It’s kind of ironic. Some of the smartest people in the world are the easiest to fool. Their heads are so full of mathematical equations, algorithms, and things, that there is no room left for common sense. You can talk them into shit that a person with one-tenth of their intelligence would never do.
My partner, Jerry, and I were at a convention in Las Vegas. The place was crawling with computer geeks, eggheads and tech-execs. I felt a little out of place, but Jerry can talk gigaflops and bandwidth with the best of them. My area of expertise lies elsewhere.
Anyway, that is where we met Rashid Mahmood, the owner of a software development company in Pakistan. He was a large, muscular, dark-skinned man. His English was perfect, but he had that funny, high-pitched accent just like Apu on “The Simpsons”. He seemed to be brilliant in a book-smart way, but I doubt he would last a week on the streets of Detroit.
According to Jerry, Pakistan and India have been turning out some of the world’s best computer programmers for the last few years. We gave Rashid a laptop computer Jerry built and told him we wanted his company to develop a new, unique operating system for it. The two of them discussed details and I sat there doing what I do best — being friendly and exuding confidence.
About a week later, Jerry and I showed up at Mr. Mahmood’s front door in Karachi. Our presence surprised him, but he was cordial and invited us in.
“I did not expect to see you so soon,” he said. “I have not yet a prototype to show you.”
He motioned for us to sit in a couple of plush chairs opposite a sofa and called into the next room, “Sadia, we have guests. My colleagues from the United States have arrived unexpectedly. Bring them something cool to drink.”
“We won’t be staying long,” Jerry told him. “We came for the computer.”
“I do not understand,” Rashid said, looking from Jerry to me and back again. “I have had nowhere near enough time to develop the software you requested.”
“We don’t care about the software,” I said. “We just want the computer.”
About this time, a woman entered the room. Her skin was dark, but not as dark as Rashid’s. It had a reddish cast to it, but not as red as an American Indian’s. It was more like a rich, buttery wood-tone. Her lips were dark and drawn into a wide smile. Her color contrasted beautifully with her pale-yellow shalwar kameez, an outfit with flowing pajama-like pants and a long, knee-length shirt that a lot of Pakistani women wear.
“Rundi! What do you think you are doing?” Rashid asked, angrily. “How dare you show your face and hair to strangers. Why are you not wearing a dupatta?”
The woman cowered and looked ashamed, but I sensed it was an act. She wasn’t the shrinking violet she pretended to be. There was an unwavering strength in her voice as she said, “They are westerners. They do not have the same customs as we do.”
“I do not care,” Rashid roared. “You are my wife and you are Moslem. You will behave as such.”
As his wife hurried from the room, Rashid turned to us and said, “I apologize for my wife’s disrespect.”
“What’s the big deal?” I asked. “Rundi is a nice looking woman.”
Rashid gave me this upset but restrained look and said, “Rundi means whore. It is not her name. Her name is Sadia. She wishes for us to move to the United States and adopt western ways, but I will have none of it. I am proud of my heritage as I am sure you are proud of your own.”
“Look, you can yell at your wife, beat her, whatever you want,” Jerry said. “I don’t care. It’s none of my business. That computer is my business. Hand it over and we’ll be on our way.”
“I don’t understand,” Rashid said, once more looking back and forth between Jerry and me.
“You don’t have to understand,” I told him. “Just hand it over.”
“What about our deal?” he asked. “What about the software?”
“You can keep the money,” Jerry said. “We don’t want the software. We just want the computer back.”
Rashid looked more confused than ever. Mrs. Mahmood came back into the room carrying the same tray of drinks. Her entire head, except for her deep black eyes, was now covered with pale-yellow cloth that matched her shalwar kameez. Rashid totally ignored her. He was starting to get flustered.
“It is not here,” he said. “It is at my office. Tell me which hotel you are staying at and I will have it sent to you in the morning.”
“We want it tonight,” Jerry said, his voice a little more stern than before. “We want it right now.”
His tone caused Rashid to pause. He was finally starting to get suspicious.
“What is so special about this computer that you can not wait until morning?” he asked.
Jerry’s hand slipped into his pocket, reaching for his gun and he said, “That’s none of your business.”
Things were about to get ugly and I was tired of playing games.
“Just fucking tell him the truth,” I said, reaching for my own gun. “It won’t make any difference. He might even be proud to be helping Pakistan take control of Kashmir.”
Rashid was stunned.
“What has this to do with Kashmir?” he asked.
“When you brought that computer back to Pakistan, you smuggled a small lump of enriched plutonium into the country. There are some business associates of ours waiting for it across town. They plan on setting off a small nuclear device somewhere near Muzzafarabad and blaming it on India. After that, Pakistan will be free to annex Kashmir. No one will say a word.”
“Thousands of Pakistanis will die,” Rashid said, his eyes opening wide. “I have family in Muzzafarabad.”
“There has never been a Jihad where thousands didn’t die,” Jerry said, pulling his gun out and pointing it at Rashid. Now, let’s go get that computer or you are going to be the first Pakistani to die in the war to acquire Kashmir.”
I took my gun out too so that Rashid would know we weren’t bluffing. Sadia had remained silent throughout this discussion. Jerry looked at her and then me and said, “You stay here and keep an eye on the wife. She’s our insurance policy. If you don’t hear from me in an hour, kill her.”
He grabbed Rashid by the arm and literally dragged him out the door, leaving me and Sadia alone. She was obviously frightened. She sat on the sofa and looked at my gun like it was a snake about to strike.
“Your husband is a hard man,” I said, slipping the pistol back into my pocket. “He seemed to be really upset with you earlier.”
As I sat down beside her, Sadia nodded and said, “My husband is very devout. I shamed him with my immodesty.”
“Oh, I know a little something about Moslem men,” I said leaning a little closer. “I have heard many stories of how they will abandon a woman who has sex with another man, even if she is raped. I’m willing to bet your husband is that sort of man.”
Sadia didn’t reply. Her coal black eyes were expressionless, but she shrank back almost imperceptibly. She believed it too.
“Are you a gambling woman, Sadia?” I asked.
“Gambling is against the tenets of my religion,” she said. “I would never engage in such an activity.”
When I laughed at her response, her eyes narrowed a little.
“Life is a gamble,” I said, smiling at her. “Every time you make a choice you are betting something on the outcome. When it comes to a struggle, there are three possibilities: You can fight and win, you can fight and lose, or you can surrender.”
“I have no interest in politics,” she said quietly. “If Pakistan goes to war over Kashmir, innocent people will die. If that happens, we will all lose.”
Taking a glass of fruit juice from the tray she had brought earlier I chuckled and said, “I wasn’t talking about Pakistan and Kashmir. I was talking about you and me.”
I drank slowly, letting Sadia think about what I had said. It’s amazing how expressive eyes can be. Even with most of her face covered, I could see her go through a myriad of emotions. She thought she knew what I was implying, but she wasn’t sure. It was almost like her fear was forcing her into denial.
Draining the glass, I placed it back on the tray and started spelling things out.
“I want to fuck you,” I said, moving closer. “You can fight me if you want. If you win, your husband will be proud of you. If you lose, he will throw you out into the streets with nothing but your shame. I’m bigger than you and I am stronger than you.”
Sadia scooted away from me. She was about to jump to her feet and run when I said, “But, neither of those need to happen.”
For a few seconds we just sat there looking at each other. I could taste her defeat. We both knew her pussy was mine if I wanted it. No matter how hard she struggled, she would be no match for me. I let her think about that for awhile and then told her, “You can surrender.”
I slid over beside her and she didn’t move.
“If I have to take you by force, your clothes will be ripped, furniture might get broken, you could even get seriously hurt,” I said, softly. “Your husband would know you were raped. But, if you don’t resist, none of those things will happen. He will return and we will be sitting here like we are now. He need never know that I fucked you while he was gone.”
As I began removing the veil covering her face, she lifted her chin slightly, but didn’t move away. Even in submission she was strong enough to hold onto her self-esteem. Her dark eyes stared straight ahead and the wide smile was now gone from her lips. As I reached for her tits, she said, “Please do not do this.”
“You know I’m going to,” I said, cupping her breast. “You and my dick are going to get to know each other real well.”
She wasn’t wearing a bra. I was kind of surprised. Most upper-class Pakistani women wore your usual western underwear.
“You are a rundi, aren’t you?” I taunted, working her stiffened nipple through the fabric of her top. “Are you wearing panties?”
Not saying a word, Sadia nodded. Her expressive eyes said it all: They focused straight ahead with a mixed look of anger and degradation.
“I want to see,” I said, moving my hand to her other tit and then back. “Get up and do a little dance for me. Strip.”
“I am not a common dancing girl,” Sadia said, shaking her head and removing the dupatta covering her hair. “I will not perform for you. As you pointed out, not resisting is the best alternative you have given me. That does not make me a rundi.”
I started unbuttoning the top of her kameez and said, “Fair enough. You don’t resist. I don’t rip your clothes or slap you around. You suck me. I fuck you. Those are the terms of our agreement…nothing more, nothing less.”
As I opened the top of her kameez, exposing her naked chest, Sadia closed her eyes. Her chin rose a little higher. She was trying desperately to hold onto her pride. Cringing only slightly as I squeezed and molded her firm breasts and tweaked her stiff, almost black nipples, she said, “I will not give you oral sex. It is an unclean practice and not something I have ever done. I would not do such a thing even if my husband demanded it.”
Still playing with her tits with one hand, my other hand slid around her shoulders and I hugged her. As I nuzzled her neck, I could feel her shivering. Gently, I kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “My dick is going in your mouth. If you don’t want to give me a blowjob, that’s fine. You can just hold my dick between your pretty lips and let me fuck your face. And that, Mrs. Mahmood, does come under the heading of not resisting.”
I squeezed each of her tits once more and then opened the front of my pants. Giving her an extra tight hug to show her I meant business, I pulled her over and down toward my lap. Her arms shot out and she tried to push away, more out of disgust than resistance. When I pushed downward on the back of her head, she whimpered, but didn’t fight. Her inner strength was starting to fail her. The head of my dick was between her lips and pressed against her clenched teeth. The next step was going to require her to sacrifice some of her self-respect. …something she still wasn’t prepared to do.
“In it goes,” I said, pushing downward again.
Slowly, grudgingly, her teeth parted and her mouth slid down and over my thick hard-on. I eased the pressure on the back of her head, and she pulled back. I pressed and she went down. This time I thrust up with my hips, forcing her to take more. She gagged a little, but didn’t try to pull away. When I let up on her, she stayed put. Having me shove her mouth onto my dick and moving her head back on her own must have been too much like participating for her.
“You’re going to do me with your mouth one way or another,” I said, gripping her head with both hands.
Jamming her face into my lap, I stabbed up with my dick as far as I could. Now she was struggling. It wasn’t out of resistance. It was out of self-preservation. My dick was in her throat and she couldn’t breathe.
“Suck it, Bitch” I said, letting her up just long enough to catch her breath. “You can tighten up your fucking mouth or you can choke to death on my cock.”
I held her down for almost half a minute. When I finally let her up, she started sucking for all she was worth.
“That’s it,” I moaned. “Do it like a slut. Suck my dick like a filthy fucking rundi.”
She was giving head like a woman should, so I eased up on her a bit. I didn’t make her take it as deep and I set a more regular up and down rhythm. She gurgled a little, and I heard a few sniffles. It’s funny what makes a woman cry. She knew I was going to fuck her. My dick was in her mouth. I tell her to tighten her grip and she turns on the waterworks. Go figure.
After a minute or so, I released her and said, “Time to get those panties off.”
She was so relieved to have my dick out of her mouth that she didn’t even argue about the difference between not resisting and cooperating. She reached under her long kameez and whipped her shalwar and panties off, laying them behind her. Then, hiking her kameez up like it was a skirt, she laid back and spread her legs, offering me her pussy.
From just below her belly button to well past her asshole, her crotch was a thick jungle of black hair. All of the women I fuck these days wear thong bikinis and have those little racing stripe muffs. Not since high school had I seen a natural bush. Even so, I had never seen one as densely tangled and unkempt as Sadia’s…wild cunt in its native habitat.
As I got up and moved closer, she closed her eyes and opened her legs even wider. Her breathing had returned to normal and her nipples were no longer stiff. It wasn’t arousal motivating her. She obviously just wanted to get things over with. She realized being modest or stalling wouldn’t make any difference and only increased the risk of us being caught by her husband. I couldn’t see any point in waiting either and laid down on top of her.
“Do you feel like a rundi now?” I asked, my hard-on exploring her labia, searching for the moist hole I knew had to be there.
She didn’t answer, but the tears pouring out of her eyes and running down her cheeks said it all. She felt like a whore or worse. I don’t know if it was because she was betraying her husband or just the degradation of being raped, and it didn’t make any difference to me. All I was interested in was having a warm, wet hole to stick my dick in.
After a few seconds of feeling around in the puffy, wrinkled flesh of her crotch, I found the fold I was looking for. She was barely damp and it took a few seconds to work my way into her, distributing the tiny amount of moisture there was. When I finally started stroking, she stopped sobbing. Her eyes opened, but they had a glazed, far-off look in them. She might have been meditating or performing some other sort of strange out of body eastern mysticism, but I didn’t care as long as she didn’t start chanting or anything. All that mattered was my dick was in her. Her juices were starting to flow and her pussy felt as good as any I have fucked…tight and just the right combination of friction and wetness.
Now that she was well-lubed, I started pounding into her. Our bodies were slapping together so loudly it sounded like I was spanking her. Sadia didn’t move or make a sound. She just laid there and took her fucking with as much dignity as she could hang on to. It was like doing a drunk who’s passed out or some drugged chick…no better, but sure as hell no worse. Cunt is cunt and a fuck is a fuck.
I was breathing hard. I was getting close and there is no way she didn’t know it. Surprisingly, she didn’t beg me not to cum inside her. Maybe she was on birth control, or had some home remedy she trusted. Maybe she knew the truth; I didn’t care if I got her pregnant or not. My balls were about to burst and I was letting loose inside of her. She could cry, beg and struggle all she wanted. It was going to happen. Her cunt was getting juiced and that was that.
I shoved in as deep as I could, held there, and started spurting. Sadia’s eyes closed. With each blast of cum, I’d jerk my hips and grunted. Feeling it shoot inside her made her wince a little, but that was all. I expected her to start crying, but she didn’t shed a single tear. I’ve never fucked a woman who was conscious, totally unimpaired and that passive. I found it incredibly sexy. As I slipped my dick out of her flooded cunt, it was still as hard as rock and in need of attention.
“Have you ever been fucked in the ass?” I asked as I helped her up.
“I don’t wish to discuss such things with you, ” she said, calmly. “My husband’s office is not that far away. They will be back soon. If you are going to do it, then just do it and be done with it.”
Twirling my finger, I smiled and said, “Turn around and bend over, lover. We’re going to stick some sausage between your buns.”
Without a word, Sadia got into position and dragged her kameez up over her back. I couldn’t believe it. I’ve fucked more sluts than I can remember. I’ve romanced my share into bed, slapped a few around to get what I wanted, and flat-out raped several others. I’ve even bought some of them off of street corners. Every time I ever stuck my dick in a girl it required some sort of bullshit. This was the first time I ever got what I wanted out of a bitch without having to go through a bunch of crap to get it.
I placed the tip of my dick against Sadia’s little, hair-fringed asshole and she arched her back. When I started leaning into her, she exhaled long and completely. Her sphincter relaxed and my dick slipped into her butt. She had obviously taken it up the ass more than a few times. As I pulled back and shoved a little deeper, she got that same glazed look in her eyes as before.
I found it hard to understand. I started going at her deep and hard, and she didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. She cried and felt humiliated when I fucked her mouth, but she took an ass fucking like falling off a log. Every woman I had ever fucked was just the opposite. Some of the girls I went to high school with sucked cock like it was a goodnight kiss. All I had to do was whip it out and it was in their mouths.
Sticking it up their butts was another story. Some of them let me talk them into it, but with a lot of them it required a little more. …everything from threats and face slapping to twisting an arm behind their back, rolling them over and ramming it in. I didn’t always get a second date, but I can promise you that every woman who has ever seen my dick hard got her rectum reamed with it. Sadia, on the other hand, would rather take it between the cheeks than in her mouth. As I continued slamming into her tight asshole, I couldn’t help wondering if it was a cultural thing or just a personal preference.
“Please hurry,” Sadia begged. “They will be back very soon.”
Her asshole clamped down tighter on my pumping cock, sending waves of pleasure through my entire body. I remember wondering if it was out of fear of being caught, or if she was showing me a little of her talent in order to get me off sooner. I found out a few seconds later. Her sphincter relaxed and then tightened again. Over and over, she kept rhythmically squeezing my cock with her anus. It was fucking incredible! I stabbed into her butt a few more times, but that was all I could stand. My cock was ready to fucking explode. The instant I pulled out of her ass, Sadia turn around and sat down, reaching for her panties.
“Give me your mouth!” I said, almost screaming at her.
Her eyes opened wide in shock and her face twisted with disgust. She knew what I intended and she was flat-out refusing. Turning her lips inward and biting them, she violently shook her head.
“You’ve come this far,” I said, shaking my fist at her, straining to hold back my load. “Don’t make me bust up your face now.”
She was scared of me, but still refused to comply. Outside a car pulled up and the fear in her eyes suddenly turned to abject terror.
“They are back,” she gasped.
“Take it in your mouth and swallow it, or you can explain to your husband why it’s splattered all over your face and clothes,” I groaned.
She leaned forward and her mouth opened just in time. I couldn’t have held back another second if my life depended on it. I blasted into her with such force that she would have choked if the angle hadn’t caused the jet of cum to ricochet off of her tongue. Jacking my dick furiously, I shot spurt after spurt into her open mouth. The instant the deluge slowed to a trickle she tongued the tip of my cock and said, “Put it away, quickly.”
As I zipped up my pants and straightened my clothes, Sadia yanked on her panties and shalwar and hurriedly buttoned up her kameez. She had just gotten her dupatta over her head and her veil across her face when the door opened. Rashid looked at me standing in front of his wife and asked, “Is everything all right?”
“Of course it is,” she said in calm, steady voice. “Why shouldn’t it be?”
Something about her tone irritated me. I’m a confidence man. I make my living reading people and manipulating them. What I saw in Sadia’s eyes was total disinterest. I wasn’t expecting sly glances and smiles, but I did expect to see something. Every woman I have ever fucked reacted in some way. Some were in love with me, some hated me and wished I was dead, and some were just glad it was over and wanted their money, but none of them were totally unaffected by it. Sadia had done what she felt she had to, and now that it was over with, it meant nothing, good or bad to her.
Jerry had the laptop under his arm. He set it down on a small table and said, “The stuff was still there. Let’s get these two tied up and get out of here. “
Rashid glared at Jerry, but silently sat in one of the chairs. Sadia moved from the sofa to the other chair. She didn’t look directly at me, but she didn’t avoid looking at me either. It was as if our little fuck and suck session had never happened. It’s hard to explain, but I felt emotionally robbed. As I tied her to her chair, Jerry did the same to her husband. Once they were both bound and gagged, I made sure Rashid was looking and then squeezed Sadia’s tit, saying, “You really should have danced for me. If you had, what happened while they were gone would have remained our little secret.”
Her husband’s eyes opened even wider than her own.
“I fucked your wife,” I told Rashid. “When you get loose, you can see for yourself. She’s got a pussy full of cum. I fucked her ass too, but you won’t find any cum up her butt. She sucked me off and swallowed that load.”
Revenge, even when it’s unwarranted, is sweet.
(c) Copyright May 2000 by Jefferson James. All rights reserved. No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except for a single copy, per person, for private reading.