Baraka: Slave to the Sheik

"You are mine now. This escape attempt is futile," Aashiq spoke as he offered out his hand.

"No, kidnapping a woman does not make her yours!" she hissed recoiling like a feral cat. Any uncertainty she felt was lost behind the steel of her blue eyes. "Stay away from me!"

Turning back to the vast desert, she willed her delicately sandaled feet forward. Her head throbbed under the crown of blonde curls. Her stomach reeled from the drugs that had been mixed with her wine earlier that evening. Incapacitated, she had been brought to a tent in the middle of the desert. "You were part of the barter with your uncle. You were given to me in the exchange for a lower price on the oil leases," her abductor had claimed. Her uncle may be a cunning businessman, but he was never cruel. He wouldn't trade her for all the oil in the Middle East, would he? Fighting against the idea of such a betrayal, the poison of her capturer's words slipped through her veins chilling her blood,

"Don't be daft, woman," he replied growing bored with her escape attempt.

She refused to look back at the devil with the seductive eyes. His white headdress made the bronze of his skin unnaturally dark by contrast. His traditional dress made him appear more a primitive beast then man. He was a villain in night. The moon sparkled across the vast ocean of glistening sand. Sarah watched as the ground came alive with scurrying motion. Tingling with fear, she struggled to ignore the creatures creeping outside the moonlight.

"Leave me alone!" she shouted with more bravado then she felt.

Watching the white linen gown flow from her waist and cast out over the dunes, he marveled at her beautiful determination. No woman had ever dared raise her voice to his royalty. Had she not be so appealing in her fury, he would have brought her to heel. Something deep within whispered of the dark pleasures he would enjoy breaking that spirit. His cock hardened at the thought of cracking the whip across her flawless white skin. He had time…all the time in the world.

"So, we will do it your way," his voice grumbled with anticipation.

His threatening tone shot through her sparking every nerve to life. Effortlessly, he closed the distance between them. Although she tried desperately to evade his grasp, he swung her over his shoulder in one quick movement. Summoning all her strength, she became a flurry of fist and feet. She pounded against his solid muscular frame as the bulge of his bicep clamped around her waist.

Breathless and frantic, she saw the corner of the tent come into the line of her inverted vision. She straightened as much as possible to see a collection of guards humored by her situation. While cursing at the men in frustration, she counted a half dozen armed guards before a curtain blocked her view. Their male laughter evaporated in the silence of the tent. With a bitter cry, she dropped to the floor. Her arms flung out across luxurious silk pillows as the rich scent of frankincense rushed her nose.

"You'll not get away with this! I am an America citizen." she spoke defiantly glad to be free of his arms.

"Quiet or I'll cut out your tongue," he stated dismissing her remark.

Sarah's eyes swept up him resting on the chiseled features of clean shaven face. It was the most handsome, and cruelest, face that she had ever seen. Instinctively, she was drawn to his gaze. Holding his fierce stare, she felt as if the thin gauze of her dress was stripped away leaving her bare. She dared not speak fearing his words were not just mere threats.

"You are not hurt, are you?" he asked looking over her frame.

"Like you care," she spoke softly turning away chafed under his watchful eyes.

"I care about all my possession," he replied gliding to a large carved cabinet tucked in the corner of the tent.

Pulling out a braided golden rope, he careless tossed it to where she sat. Looking over at the cords, her eyes blurred with revelation. She was here as an object to be traded for the wealth and pleasure of corrupt men. The clank of a decanter against glass punctuated the terror that coursed through her. If one morsel had remained in the contents of her stomach, she would have vomited. This could not be happening to her. He drank deeply from his wine glass before setting it to the side. He approached her while wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his white thobe.

"Hold out your arms," he said crouching down.

"No," she responded quietly. Pushing away the golden braid, she glared at it as if it would rise up to strike her.

"Do not dismay, Sarah," his silky voice was rich with compassion. "I mean only to give us pleasure."

Despite the collapse of her world that threatened to overwhelm her, she somehow knew the Aashiq meant what he said. The onyx pools of his eyes promised to show her indescribable experiences. But, the sting of deception was too fresh for her to feel any kind of genuine trust. She must not submit to his temptation.

"Only you will derive pleasure from this…"

"You will not be able to deny your body," he replied. "A slave cannot help but find heaven in the ecstasy of her Master."

"I am no man's slave!" she spat out the words like venom.

"Ah," his words were underscored with passion. "You force me to make you beg for the title."

The air was ripe with tension. They were both silent. There was nothing left to say. She'd never felt so alone in her life. If she let go, she'd drown in her own tears. Lifting his gaze, dark emotions swirled in his eyes reeling her in, numbing her from reality. Closer, he came with parted lips. Centimeters from her mouth, he brought her under his spell. Involuntarily, her hands reached out to him. The rope twisted around her wrists before ripping her arms over her head. A metal loop in the structure of the tent served to hoist her in the air. He tied a large knot preventing anything but the tips of her toes from touching the ground. She dangled like a rag doll mesmerized.

He pulled out a short jeweled dagger and cut loose the white linen gown. Underneath, she wore western style white cotton briefs and bra. Running the knife up her rib cage, he watched the light red line form on her milky skin before he sliced away the center strap of her bra. Heavy alabaster breast spilled out with the palest of pink tips. The areoles were as large as a man could stretch his mouth and the nipples stretching long with erection. He could hear her suck in her breath, but he did not look up to see the surprise. Instead, he traced the knife down the curve of her lower stomach and slipped it in the top of her panty. Pulling out gently, he released the cotton casing and let the briefs slid down to the ground. Her venus mound was exposed to him. Her labia waxed smooth. The dark mauve folds of her inner lips peeked out at him.

"You have no hair?" his voice rasped with surprise.

"No." Her face flushed with embarrassment and excitement.

He reached out his hand to run over the silky skin of her bald pussy before kneeling to inspect her. The soft skin parted to reveal the ruby velvet of her internal heat. The humiliation of the intrusion made her clench her vaginal opening pulling down the hood over her tiny clitoris. His fingers stroked the shy nub out of its fleshy casing pinching it between his first two knuckles. Twisting it between his fingers, he watched as it grew slightly engorging with his touch. Dewiness began to collect near the palm of his hand as a moan echoed above him. Reaching up with his other hand, he slipped his index and middle finger into her channel. He pushed up against her resistance working the sensitive flesh with his persistent fingers. The thick wetness started to coat his fingers buried deep within her. Curling his fingertips insider her, he found her g-spot and began to massage the hidden pearl. He could feel her desperate need. She was moaning with pleasure and her shame forgotten along with her resistance. So close, she felt as though she were about to piss as she neared the beginning of an intense orgasm. As she bucked like some perverse hand puppet, he pulled back his hand snagging her pubic bone.

"Please," she begged with raw need.

"Say you are my slave," he commanded as his fingers released her bone.

"No…"

"I will stop then," his voice threatened as his fingers crawled back into her.

Her speech hesitated, but her legs spread out wide. Without the support, the weight cut the ropes into her flesh and blood trickled down her arms. The pain intensified the sensation enveloping her lower body. She teetered on the edge of bliss.

"Look at me," his words sounded far away. "Say you are my slave."

"I am…" the tight ball of intensity loosened as she began her descent.

"Say it"

"I am your slave," she cried out sweating and trembling from his sweet torture.

With her admission, he pressed back into her sweet spot releasing the fury of her orgasm. Her pussy convulsed around him as thick cum slide down into his palm and trickle over his wrist. Slipping free from her crotch, he pulled up to his full height in front of her. Her eyes were vacant and hollow. She was still lost to this world as she raveled her own.

Loosing the knot in the pulley, he dropped her to her knees before tying back the rope. Then, he went to a small silk covered table locating a large pitcher of water. Grabbing it in his hand, he turned back throwing water on his slave. Snapped back to reality, the water felt like ice on her bare skin. She looked to him confused.

"I christen you, Baraka. Now, I will educate you on how to please your Master."