Justice of the Taleban
Justice of the Taleban
WRITTEN BY Phillip Marlowe
Tina wasn't sure how they had come to this. She and Phill were exploring the remote mountain country of Pakistan not far from the fabled Khyber Pass. The trip had been arranged through the Sacramento based Travel Exotica Association. Travel arrangements were made to get there, but once there they were on their own, which was fine with them. Tina was a perky brunette, slightly voluptuous, a Canadian prairie girl in her late 20s, used to all the ornaments of a civilized society. She did have a wild streak though, which she exercised through annual adventure trips, and fantasizing about dark side scenes. Phill was a staid mid-west engineering type, recently promoted to supervising a like-minded group of engineers. He was older than her, and had been doing this sort of thing for years. His blonde hair was graying slightly, set off by his green eyes. He had kept himself in shape for these adventures, with weights and interminable hours on a treadmill. He also had a deviant streak, a very developed curiosity about other ways of thinking and acting, and liked writing violent sexual stories with keen philosophical and psychological insights into what drove people to react the way that they did. Tina and Phill had met through one of the Internet Chat rooms, and had become very close, eventually setting up a personal meeting. They became lovers, and eventually decided to take the trip to Pakistan.
"Isn't it a little dangerous there," she asked.
"That makes it more fun," he smiled.
When the five horsemen with AK47s blocked their path. Phill actually tried to take their picture, and got a blow in his stomach from one of the AK47s for his trouble. However it was immediately clear they weren't as interested in Phill as they were in Tina.
"I can't tell what they're saying," he said, fighting to breathe, "but it's something about you."
One of the horsemen kept pointing to her shoulder. She looked at hers.
"Baar," he kept mouthing. "Baar."
"Bare," she thought. "Yes, bare." She didn't understand what the problem was. It was a loose blouse and fell from her shoulder. She thought it was sexy. Phill liked it too.
The horsemen grabbed them and tied their hands. They were thrown in the back of their jeep and driven off by one of their captors, a pockmarked, tall turbaned Afghani with a scraggly beard, through the Khyber Pass to a small town in the Afghani wilderness. When they arrived they were pulled out and hauled into an official looking building that looked like government buildings everywhere in the Pathan region - sterile and run down. A man came to them and threw a blanket over Tina. It smelled like the horse it came off of. He took their passports and the personal belongings. Phill tried to protest and was slammed again with a rifle butt.
They were dragged downstairs and thrown in separate cells, hands tied behind their backs.
"What do they want?" she asked herself. Phill asked himself the same thing.
"Phill," she shouted through the bars.
"Yeah," he responded.
Suddenly a guard roared down the small hallway shouting something incomprehensible. They both decided that silence would be wise.
She surveyed the cell around her. A filthy pit, a bucket in the corner for a toilet, no water, a foul mattress that was crawling with bugs. There were no windows. She took off the blanket and put it on the floor to sit on. She was scared. What was happening? What had she done?
She sat silent for what seemed like hours. Suddenly, with great commotion, the door flung open and two men in uniform picked her from the floor. One held her as the other threw the blanket over her, shouting something.
She smiled at Phill as she was pulled into the hall outside the cells. The guards jerked both of them up the stairs to a large airy office, where they were thrown into chairs. A fierce looking mustachioed man in a uniform sat behind a desk. Their personal items and their passports were on the desk in front of him.
He spoke rapidly to them, not caring they couldn't understand a word he said. He picked up the passports, opening both in front of them, looked at their photos, before he said the only word they could understand.
Tina protested immediately "Canadian", but then shut up as she saw his expression of disgust. They then both nodded in agreement, trying to smile.
He picked up the phone and dialed what seemed like a hundred numbers, waiting for an answer. When it connected, he started another animated gutturally accented conversation with whoever was on the other end.
The call lasted a few minutes, and he barked orders to the guards. Tina and Phill were jerked from the seats again. The one word they could understand was "Kabul."
They were thrown into the back of a truck with a guard. Phill tried to speak to her, but the guard put the barrel of his AK47 against his chin as he shouted something. The truck drive lasted for hours. By the time they got to Kabul, they were exhausted, hungry, and scared. They were thrown into separate cells again, in cells little better than the earlier ones.
Two hours later the guards came again and they were taken to another airy office, and stood in front of a heavy set bearded man in an officer's uniform. He spoke just as ncomprehensibly as the first one. This time, there was a man in civilian clothes sitting by the officer. He spoke.
"I am Bahram, I'm to be your interpreter at the trial."
"Trial!?" Phill shouted. Another blow with a rifle butt calmed him down.
Tina spoke quietly. "We haven't done anything."
The officer glared at her and mumbled something to Bahram. Bahram looked at Tina fiercely and told her "Inshallah, in our country women only speak when allowed to."
Bahram continued. "You will both be tried as enemy spies, and you," looking right at Tina, "will be tried for indecent exposure too. Baring your shoulder is a crime, as you must know".
"Can we talk to the American Consul," Phill asked.
"There is no American counsel," Bahram replied.
Tina whimpered "But we have rights."
Bahram looked at Tina furiously. "You have no rights!" Not here," was Bahram's reply. He continued, "Your trial will be at 9:00 in the morning before the Taleban Shar'i. If you are found guilty, your sentence will be carried out the next morning, publicly."
"What is the punishment for spying?", asked Phill, knowing what the answer would be.
Tina's stomach did a flip hearing that her life might soon be over. She started crying gently. Phill looked at her. "Don't worry . we're not convicted yet." Tina looked at Phil, always the optimist, encouraged.
The colonel spoke again, and the guards hustled them out the door. Bahram yelled that he would see them in the court in the morning. Tina was separated from Phill and led to an isolated cell.
Tina spent a sleepless night. They brought her a bowl of gruel and a bucket of dirty water to drink. The gruel was awful, but as she hadn't eaten since they had been captured, she gulped it quickly, choking on the vile taste. The water was what she really wanted, though she felt ready to puke as she looked at it. Her mouth had been dry since she had heard Bahram say death. The water didn't help much. She lay down on the cot, contemplating her fate, worrying about Phill, and wondering how they might escape.
The morning came. The door to the cell opened and a woman came in. She was wearing Burqua veil. Tina could not see her face. The woman handed her a white dress, and a long crude wool pullover. A guard watched her from the hall.
"I don't understand," Tina spoke.
The woman proceeded to pull Tina's blouse over her head and started removing her jeans. Tina backed away from her and removed the rest of her clothing at the woman's urging. The guard eyed her naked body. He'd probably never seen a white woman naked before. His eyes traveled up and down, stopping to admire her breasts and her sex. Tina threw the dress over her head and then put on the scratchy pullover. The woman took her clothes and left.
She was replaced by guards who put her in handcuffs and manacles. They dragged her out and up the stairs into a large courtroom. There was a bench at the front. Phill was there wearing the same outfit she was in. He looked back at her, and smiled. Good old brave Phill. The guards set her several feet away from her. Bahram set between them.
The judge entered wearing a turban and a long black robe. The guards jerked them to their feet. After he sat, the rest of the court sat down. A man across the room began to speak. Bahram listened intently.
"He is the prosecutor, he is reading the charges," he told them.
He spoke for a long time. Bahram didn't supply any further translations. Suddenly the prosecutor pulled Tina's blouse from a bag on his table, holding it up for the court to see.
"Why's he doing that," she asked.
"Proof of your public nakedness," Bahram replied in all seriousness.
The prosecutor finally stopped his tirade. . The judge spoke at length. Bahram listened respectfully, not commenting as he spoke. The judge finished and rose to leave. Bahram stood and turned to them.
"You have both been sentenced to death by hanging," he spoke as though he was announcing the news, "and you," looking at Tina "will be flogged. Thirty nine lashes for public nakedness."
Tina screamed. Phill jumped up and yelled at Bahram, "We're innocent, you're our lawyer, get us an appeal!" The guards knocked him down again.
Bahram continued, "I am not a lawyer. Your sentence has already been appealed, and the appeal was denied. You will be executed at the soccer stadium at midday tomorrow. I'm sorry, there is nothing more I can do." He grinned, as he turned to leave.
The guards dragged them back to their cells to await their executions.
Tina spent another sleepless night. Worried about dying, worried about the flogging, what would the pain be like. But to her surprise she found herself fantasizing as she had many nights before, about hanging. Naked, legs kicking as she slowly strangled. That had been one of her dark fantasies, she hadn't even discussed it with Phill. But she knew Phill did not share in her fascination with the noose. Now her fantasy would become reality. Death by hanging. She hoped it would not be a long drop. She wanted to feel it all, unending. The thought still turned her on. She could feel herself getting moist as she thought of her final demise. She pulled the dress up and felt herself. Her labia lips were swollen; her clit erect and her cunt all aflame just like any other sexual experience. She stroked herself, rubbing her clit gently as she contemplated her hanging. She imagined standing, noose tight around her neck, heavy knot on her shoulder, looking serenely at an aroused mob, and then suddenly feeling weightlessness as she swung, the rope cutting into her skin and strangling her as she struggled for air. She started to come, stifling her moans. The orgasm was wonderful. One of her last, she surmised. It relaxed her, and she did finally sleep.
She rose in the morning early, how early she didn't know. This would be the day she would hang. She began sobbing. She had cried so much in the last few hours that tears came with difficulty. Still, she had the erotic thoughts associated with her hanging fantasy. The hours passed.
The door swung open with a bang and several women entered the room. The door closed behind them this time. "That pig of a guard wouldn't get to see me naked today" Tina thought. Tina recognized one as the same woman who had come to her yesterday. She brought a fresh white dress and a bucket of water. She chattered happily as the others stripped Tina of her old dress. They proceeded to give her a sponge bath, slowly, very careful to wash her entire body and inside all her orifices. Tina kept thinking about the hanging. Her nipples stiffened. The women looked at her strangely. Tina could only wonder what they thought. The woman from yesterday handed her a bottle of water, and motioned for her to drink. It was cold and wet. Tina hadn't eaten or drank since yesterday; the water was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. One of the women handed her a hairbrush. Her long brown hair was a mess. The Afghani women didn't know how to take care of hair like hers. Tina brushed it out. She wanted to look her best; wanted to create lust among the crowd she expected to see soon, wanted to look great as she danced and eventually went still at the end of the rope.
They put the fresh dress over her naked body, picked up their things, and left. The guards came then, shackling her again, dragging her to the courtyard of the building, and throwing her into the back seat of an armored sedan. Phill was there too; face bruised but shaven. She leaned over to him and squeezed herself against him.
"Are you all right," he asked.
"They give the condemned a bath," she laughed.
He giggled. "Me too." He got somber again. "I'm sorry I got you into this."
She cried gently, "Don't worry." She took his hand, "we'll be together forever now." She smiled through fresh tears.
The car pulled into the stadium. A small place. They drove them to the far end, and jerked them out, sitting them on a bench. There was a pole with a hook attached to it, and a few feet beyond, a small gallows, with two nooses, and a small bench underneath. A soldier picked up a microphone and began to speak in the local thick Afghani dialect. It was likely the reading of the sentence, Tina thought. There was a large crowd, all men, lots of mumbling and milling about. Execution was the national pastime here, but it was rare to see foreigners and women hang. Tina faintly recalled stoning was normally used for women, especially those found guilty of adultery. She was relieved she was to hang instead.
Tina looked at the noose and began to fantasize again. She could see herself swinging from the rope, fighting for air, doing her last dance, neck twisting, eyes bulging, face turning blue. She felt aroused again. She could feel the wetness form between her legs. She was so lost in the fantasy, she ignored the ranting of the soldier.
Suddenly she was jerked up by the guards and walked to the pole with a hook. Her handcuffs were looped over the hook; she was pulled up onto her tiptoes; grunting with pain from the pressure of the cuffs on her sensitive wrists. From up close she saw the gallows; the nooses swaying, as Phill was led there, helped up onto the bench, noosed, and forced to stand so he could look at her. Her feet barely touched the ground. She saw another man approach her with a short strap, more like a thick belt than a whip. She looked at Phil, paralyzed with fear. He cried as the flogging started.
The first blow landed across her back, more like a punch than a lash. She shouted as the force of it drove her into the pole; her body spasming from pain. She hit her lip and she could taste blood. She stayed pressed against the pole after that. The strokes continued. She shrieked with each stroke, the burning agony getting worse and worse. She squirmed against the pole as the lash sent spasms of torment through her entire being, everytime the lash struck splinters from the pole would bury themselves in her breasts. Her tormentor would get lucky once in a while and hit her kidneys. She would arch her back when he did, as that was more excruciating than the other blows. Eventually she didn't have the strength to fight back any longer. She hung limply from the pole, the cuffs cutting into her wrists. She still cried out with each stroke, but her spasms were convulsive, her body reacting to the infliction of pain that her mind could no longer comprehend. The PA system was announcing something in Afghani. But her pain drowned out the noise. She found herself drifting into fantasies about the hanging as the strap continued to fall. Through her anguish, she was still excited. Her nipples weren't large, but they were as stiff as they had ever been. She could feel the rough wood rub against them as she thrash against the pole; looking at Phill and the noose dangling by him, waiting for her. The blows continued, her sexual anticipation mounting with each stroke of the strap.
They finally stopped. She didn't realize that it was over until the guards pulled the cuffs off the hook. The guards tied her cuffs to her belt with a two-foot long cord. They dragged her to the gallows, where Phill was waiting for her. They lifted her onto the bench and slipped a crude noose made from thick, rough hemp over her neck, pulling her hair roughly through the noose. She had to stand on her tiptoes to get her chin through the noose. They moved the knot under her left ear, and pulled it taut. She slowly sank back onto her heels, gasping at the feel of the pressure on her neck. The bench was just a foot high. The gallows, a thick beam resting on two supported vertical ten foot high posts was about as wide as a door. She felt Phill by her, looking at him, recalling his disgust with the idea of hanging, its indignity, its pain, She now remembered the time both had seen the movie, Moll Flanders, the hanging scene of Moll's friend at Tyburn, and how Phill was horrified at her end, mouth agape, legs dancing, while she had felt fully aroused.
Phil spoke. "I'm sorry," rasping from the pressure of the noose.
"Don't be," she replied, "it will be wonderful." Tina meant that. She knew Phill did not understand her. Her sex was dripping. She would do the dance of death with her lover next to her. She would feel him as he slowly asphyxiated, and strangle with him.
He understood her fetish. He was glad she felt that way. She smiled at him. "I love you."
"I love you too."
He just got it out when the soldier kicked the bench from beneath their feet. The rope jerked her neck, she shuddered as she felt the noose tighten, and started building up to the most powerful orgasm she had ever felt. While her body jerked and convulsed at the end of the rope, fighting for air, waves of rapture flowed from her crotch to every point of her being. She could feel and see Phill dancing beside her, she hoped that he was coming too, enjoying this as she was. She tried to look at his groin and felt herself grinning as she saw an erection emerge under his flowing robe. Her hands went to the rope desperately trying to open the rope for a brief taste of air. "Why am I doing this," she thought. Her hands fell and her cenching fingers caught the neck of her dress, tearing it open in the front. Her breasts and their swollen nipples were exposed to the crowd, erect in their glory. She felt her neck stretching, twisted by the rope. Her body was contorting, her back arched as she flailed with her legs. She was shaking and writhing, in pain and ecstasy. Still lucid, she realized the crowd could see her breasts shaking as she danced. She hoped their bouncing aroused them and felt herself smile as she heard hoarse shouting, the cry of males in heat.
She began yet another buildup as it became harder to breathe. She kicked with her feet to Phil, managed to grab his thighs with her legs and pulled herself onto him. She found she could breathe a little again; wheezing and gasping through her fatally injured windpipe. Phill was still squirming and struggling, his handsome well chiseled face in tortured anguish; foam covering his open mouth, eyes looking dazed. Delighted she felt Phill's erection, pushing on her labia lips through their robes. Catching Phill's shaft between her thighs, she jerked down on Phill, hoping to end his agony. "I'll be with you in a few minutes lover," she thought.
Phill tried to scream, but the rope stifled any attempt at noise. The torment was unbearable. He felt her legs wrap around him and pull. When he felt her rubbing against his cock, he realized that he was erect, as stiff as he could ever remember being. As she pulled down, his mind began to go blank as death drew near, but he was still aware of his erection, the pleasure he felt in his groin as Tina's soft body caressed him into the hereafter. He came at the moment of his death. Now he understood Tina's fetish. If he had only known before. But it was too late now. The pain of the hanging was lost, as his orgasm would be his last living sensation.
Tina felt his cock spurt as she exploded with her second orgasm, as violently wonderful as her first. She let go of Phill, and released a bloody splay of urine to the ground below, staining her robe. She tried to spin as she raised her knees up to her breasts, held them there for a few seconds, writhing as she spun around at the end of the rope, then dropped her legs, kicking them in an extended frenzy, undulating as she came for a third and final time; her hands clutching her crotch. Her body jerked in death spasms, as bloody spittle flowed from her twisted mouth, swollen tongue between her open teeth, her head obscenely askew resting at the end of her extended neck. Except for some twitching she became still, her protruding eyes wide open in what one might have thought was utter agony. or pleasure. Seven minutes later the doctor confirmed both were dead, the two bodies swaying back and forth against other; slowly stopping, they faced each other in death.
The soldiers let them hang until the crowd had left the stadium. They were then cut down and taken to a local hospital. There they were stripped of their robes, their bodies washed, wrapped together in a single shroud and buried in an unmarked grave. Little did the Taleban know that they had given Tina her greatest sexual pleasure, and given Phill a joy that he had not understood before. She died the fantasy death that she had always craved, and now she and Phill would be naked, in each other's arms, through all eternity.