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The Debt Ch. 01

By: Karenkay



Margret had butterflies in her stomach this morning. She had been dreading this day for the past two weeks. She looked at the clock. It was already mid morning and they would be here to pick her up in another hour. 

All she could think about were those thugs that loaned her husband the money he owed. Ten thousand dollars. Billy must have been insane the night he borrowed that kind of money. Sure. He had a gambling problem but he never spent that kind of money before he met those thugs. Those animals down on Van Dyke Ave. 

That was the home of the Black Ravens. An all black motor cycle club located just north of downtown Detroit. That was a neighborhood you just didn't get caught at in the middle of the night. You could get robbed there or even killed if you were white and looked like you were lost. How Billy got mixed up with anyone from that club was a puzzle in it's self. 

Billy loved to frequent the casinos in downtown Detroit. He never spent much money. He always set a limit of twenty dollars each Friday night he would visit one of the downtown casinos. One night about a month ago Billy was playing blackjack when an attractive blonde approached him and started to flirt with Billy. 

Billy bought her a drink and continued playing blackjack. He started to win that night. Soon, his twenty dollar investment turned into a thousand dollars. This blonde woman that had been hanging on Billy soon disappeared. She returned shortly afterward with her boyfriend. He was a guy they called Thick. He was a black guy. Very tuff , built like a gorilla and stood at 6'6" tall. This woman they called Amber was the girlfriend of this black guy named Thick.

She had gone and told her boyfriend about Billy's good gambling luck at the black jack table so Thick wanted to have a look at this guy having all the luck that night. Amber introduced Thick to Billy that night. Thick bought Billy a couple drinks. They got chummy and soon after, Thick laid out a wade of money on the table and wanted Billy to play it for him. 

Billy won a few rounds. Thick kept putting his money down for Billy to play. Things turned ugly when Billy lost it all. Thick wanted Billy to pay up saying it was his fault. Things got even uglier later that night when Billy started to get in his car to leave. Thick and a few of his friends were waiting for him. They threatened Billy and even took his wallet and started going through it looking for cash. 

They had Billy drive to the nearest ATM machine and take out all the money he could. Fifteen hundred dollars they got that night and they still wanted more. Thick took pictures of Margret that night from Billy's wallet and made note of the address. The next day Thick and a few of his thugs showed up at the front door while Billy was at work.

Margret was scared to death when Thick and his friends entered the house. Margret had no idea what they were going to do that afternoon. Thick kept looking at her like she was a tramp. The conversation wasn't long. Thick just wanted his money. Margret even offered Thick some jewelry but Thick wasn't interested. Margret did cough up and a hundred dollars she had hidden inside her purse. 

Thick kept starring at Margret ordering her to turn around in a circle. He wanted a better look at the housewife-mother. Margret was indeed very attractive. She was 5"6" with long blonde hair. Rather slim with a tiny waist and a pair of large full breasts that would please any man. 

It was very clear what Thick wanted and that made Margret very nervous. She was wearing a tight pair of jeans that afternoon with a cotton black top and white sneakers. Thick tried to imagine how Margret would look dressed in something sexy. After what seemed like hours to Margret. Thick finally made her an offer.

"Look. We'll forget about the money your husband owes me if you agree to my terms."

Margret looked pleadingly up at the tall muscular black man standing in her living room. She nervously replied. "What's that?"

Thick laughed. "I want you to spend a weekend down at the club. After that. We'll forget about the money your old man owes me. Deal!"

Margret was so nervous she opened her mouth but no words escaped. In a cracking scared voice she finally replied. "Ok.....I'll do as you want......My husband won't owe you anything if I agree?"

Thick and his thugs laughed. He replied. "No. Not a thing."

Thick said his girlfriend would call later in the week and give her a list of things to buy for that weekend. He almost started to leave but turned back around just as he was going out the door and said. 

"You got kids don't you?"

Margret replied. "Yes. Two. A boy and a girl."

Thick stepped back into the house and paused as he starred at the frightened housewife. He looked her straight in the eyes and asked. "You on the pill?"

Margret replied nervously. "Yes."

Thick replied in a demanding tone of voice. "Get them."

Margret hurriedly rushed toward the dinning room where she kept her purse and pulled out the packet of birth control pills. She brought them into the front room holding the packet out for Thick. He grabbed the pills out of her hand and slid open the package. The package was brand new, no pills were missing yet.

Margret volunteered. "I started taking them again tomorrow."

Thick closed the packet reading the doctors name on the outside of the case. He than slipped it into his jacket pocket than starred at Margret and said. "Your going to stop taking these as of right now. Do you understand?"

Margret had tears in her eyes as she nervously replied. "Yes."

Thick added. "I know this doctor. If I find out you called him for another refill I'm going to want my money. You do exactly what I saw and don't tell your old man anything about the pills. Do you understand?"

Margret was almost crying as she replied. "Yes."

Thick turned and walked out the door. That was the last Margret ever heard from him and that was almost 3weeks ago. Thick's girlfriend Amber called a couple days later and verbally gave Margret a list of things to purchase and how she was supposed to be dressed the day she would be picked up.

That included. High heels with at least 6" spikes with straps around the ankles. A pair of black thongs. An open half black bra which were wired and held up the breasts but left them completely open. Large size condoms. Thank God they were going to use protection. At least that was what Margret thought. Also on the list was a black mini skirt and a shear black top. 

Margret started to dress. Thank God the kids were visiting friends for the weekend. They wouldn't see their mother dressed like a slut leaving the house that day. Billy was out in the living room pacing the floor as Margret adjusted the black skirt around her tiny waist. She had to sit in a chair as she slipped on those high heels. It took a couple minutes to hook the thin straps around her thin ankles. She applied rich red lipstick to her lips as she was instructed and finished with a tiny splash of perfume. She looked in the full length mirror. She looked like much younger than her thirty-one years. 

She looked like someone who was single ready to go out hitting the clubs to pickup men. Oh...She almost forgot. She grabbed her wedding rings with her right fingers and started to wiggle them off her left hand. She tucked them safely into her jewelry box and closed the lid. She took one last look in the mirror and shut off the light before heading out into the living room where Billy was pacing the floor.

Billy took one long look at his gorgeous blonde wife and sighed. Margret nervously grabbed her purse off the table and sat down on the sofa to wait for her ride. Billy sat down next to her rubbing the palm of his hand on her knee.

"Honey. I'm really sorry you have to do this."

Margret pushed Billy's hand away. "Billy. Just shut up and leave me alone right now."

She was mad because Billy allowed this to happen. If he never went to that casino that night they would be in this mess. Billy already promised her he would never gamble again. Lets just see if he holds his word. The sound of a car door closing filled the front room. A moment later there was a knock at the front door.

Margret stood up and opened the door. A woman stood on the porch smiling.

"I'm Amber. You must be Margret?"

Margret cracked a slight smile as she let Amber into the house. Amber looked over at Billy who was still seated on the sofa than turned to Margret and said. "Are you ready?"

Margret nodded than reached for her purse starring at her husband one last time. Amber placed her hand on Margret's purse and said. "Do you have your cell phone?"

Margret replied. "Yes I do."

Amber replied as she looked over at Billy. "Good. You can keep him updated during the weekend. " Amber than said to Billy. "Stay close to the phone. Your wife will be calling you with lots of updates."

As soon as the front door shut, Billy stood up watching his lovely wife get into the car with Amber and watched until they were out of sight.

The Debt Ch. 02



Author's Note: This is a continuation of The Debt, a story I wrote at the request of a Pakistani girl living in London. "Dhipa" was young, very beautiful, married, and from a highly respected and wealthy family in London's Pakistani community, and she specifically asked for a story in which she would be sexually and ethnically degraded and made to dress and act like a whore. In other words, she fantasized about doing all those things which were forbidden her by her culture. She also requested that she appear this way before her four brothers, so there is a semi-incestuous incident in the story as well

I say all this so that I can disavow myself of the ethnic slurs that appear in this story, and stress that these were put in by request.

* * * * *

As soon as she entered the room she knew she was in trouble. Big trouble. Lights went on, big lights like spotlights, and they hit her like a fist. She was blinded by their ferocious glare, and she crumpled slightly, turned her face and raised her arms to protect herself as if she'd been struck.

Somewhere behind the painful glare the Doctor was sitting, watching her, and he was angry. He'd been angry at her before, but she'd always managed to talk or flirt her way out of it, but this was different. This was the big one, and she'd been fearing it, trying to postpone it even while she'd known it was coming.

The lights were something new though. He'd never used anything this extreme before, and they worked. She was quite intimidated.

"You've been quite a disappointment to me, Dhipa." the Doctor said from somewhere out beyond the glare of the lights.

She squinted out towards the sound of the voice. She knew she was in his office on the second floor of his town house; she'd been there many times before. But for all she could see she'd might as well be on the surface of the sun.

"Quite a disappointment." the voice went on, smooth and measured. 

"I'd had high hopes for you, Dhipa. I thought you'd be one of my stars, one of my premier girls. I took you in, gave you nice clothes, a place to live, set you up with only the best clients, and yet I keep on getting these negative reports about you. How do you explain it?"

She shielded her eyes from the lights but still couldn't see him. "I don't know." she said.

"I'm sorry? What did you say?"

"I said 'I don't know'."

There was an unnerving silence. Dhipa began to perspire under the merciless lights. The white blouse and black skirt which had seemed too thin for the London chill just a few minutes ago now felt suffocating, and she drops of perspiration rolled down her back. She knew that the bright lights made her body visible under the thin clothes she wore. It was if she stood there naked before him, sweating with fear.

She looked about her for somewhere to sit down, some shelter from the light, but she could see nothing, not even the door she'd just come through. She was lost in the blaze of brightness that pounded her like a physical force.

"I heard from your last client, Mr. Jenkins." The voice said. "He was very dissatisfied with your services, Dhipa, did you know that?. Very dissatisfied. I had to refund his entire fee. He's a very loyal customer and I can not afford to lose his business. He said you were of no use to him whatsoever. That you just sat there like a frightened school girl. He hadn't hired a frightened school girl. That's not what he paid me for. Were you aware that he was dissatisfied?"

"The lights, Doctor… Can you turn down the lights?"

The voice came roaring back "I asked you if you knew that he was dissatisfied with you, you little slut! Now I want an answer!"

"Yes…No, I… Doctor I can't think…"

"You'd fucking better well think, you worthless cunt or you'll have a hell of a lot more than lights to worry about! You're costing me money you Paki tramp! And you've damned near cost me business. And that I will not fucking have!"

Dhipa cowered at his words. She was helpless in the lights, which just seemed to be getting brighter and hotter, till they were like a buzzing in her head.

"I'm sorry… I… I just…"

"Just what, whore?" he demanded. "Say it! You just what? What is your fucking problem, Dhipa?"

"I just can't get excited by these men. I…They…" her voice trailed off as she searched for words.

Silence.

"You just can't get excited." he repeated slowly. "You can't get excited." 

He slammed something down on the desk, something heavy and threatening and loud. The sound made her jump.

"What do you fucking think this is?" he roared. "A fucking date?! I don't give a shit if you're excited or not. You give the client what he wants! That's what you're fucking here for!"

Then, with threatening calmness he said, "Or maybe you just need a training session in the cellar?" he said.

Dhipa paled.

"No, Doctor. No sir. I don't. Really. I'll do better, I swear. I'm just new at this, and it's hard…"

"Shut up, cunt!" he said. "I think a night in the cellar would do you a world of good. Help get your head out of your ass."

Dhipa had heard of the cellar and of the Doctor's two sadists who ran things down there. She had even sat at dinner with the Doctor while some poor girl screamed her head off down there as they did God-knows-what to her, and the Doctor made sure Dhipa heard every scream and every noise from below as she sat frozen with terror at her plate. Noises that made her skin crawl. She didn't know what they'd done to the girl down there and she didn't want to find out.

"Please, sir! You're right! I've been worthless, I don't know what I've been thinking! Please give me one more chance, sir! I promise I'll do better."

"You little cumslut! I should whip your wog ass myself! String you up and give you a good taste of the whip. You're still a stuck up bitch, aren't you Dhipa? You still think you're too fucking good for this. You need to be taught that you're not the high and mighty princess you seem to think you are. You're a whore, Dhipa. You're my whore! And you'll do what you're fucking told!"

"Yes sir." she said.

"You're just like your worthless brothers." he said, and the mention of her brothers seemed to ignite his fury again.

"Those pieces of shit still owe me money! They thought they'd pay me off with you, but you haven't earned me a thing, Dhipa! Not a fucking thing. Meanwhile I've paid for your food, your clothes, a roof over your head, jewelry… What for, Dhipa? Tell me, what for? So you can lose me business because you're not excited?"

She hung her head.

"No." he said, still invisible behind the lights. "I think it's a night in the cellar for you, my dear. The carrot doesn't seem to work. It's time for the stick."

"No, Doctor, please!" she staggered towards the lights, tripped over something she could not see and caught herself on a chair. She began suddenly to weep. The lights, the shouting, the fear, it was all too much, and she felt her composure just shatter and her anguish poured out in her tears.

He let her cry. Between her sobs she heard the sound of his cigarette lighter, then smelled the smoke from a cigar.

"Very nice." he said. "But unless you know how to cry money, you can save it. I'm not impressed. Now take your clothes off. Take them off and crawl over to me, whore."

She choked back her tears. Taking off her clothes for him was something she'd had considerable practice with, and she knew what he wanted. If she performed well, maybe he would spare her from the cellar.

She unbuttoned her blouse, now damp with perspiration, and dropped it on the floor. She left the filmy brassiere on, as she knew he wanted. She unzipped the thin black skirt and let that fall, then rolled her panties down her thighs, over the gray stockings she wore, and let them fall around her ankles.

She stood up, letting him get his fill of her magnificent, ripe body, her saucy ass, the proud lift of her breasts, the long curves of her legs. He was right about her in this: she was proud, proud of her body and her beauty, which she had only discovered so recently. Even when she refused the attentions of the rich men he called her clients, she still got secretly excited by the effect her body had on them. It delighted her to see wealthy and powerful men grow hard when she paraded for them in her underthings, or see some captain of industry pulling on his cock like a helpless school boy at the sight of her pussy.

She would never tell the Doctor, but she had nothing but contempt for these men who went wild when she let them sniff her panties, or begged her to touch her lips to their filthy pricks. They all wanted her. All of them. And the thought of her desirability inflated her pride again.

And the Doctor was no different in that respect. He wanted her too. She knew that he loved her body just as much as her clients did. The difference was, he took what he wanted. And he took it in a way that she loved in spite of herself: insulting her, humiliating her, showing her absolutely no respect. 

Setting her shoulders back to enhance the thrust of her breasts, she began to walk through the light towards the sound of his voice, exaggerating the natural seductive roll of her hips as she walked.

"Slut!" he shouted. "I said I want you to crawl to me! Crawl! On your hands and knees!"

Dhipa stood uncertainly for a moment. Then she dropped to her knees and began slowly to crawl. At least the lights weren't so bright down here, as long as she kept her face down.

"That's the way I want you, whore." he taunted her, "On your hands and knees. Maybe that will give you a new perspective when your face is at cock level and your ass available for fucking. Now crawl over here and suck my cock, bitch. Suck me till I come all over your fucking face!"

Dhipa did as she was told, her body moving sinuously as she made her way across the Persian carpet. She heard a click and the blinding glare ceased, and now all seemed unusually dark. She realized he'd turned the lights off. and once her eyes had adjusted somewhat she dared to look up and saw him sitting in a chair, directly ahead of her, his trousers open and his cock lolling semi erect in his lap.

When she got to his chair she ventured another look up at him, but the anger and contempt in his eyes frightened her, and she quickly lowered her gaze. She took his prick in her delicate fingers and guided it to her red lips. She closed her eyes and took him inside.

Yes she was a whore. She'd come to realize that in the last few weeks she'd spent in the Doctor's house. Though she still pretended to be shocked and dismayed by the lewd things he'd taught to do for his pleasure, inside she found them thrilling. She loved the feel of his penis in her mouth. Loved to feel him swell and harden and begin to secrete his sexual juices on her tongue. He was a very powerful and dangerous man. He could have men killed at the snap of his fingers, and yet when he was in her mouth he was hers. It filled her with heat and desire, and she loved to think of what she must look like, dressed in nothing but a flimsy bra, dark stockings and high-heels as she groveled on her knees with a man's prick in her mouth, twisting her head and her body as her excitement grew.

"Yesss." he hissed as she sucked him. "You're still too much of a princess, Dhipa. Too good to be touched, aren't you? But you're such a good little cocksucker!"

She moaned softly at his words, opened her mouth and licked the head of his prick, vibrating her tongue rapidly against it in a way she knew he liked.

"Stand up, Dhipa." he said.

She forced herself to stop and stood up straight before him, pulling her black hair back from her flushed face, her lips wet with saliva, as haughty as ever.

"I didn't tell you to fucking stop!" he barked. "I told you to stand up. I want to feel your pussy while you suck me."

Dhipa lowered her head and leaned over the arm of the chair, keeping her long legs straight. She held his big cock upright and eagerly impaled her face on it again. She couldn't suppress the moan of excitement that escaped her throat as his hard meat slid over her soft lips. There was something gratifying and comforting about feeling his cock in her mouth like this, filling her up and pressing against her tongue. She immediately began to pump her head up and down as she fucked her mouth with his shaft.

Whack! Dhipa let out a little shriek of surprise at the hard slap the Doctor gave her on her ass. It was more than a love pat. It hurt, and she felt the blood rush to her reddened buttock. But she didn't stop sucking.

Whap! He slapped her again, bringing tears to her eyes. She gasped through her nose but she didn't dare take his cock from her mouth.

She was not unused to being struck. Her husband had hit her, her brothers had done it too, often. It was the lot of women in her culture to be subjected to male abuse, but it was different with him. He was not of her culture, and his spanks did not mean the same thing. He was not hitting her in anger or rage, he was hitting her out of sexual arousal, and his blows filled her with hot shame and excitement.

Thankfully he seemed to be satisfied with the two slaps. He grabbed hold of the buttock he had just spanked and squeezed it hard, then passed his other hand around the front of her thigh and began to delve into her vagina.

"You're soaking wet, you little whore." he said. "You love being treated like a slut, don't you Dhipa? Don't you?"

She whimpered. It might have been yes, it might have been no. He slapped her again.

"Bring your ass around towards me." he commanded, and Dhipa shifted so that her behind was near the head of his chair. She knew he was inspecting her. He loved to look at her spread pussy, at her pink wetness. It made him excited.

She continued to bob above his cock, her sucking noises growing louder and more desperate, little moans of pleasure leaking from her cock-stuffed lips as he spread the lips of her pussy with his fingers and inspected her moist, pink insides, parts of her she herself had never seen. Again her shame was tied up with her own arousal in a way she did not understand, but loved nonetheless.

He grabbed her long dark hair and brutally pushed her face down on his turgid cock. "Suck it, bitch! Suck it like you mean it!"

He slipped two fingers into her. She cried out and tried to spread her legs as he fucked his fingers vigorously in and out of her. 

Dhipa saw stars. She filled her mouth with his cock, straightening her neck so that the head of his prick pushed down the back of her throat and made her gag. She wanted his cock inside her. She wanted to suck the come out of him. She loved the way he plundered her body without regard for her feelings or her pleasure. She loved the way he used her so roughly for his own selfish enjoyment, as if she were not even human.

He took his fingers from her and pressed one fingertip greasy with her lubrication against her asshole. Dhipa squealed as it popped inside her. She flexed her reddened buttocks and the long muscles in her legs trying to draw it deeper inside of her. He began to fuck her asshole with his invading finger and she began to scream, her mouth filled with his dick.

"On your knees again, bitch." he said, withdrawing his fingers from her. "Put your pussy against my leg and get yourself off. Hump my leg like a dog, like the fucking bitch that you are."

Dhipa squealed again at the lewdness of his words. She squatted down, her knees on either side of his right leg. She held his cock with one hand while she used the other to hold his leg behind the knee and she pressed her pussy against his shin. The pressure was delicious, and she immediately began to hump his leg lewdly, her hips grinding and pumping, sliding against his trouser-clad shin.

The feeling was delirious. She was instantly aflame. The friction of his trousers against her naked and open flesh crude and rough and was just what she wanted. Her hips began to rock and twist wildly as her head bobbed and slaved over his big cock. She slid her lips down again as far as they would go on his cock till his pubic hair tickled her lips and the swollen cockhead made her gag again. Twin rivulets of mucus ran from her nostrils and joined the stream of liquid that seeped around her lips and ran over his cock and her pumping fingers.

She had a sudden image of what she must look like, fucking her naked pussy against his leg, her knees spread, her head pumping feverishly over his impossibly hard prick, begging for him to ejaculate into her sucking mouth. Her tits swayed rhythmically in the thin fabric of her bra, her nipples achingly hard.

"Suck me, you little fuck!" the Doctor snarled down at her. 

Dhipa groaned. She was close to coming herself now, and she let go of his leg to shove her hand down between her thighs and abuse her own pussy in her excitement. Still her hips pumped wantonly at the Doctor's leg.

"Yesss." he hissed. "I know what you are Dhipa! I know what you are! You don't want to be a high-priced call girl at all. You're a gutter slut at heart, aren't you? You love being debased like this, sucking my cock, fucking yourself like a damned animal. That's what you are, isn't it, a fucking, sucking animal! You may act like a princess, but you're a cheap Paki whore at heart, you cock-sucking bitch!"

His words inflamed her and she knew she was gone. The Doctor grabbed her long black hair and lifted her head from his throbbing cock, and she let go reluctantly with a loud pop. Her eyes were closed, her jaw hung slack and she gasped as her hips started to spasm with the force of her orgasm.

The Doctor grabbed his prick with his other hand, pumped it a few times, then moaned deeply.

"Here it is, Dhipa! Here's what you want! Here, here! Nnnngghh!" 

He held her by the hair inches from the tip of his cock as his hips lurched from the chair and he cried out. A thick, hot jet of come shot from his cock and into Dhipa's open and waiting mouth, striking her tongue with unexpected force.

"Ohhh!" she moaned, her moan rising to a loud shriek as her come overwhelmed her and she jerked convulsively in shameful pleasure.

Again and again his cock shot his burning gism into her mouth, upon her lips and face, splattering across her eyes as she rocketed in the arms of her climax.

"Now…drink…it!! Drink it all, bitch!" he groaned as he jammed her mouth back down on his spurting meat and poured his load of come into her mouth.

Dhipa, helpless in orgasm, couldn't even swallow and her scream became a strangled gurgle as held her face tight against his loins and poured the milk of his lust into her helpless mouth.She tired to push him away but she had no strength. The thick pearly semen leaked out around his spurting cock and down her chin, where it hung in long strands over her throat and dripped onto her breasts, while she groaned in a whore's pleasure at her own degradation..

"All of it! All of it!" he cried out, half rising from his chair and holding her face tight against his loins. "Whore! Bitch! Cock-sucking cunt!"

Dhipa gulped and grabbed his hands lest he pull her head off in his frenzy of ejaculation. He rose fully out of his chair and took her with him, almost lifting her limp body from the floor as he fucked his spewing cock into her tortured mouth.

Finally he let her go and she fell to the ground coughing, strands of unswallowed semen leaking from her lips. He fell back into his chair and sighed heavily.

"Yes," he said finally, after they both had caught their breath. "I can see that I was wrong about you. You may look and act like a call girl, but you're just a cheap slut at heart, aren't you girl? You like it rough and you like it filthy and you love it when men just use you like a tramp."




The Debt Ch. 02



Dhipa wiped off the cum with the back of her hand and looked at him. "Yes." She said. "Yes, I love it."

He smiled at her.

"So my little princess is a whore at heart." He said with a satisfied smile.



"Take off your clothes and put these on." The Doctor said the next day as he came into her room. He threw a box on her bed. Dhipa read the name of the store on the box and blanched. It was a sex boutique, specializing in outfits designed for sex and nothing else, crotchless panties, leather bustiers, latex cat suits, shoes with five-inch heels, S&M gear. Things like that. 

"Tell me when you're ready." he said, and closed the door.

Dhipa quickly opened the small box and gasped at what she saw. She couldn't remember seeing garments so small. It was as if they were for a child.

Despite her alarm, she knew better than to oppose the Doctor. She quickly stripped naked and pulled on the skirt. 

It fit. That is, it fit around her waist and hips, but the skirt itself was impossibly short, only inches below her privates. She turned around and saw that the bottom of the skirt barely concealed her naked buttocks. There were no panties. 

But the top was worse, if anything. It was like a tight tee-shirt that stopped just at her areolas, not even concealing the ripe bulges of the undersides of her breasts, and so tight that her nipples were clearly visible. If she as much as lifted her arms the top rode up exposing hercompletely.

Both the top and the skirt were made on the same fabric, some flimsy synthetic, black and almost iridescent which strained to contain the heavy fullness of her round tits. Between the cropped tee-shirt top and the little skirt there was nothing. 

She looked at herself in the mirror. He couldn't be serious. This was some sort of fantasy outfit. She'd might as well be naked. 

"Dhipa?" he knocked on her door.

"Yes? Yes, come in." she said nervously.

He opened the door and peeked in, then smiled and entered.

"Turn around." he ordered and she complied. She felt him lift the hem of the skimpy skirt and admire her naked ass.

"It…didn't come with any panties and I…"

He smiled. "It didn't come with any panties because I don't want you to wear any panties." he said. "It covers you by, what? Three, four inches would you say? A slight breeze, or brushing by someone and you'd be exposed, wouldn't you? A skirt only a whore could wear."

Dhipa bristled at his words but held her tongue.

"But surely this top is too small, it's not meant to…"

"The top is perfect." the Doctor said curtly. "I like the way it leaves the bottoms of your breasts exposed. This is the most sensitive part, isn't it?"

He reached out a hand and ran his fingers across the warm soft bulge of her tits, giving her goose bumps.

"And it shows off your belly. You've got a sweet belly, Dhipa. I like it when I know it's filled with come. Either mine or anyone else's.

"Now get some shoes on. The black pumps. We're going out."

She gasped. "Out? Doctor, please! Not like this!" She was horrified. This was scandalous. Worse than scandalous. She'd rather be naked in public than dressed in an outfit that the cheapest street walker wouldn't dare wear.

"I said, get some shoes on. Mickey's got the car waiting."

She had no choice. And the black pumps just made it worse, making her long legs appear longer and jutting her round ass up provocatively. She threw on a raincoat, praying he would let her keep it on wherever they were going, grabbed her small bag and at the last moment thought to put on a pair of dark glasses for the small bit of concealment they'd afford her.

They took the Rolls and drove down near the docks, to a seedy part of town where she knew the Doctor had some of his girls working. When she asked him what they were going to do he simply said. "Some test marketing, Dear. We're going to see how the public likes the new you."

They pulled up next to a scruffy and run down public park. It was no more than a patch of space in the warehouse district, surrounded by mean-looking pubs and decrepit structures, too small for a building of its own. Dead grass and bare earth, cracked sidewalks strewn with trash, the base of a memorial that had lost its commemorative stature and plaque; a memorial to nothing. For all its seediness there were several dozen people there, men and boys, standing in surly knots, smoking, talking, drinking beer. Men with nothing. Nothing to do and nothing to lose.

"Now," The Doctor said. "All you have to do, Dhipa, is walk across the park and meet us on the other side. We'll pull around and wait for you."

She looked out the tinted window of the Rolls at the dangerous and tough looking men in the park and clutched her coat tighter around her throat.

"I don't understand." she said.

The Doctor reached across her and threw her door open.

"There's nothing to understand, dear. You just meet us on the other side of the park. And leave the coat here."

She turned to him in horror. "What? I can't! I can't go out like this!"

"You wanted the gutter," he said, pulling the coat down her arms and pushing her out the door. "Well, welcome to the gutter!"

The door slammed and the Rolls squealed away, turned the corner and stopped at the far side of the park.

Immediately every eye in the park was on Dhipa as she stood dumfounded in the middle of the street, all legs and bare midriff and bulging breasts, naked before them all.

"Oh my God," she thought. "I'm going to die. They're going to gang rape me and kill me!"

And indeed, some of the men were already ambling over to have a closer look at her.

"Well, hello, sweet thing! What have we here?"

"Oh I do like your outfit, I do. Looking to party, are you?"

"Oh, a sassy little wog, come for some fresh cock, I'd bet. Not getting it from the old camel jockey are you?"

There was nothing to do but walk through it, she told herself. Don't run. Above all, don't run. They smell fear like a shark smells blood. If you run, you're dead.

Squaring her shoulder, Dhipa stepped smartly onto the curb, head high. The four-inch heels made her walk a bit unsteady at first, but exaggerated the feminine sway of her hips, The tiny skirt swished back and forth fetchingly with each step. As she walked she could feel her tits jounce on her chest, and she knew everyone was watching her body, thinking of what they'd like to do to her.

Already in her mind she pictured the worst. She saw herself on her knees in the dead, weed-choked grass as a man fucked his cock mercilessly into her widespread mouth, semen mixed with her own spittle dripping onto her breasts. Or she saw herself being fucked by two men at once, one in her pussy, the other in her ass as they stood and bounced her savagely between them as the crowd looked on, her legs spread wide, their rough hands mauling her breasts.

Worse yet she imagined herself on her knees as a circle of men pumped their swollen cocks over her face, and one by one ejaculated their hot come across her eagerly open mouth, her face, her red lips, while she worked her fingers in her pussy seeking her own excited orgasm. She felt her nipples press against the tight fabric of the scanty top as they stiffened in arousal at her own hot fears.

No! That wouldn't happen, she told herself. She wouldn't let them touch her, even though in the back of her mind she knew this is what she wanted, to be grabbed and gang-raped by these rough and horny men and their demanding cocks.

Someone pulled at her wrist but she snatched her hand away. The little purse she carried offered no cover but at least it gave her something to hold onto, and she clutched the shoulder strap so hard that her knuckles turned white.

A boy stood directly in front of her, part of a gang that crowded the sidewalk waiting to harass her as she passed. He raised his hands as if he were going to grab her breasts and she veered away from him, but he lunged and wrapped his arms around her.

"Aw now this is some fine stuff!" he said as his mates laughed and whistled, "some choice nigger ass. Come on, baby, give us a little taste, eh? That's all you Paki sluts are good for is takin' it up the arse, isn't it? Come on…"

He held her across the chest and dipped his other hand down over her hips to her crotch. When his fingers met naked flesh Dhipa choked back a scream but the boy's eyes widened in surprise.

"Holy shit!" he bellowed. "She's fuckin' naked under there! It's bare pussy!"

Dhipa twisted out of his grasp and, despite her own warning to herself, she ran to the base of the monument, leaving the boy standing incredulous in the midst of his mates, his finger still extended.

She realized now witht the sudden clarity of a hunted animal that the park was divided up into tiny enclaves, each one belonging to the group of men who stood there. If she could just maneuver through the borders of these groups, she might just make it.

She rounded the empty memorial but the boys followed, not sure yet whether to jump her. Some of them ran on ahead, and she saw several of them dropping their pants and pulling their pricks out, fondling themselves in anticipation. All they were waiting for was someone to make the first move. One person to take her down. Then they'd be on her like a pack of wolves.

"Oh God help me!" she thought.

She jumped from the sidewalk just as the group of boys rushed at her. One shoe fell off and she kicked out of the other one and ran for the car with all the speed she had, her bare breasts bouncing free, her ass naked to their gaze.

She cut through a section of the park that seemed to belong to some older men who sat or sprawled drunkenly on opened newspapers, figuring that they'd be less dangerous. She leaped between them, knowing that she was giving them an eyeful of her naked sex, but what did that matter now? A hand reached out and caught her purse, spinning her part way around and she saw the boys closing in behind her. She let go of the purse and took off, dodging the hands that reached for her body. 

Someone grabbed her ankle and she screamed in terror and kicked free, vaulted over an overturned garbage can and saw the car, the back door open, the Doctor sitting in the back, looking at her in amusement.

She squeezed between two parked cars and ran into the street, eyes wild with fear. The parked cars slowed the gang of men and boys as they jostled each other to get through and gave her time to dash barefoot down the street. 

Her heart in her throat, Dhipa sobbed and threw herself into the car. The Doctor slammed the door closed behind her and Mickey hit the gas. The big Rolls leaped forward and away from the park as Dhipa picked herself up off the floor and tried to catch her breath. Through the back window she could see the men gathering in the street, watching her pull away. Then the big Rolls squealed around a corner and the men were gone.

She looked at the Doctor. He was smiling with amusement.

They drove for a time with no one speaking, safe in the air conditioned Rolls Royce. The cool leather seat was chilly against Dhipa's naked bottom but she didn't complain. Strangely, although he had been the one to put her out on the street dressed like a cheap trick, all she felt towards the Doctor now was gratitude for saving her from that mob.

"Pull over at that pub, Mickey, and go get yourself a pint or two, eh? About 20 minutes worth." the Doctor said, throwing some bills on the front seat.

"Yes Sir. Leave 'er right in the street, sir?"

"Yes, there's no one about."

Mickey pulled the Rolls to a silent stop at the curb, took the bill, hopped out and locked the door, then walked into the pub without a look back.

Dhipa, still panicked, turned to the Doctor. 

"Now what? Why are we stopping."

The Doctor smiled at her.

"A little experiment, Dear. To test a theory." he said. "Open your legs."

She knew better than to refuse his command. She spread her slim legs and the Doctor dropped his hand to her sex. She flinched when she felt him draw his finger along her crease, and she bit back a moan. His hand felt extremely good.

The Doctor brought his finger up and showed her, grinning. It was covered with moisture.

"See? Just as I thought. You're soaking wet, aren't you Dhipa? Your little walk in the park excited you didn't it, thinking about all that hard cock just aimed at you, wanting you. Look at you, your nipples are as hard as bottle caps. You're as horny as a she-goat Dhipa, admit it. Why didn't you let them get you? Let them all stick their big cocks in you and fuck you like a tramp? Afraid you would have liked it too much?"

"Stop!" she cried. "Stop it!"

"Lie down on the seat, bitch, and spread your legs" he said with sudden urgency. "No sense letting all that good juice go to waste. You need it now and so do I. That little demonstration was quite arousing. I like to watch those slobs claw at you. I like to think of them fucking you like an animal behind some trash can in that filthy park. Coming all over that precious body."

His words excited her too, but she tried to fight it. Still there was no use in trying to defend herself. Not now. She squirmed down on the backseat and lifted her knees to her chest shamelessly. She needed to be fucked. She was on fire, and the Doctor was right. The near gang-rape in the park had her boiling with lust, and she screamed in shameless pleasure as the Doctor's big hard cock slid into her cunt, such a tight fit that her juice leaked out around his piston and ran down her ass.

He fucked at her with hard, brutal strokes, making her grunt and driving her ass into the soft leather of the seat, his heavy balls slapping against her asshole.

"Oh fuck me!" she cried with a mixture of anger and lust. "Fuck me with your big cock! Fuck me hard and make me come!"

He growled and filled his hands with the soft meat of her breasts, easily pushing aside the skimpy top that covered them. She felt the coldness of his zipper against the inside of her thighs as she planted one long leg on the floor of the car so she could fuck back at him.

He pounded at her savagely, almost as if it were hatred that drove him, a desire to punish her. Slender as she was, Dhipa took all the violence he could give her, his fury just making her hotter. She bit her lip to keep from screaming out her pleasure, her nostrils flaring in passion for the big prick that plundered her tender cunt.

She felt him harden within her, grow larger, and he began to pick up the tempo, making the car rock as their bellies slapped together. She knew he was close to coming in her and she squealed in excitement.

"Slut! Whore! Cocksucker! Cheap cunt!" he hissed breathlessly in her ear. "That's all you are. I know you, Dhipa! I know exactly what you are! I'm going to fill you up with my come then flip you over and do the same to your ass! You'll drown in it! Then maybe I'll throw you to those bastards in the park and let them make a meal of you!"

His words made her almost swoon and she squeezed him tight with her pussy, making him groan. She hated him. She would have liked to sink her nails and her teeth into him and taste his blood. But hate was as good a reason as love to fuck like this, wild and hot and violent.

Then suddenly he stiffened. He cried out, went rigid inside her, and she felt him begin to pump his hot, angry seed into her womb, spraying her insides, hosing her down with his heated ejaculate.

"Oh, Fuckkkk!" he exclaimed as his hands clawed at her tense ass, pulling her tight to him while he filled her with his semen.

Pleasure slammed into her like a tidal wave and she screamed as he poured his lot load into her pussy while her mind seethed with filthy and perverted images of spewing cocks and vaginas wet with dripping come.

Quickly but shakily the Doctor withdrew his prick from her pussy, pinched his fingers on it and managed to bring it to her face, dripping and trailing ejaculate on her naked skin, then released his fingers and blew the last spurts of come over her face and lips as she still writhed in her orgasm.

"Drink it, you cunt! Drink my fucking come!" he growled.

Dhipa groaned at this added humiliation, but her tongue came out and swept across her lips. She used her fingers to gather up the come on her face and body, and fed these into her mouth, sucking them clean as the Doctor watched with satisfied contempt.

"Yes, get it all, slut, every drop." the Doctor said with an evil grin. "Every fucking drop, you slut. I'll get my money out of you yet, bitch. I'll get my money out of your cheap ass yet." 



That evening the Doctor revealed to Dhipa his new plan for her, for he now clearly saw in her an almost masochistic desire to be used for the crudest, dirtiest sex.. He'd no longer try to place her with his best clients as a high-class call girl and escort. Instead he would pitch her as a rich man's slut; a fuck toy, which seemed to be what she wanted as well. The Doctor was puzzled by her attitude, but he couldn't deny it, and he was shrewd enough to know how to exploit it. There were plenty of wealthy men who would pay good money for the privilege of taking the regal and proud beauty down to the level of a common gutter tramp.

In fact, wasn't that every man's fantasy? To see a girl so haughty and unreachable that she wouldn't give them the time of day on the street reduced to acting the whore, dressed in sleazy streetwalker's clothes, stripped of her pride and begging to be taken and used for their pleasure? The Doctor saw great potential for her.

His problem now was one of marketing: how to get the word out that Dhipa was that kind of girl and available for that kind of sex. In the end he hit upon a simple and excellent idea.

Among the numerous gentlemen's clubs that he belonged to, the Doctor was most comfortable in the company of the other member of the Angels' Club. This obscure and select group was composed of others like himself, men who had reached the tops of their respective professions, men of substance and wealth and impeccable reputation. What they had in common was that their professions were invariably criminal in nature, and, more specifically, vice-related.

The Angels comprised the top English vice lords, those who oversaw the illegal gambling operations, supplied the drugs and dope, or ran the prostitutes all over the country. They were all upper class, all living double lives, respectable on the outside, but deriving their real income from these criminal operations. They met at least twice a year to settle matters of business related to these operations, to smooth out differences, and to make sure their enterprises ran smoothly and efficiently with a minimum of noise..

It was their custom to hold a large formal banquet following the conclusion of one of these meetings, for which purpose they generally leased an entire restaurant and converted it into a banquet hall. Here they could forget about business and mingle socially and enjoy all the things that their illegally gotten money could buy. It was a time for the Angels to celebrate another successful year with fine wine and fine food, and to show off their latest mistresses decked in diamonds and emeralds.

This year the Angels' banquet was being held as usual at Telford's, an ancient and respected Edwardian palace, replete with marble columns and potted palms, velvet curtains and dark wood-paneled walls. The Angels took a large, private dining room, but saw to it that the entire restaurant was closed as well. Strangers were not welcome at the banquet.

This year was special too, for the Doctor would be stepping down as treasurer of the organization after serving his term, and he would be sitting at the head table. He would be praised, there would be speeches, and he would receive a token honorarium from the grateful members. He and whomever he took with him would be sitting on display for all the members and their ladies to see. He would be the guest of honor.




The Debt Ch. 02



Dhipa could not refuse; she didn't even try. When the Doctor brought her the gown he had selected for her she tried it on numbly. She was getting used to the humiliation he was constantly subjecting her to now. No, more than getting used to it, she was reluctantly enjoying it.

The gown he had picked for her was elegant in its simplicity. The Doctor had fine taste in clothes when he chose to exercise it, and she was relieved to see that this time it was not a micro mini or a latex corset. It was white and cut like a slip or a night dress, with no decoration at all. The fabric, however, was unlike any Dhipa had even seen. Softer than silk, but with a shine and luster richer and more sensuous than any synthetic. It did indeed look like something an angel might wear, and after the seamstress got done with it, it fit her like a glove. Just walking in the gown and feeling it move against her skin was thrilling. Of course, the Doctor forbade her from wearing any underthings. Aside from the sheerest French stockings, beneath the gown she would be totally naked.

The day of the banquet he sent Dhipa to the hair dresser and had her hair put up simply on top of her head, to reveal her swanlike neck. She had her nails done in a pearlescent white, again at the Doctor's orders, and her makeup was done by Felix, the Doctor's homosexual houseboy. The Doctor himself brought her the jewelry she was to wear: diamond and emerald earrings, and an antique black velvet choker adorned with one large and strikingly perfect emerald.

He brought her fur and helped her into it, then stood behind her as she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like a queen, and she felt like one too.

Mickey drove them in the Rolls, and Dhipa looked out the tinted glass at the rough and squalid neighborhoods they passed through. She remembered these streets with their bitter smell of coal and gasoline, but it seemed so long ago. She knew the Doctor was pleased with her and eager to show her off. She didn't know the exact nature of this event or why it was being held, she only knew that she was there to be an ornament for the Doctor, and that of all his girls, he had picked her, his Paki tramp, to accompany him to this grand event. She wished her brothers could see her now, wearing jewelry that supassed even their greedy dreams of wealth, but then she remembered what she in fact was, and was thankful that she would see no one who knew her from before.

They stopped outside the restaurant, and as soon as Dhipa extended one long and elegantly curved leg to the curb, heads began to turn. When she got out of the car and stood, tall and proud, more people gawked at her. She looked like royalty and she acted like it too.

The doorman snapped to attention and stood stiffly as they passed, as if he were proud to be of service to them. Inside, the men in formal wear stared openly at her, their girlfriends tugging at their arms as she passed. The Doctor took her coat and gave their wraps to the coat check girl, and it was only then that Dhipa realized how naked she was.

Beneath the sheer gown she was naked of course, so that no undergarment would destroy the sensual curves of her body, the ripely enticing breasts, the generous expanse of her hips, her proud ass. She was aware that her nipples were as hard as diamonds from her excitement, and the protruded sharply and unmistakably through the sheer fabric of her gown. 

Men stared at her with their thoughts visible on their faces and Dhipa tried to ignore them. She didn't need to be a mind reader to know that they were thinking. For all their wealth and power these men were no different than the thugs in the park. To them she was a cunt and a pair of lips, a dump for their semen.

"Well, Mabeuse." a thick, dark man said coming up to them. At his side was a bleached platinum blonde with hugely oversized breasts that could not possibly have been real. She was covered in platinum and diamonds, but compared to Dhipa she simply looked cheap and vulgar. She studiously ignored both Dhipa and the Doctor.

"Good Evening, Mr. Montenegro." the Doctor replied politely.

The two men shook hands. Montenegro seemed to have a permanent leer on his face, and it wasn't helped by the big cigar he kept in the corner of his mouth. As he shook hands he looked Dhipa slowly up and down. She felt his eyes linger on her breasts and her crotch. 

"What's this, Doc? You dealing in wogs now?"

Dhipa felt herself color with anger and shame. The Doctor held her arm and said, "Miss Yasser is Pakistani. And I'd watch my fucking mouth if I were you, Monty."

Montenegro's face didn't change. "Hey, take it easy. A wog's a wog, no big deal. Some people like that nigger cunt. I just didn't know you were peddling it is all. She's a good looking piece of ass for all that. Maybe I can get a taste later on?"

At this Montenegro's date grew pale. She grabbed the big man's arm and pressed her over inflated chest into it.

"I doubt it." The Doctor said. "Good evening."

He took Dhipa's arm and led her away towards the bar at one end of the room. Dhipa fought to keep her composure. She wondered how much more of that she would have to take tonight.

People were already taking their seats at the various tables around the room, and the waiters had put the canapés and hors d'oevres away and were beginning to serve the soup. The Doctor led her to the dark end of the bar and said, "Wait until everyone's seated. I want us to make an entrance." 

Dhipa sipped her mineral water and waited nervously. She had never seen so much jewelry on men and women, far more than could be rationalized as personal ornament. These men were obviously showing off their wealth, and compared to them she was plain indeed. But the Doctor didn't seem to mind. In fact, she knew he was showing her off, though she couldn't understand why.

. She looked over the crowd of people, now all turned noisily to their soup, all the white men in tuxedos, and the woman in muted colors, the pale skin. She was the only Asian there. Amidst all that pale and colorless female flesh, Dhipa glowed like a gold nugget in a field of snow.

"God, you look good!" the Doctor whispered in her ear. "You make the other women look so cheap."

Dhipa blushed deeply and felt a sudden surge of warmth for the Doctor. How could he be so sweet one minute and so terribly cruel the next? And why couldn't she figure out which was really him? 

The Doctor waited until the waiters started clearing away the soup bowls. Then he took Dhipa's arm. 

"Let's go Dhipa. Nice and slow. Let them see what you've got, but don't shove it in their faces."

He led her slowly into the dining room, purposely choosing a winding path through the tables. Dhipa knew that everyone could tell that she was naked beneath the gown, and she couldn't suppress her excitement as she felt all those eyes on her, watching her walk, watching her body as it moved beneath the clinging garment, seeing every muscle, every curve. Her nipples were still stiff with arousal and showed clearly through the thin fabric of her gown. And not the peaks of her nipples, but the surrounding aureoles as well. She knew without looking that the trimmed bush of her pubic hair must be visible too.

The Doctor made sure he stopped at several tables to shake hands and greet people, leaving Dhipa standing there exposed. She could hear the ripple of talk going through the crowd and she could pick out words like "whore" and "slut" and worse. She could actually feel the hot, jealous glares of the women, and the lascivious leers on the men's faces. It was just like in the park, only this time it was all hidden behind diamonds and tuxedos, and here she couldn't run, couldn't hide.

But in the face of this contrived humiliation, Dhipa felt the opposing force of her own pride grow and swell as well. Let the bastards look; she knew she was worth looking at. After the years she had spent in her community covering up her body, her hair, even her eyes, she loved the feeling of revealing her body and using it as a weapon. She loved the way her beauty made men weak and women furious. 

In spite of herself she felt her pulse quicken and her breathing increase. Hot blood rushed to her face and made her pussy hum with expectant pleasure. She was sexually excited.

As the Doctor led her from one table to the next he displayed a big smile for the public and he whispered close to her ear, "You like this, don't you, you hot cunt? You know that every dick in the place is hard for you and it drives you wild, doesn't it?" 

Dhipa had to keep her ladylike smile in place as his hot words sent thrills through her. She held her pocket book demurely over her crotch, hoping to keep the men at least from seeing her pubic region, which she was now afraid would be wet by her leaking fluids. She had no choice but to stand by as the Doctor made small talk with the guests, and all eyes bored into her. 

When he led her up to the dais to take their seats at the main table there was a smattering of applause. Dhipa could no longer look at the audience. She didn't dare. She knew her body was clearly visible through the sheer dress, her nipples as obvious as if she wore no dress at all. She glanced down and noticed that she could even see the outlines of individual pubic hairs through the scanty material. She reddened again and grew hot with shame, but that just seemed to increase her excitement. She kept her eyes on her plate, knowing that everyone in the room was looking at her. She could imagine what they were thinking.

The dinner passed in a blur. Dhipa immediately took to her wine and didn't touch the food they brought her. She continued drinking through the rest of the dinner and through the brief speeches that followed. The Doctor was given an expensive watch as a token of the Angels' gratitude for his service. There were more speeches, she thought it would never end. The wine was doing nothing for her.

But at last it did end. Dhipa stood up and had barely taken a step when the wine suddenly hit her, as if it had been lying in her stomach waiting for her. She was immediately drunk, and she didn't care. She knew that she'd been made a spectacle of and she wanted to get out of this place and away from these people their low opinion of her. But at the same time she hoped that the Doctor would fuck her in the car and force her to do the things she now wanted to do. She needed to be taken, and needed it badly.

But the Doctor seemed to be in no hurry. He took her ard she clung to him, taking refuge in his status and position among these people. As long as she was his they could not touch her, and she drew a certain amount of pride from her position. 

He steered her leisurely out of the back room and into the restaurant proper, where many of the Angels still lingered over brandy and cigars. He took her along the back wall and through a thick, padded door, into another, much smaller private dining room. The tables and chairs had been pushed back against the walls leaving a bare spot on the thick carpet in the middle of the room. There were four men inside and they appeared to be waiting for her. Montenegro was one of them.

Dhipa looked at the Doctor in confusion, but he just let go of her arm and sat down in a chair and began to unwrap a cigar. The men were all staring at her and she did not like the looks in their eyes, but the Doctor seemed to be particularly pleased with himself.

"What is this?" Dhipa asked him. The wine had made her forget his injunction never to speak to him first in public, but he seemed not to notice.

The Doctor lit his cigar carefully, spinning it in his mouth to get an even light, then he blew a plume of smoke into the air.

"These gentlemen were very much taken with you Dhipa." the Doctor said. "It is customary at these meetings for some of my associates to gather together to discuss matters of business. We like to keep up on new trends and developments, talk about new talent and markets, things like that."

He took the cigar from his mouth and looked at it approvingly. "I've told my friends here about what a fine little slut you are and they don't quite believe me. They'd like a demonstration."

Dhipa heard these words as if from a distance. They took a moment to sink in, and by that time several men were pushing her down, forcing her to her knees. She was too shocked to resist. Her eyes flashed up at the Doctor, who sat looking directly at her with detached interest. Montenegro came forward, unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out. He brought it to her lips.

Dhipa's mouth was still open in surprise. She was about to protest when she looked up into Montenegro's glittering eyes and realized that it was futile. He brought his cock to her lips and slapped her gently on the mouth with it.

"The Doctor says you have a good mouth." he said. "I've never known a Paki bitch who knew the first thing about cocksucking, so let's see what you can do."

Several of the men chuckled nervously as Montenegro continued to slap and rub his prick against Dhipa's mouth and face. It felt like a thick, soft club, and wherever he struck her it left a smear of juice.

Someone suddenly took a handful of her hair and pushed her head forward. She opened her mouth and took his thick meat inside with a groan of protest, but whomever held her hair began to rock her head up and back on Montenegro's cock as if she were too stupid to know how to suck a man's dick.

"Come on, whore, suck me off!" Montenegro said, thrusting his hips forward. Dhipa squealed as his rod slid over her tongue.

"Shit, Mabeuse!" Montenegro said. "My grandmother sucks dick better than this! She's fucking useless. Another wog princess who's too good to take it in her mouth!"

"That's where you're wrong." the Doctor said, leaning forward in his chair.

"Come on Dhipa, you cheap slut cocksucker." he said to her hotly. "Are you a princess? Are you too good to suck the man's prick? That's what they all think. Are they right about you? I don't think so. I think you're nothing but a hot cunt who just can't get enough. You were thinking about cock all through dinner weren't you? Everyone could see that, with your big tits and your nipples hard a rocks and your pussy leaking through your dress. So who are you trying to fool? You don't fool me. You want that cock in your mouth. You want that cock in your ass and your pussy too, don't you bitch? Go on and show him. She him how good you really are."

They were all looking at her now as his words inflamed her, bringing hot blood to her face and making her shudder. She gripped Montenegro's hips with her hands and began to fuck her face on his dick, sucking and slurping as he slid in and out. She wanted to show him. She wanted to show them all, but most of all she wanted to show the Doctor. 

Her big tits jiggled beneath the sheer fabric of her gown as she rocked on Montenegro's dick, her red lips sliding along his hardening shaft, making him groan with sudden pleasure.

"Pull her dress up." The doctor said. "She's bare under there. Someone work on her ass. Give her a pop or two."

Dhipa felt someone pulling her dress up over her hips, and a murmur of excitement ran through the group as her bare ass was exposed. Someone got on their knees behind her and began rubbing her ass admiringly, dipping their finger down towards her sex, making her squeal again as his fingers slid over her asshole. She began sucking in earnest, as if someone had suddenly thrown a switch, her head bobbing up and back, twisting as she applied her lips to all surfaces of Montenegro's thick cock.

"Yeah," he sighed. "That's better. That's more like it. Suck me, cunt. Suck my big dick into your mouth, whore."

The men laughed appreciatively. Whomever was behind Dhipa gave her a sudden sharp slap on her ass, then repeated on the other cheek. She heard him whisper in her ear.

"Eat it, bitch! Eat his meat! Tastes good, doesn't it? Now finger yourself too. Finger your hot pussy, bitch. Get it wet so I can fuck your wog ass!"

Dhipa groaned. Her hips began to twitch of their own volition and she did what the man said. She spread her knees slightly and worked her hand up against her pussy, began stroking herself, surprised at how wet she was, how aroused. Her own touch just made her hotter, and knowing that all eyes were on her as she sucked a stranger's cock and masturbated just fanned the flame.

"Bring her over here." someone said. "On the table."

Hands pulled her to her feet and she let go of the cock in her mouth reluctantly as they pushed and shoved her onto a restaurant table. Hand pulled and turned her until they had her as they wanted her, lying on her side with her head over the edge of the table. Montenegro stepped up to her face, his hard cock aimed for her lips and she hungrily gulped him inside and began sucking again.

Her dress was bunched up around her waist, and now someone took her ankles and spread her legs wide, exposing her wet pussy. 

"Oh yeah!" someone murmured with appreciation. "That is a gorgeous little pussy!"

"Fucking beautiful!"

"And ready! Here I come baby!"

She felt the head of a cock nudge against her hot pussy lips, and push into her, stretching her cunt as she cried out around the prick in her mouth.

"Oh, that's some good pussy." the man groaned. "And tight! You don't fuck this one enough, Mabeuse!"

The man began to fuck her hard, holding her one leg tight against his chest while his hips slammed against her, making the table rock. She reached up and grabbed Montenegro by the belt of his trousers and pulled him tighter against her sucking lips, while with the other hand she held on fiercely to the edge of the table.

The men fucked into her savagely without regard for her pleasure or her dignity. Montenegro tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back so that he could fuck his enormous penis into her stretched throat, while the man in her pussy licked one of his fingers and wormed it into her asshole so that he could feel his cock plunging in and out of her stuffed pussy as he fucked her.

Dhipa moaned in debased pleasure as they abused her, but she knew she was in a war, a separate competition. She had to drain these men of their come before she lost control herself and started screaming out how much she loved being used like this, how much she loved being a slut. Then they would all know the truth; they would all know what she really was.

Montenegro leaned over her and pushed down the straps of her gown, then flipped down the bodice and grabbed her jiggling tits and squeezed them. Dhipa moaned again. She let go of his trousers and began to frantically masturbate him while she sucked his cock, and with her other hand she again began to vibrate her fingers against her pussy seeking to take herself higher, into that zone of pure animal pleasure she loved so much.

"Fuck her!" Montenegro shouted to the man between her legs. "Fuck the whore hard, man! She loves it! She's sucking my goddamn cock off!"

The man redoubled his efforts, slamming into her at double speed, making the table rock as his cock plowed in and out of her. Hands grabbed at her as the other men moved forward to get a better look at the action. Someone slapped her on the ass while another man leaned over and began to suck at her tits, making animal-like sounds of pleasure, like a pig at a trough. It was like a feeding frenzy, the four men in black tuxedos crowded around Dhipa's nearly naked cock-stuffed body, moaning and murmuring obscenities as they jerked their hips at her.

The hands on her breasts were replaced by the man's big hard cock which he slid over her soft skin leaving a trail of pre-cum as he went, masturbating with his fist. The other man had stopped slapping her and she felt his mouth sucking and biting at her quivering ass even as she was being savagely fucked inches from his face.




The Debt Ch. 02



Dhipa hated them all. She hated them but loved what they were doing to her, loved the feeling of being poked and fucked with their hard white cocks, smeared and covered with their excited secretions, loved to hear them moan and groan over her soft, warm flesh.

The could see the Doctor still sitting in his chair smoking his cigar. He looked bored, disinterested in what they were doing to her, even as she squealed and choked around the cock in her mouth and the men called her every filthy name they could think of, treating her as if she weren't even human. He didn't care about her either. He was enjoying this, enjoying what they were doing to her, taking her like an animal. And the fact that he was enjoying it sent a shocking thrill through her.

She was a whore, a slut. No, she was worse than that. She had no word for what she was. She loved the Doctor, and loved him even more fiercely when he let her be humiliated and used like this, when he threw her love back in her face like something dirty. It thrilled her to depths she had never known before. She felt her orgasm building to incandescent hieghts.

She saw the Doctor check his watch and sigh. He was getting bored no doubt. They were fucking her like an animal not six feet from his face and he was bored. The realization made her delerious with lust.

The man masturbating and rubbing his cock on her tits was the first to come, groaning as he pumped out his load onto her jiggling breasts, gout after gout of hot cream which he smeared around her nipples with the head of his spurting prick. 

Then she felt the man fucking her suddenly pull his cock from her and hold it against her body as it throbbed and shot hot jets of semen on her body. She couldn't keep herself from reaching down and dipping her hands into his thick discharge, rubbing it into her skin, while the fourth man moved up and shoved his cock against her anus as he masturbated wildly.

Now Montenegro raised up on the very tips of his toes, driving his stiff meat deep into the back of her throat.

"Fuck! Whore! Cunt! Fucking slut! Agghhh!" he cried out as he came, pumping his ejaculate into her mouth, onto her lips, humping her face till his come spilled out over her lips and ran down her cheeks while she coughed and groaned with excited shame, knowing what she must look like.

The fourth man came at the same time. He couldn't push his prick into her ass but he was content to hold the tip of his piece against her as he unloaded on her asshole, groaning with deep satisfaction.

Dhipa lay on her back, her body covered in their dripping white sperm, panting and trying to catch her breath. She was still half crazy with lust, and she had not yet had enough. But damned if she would tell them that.

The men began to clean themselves off with napkins from a stack left by the table, muttering with satisfaction.

The Doctor stood up, grabbed a handful of napkins and dropped them on Dhipa's stomach.

"Clean yourself up." he said casually. "You're not getting in the car like that."

Montenegro came over, arranging himself in his pants and zipping his fly.

"I've got to hand it to you, Mabeuse." he said, "That little darkie knows how to suck a cock once she gets started. You teach her yourself?"

The Doctor nodded. He still seemed bored. "No, I didn't have to. She's naturally talented."

Montenegro glanced back at her. "And she really likes that abuse, eh?"

The Doctor sniffed. "She certainly seems to, doesn't she?"

"That pussy can make you a lot of money, Doc."

The Doctor only nodded.



Dhipa cleaned herself off in the washroom, wiping herself down with napkins soaked in warm water. She rinsed her mouth out several times to remove the taste of semen, then repaired her makeup. She looked at her face as she worked but she avoided meeting her own eyes in the mirror, afraid of what she would see there.

She hesitated as she left the bathroom as she swallowed down a sudden flood of tears that threatened to overwheln her. She stood by the door, head down, refusing to allow herself the luxury of crying. She didn't deserve the comforting balm of tears, didn't deserve them at all. She straightened her back, raised her head proudly, and walked out.

The car was waiting for her at the curb when she at last exited the restaurant, her coat wrapped around her to prtect her from the freezing wind. She got into the back without a word, placing herself at the extreme end of the seat as far from th Doctor as possible, and she let herself sink into the warm and fragrant leather.

The big Rolls hummed smoothy away from the curb and Dhipa kept her eyes fixed on the lights that passed by the tinted window. She was not tired. She was confused, but still humming with the same unrelieved excitement that had almost brought her to tears in the washroom.

The Doctor pressed a button on his arm rest, and the smoked glass partition glided smoothly up, hiding them from Mickey. She knew what that meant.

"Come here, Dhipa." the Doctor said. "Next to me."

For a long moment she didn't move. Then, deciding it wasn't worth fighting about, she slid across the leather seat to the Doctor's side. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, and she felt her throat tighten with anguish and rage.

"Damn you! No!" she spat just as the Doctor grabbed her hair and pulled her head back to kiss her lips. Shocked, her eyes flew open and she tried to puish him away, but he was so strong, so strong, and he enclosed her in the warmth of his body and his coat as he kissed her. 

The anger that had sustained her up till now melted away in his warmth and tears flooded her eyes as he kissed her.

"How could you?" she sobbed. "How could you let them do that to me?"

"Dhipa," he said as he tenderly kissed her eyes, "You just don't know, do you? You just don't understand at all."

No, she didn't. She didn't understand any of this, what he was doing to her--the way she felt, the way he abused her and her own abject excitement at being used this way--and she lost all control and wept openly onto his chest, her shoulders heaving.

He let her cry, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. And when her tears had slowed, he lifted her chin and looked into her eyes.

"You're incorruptable." he said softly. "Truly incorruptable. You've been raped, fucked by strangers, made to suck men off, soaked in men's come, and still you're untouched. Still you're a princess. Nothing touches you, does it?"

She looked into his eyes and saw something very soft and warm in them; something she had imagined seeing many times but had despaired of ever actually seeing. She knew that what he said was true. She was incorruptable, she could feel it inside her as a perfect flame, clean and untouched, safe from anything anyone could do to her.

"Do you what it does to me, to see you like that?" he asked her. "Do you know how it makes me feel to see your purity in the midst of all this filth?"

He took her hand and lowered it to his lap, where she felt his cock, hot and hard beneath his pants.

"And this is all I can give you?" he asked.

"No. No." Dhipa said, and she kissed him violently. "No."

"Open your legs, Dhipa." he whispered.

She did as he said, exposing herself to him completely. Her legs were visibly trembling as spread her knees apart and clung to his shoulders, her breath coming in ragged sobs as she awaited his touch.

And he did touch her, and she immediately exploded, clutching at him and pulling his head to her breasts as she arched her back in a rictus of orgasm, sobbing out her love and and falling helplessly into her surrender. 





On a rainy Monday morning the Doctor knocked on her door.

"Dhipa? I just got a call from your brother Bhasir. I didn't know that your father was so ill."

"Ill? My father?"

The Doctor looked at her for a moment.

"Yes. According to your brother he's been ill for some time. Apparently he's taken a turn for the worse. The family wants you at home."

Despite the early hour, Dhipa's mind was clear enough to make her keep her mouth shut. Not only was she unaware of her father's illness, but as far as she knew he wasn't even in the country. Why would Bhasir say something like that?

"Get your things. I want you to go home and do what you have to do, my Dear. It sounds like your family needs you. You won't be of any use to me here until this matter's resolved. Mickey will drive you. Just call me when you understand the situation."

Dhipa stared at him. "You mean I can go?" she asked cautiously.

The Doctor walked in and threw the curtains open to reveal the rain-flecked windows and the gray day outside.

"Of course you may go." he said. "You work for me Dhipa; I don't own you. You may come and go as you please as long as you're in my employ and you don't have a client."

He gave her a smile that was almost warm. "You won't run away, Dear. You might think you will now, but if I know my business you'll be back. And I do know my business."

The Doctor turned and walked out, then stopped in the doorway. "My best to your family. And tell your brothers they still owe me ten thousand pounds, will you dear? Don't forget to call me."

Dhipa was incredulous. How could the man be so stupid as to let her go home and think she would come back to be him again? She was certain that the story about her father was nonsense. The brothers must have had second thoughts about sending their sister off to be a whore and had created this story to get her out of the Doctor's clutches. Possibly it was Assad, the only one with a shred of conscious. Certainly it wouldn't have been Bashir, who was only too happy to give her to the Doctor in lieu of paying of his gambling debts.

In any case she was going home she thought as she sat in the back of the Doctor's Rolls. She had chosen to wear a very expensive dress of black jersey that the Doctor had bought for her. It clung to her curves in a way that was flattering but not cheap, and was the most modest thing she had. It seemed suitable for a daughter going home to visit a sick father. She wore dark hose and her handmade Italian pumps, and her coat was of mohair, also handmade in France. She wore a Hermes scarf around her neck, pearl earrings and a pearl necklace. Everything had been paid for by the Doctor.

They left the Doctor's expensive neighborhood and descended into the grimier areas of the city. Dhipa held onto the strap and gazed out the window, watching the neighborhoods get poorer and grimier. She was amazed at how dirty and neglected everything looked. She hadn't been away all that long, but she felt as if she hadn't been here in years. Everything had changed, was meaner and shabbier.

Mickey piloted the Rolls expertly through the streets as Dhipa stared out at buildings she knew well, the landmarks of her former life here. They all seemed so shabby and decrepit now. This had not been a bad neighborhood, or so she'd thought when she'd lived here. Now she realized with a shock that it was hardly more than a slum. Perhaps not the worst slum in the city, but a slum nonetheless.

Mickey pulled the Rolls over to the curb and Dhipa found herself looking at her old flat; he family's flat. She was hesitant to get out. The first thought she had was that she'd get her shoes dirty, but then Mickey hopped out and opened her door, and she had no choice.

She stood on the narrow sidewalk while Mickey got her bag. He was ready to carry it up for her, but suddenly she was ashamed that he see her home and she took the bag from him, smiling apologetically.

He gave it to her reluctantly. "The Doc told me to remind you to call, okay?" he said.

"Yes, I will." Dhipa said. "Thank you Mickey."

Mickey started down the steps and touched the brim of his hat. "Have a nice stay, Miss." he said. 

She watched the big Rolls pull away and turn a corner before she opened the door and walked into the familiar smells of her girlhood, food and her family.

Bashir opened the door when she knocked, and he looked her up and down with his lazy, heavy-lidded eyes. He didn't smile. "So you're here." he said.

She walked in cautiously, as if it might be some sort of trap. There seemed to be no one else in the flat. "Where is everyone?" she asked. "I came as soon as I got your message. Now what is this about father?"

Bashir immediately sank intro a chair and went into his pocket for a cigarette. He stared at her lazily as he lit it and inhaled, then put his lighter away.

"So this is how a whore dresses." he said. "I expected you to be naked, like those whores in the videos."

Dhipa ignored him. She could hardly believe how shabby and dirty the flat seemed. There was an unpleasant, sour smell in the air and dirty dishes and glasses on the dining room table.

"What about father? Why did you call me?"

"He pays you well, eh? You make a lot of money for showing your cunt and your tits and sucking men's penises, don't you?" he asked.

She had never liked Bashir. No, it was worse than that. She'd always loathed him. He was fat, gross, selfish and lazy, and worst of all, he had a way of looking at people that made them dislike him instantly. He stared at people as a snake stares at a bird, as if he were trying to decide whether it was worth his trouble to eat them.

But he'd always looked at Dhipa with a special look that made her skin crawl; a mixture of perverse lust and angry contempt, and Dhipa knew why. Although she was his own younger sister he wanted her, but because he could not have her he hated her. He resolved his conflict by treating her with contempt, as if being female and attractive were some sort of moral lapse or loathsome disease.

Dhipa looked at him with open anger. He disgusted her. He sat with sensual, hooded snake eyes, his thick lower lip glistening obscenely, a sick half-smile on his face.

"You lied." she said suddenly. "There's nothing wrong with Father. You lied just to get me over here, didn't you?" 

Bashir just smiled. He seemed to be enjoying her confusion and his attitude made her nervous.

"That whore house is no place for you." he said. "We need you here now. Back home with your family during this crisis."

"What crisis?" She asked suspiciously. "Tell me what's going on, Bashir…"

"Our Father," Bashir said, cutting her off. "is not sick…yet. But he will be when he hears that his eldest son is dead. And that his only daughter is selling her body to men and disgracing the family name."

"What are you talking about?"

Bashir looked at his watch, then stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray and leaned forward.

"That is not your concern." he said. "Your family needs you and that is all you need to know."

He got to his feet and crossed over to the window, pulled the curtains back and looked up and down the street. Then he turned to Dhipa who was still standing in the middle of the room.

"You were always a slut." he said to her. "I don't know where your blood came from, but you've always been a little whore, chasing after men and showing off your tits and your dirty little pussy to them, pushing your privates in their faces. You have no shame. Father should have beaten you, should have beaten the sin out of you. Because I always knew it would come to this, that you would shame us. Shame us all, you tramp!"

She had never known Bashir to speak with such anger and such feeling, but now his eyes were almost glowing with contempt. And yet there was something more there too. She realized with a sick feeling that he was getting aroused. She could feel his lust coming off him like heat from a fire.

"And now that we know what you are we don't have to pretend any longer." he spat. "We don't have to pretend that you're a sweet and noble wife who's known only her husband's touch. You'll spread your legs for any man, whether he pays you or not. You'll suck his penis into your mouth and let him put it places I won't even say!

"Well now I have someone else who wants to taste your favors, Dhipa. I have someone else who is coming to our home to fuck my sister the whore. He is the son of a rich and powerful man who has promised to help us. And as a gift of gratitude to his father you will take him to bed and let him do what he wants."

Dhipa gasped. "What do you…"

"Oh shut your fucking mouth, slut!" he snapped. "This is your chance to do something for your family. Ali Assim is coming here to our house. He knows about you. Just do for him what you do for all those white men and he will help us pay off our debts and gain our honor back. It's not like I'm asking you to do anything you don't already do. With all the men you give your body to one more won't make any difference."

Dumb with outrage, Dhipa stammered, "Ali Assim is a whoremaster and a pimp! Everyone knows that! He takes girls of thirteen, fourteen years old!"

Bhasir shrugged. "What difference does it make to you?" he said.

"How dare you!" Dhipa said. "It's not enough that you've already sold me into whoredom to pay off your gambling debts, but now you want me to do it all over again with this miserable piece of garbage? You're insane, Bashir!"

He smiled slyly. "Why not?" he said, "Paying two debts with the same money. Why not?"

Dhipa picked up her coat and headed for the door but Bashir grabbed her.

"Get your hands off me!" she snarled.

He slapped her, hard, shocking her more than hurting her. It was not the first time a man had struck her, In fact, at one time in her life it had been a common enough occurrence for a husband to strike his wife or an older brother to strike a misbehaving sister. But no longer. She was no longer the person who let herself be treated like this. 

Without thinking she bared her nails and went for his face, but Bashir, as fat as he was, was quicker than she. He grabbed her other arm and pulled her around, pushing her back down on the sofa.

Before she could get her wits back he took hold of her dress and yanked it down, ripping the garment from her shoulders. Dhipa screamed but Bashir continued to pull at the dress until her ripped it again, tore it apart so that it hung in tatters from her body.

She was certain that he was going to rape her right there, in their own living room, but instead he backed away, breathing heavily. He gazed at her exposed flesh with his heavy-lidded eyes as his lewd grin returned to his face.

"There." he said, panting. "There's your whore clothes! Now run home to your pimp, you slut!"

He reached down and pulled her up by her arms. Dhipa never knew he was so strong.

"Now go wash yourself and put on the clothes I bought you. They're in your room. Hurry, or I swear I'll beat you so that no man will ever look at you again!"

He shoved her brutally down the hallway towards the back of the house. "I said hurry!"

She staggered down to her old room, almost as if by instinct. She was not thinking clearly. Hardly thinking at all. 

Her things were still in her old room, but the room was a mess, with boxes and household junk strewn about. Apparently they now used it for storage.

She went to her old dresser and pulled open the top drawer where she'd kept her underthings. The drawer had been ransacked, all the carefully folded panties and bras she'd left behind had been rifled through and were now in disarray. It had to have been her brothers, she knew. But what had they been looking for? 

Probably they'd just gotten off on looking at her things, the sexy panties, the lacy and seductive bras. The thought of them pawing through her things made her nauseous. She could easily picture Bashir rubbing her knickers over his face as he masturbated. It sickened her and she slammed the drawer closed and sat heavily on the bed.

The telephone. She suddenly remembered that she'd promised to call the Doctor, and she picked up the phone. She stopped and listened to the noises in the flat. She heard Bashir cough in the living room. Quickly she dialed the number.




The Debt Ch. 02



She heard it ring on the other end. At the same time she heard Bashir cough again, this time closer. He was coming back here.

"Hello?" asked a voice on the other end. She couldn't tell who it was.

"Hello? Hello?" she whispered frantically. She realized that she hadn't locked the door, but she couldn't reach it now, it was too far away.

"Hello, who is this?" she asked urgently. 

There was a silence on the other end of the line. She realized that they wouldn't answer that question; she wasn't thinking clearly.

"This is Dhipa." she said quickly in a low voice. "Tell the Doctor he must come get me. At once. I'm in trouble."

"Dhipa?" Bashir called. He sounded like he was right outside her door.

"Please! Tell the Doctor! I'm in danger!"

She hung up the phone just as he opened the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said. "Didn't I tell you to change?"

For a moment Dhipa thought he had seen her hang up the phone, but he apparently hadn't noticed. He went to her closet and quickly sorted through her clothes, pulling things out, looking at them and throwing them on the floor. He pulled something out and threw it at her.

"This." he said. "Wash yourself off and put this on. And hurry or I'll teach you to disobey me! You're not in your British pimp's mansion anymore, cunt. You're back with your own and I'll show you how we treat whores and fornicators here, in case you've forgotten."

Dhipa looked at the garment. It was a blue negligee, no more than panties and a sheer top with no bra. Bashir had bought it for her for her last birthday as one of his jokes. For years he had bought her gifts of clothing of the sleaziest and sexiest kind: short skirts and tight tops, fishnet stockings and garter belts, open-cup bras and crotchless panties, things that even a husband would not buy for his wife. He always pretended that they were jokes, but Dhipa had always known better.

"Well," he said. "Put it on." 

He made no move to leave the room. Dhipa glared at him and finally he laughed and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

She quickly stripped out of the shredded dress and removed her shoes and stockings, bra and panties. Shed wrapped herself in her old, worn bathrobe, found her bath things just where she'd left them, and quickly slid into the bathroom.

The shower was weaker than she'd remembered; nothing like the hot, hard spray at the Doctor's, and she wondered how she'd ever managed in the tiny bathroom. She stood in the shower and scrubbed herself, trying to waste as much time as she could, and trying to wash the feel of Bashir's hands off her body. She didn't know if the Doctor would get her message. She didn't know whether he would come for her even if he did. And she wondered is he might have known about this all along. Was that why he was so certain that she'd be back?

She stepped out of the shower and gasped.

The bathroom door was wide open and Bashir stood in the doorway watching her and stroking his crotch. She grabbed a towel and covered herself. 

Bashir leered at her. 

"Perhaps you're not my sister after all." he said. "Perhaps you're not forbidden. How could we know for sure?"

Suddenly she heard feet on the stairs. Bashir's leer turned to a look of panic.

"Hurry! Hurry!" He hissed, pushing her back into the bathroom. He shut the door and went to greet the guests.

Dhipa ran back into her bedroom and locked the door. She could hear men's voices outside. She recognized her brother Assad's voice and several others she did not recognize. 

She was still drying off when Bashir rapped on her door.

"Dhipa? Dhipa dear, are you ready? Our guest is here and he'd like to meet you."

She thought of just staying in her room. What would Bashir do? No doubt he would break down the thin door and drag her out by the hair; that would gain her nothing.

She looked at the blue negligee. She should be paid for all the modeling she did, she thought bitterly. It seems that every man she met wanted her to put on some outfit and then have sex with her. She realized that she had indeed become a true whore. And why did that thought excite her?

She slipped into the thin panties and put on the sheer top. She quickly ran some lipstick over her mouth and shaded her eyes in the exaggerated way she knew Pakistani men liked.

"Dhipa? Dhipa?" Bashir's knocking was gorwing more impatient. More violent.

"All right. Just a minute." she called out.

She had no shoes to wear with this negligee. All she had were the black pumps she'd come in. They would have to do. After all, this wasn't a fashion show. She slipped them on her feet, took a breath, and opened the door.

The men were all waiting in the kitchen, just outside the door. The room was already smoky and she smelled kief and black tobacco. Bashir was leaning in the doorway with his back to her, and around his bulk she could see Assad and two more men she didn't know. They must be Ali's bodyguards. Ali himself sat at the table wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. His fingers were covered with gold rings and jewelry, and heavy gold chains hung around his neck.

"Ah, here she is." Bashir said with forced delight. 

He took Dhipa's arm and pulled her into the kitchen, placed her in the center of the room and stepped back. Dhipa stood before all the men's eyes, her breasts and nipples clearly visible beneath the sheer top, the dark cleft of her sex likewise apparent. Her panties might as well have been made of cellophane for all the protection they gave her. Still she stood tall and held her head high, her shoulders back to thrust out her breasts, her back arched to emphasize her tight ass as she stood beneath their hot gaze. Why her pride invariably showed itself when she was put in these degrading situations she did not know. She only knew that she would not show her shame to these men. This was the body that God had given her, and if it filled these men with filthy thoughts that was their problem, not hers.

Ali looked at her and maintained look of bored disinterest, but glancing at his face, Dhipa saw the light of desire in his eyes and the crack of a smile on his thick lips. He made a small circle in the air with two bejeweled fingers and Bashir said, "Turn around for our guest. Let him see you."

Dhipa slowly turned in a full circle on the kitchen floor. All eyes were on her. She could almost feel the heat on her nipples and her ass as she turned. Every man's face was the same, the sleepy, snake like eyes, the open mouths, the heavy breathing. She kept her eyes up but unfocused, though she could see the bulges in the bodyguard's trousers. They were not as big as the bulge in Bashir's.

Ali made her turn again. Obviously he was enjoying himself. He looked over his dark glasses at Dhipa and cocked a finger, beckoning her.

Bashir quickly pushed her towards Ali, and the bodyguards gave a murmur of approval at her rough treatment. She was standing inches away from the young man. He reached up and gently squeezed one breast then the other, testing their resilience. He dropped his hand to her belly and pressed his fingertips into her, feeling the firmness of her flesh. 

He grabbed her by the hips and quickly spun her around, squeezed both her buttocks in his hands, then slapped her on the ass loudly. He ran his hands down one leg, then the other and Dhipa grit her teeth to keep from moaning. It felt good. She was getting excited. She could not help it.

Finally Ali stood up. His chair squeaked across the kitchen floor. He stood facing Dhipa looking into her eyes, and what she saw there made her suddenly weak with desire. She couldn't help herself, Whenever she saw a man look at her like that, with raw desire and contempt—almost hatred--in his eyes, it melted her inside and brought a gush of hot blood to her pussy. She knew she was getting wet as she stood there.

Ali held one breast in his hand, feeling its weight. Then with the first two fingers of his other hand he slapped her nipple sharply, just barely touching it. Dhipa gasped with shock. It didn't really hurt; it was more like an electric charge to her body, and she felt her nipple immediately respond, tightening and reaching out towards him. 

He repeated the gesture and then felt her nipple. It was as hard as a pebble, the little bud stretching forward as if looking for more punishment. He smiled.

He did the same to her other breast and this time Dhipa cried out. Ali grinned as this nipple too came to attention beneath his gaze.

Ali said something over his shoulder that Dhipa did not hear, and all the men laughed. The lust and the tension of sexual excitement was so thick in the room that she was afraid to breath. Dhipa worked hard to keep her breathing steady, to keep from panting like a bitch in heat. Everyone awaited Ali's next move.

The young man slowly reached down and inserted a finger between Dhipa's legs and she couldn't suppress a moan. She already knew what he would find there, that her pussy was wet and engorged with blood, ready for sex. He dug his fingers into her and wiggled them, and she bit her lip and willed herself to remain silent as she felt his finger work its way beneath the crotch band of her panties and against her naked pussy.

She didn't have to look at him to know that he was now staring at her with a satisfied smirk on his face. She felt the hot blood of embarrassment rush to her face.

"All right." Ali said softly. "Show me the bedroom."

At once Bashir grabbed Dhipa's arm again and propelled her through the doorway to the bedroom down the hall. "This way, sir, please." he said over his shoulder as he dragged her off.

He pushed her into the bedroom and glared at her while Ali entered, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie.

Bashir must have prepared this room, she realized. Unlike the rest of the flat it was clean and orderly, the bed freshly made up with plenty of pillows on it. Flowers stood in two vases on the dresser, and incense burned on the night stand.

Once Ali had entered, Bashir shoved the others out. "Watch the front door." he told Assad, shoving him down the hall. "Let no one in!"

With a final obsequious bow to Ali, he smiled his best smile. "Enjoy yourself, Sir!" he said nervously. He closed the door behind him as he went out.

And then they were alone.

Ali stepped out of his shoes and lowered his pants and shorts to his ankles as casually as if he were undressing for bed. He looked at Dhipa and pointed to the bed. She felt the urge to refuse him, to fight, but it was all happening too fast. She got on the bed.

"Take those things off." he said softly. "Lie back and spread your legs." 

The look on his face frightened her. She rolled her panties down her legs and dropped them on the floor. She unhooked the top of the negligee but before she could take it off Ali was on the bed and kneeling between her spread legs. His cock was hard and standing straight out from his body. He was not circumcised and something about his penis made Dhipa think of a dog's, of dogs fucking in the street.

The image stuck in her mind, and suddenly she was filled with rage. She would not do it. With a sound somewhere betweeen a snarl and a scream she closed her legs, rolled to the side and kicked at him, her foot hitting his leg. Ali grabbed for her wrists but she managed to scratch his face and kick him again.

"Fucking whore!" he cried out. "Bitch! Pig! Slut!"

His cry was loud enough that the door flew open and his two bodyguards burst in, followed by Bashir. Bashir had a look of horror on his face.

"Hold her! Hold her!" Ali shouted. The bodyguards quickly grabbed her arms and pulled her away from Ali. They were much too strong for her and they pressed her arms down, forcing her to lie on the bed.

"Hold the cunt!" he said.

They hung on her arms, pinning them to the mattress as she struggled and kicked and tried to bite them, but nothing worked. Ali had her legs apart and she felt his hard cock slide along the wet crease of her pussy as he aimed for her hole.

"No! You motherfucker piece of shit!" she screamed. She was out of her mind now with hatred for all of them. 

Ali struck her across the face, then did it again and she stopped struggling and fell back gasping for breath. Just then he raised his hips and dropped down on her, skewering her with his stiff prick.

Dhipa arched her back and went rigid as he entered her. She didn't know whether it was pleasure or pain she felt and she didn't care. She hated him but she knew it was only a matter of time until her body betrayed her and she would begin to fuck him, begin to grind her hips against his in her desperate search for pleasure, proving to them that she was indeed the whore they said she was, and she was determined that that would not happen.

Ali began to pump angrily into her without warm up or preliminaries. He was like a rutting animal with no sense of shame, slamming his cock into her as if to punish her. He snarled and spit at her, clawed at her tits, moaned, bit her as his two bodyguards held her down and watched with savage interest.

Dhipa looked at his face in horror. His face was angry and contorted, red with rage. With each violent thrust he grunted until he sounded like an ape as his hips pommelled against her again and again. He was trying to hurt her, trying to destroy her for her crime of making him want her so much. 

Her eyes, wide with alarm at his savagery suddenly rolled back in her head as she yielded to the fierce pleasure his passion engendered deep in her body. She heard herself wailing, felt her own hips jerk up to meet him in masochistic frenzy she couldn't control. The pleasure overwhelmed her.

She turned her head and saw Bashir standing at the foot of the bed, his cock in his hand as he masturbated, his eyes locked on the place where Ali's cock disappeared into her pussy.

"Fuck her!" he chanted, "Fuck the bitch! Fuck her!"

Ali didn't hear him. He heard nothing. His hips rose and fell like a steam hammer, making the bed shake and slamming the cheap headboard against the wall.

"Oh!" he cried out. "Fuck! Whore! Cunt! Shit!"

His mindless words sent Dhipa soaring as she felt certain orgasm begin to uncoil within her. Just a little more, just a little more…

"Oh Fuck!" Ali roared. He pulled his cock from her and laid it on her naked stomach as it began to gush semen onto her flesh. 

Dhipa squealed in frustration, watching his passion pour out of him as her pussy sucked at the air in her need. Ali spasmed between her legs and trembled with convulsions as his hot seed poured from his balls, his eyes rolling up in his head in ecstasy. As soon as he stopped coming her rolled off her and lie there panting.

Suddenly there was commotion in the front room. Shouting, heavy footsteps running on the stairs. Angry voices. Assad shouted "Look out!"

Instantly the two bodyguards were up They let go of Dhipa and stood there in a moment of confusion. Then one spoke rapidly to the other and they rushed from the room, their hands going into their coat pockets. 

Ali still lay there, his trousers around his ankles, his limp dick lolling on his leg. He appeared unable to move after his orgasm.

Bashir's eyes went wide with alarm. He hadn't yet come but he rapidly stuffed his semi-erect penis back into his pants and grabbed Dhipa.

"Slut!" he hissed at her. "You called your pimp, didn't you? Whore! Get up! Get up!"

Dizzily, Dhipa got to her feet. Bashir pulled her by from the bedroom by her wrist, naked but for the negligee top she still wore. From the front of the flat they heard the sounds of a full-blown scuffle, men shouting and grunting. Glass shattered.

Bashir dragged her to the back door. Through the window he saw a big black Mercedes sedan pull up behind the flat and jerk to a stop. Four men jumped out and headed quickly for the stairs. 

He swore. Something heavy fell over in the front room with a loud crash. Bashir whined in fear.

"In here! Quickly! Quickly!" he hissed, shoving Dhipa into one of the back bedrooms and pulling the door shut.

The bedroom had been Bashir's own. Quickly he went to the closet, pushed some clothes back and fumbled at the dark wall as Dhipa stood there dazed and confused. She saw that Bhasir's closet had a false wall, and that behind this wall there was a tiny room, just big enough for one or two people to stand upright in. A secret room. She could see a stack of pornographic magazines on the floor, no doubt Bhasir's. This was his secret room.

He yanked Dhipa into the closet and shoved her into the tiny hiding place, then squeezed himself in as well, and pulled the false wall back in place.

"Don't make a sound!" he whispered as the darkness enveloped them. Dhipa heard a sinister click and felt the point of a knife touch her cheek. 

"It's the Doctor's men." Bashir whispered. "If they find me here I'm dead! And I'll make sure you are too!"

Dhipa didn't move. She stood in the dark pressed against Bhasir's bulk. The stack of magazines pressed into her legs. 

The fight outside seemed to be over, at least the scuffling and banging had stopped. Now she heard men walking quickly through the flat.

"They're looking for you." Bashir whispered. He pushed the cold point of the knife under her jaw. "Don't make a sound."

Sure enough, it sounded as though men were searching through the flat and she heard voices in the kitchen. One of them belonged to Mickey, the Doctor's chauffeur.

"D'you see her when you came up?" he asked someone. "She might a' gone out the back."

"Naw, there was no one." another voice answered.

"Well you go down and check out back. Slick stay here with me. Find the phone."

Suddenly Bashir made a strange hiccupping noise. It startled Dhipa. He made it again and she realized that he was giggling nervously. In her whole life she had never heard him laugh, and she couldn't really call this a laugh. It was almost like a barely suppressed sob of fear.

"This is all your fault you fucking cunt." he hissed. "You whore!"

His mouth was right against her ear and she felt his breath, hot and moist. He smelled like cheap curry.

She was aware of another feeling too. Bhasir's hard cock was pressing into her naked leg. It made her sick.

She felt his hand at her breast and she twisted away. Bashir recaptured her and pinched her nipple painfully.

"Don't move!" he said. "Don't make a sound or I swear I'll kill you!"

She didn't move. She stood as he continued to caress her breast, the knife at her throat. He pushed his cock into her leg.

"You're not my sister." he said. "I don't have a whore for a sister. There's no reason why I can't fuck you here."

"Shut up!" she whispered back. "You touch me again and I'll scream."

"You scream and I'll rip off your pretty face you dirty cunt! They'll kill me anyhow so what do I care."

His hand was still on her breast. He lowered it, trailing along her body. His fingers found her pussy and dig in. Dhipa choked back a scream and Bhasir's breathing increased as he felt her pussy, still wet from the fucking she'd just had.

"If you weren't my sister I'd make you suck my cock and drink my juice." he said.

"I swear I'll bite it off and spit it out, you piece of shit!"

Bashir again made that same choked giggle.

"I didn't get to finish in there." he said. "I wanted to shoot my scum in your face, bitch. Everyone else does, why shouldn't I?"

Dhipa said nothing. He was still rooting around in her pussy, trying to get a finger into her. The thought of being molested like this by her own elder brother made her want to vomit. But she should have known it would come to this eventually. All his leering at her, his peeking at her when she dressed or showered, the filthy gifts he bought her, the suggestions he made to his sleazy friends about her. All along he'd been working up to this moment. Now the only thing that stopped her was his fear of the sin of incest, for which there could be no forgiveness and which would surely damn him to hell.