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HOME >> Product 0385 >> The Sex Slaves of Rajikistan>>

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The Sex Slaves of Rajikistan


The President for Life has two problems. He wants new Concubines for his Harem and he must make a difficult choice between Russia and America for a contract to sell his countries natural gas and oil. In a clever scheme proposed by his senior military attaché the Russian and the American contractors were required to provide the women and whichever supplied the most beautiful and entertaining Concubines will win the contract.


Marie Dautel and her partner Inga DeJong, beauties skilled in the art of pleasure massage, are coerced by a Russian to compete against the Americans. Soon eight sex slaves are trapped in the Presidential Harem and forced to relieve the President’s physical needs. Control is exercised using a combination of brutality and drugs compelling the women to obey his orders and satisfy his lust. There is no prospect of escape from the Harem unless recycled to a desert sheik as an extra wife when the President is finished with them.

Greed and double dealing by the Russian and American governments opens a window for the women to escape from their sex slave existence. They flee the country narrowly avoiding capture at the border post. Infuriated the President sends his senior attaché to capture and either return them to him for punishment or kill them. The women are not safe even in their home in London where they are captured and loaded on a private aircraft for the flight back to Rajikistan. Can they be saved? The President for Life and the story is resolved in high drama and death.





47689 Words



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Cover Art:

T.L. Davison


W. Richard St. James


John Outram

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THE LIGHT OF THE sun setting into the Caspian Sea flooded the living room used by the President for Life of the Democratic Republic of Rajikistan. A tall man, strongly built, middle aged, he rose from behind a large bare desk and strode to the window to watch the sun slip gradually from view as the crimson reflection of the clouds glowed in the calm water. He was agitated, gazing for a few moments, then turning back to a woman who lounged on a sofa nearby.

“We’re finished for now Tanya. You may leave. Tell Ivan to come here when you go.”

She adjusted her clothing and left without a word. He strode back and forth impatiently then returned to the window. The sunset faded and darkness settled into the room. It matched his mood. Too many problems for one man, damn Russians, damn Americans, damn pipelines, damn women who do not excite any more. I’m President for Life with authority over everything in this fucking country so why don’t I feel good. Bloody Russian army is on the northern border. Who knows what they'll do, like Ukraine. They want their fucking empire back.

A knock at the door and Ivan entered. Dressed in a military uniform with the rank of General he approached the President. “You asked for me, sir?”

“Yes, where the fuck have you been? We need to talk.”

“I was seeing to the women sir.”

“You’d better not be fucking them. They’re state property.”

“Yes sir. What do you wish to talk about?”

“What can I do? The Americans or the Russians, they both want our oil and gas. The Americans want a pipeline through Afghanistan; the Russians want a pipeline under the Caspian Sea. Both of them will be bad for us.”

“The Russians are stirring trouble on the northern border. There are reports they have agitators inside our country already.”

“I don’t want to hear that, Ivan. Your job is to keep them out. Don’t let me down or your nuts will dangle on the Peace Arch.”

He stared hard at the General and said, “The Americans have an air base in our national airport. How the hell did that happen? Now their ambassador won’t leave me alone. What should I do?”

The General, an expat Russian, had no love for the Americans. After some thought he said, “I suggest you make a deal with the Russians. They don’t have a problem giving you girls for your pleasure. The Americans are ass holes about that. Let’s negotiate for more Russian girls, send the ones you have away. They’re worn out now and you are sick of them.”

“I’m sick of Russian girls. I want different girls, European or American girls. Now do you see my dilemma?”

Thinking fast was a requirement for any assistant of the President. “May I suggest a competition between the Russians and the Americans? See which can bring you the most interesting girls. It might help you decide about the sale of gas.”

“Hmm, that is an interesting idea, but no more Russian girls. The Americans must bring me their girls and the Russians must bring Europeans. Make sure to tell them I don’t want porn stars, they make me sick. I’ll make my decision depending which ones please me.”

“Yes sir, I can do that for you.”




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