The Harem Pt 01

Hi, I'm Alice Conway. This story begins in the year of our Lord 1952. In early summer I celebrated two milestones at the same time: my graduation from high school and my eighteenth birthday. No way I was going to college: I wanted to get out of my parents' house and earn my keep! And I figured that wouldn't be too hard. Living in the wholesome Midwestern town of Kearney, Nebraska, I felt there were plenty of prospects for someone who was reasonably bright and personable. Maybe I'd have to start as a secretary or something, but I figured I could move up the ladder eventually.

But for the rest of that summer, I wanted to have a little fun. I can't say I was the brightest student in high school, but I did okay—and getting that diploma made me and my parents proud. So they were willing to let me relax a bit before I hit the pavement to look for work.

Well, things didn't turn out quite the way I expected. As I stepped out of a movie theatre (I'd just seen

Scarlet Angel

) late one night, I felt a little prick in the area of my left elbow. Before I had a chance to turn around and complain to whoever had poked me, everything went black.

The next thing I knew, I was in some strange place I'd never seen. It was a huge room with what looked like a twenty-foot ceiling, with pillars (marble, it seemed) all around and big windows on two walls that allowed a nice view of the outdoors. The general terrain looked pretty dusty—maybe even desert-like. And there were craggy mountains in the distance. This place certainly didn't look like the cornfields of Nebraska! So where was I?

Then I looked down at myself. I was still pretty groggy (I guess I must have been drugged—maybe from a hypodermic jabbed into my elbow), and it took a while to realize that I wasn't dreaming. I was wearing a two-piece outfit—a pair of long, loose-fitting pants and a blouse that exposed my midriff; both of these items seemed to be made of silk, and were kind of pinkish-purple, I guess; they were also practically see-through. Luckily, I was wearing panties and, instead of a brassiere, a tight chemise that held my breasts in place—so tightly, in fact, that I sported some fairly impressive cleavage, thanks to the low neckline of the blouse. My feet were covered with pretty little sandals.

I

definitely

wasn't in Nebraska, that's for sure!

Only now did I begin to be aware of the presence of other people. It took me a while to figure out that they were all women—I guess there must have been at least twenty of them, maybe more. They were lying or sitting up or squatting on various pieces of furniture—beds, divans (what our Victorian grandmothers called "fainting couches" because their corsets were so tight that they would sometimes faint on them), sofas, chairs, and so on. Some of the girls—they were all pretty young, some as young as me, some a few years older—were chatting together, or playing games (maybe chess or parchesi or backgammon), or reading books, or just sleeping.

I began to have a bad feeling about this.

It was when I tried to get up, groaning with the exertion and feeling pretty dizzy, that I noticed a man—the only male to be seen anywhere—in one corner of the room, near what seemed to be the one door to the place. He was heading in my direction.

This guy was a sight to behold. He was also wearing loose-fitting silk clothes, although of a darker and more masculine sort. But the guy was huge—probably six and a half feet tall, and with incredibly broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms and legs. He was copper-colored in complexion, and entirely bald. This was one guy you didn't want to tangle with! And yet, as he came closer, he didn't look all that menacing; in fact, he had a more or less kindly expression on his face, and his eyes twinkled.

He now loomed above me, as I'd fallen back to the couch I was on, unable to get to my feet. As I looked up at him, he said in a deep, resonant bass voice:

"You have awoken, Miss Alice."

Curiously, his English was flawless, and there was only a faint trace of a foreign accent. In fact, it sounded more like snooty highbrow British English.

"Yeah, I suppose so," I said. "But I'm pretty bushed."

His slight frown made it clear he didn't entirely understand what I meant.

"I'm tired, guy. Get the message?"

"Ah, I see," he said with a broad smile. "No doubt your long trip has fatigued you."

"Long trip?" I said. "Where the hell am I, anyway?"

He ignored my profanity, although I did catch him wince slightly when I said it.

"You are in the harem of the Ahkoond of Swat," he said with dignity.

"The What of What?" I cried. "You mean the Sultan of Swat?" But Babe Ruth had retired ages ago—and, as I now recalled, had been dead about four years.

"No," the guy said, "I mean the Ahkoond of Swat. Are you telling me you are unaware of the kingdom of Swat?"

"Sorry," I said, "I guess my high school geography class didn't get to that."

"We are a small but mighty kingdom close to the northern border of Afghanistan and the newly established nation of Pakistan. The Ahkoond is our absolute ruler. Praise be to his name!" The guy held out both of his hands in a prayerful gesture.

"Yeah, fine," I said. "What am I doing here, anyway?" Then the significance of a single word of what the guy had said before crashed into my brain. "Omigod, did you say

harem?

Are you telling me that I'm a—a

white slave?"

I nearly fainted at the thought. You gotta understand, I'd never set foot outside the state of Nebraska—and, more to the point, never shed my clothes (well, not all of them) in the presence of any man, American or otherwise. And yet, it now dawned upon me that, not only had I been kidnapped from my hearth and home, but someone—whether this guy or some other—had stripped me naked, tossed away all my own clothes, and dressed me up in this corny harem outfit. I could only guess what was to come.

"Who are you, anyway?" I said, peering closely at him.

Once again he drew himself up with vast dignity. "I am Akmat Beg, Eunuch of the Harem."

"Eunuch, huh?" I said. I immediately glanced down in the direction of his—well, you know. Even though I didn't have any experience in that area, I knew something of male anatomy—and it sure didn't seem as if this guy was lacking in certain essential parts.

"I thought," I went on, "a eunuch was, um—how shall I put this delicately?—deficient, if you catch my meaning."

He gave me a surprisingly genial smile. "You seem to have a somewhat antiquated view of what constitutes a eunuch. Perhaps too much reading of the

Arabian Nights?

Let me assure you that I am fully functional in certain vital functions; it required a very simple and non-intrusive operation to render me incapable of fathering offspring through carnal congress with a female."

"Yeah, okay, I get the message," I said. "So why pick me? I'm no raving beauty."

"On the contrary, Miss Alice," he said gallantly, "your particular concatenation of attributes, both physical and mental, is exactly of the sort that will appeal to the Ahkoond."

"How the hell do you know about my 'concatenation of attributes,' whatever that means?"

Akmat gave me a sly look. "We have spies all over what you call the Western World, specifically Europe and the North American continent. The Ahkoond is—you will pardon the crudity—very partial to white flesh, and he finds that women from the United States, Canada, and England are most to his liking."

"Well, your English is pretty good, I must say."

"I attended Oxford University, Miss Alice."

"Well, bully for you. So what happens now? Do I get to meet this Ahkoond sometime?"

"Indeed you shall. It is our understanding that you are what in the Latin language is called

virgo intacta

—an 'untouched virgin.'"

"How the hell do you know that?"

"We have ways."

"Well, so what?"

"The Ahkoond finds it particularly pleasing to—how shall we say?—deflower the virgin."

"Is that so?" I said, my anger rising. "Well, I was saving myself for my husband—my

American

husband!"

He glanced down at me as if I was an unusually thick-witted schoolgirl. "I fear that will not be possible. In fact, I shall now be obliged to undertake a test to make sure you are in fact a

virgo intacta.

"

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

In place of a reply, the guy sat down next to me on the couch, grabbed me by the waist, and flipped me over so that I was lying across his lap, like a disobedient girl about to be spanked by her father.

"Hey, put me down, you big lug!" I bellowed.

He paid no attention. Instead, he briskly peeled down that silly pair of pants I was wearing so that they rested at my knees, taking the panties along with them. Now my bare bottom was exposed to him. I'd never felt so humiliated in all my life! But worse was to come.

"You goddamn son-of-a-bitch!" I shrieked. "Don't you dare put your fingers—"

But it was too late. The eunuch licked his fingers—since I wasn't particularly wet—and stuck two of them into my twat. Sure enough, after a few inches he encountered that little obstacle that all men seem to get a kick out of puncturing. He felt it gently, making sure not to puncture it himself (he'd probably have gotten into huge trouble if he'd done that); satisfied that I was "intact," he gently put me back on the couch, on my back.

I was breathing so hard with wounded dignity that I couldn't speak. Akmat got up, wiped his fingers on a handkerchief that he pulled out of a pocket of his pants, and peered down at me.

"You will be called when you are ready," he said.

"When

I'm

ready?" I said, confused. "Don't you mean when your Ahkoond guy is ready?"

"Miss Gertrude"—he made a gesture with his head, indicating a woman who was now approaching me—"will explain." And with that, he stalked out of the room.

This Gertrude person came over and knelt down beside me. Her eyes were shining: there was no question that she had seen how I'd been treated by the eunuch, and she seemed kind of excited about it. She was quite an attractive little piece—maybe in her early twenties, a little heavier than me, and with plenty of curves all over. Of course, she was wearing pretty much the same dopey outfit I had on, except it was of a different color. And when she spoke, I found she had such a broad Cockney accent that I could hardly understand her at times. I won't attempt to render that accent here; you'll have to use your imagination.

"So you're Gertrude?" I said with a notable lack of enthusiasm.

"Call me Gerty," she said. "So you're really intact?"

"Of course I am!" I said indignantly. "I'm a good girl!"

She smirked out of the side of her mouth. "The Ahkoond is finding it harder and harder to find full-fledged virgins these days. So you're special!"

"Well, la-di-da," I said, not really warming up to this girl. "I was raised in a proper Christian household, I'll have you know!"

"I'm sure you were," she said formulaically. "But you'd be surprised how many women who really and truly are virgins still don't have that little hymen anymore."

"Why the hell wouldn't they?"

"Oh, you know . . . they stick things up themselves—a banana, a zucchini, even a dildo if they can find one—just to see how it feels, and they end up rupturing their own hymens."

"I've never stuck anything up myself," I said with a shudder, still remembering the feel of Akmat's fingers in my coochie.

"So what other experience have you had with men?" she asked.

"None, I tell you!"

"None? None at all? You've never put a cock in your mouth?"

"Yuck! Are you kidding me? I've heard it smells real bad."

"Only if the guy doesn't practice good hygiene."

"Well, pardon me for saying so, but it's not something I care to do."

She raised her eyebrows at me. "You'd better get used to it, duckie! The Ahkoond will expect it of you. And you won't have much to say about it."

"Maybe the cavalry will come and rescue me."

"Not half! So you're telling me you've never touched a cock."

"Never!"

"Have you even

seen

a cock?"

I was reluctant to admit the truth, but figured there was no harm in telling this girl. "Okay, once."

"Ah, that's better! Maybe you were cuddling with a guy?"

"Something like that."

"And he touched you—down there?"

"No! But I did let him touch me—up here." I grabbed my own boobs to clarify.

"Over your clothes? Or did you bare your tits to him?"

"I let him take my blouse off."

"And bra?"

"And bra."

"And he touched them?"

"Actually, he did more than that. He sucked on the nipples."

"Oooh!" she said, shivering with vicarious delight. "That must have been nice."

"Yeah, it was okay."

"And . . . he pulled out his cock?"

"Yeah."

"And what did you do?"

"Nothing, I tell you! With one hand he kept squeezing my boobs, sometimes licking them, and with the other hand—" I made the appropriate gestures.

"Oh, I see. And he came?"

"Yeah. He made quite a mess."

"Guys do. Can't be helped."

I wanted to get off this subject. "So look, Gerty, what's going to happen to me?"

"That should be pretty obvious," she said with a knowing wink.

"You mean this Ahkoond is going to . . . deflower me."

"That's just for starters, dearie!"

"What do you mean?"

"I told you. He's gonna want you to put his thing in your mouth."

"Okay, fine. Anything else?"

Again she gave me a look as if I were a dunce. "There's another spot where he'll want to put his thing."

Maybe I

was

a dunce, because it took me a while to figure that one out. After screwing up my face in puzzlement, I let out a huge gasp of horror. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me! Not back there!"

"Yup. He likes that quite a bit—almost better than the normal way."

"God in heaven!"

"Oh, you'll get used to it."

"I don't know if I

want

to get used to it!"

"Well, as I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, I don't have much choice in the matter. So when is this gonna happen?"

"Well," Gerty said, suddenly all business, "that's why I'm here. You gotta tell me about your monthly cycle."

I was dumbfounded. "I gotta tell you—what?"

"Your cycle," she repeated precisely, and with a bit of annoyance. "You see, the Ahkoond doesn't want to get us knocked up. There are about thirty of us girls here, and he likes to have a different girl in his bed every night of the month. And if a bunch of us were pregnant, that would cut down on the number of girls he could have, wouldn't it? So he goes out of his way to make sure we're ready for sex without awkward consequences. So I gotta figure out when your period is, so that we can schedule you for his bed at the proper time."

I was totally blown away. "You mean . . . this Ahkoond has sex with some girl or other every single night?"

"Pretty much. Sometimes, when he's had a hard day, he'll just cuddle for a while and go to sleep. But I'd estimate that he does us about twenty-five days out of the month."

"Good Lord! But that basically means that any one of us will only be with him once a month at most, doesn't it?"

Gerty looked away, not responding immediately. "Well, not exactly. If he takes a liking to you, he may want you three, four, or five times a month. And there are some other things that might happen."

"What on earth does

that

mean?"

"Nothing, nothing." She was obviously not willing to talk about this subject.

I didn't have the energy to pursue it. "What's this guy like, anyway?" I said.

"Oh, he's quite a sweetheart, really. He's one of these guys who's not content to, um, know you physically; he actually ends up

falling in love

with us! He just can't get enough of females!"

"How old is he?"

"Not sure exactly—maybe in his late twenties, early thirties."

I gave her a keen look. "Exactly how, um, big is he?"

He gave me the same look back. "Oh, you mean down there?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he's pretty big. I won't say he's

huge,

but it's nothing to sneeze at."

"How big?" I pressed.

She held out her two hands about eight inches apart.

"Good Lord!" I cried. "I'll never get that in me!"

"Oh, you'll manage all right, dearie."

"But—the first time—"

"Well, of course that'll hurt, but after that—"

"And what about the back way? Jeez, he'll split me in two!"

She patted my hand in a motherly sort of way. "Now, now, Alice, don't you worry about a thing. He'll be as slow and gentle as he can be—especially with a true virgin like yourself. He doesn't get those very often!"

"Oh, so I'm something special, am I?"

"You bet you are?"

"But what happens afterwards? After he's popped my cherry, will he just discard me like an old shoe?"

"Nonsense! I told you, he generally falls in love with all us girls. That's why he's so keen on us not getting pregnant: that would get in the way of his, um, enjoying us. Anyway, his wives wouldn't like that."

I wasn't sure I'd heard her correctly. "His what? Did you say

wives?"

"Yes," Gerty said blandly, "he has three wives. They're the ones who actually produce the royal offspring. If

we

get pregnant, our offspring just end up in the army or some place like that."

"Pardon my asking, but when does he have the time to beget offspring from these wives of his? We're the ones spending the night with him, right?"

"Oh, he's pretty keen on what he calls afternoon delight. Sometimes even we are asked to participate in that. But mostly it's the wives."

"This guy doesn't seem to have much to do except—"

"Well, it's not exactly the most difficult kingdom to run. I mean, it's about twenty square miles total, so it's not as if he's kept busy night and day with government affairs."

"Just other kinds of affairs," I said, making a feeble joke—but Gerty duly laughed.

"Very funny. But I really do need to know about your cycle."

So I told her. It turned out that I was just about to have my period, so it would be about a week before I'd be ready to be summoned to the royal bed. In the meantime I got used to how things operated in this harem. There actually wasn't much to do, since our only stipulated activity was at night—and even then, that was only for one of us. So we spent the time lounging around the palace grounds, chatting up with the other girls (most of them, as Gerty indicated, were from the English-speaking world, although there were a few from France, Germany, and even Russia), and—eating.

I couldn't complain about the grub, let me tell you. All kinds of exotic stuff—stews, shish kabob, eggs stuffed with some kind of pâté, roast pheasant, and desserts of more kinds than I'd ever seen before, made of honey, rice, chocolate, you name it. But don't get the impression there was an endless array of food available. The Ahkoond didn't want us harem girls to get fat! Even though a few of the girls were a tad on the hefty side, it became clear that the guy liked them slim but curvy. So our intake of food was strictly regulated by that omnipresent eunuch and his underlings.

So, even though I missed my family and friends back in Nebraska, I couldn't say I was being mistreated. But then, about ten days after I'd arrived, the time had finally come when I was to be led into the royal chambers and—well, you know.

*

The call came around 10 p.m., so far as I could estimate. There were no clocks anywhere around, so I couldn't be sure. But about two hours after our evening meal, Akmat loomed over me as I was resting on my divan, crooked a finger to indicate I should get up, and said, "It's time."

I must say a shiver ran through me. And why wouldn't it? A girl gets deflowered only once in her life, and some older girls I'd known back home had said it wasn't all that nice an experience. Aside from the blood and other mess, they told me that some of the guys weren't exactly sympathetic to their plight. I mean,

they

never felt any pain in the process: to them it was just a little bit of heaven. They would just ram their members right through our maidenheads as if it was some annoying barrier to the fulfillment of their desires—which, I guess, it was. And afterwards, the guys would just lie there self-satisfied, even if the girl was writhing in pain or crying her head off. Not very considerate! Whether any of my girl friends had done it the back way, they never said; but I suspected a few of them had, and they probably liked it that way even less than the normal way.