Asha Has Been Taken

By Tina B

In a deserted middle eastern city, late at night, a bound and brutally tortured woman was taken out of a limousine and dropped on the road. And I had to be the one to pick her up. To care for her. To hide her all these years from the men who want her dead. And bear witness to the terrible things they did to her.

Asha has the long, thick, black hair and high, round breasts that remind me of the goddess statues of her native India. Not to mention long, slim legs, dark, sultry eyes and a lush mouth. She was just a student, working on her doctorate in comparative languages. But revolution was in the air. In the dusty square, men with guns were rounding up women. Beating them with wooden truncheons. Asha managed to save herself from them by boarding an American bus. Or so she thought.

Turned over to religious zealots, Asha was bound to a chair and interrogated concerning events she knew nothing about. Not that the men cared.

Sent to serve in a rich man’s brothel. she discovered that serving as sex meat was even worse than the interrogation.

Includes the first chapter my new full length novel, “Plain Sheelah” too!

WARNING: Contains extremely graphic representations of non-consensual sex and torture. FOR ADULTS OVER 18 ONLY.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tina B
• Release date: Mar 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310307201

Tina B

My earliest sexy memory is of discovering one of my father’s paperbacks that opened with a scene of a woman being tied to her bed by a detective – recreating the woman’s rape so he could photograph it “for evidence”. It made me wet – and I wasn’t really even sure how sex worked yet.Later on, I would tie myself up when my parents weren’t home, rubbing my crotch on the bed until I came. It wasn’t until after college that I got up the courage to look for a bondage partner for real. And discovered that in most cases the real thing is a pale imitation of what one imagines. So I took up writing about my sexual fantasies. Wrote extensively for a now defunct website, StoryBondage.com. And now for you, here.If you’re a submissive, remember to ONLY play in public places or privately with people you know well. ALWAYS let someone else know where you are and when to expect you back. There are a lot of sick fucks out there. Some of whom I write about.

Book preview

Asha has been Taken

Copyright 2014 Tina B

Published by Tina B at Smashwords

ISBN 9781310307201

WARNING

Contains graphic nudity, non-consensual sex and torture.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Author’s note

When Roger and Asha (not their real names) contacted me some months ago about possibly writing the story of their lives, it was to provide a sort of testimentary evidence, a record so that others would finally know what happened. I was flattered, but quickly discovered that I was simply their last resort: what had happened to Asha was so terrible, so beyond the limits of literary and cultural norms that even writers of pornographic novels refused to deal with it.

I had assumed that we would discuss their past, and that the book would take the form of alternating sections by him and by her, with the lion’s share being in her voice. It quickly became apparent, however, that due to the traumatic nature of the events, Asha – even to this day – cannot speak about them. What follows, therefore, is in Roger’s voice, told as he had gleaned it from her over the years. Please forgive me, Asha, if there are any discrepancies; the fault is entirely mine.

Chapter 1

It was one of those sticky, interminable middle-eastern nights. I’d been in country for a while, picking up photo assignments when I could, eating cheap when I couldn’t. Had the usual close calls with IEDs and the local firebrands. Nothing to write home about - even if I had a home any more. Certainly no heroics. Left that to the jarheads. Not what you’d call a loser, but not all that motivated, either. Kind of drifting, waiting for something to happen. Living half in the moment, half in the story that filled my mind in the wee hours.

When I had money, there was always the possibility of picking up a chick at one of the rundown local bars. Good for the night, but there was always the worry about STDs and such. And when I was low on cash, the night girls wouldn’t even talk to me. Same as everywhere, I guess.

That night I was walking the streets after curfew. Looking for prostitutes, if you want to know the truth. In fact I was too shy to actually approach any of them, but got off on watching the swing of their hot-pants thighs and stretch-top breasts. Taking a few pictures. So I could enjoy the memories, as they say, back home in bed.

On this particular night, I’d been loitering along one of the smaller streets on the outskirts of town. Surprisingly, the streetlights were on, in their fuzzy, flickering way, but there weren’t any people. You’d have thought that a working girl could have used the light to advantage, but there weren’t any of them. No johns either. It was almost as if everyone but me had gotten the word to stay