t I?”

“Of course. We captured you.”

“Have you ever understood that sexual encounters have two types of joy, O master, the joy of penetrating a woman’s deepest cleft and the joy of being surrounded by her soft caress? The penetration is what most men feel. They do not think, or perhaps even give themselves time, to enjoy the woman’s response.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Then you have never experienced the sweetness of surrendering your manhood to a woman’s intimate caress?”

“No. Is there more pleasure?”

“Yes, if you accept that your penetration has two sides, the thrust and the response that the thrust produces. As you enter she accepts. As you thrust deeper she enfolds. No man can wholly enter into a woman. That is impossible. But I can give you an understanding of just how a complete penetration could be almost unbelievably overwhelming. Will you trust me to show you?”

“Why should I trust my captive?”

“Why shouldn’t you? I’m here, O master, in your tent, surrounded by your followers. If you were to call out, guards would come running, wouldn’t they?”

“Perhaps. It depends on the call. They wouldn’t respond to the noise of lovemaking.”

“But if you called for help?”

Ahmed was indignant.

“I would never need to call for help against a woman, slave!”

“Then your fears are groundless. You can let me show you what I can do. It means that you will have to surrender the initiative to me for a while.”

“Surrender? I would not surrender to you, nor to any woman!”

“It would only be the fantasy of surrender, a fiction, a situation that you could control at all times…”

“…and this would give me an unforgettable experience?”

“You will never forget it. But first you must give me permission to act. At present I am your helpless slave. I cannot give you the experience you wish for without pretending that I am your mistress…”

“Never. No woman of my tribe would dare claim to be my mistress…”

“Exactly, O master. They are too frightened of your power but sexual fulfilment is often reached by devious paths. You need to surrender your body to a woman to experience the most delicious ecstasy. Until now, you have always been the leader, the one who impales, the one who commands. But a woman can give far more if she sets the rules, she directs, she controls what and how the sexual congress is made…”

“You would control me? How dare you suggest such a thing!”

“It would only be the appearance of control. In such situations there are rules that the master sets. For example, if any time he were to feel that the woman is going too far, there would be a control phrase he will say. Once that word is said, the woman will stop immediately and the master resumes control.”

“What phrase is that?”

“Whatever phrase we choose. What about ‘Fort Vauxrein must be destroyed’? You would not say that phrase normally so I will know that is the signal for me to stop and release you from my control.”

“You are sure that this will bring me an experience unlike any my women have provided?”

“Yes, it will totally unlike anything they have done and completely irresistible.”

“Very well. You may proceed but mind, slave, that when I say the phrase you must stop at once.”

“Of course, master.”

Anne-Marie took a silk ankle-length half-slip from her open case. With it she gently stroked Ahmed’s body. His nose detected a trace of expensive Parisian perfume. Despite himself he became erect as the silk caressed him.

“Now imagine that this silk is the inside of a young woman’s thighs and that your manhood, massive though it is…” Anne-Marie stroked the silk briefly over his erection, “…has become the whole of you. All of you is penetrating between her soft yielding legs…”

She slid the silk over Ahmed’s torso. She was pleased that he responded with a soft groan.

“But as yet you have not begun to insert yourself between her lips of passion that are spreading to receive you…”

Anne-Marie slowly pulled the slip over Ahmed’s head and down to cover him from neck to his upper arms.

“Would it not be more enjoyable if her silken embrace surrounded your whole manhood, O master?”

“Yes, perhaps,” Ahmed replied.

“Then it shall. Kneel, please.”

Ahmed knelt on the quilts. Anne-Marie lowered the first slip until it covered from neck to hips, before she pulled a full-length slip down over his head, adjusted it around him carefully trapping his arms by his sides.

“As you penetrate her delights further you must also feel the tighter grasp of her silken self as she responds to your manhood.”

She lifted a corset from her case and wrapped it around Ahmed. She fastened the clasps at the front one by one.

“Can you feel her holding you more firmly? Can you feel her resistance to your thrust?”

Ahmed sighed slightly.

“Yes. The sensation is not unpleasant, slave. What next?”

“You need to penetrate further and deeper, far inside her. Please lower yourself.”

Anne-Marie helped Ahmed to lie on his back. She stroked his legs with silk stockings and then loosely tied them with slipknots around his thighs and ankles.

“There is yet more of your penetration that she can take, if you lift your legs, O master.”

Ahmed lifted his legs. Anne-Marie carefully eased her narrow silk-lined skirt up his legs and wriggled it up to his waist. The hem of her heavy long skirt hid even his outstretched toes.

“Now she begins to tighten herself around your manhood, ready to receive even more of you…”

She fastened the skirt’s waistband, tightened the stocking around his thighs and buckled the skirt’s hobble on his calves. She loosened the stocking around his ankles, folded up the bottom of the skirt under the stocking’s loop and knotted it, before lowering his silk-bagged legs to the bed.

“You have nearly reached complete penetration of her luscious body. There is one step more to achieve your whole penetration of her…”

She brought her voluminous silken panties over his face, stroking them gently across his eyes and cheeks.

“Can you feel her excitement?”

What Ahmed might have said was stifled as Anne-Marie suddenly stuffed a large fold of the panties between his teeth, wrapped a silk stocking over his encumbered mouth, yanked it tight and knotted it hard.

“Mmmph!” Ahmed’s gagged mouth struggled to speak.

Anne-Marie’s heavy body slammed across him. She rolled him face downwards before grabbing the corset’s lacing. She hauled each section of lacing tighter and tighter before knotting it. Ahmed tried desperately to throw her off but deprived of the use of his arms and legs he failed, slumping beneath her.

“Do you want to say the control phrase, O master?” Anne-Marie taunted. “It is so simple. All you have to do is say it…”

“Mmmpf! Mmmpf!”

“That’s not it. I have to assume that you are happy for me to continue with your penetration and sweet surrender to her silken embraces. She has nearly done.”

Anne-Marie stood up, walked away from Ahmed’s helplessly struggling body and lit the lanterns.

“I can see that your penetration isn’t yet completed, O master. A few seconds more and your surrender to her enfolding charms will be totally overwhelming.”

Anne-Marie took some silken scarves from the suitcase. She wrapped a long one around his head over his silk-encumbered mouth before tying it cruelly tight. She wrapped another scarf as a hood over Ahmed’s head, blindfolding him.

“You have penetrated her completely and yet you are not erect. That won’t do.”

Anne-Marie dragged the struggling silken bundle across to the centre of the tent and heaved Ahmed upright against the central pole. She lashed him to the pole, facing the entrance, with more silk stockings and scarves. She knotted each one carefully so that he would be unable to wriggle free of the bonds.

“Now you have penetrated and are erect. But you haven’t experienced the full sense of your surrender within her engulfing body. You need to see how you have penetrated so completely within her essence.

Anne-Marie removed the blindfolding hood and replaced the scarf around Ahmed’s head so that she had uncovered his eyes and directed them towards the tent’s entrance. She brought the long mirror and placed it to the side of the entrance so that Ahmed could see himself bound inside a long black hobble skirt and a tightly laced black silk corset. His mouth and most of his head were sheathed in pink silk scarves. He shook his head in denial.

Anne-Marie giggled.

“O, master,” she said, “now I think you have experienced something your women have never done, something that is completely irresistible, don’t you agree?”

“Mmmpf! Mmmpf!”

She rummaged in her suitcase to produce a placard inscribed in the local dialect – “Ahmed, Master of Women.”

She tied it to the tent pole above his head.

“As we are supposed to be enjoying the arts of love throughout the whole night, O master, the first people to enter this tent in the morning will be the women bringing your breakfast. They would want to know whether I have shown you something you have never experienced. Of course, once they have seen what needs to be done, they might wish to replicate it on you themselves.

Now, O master, I regret that I must leave you to the clinging embrace of your silken mistress. I have to return to the fort. Goodbye.”

Anne-Marie turned out the lanterns before she quietly left the tent. One of the tribeswomen led her to her waiting donkeys. Out of Ahmed’s sight another tribeswoman slipped into the tent from the rear, to watch in case he came close to freeing himself during the night.

At dawn the women entered Ahmed’s tent. At the sight of his silken bondage they screamed loudly before throwing the sides of the tent open wide. Each stage of Ahmed’s slow release from his silken bondage was recorded surreptitiously by one of the women with a Kodak camera that had been conveniently supplied by Anne-Marie.

Ahmed’s humiliation was witnessed by all the tribespeople gathered at the Well of Miriam, including the elder appointed by his father to monitor Ahmed’s progress with his task.

That afternoon the elder spoke his mind.

“Ahmed, you have failed miserably. Your women, not you, captured the commandant’s mistress. You might have been able to exchange her for something that would meet your father’s challenge, assuming that I had not reported the injuries sustained by Suleyman, yet you let a fat old woman trick you into a humiliating position, helplessly bound and gagged. She then escaped from the heart of your encampment – on a donkey. You are the real donkey and that is what I will report to your father.”

“Could you be persuaded to change your report, by a substantial bribe, perhaps?”

“It is far too late for bribery. Everyone here saw your humiliation. It has been recorded in photographs…”

“It hasn’t!”

“Sorry, Ahmed, it has. The pictures were taken secretly but I saw the camera in action. No doubt prints will soon be available for anyone to see. Your failure has been permanently recorded. No bribe could conceal that record.”

Ahmed struck his encampment and went back to his father. His father, concealing his delight, formally disinherited Ahmed as a potential successor and forbade him to take any revenge whatever on Anne-Marie, saying that she remained useful to the tribe and would be welcomed at any time.

Ahmed retreated to his tent. Even Suleyman criticised him. Ahmed cut his reproaches short.

“Bring me a woman tonight, Suleyman! I need to repair the insult to my manhood.”

“I will try, Ahmed, but most of the women are laughing at you, and what have you to offer them? You are no longer chief-in-waiting, just another chief’s son.”

“Then offer them money. Surely money hasn’t lost its attraction?”

“No. Money might work. I will see.”

That night Ahmed was pleased that a woman crept quietly into his darkened tent.

“Shh! O master,” she asked. “I do not want it known that I am here. Please stand over there and turn your back while I undress.”

Ahmed turned away. He heard a rustling of clothing. Startled, he heard a rush of feet.

Many slim arms clasped his body as a silken cloth gagged his mouth. There were several giggles as women held his body tightly. Many soft hands removed his clothing and replaced it with silken bonds. His erection was left exposed.

A voice whispered in his ear.

“You still have an impressive manhood, O Ahmed, even if you are no longer our master. That manhood will serve us tonight, as you will serve us every night that we want you.”

Many hands lowered Ahmed’s silk-bound body to his bed. A woman’s legs straddled him.

A fierce whisper ordered:

“Light! Let there be light so that he can see who has enslaved him.”

One by one the lanterns were lit.

Ahmed was horrified to find that he had been overcome by just two women, women he had previously had squirming under the thrusts of his lovemaking. The ‘many hands’ that had captured him were only four. One was pinning him to the bed. The other was lighting the lanterns. She came to stand beside him.

“Anne-Marie showed us what to do with you. Now we shall.”

She positioned herself with her knees beside his head and lowered her silken crotch towards his gagged mouth. He shook his head.

“Too late for that, Ahmed.”

Her crotch slammed against his face. He grunted through his gag.

“You aren’t much use to me with a mouth full of silk. I’m going to remove that gag so that you can use your mouth to pleasure me. You could cry for help, but who would come? Would you want anyone to come…”

Ahmed shook his head frantically.

“We thought not. Even if you did, you would be revealed as a woman’s prisoner again. And don’t even think about repaying us. We didn’t come for Suleyman’s money but because your father asked us to.”

Ahmed’s eyes opened wide in horror.

“Yes. Your father wants you to understand that you are nothing but a women’s plaything. And I want to play. If I remove the gag, will you keep quiet and do what I tell you to do?”

Ahmed nodded slowly.

“Very well. I’ll get you ready.”

She lifted herself off him and removed her silken trousers before positioning her naked pussy above his face. Her hands unknotted and withdrew his sodden gag. She lowered herself to cover his mouth and nose with her body.

“Use your tongue!” she ordered.

Ahmed tried to comply but his face was turning blue from lack of air. She relaxed her pressure slightly. He gasped and then extended his tongue. She squirmed above him as she directed his tongue exactly where she needed it.

Further down his body he felt movement and then jerked as the other woman impaled herself on his erection and began to pump up and down on him. Her hands began to need the breasts of the woman above his face. Their thrusts synchronised and he shuddered as his ejaculation left his body.

Their pounding continued despite his emission. He remained helplessly pinned to his bed as they brought themselves to orgasm after orgasm. Finally they slowed to a stop. Her warm damp flesh still covered his mouth as she looked down at him.

“That was just the beginning of your servitude, Ahmed. You will need to improve your technique when we swap ends. We are demanding mistresses.”

She climbed off him. The other woman moved up to take her place over his mouth. Her skin, slick with his own semen, slithered in place on his mouth. She lowered her torso to cover his head.

“Now we’ll rest until we need you again,” she announced.

Ahmed turned his head slightly to avoid being smothered by her slim tummy. Was this a nightmare or was he really pinned under two women’s bodies, slave to their every whim? The weight of their bodies pressed him against his own bed, now his prison.

Soon they demanded more action from his tongue. His muscles tired, his manhood abraded, he tried to satisfy their orders. When they relented again he was turned face-down, his mouth pressed between the cheeks of a naked ass, his back a mattress for the other woman.

In the morning they rode him again, leaving him exhausted on his bed. They removed the long silk scarves that had bound him.

“We will be back tonight, either us or our sisters. We will expect you to serve us willingly without the need of bonds to tie you. If you refuse? As soon as you do not obey you will be attacked and bound in the open, left tied to a post with your manhood exposed. You would not want that, would you? The photographs of your humiliation by Anne-Marie are bad enough. Here is one…”

Ahmed gasped as he saw himself, clearly recognisable in black and white, bound to his tent post, tightly gagged, strapped into the silk corset with his legs encased in a hobble skirt.

“Imagine yourself like that for everyone to see - again.”

The women left Ahmed, closing the tent behind them.

…

The commandant was pleased with Anne-Marie’s success and the impact of the gunpowder on the passes close to the fort.

“Thank you, Anne-Marie. No one has been hurt…”

“…except Suleyman and Ahmed’s pride,” she interrupted.

“…and now I can reveal to you, and then to the chief, what my business proposal is. You know that Fort Vauxrein was built to guard the camel route?”

“That is useless because the wells dried up, yes, so what?”

“Yet that route would still be the shortest and best between two major trading posts…”

“…but still has no water except here and at the Well of Miriam which is off to one side and too close to here…”

“Yet if it was a road for motorised trucks?”

“Yes! They wouldn’t need as much water as a camel train and any they need they could get here. They couldn’t get through the passes but now they can.”

“Exactly, Anne-Marie. I have asked my army superiors if I can retire, here, and buy the fort from the government. They’ve agreed. I have bought Fort Vauxrein for one franc, as it is. You know that I have been saving my pay?”

“Yes. Apart from the use of my body you’ve never spent much with me.”

“I have arranged for a fuel station to be built here. I will contribute part of the cost. The fuel company is willing to build it if I can raise half of the money. I could do that alone, but I would prefer partners in a larger enterprise. I want the fuel station, a hotel, a restaurant and a service garage specialising in…”

“…bodywork and paint jobs!”

“Of course! Most of our older soldiers are willing to resign from the army and live here as painters and repair men. They would be hopelessly lost in the normal army.”

“Where does the chief come in?”

“I want him and his men to improve the road, his men and women to be pump attendants, waiters and hotel staff, and to provide ethnic entertainment including dancing girls and gigolos. We can sell ethnic goods to tourists…”

“…but they don’t make any.”

“A mere bagatelle, Anne-Marie. We can buy ‘ethnic souvenirs’ made in Birmingham or Bordeaux or Hong Kong. Will you join me as a partner in this, with the chief as a third part-owner?”

“Yes. When will you ask him?”

“I want you to invite him to a formal reception at the fort. You can outline what I am planning and see what he thinks. If he agrees we will formally lower the French Tricolor and raise it again side by side with the fuel company’s flag and the tribe’s ensign to mark our joint enterprise.”

Marie laughed.

“I’d like to see a pair of my directoire knickers on a fourth flagpole but that might not be acceptable, particularly to Ahmed who spent a night eating them.”

“Even Ahmed has a role to play for us,” the commandant said. “As ‘the son of the sheik’ he would be an ideal gigolo. He looks the part, particularly for tourist women who wouldn’t know better, and he can perform as a stud when needed.”

And so Fort Vauxrein became a tourist trap. The commandant, now Chairman of the Board, with the Chief as his deputy, left the day to day running to Anne-Marie as Board Member and Chief Executive. James became her deputy in training to assume her role.

In the high season Ahmed enjoyed himself impaling squealing tourists on his manhood. In the low season he was required as the plaything of the women of the tribe. Suleyman became the restaurant’s Maitre’D, insinuating himself into the role to perfection.

The former commandant and Anne-Marie became sleeping partners in the company. The hotel continued to flourish under the direction of the chief and his elders, with James as chief executive.

Even the Second World War made little difference to the success of the hotel Fort Vauxrein. The Vichy regime used it as a conference centre and vacation spot for officers. The US army passed through leaving apparently deflowered virgins, who became instant virgins again as soon as one unit had passed.

Anne-Marie had a fatal heart attack from enjoyment while being plumbed by an exceptionally well-endowed GI. She was mourned briefly, commemorated in the name of the bridal suite, and was soon followed by the former commandant who then shared her grave.

The End.