The Selling of Amy

The posture to which she subscribed drew taut the line between my wrists and throat, and my mind soon buzzed with a lack of oxygen. Dimly, in an airless fog, I felt her spread my cheeks and probe roughly into my cringing ring with her aromatic claw. I needed air! My legs began to shake…grow weak, and in a heartbeat I found myself on my knees between her thighs.

"Perfect…" she groan, "on your knees…just where I need you. Now turn around and come closer…closer…"

Urging me forward with her deceptively strong fingers, Samantha held me tightly between her legs, wrapping them around my hips…drawing me inward until my bare breasts lay upon her skirted thighs.

She smelled of jasmine and musk, sex and perversion as she once more dipped into her small teakwood container. This time she placed a small bottle of alcohol, a candle, and a large leather-working needle on the top of the metal surface to her right.

"You have such nice breasts," she whispered, stroking my left with her long red nails. "You're going to hate this," she smiled, tweaking the tip painfully. Then, taking a lighter from the box, she lit the candle and began to anoint my nipple with alcohol. I shivered. What was happening? What…

And then I knew, for out of the box now came a ring…similar to those that I'd worn in my ears back at school. But surely she wouldn't…she wouldn't…

I began to struggle against her, ignoring the blissful expression that swept over her features as I wrenched against her sex, attempting to distance myself from that which was to come. But she was too strong…my bindings too tight. Her thighs, wrapped tightly about my body held me as though in a vise, and I found myself both immobile and breathless in an instant.

"This is my favorite part," she moaned as I felt her intimate moisture penetrate her panties and trickle down my abdomen. "Scream if you want…I'd like that. Beg. It won't do you any good…but I like to hear it."

Then, softly she began to caress my breast, milking the aureole with her long, red nails, pinching the nipple and rolling it painfully to attention between her thumb and forefinger. Her respiration deepened… became irregular as she watched me cower before her, pleading to be spared. But I knew it was futile. The manic gleam in her eyes told me that there could be no escape…not here…not now.

Finally, my nipple swollen and distended to outrageous proportions, she took the leather-working needle and held it to the flame between her hellish nails…her hand shaking in lusty anticipation.

I watched as the needle changed from steely gray to a dull red, my captor's lips growing slack and wet…her climax at hand. Then, when she could bear it no longer, she grasped my swollen bud with the nails of her left hand, stretching it until I moaned, and thrust the red-hot needle through the aureole just behind my tortured nipple.

I screamed as I had never screamed before, smelling the hot, sick odor of burning flesh permeate the room, the scent of Samantha's sex rising from between her legs as she moaned in ecstasy.

Darkness began a slow merciful journey through my mind, covering me with its velvet consolation, and just as I felt it must surely carry me away…it was gone. Samantha gasped one last time, then grasped the ring from the counter, dipped it in alcohol, and shoved the sharpened tip through the now agonizing hole in my tortured flesh.

"Go and wash your face," she directed, filling her trembling hand with tissues. "…and your stomach. Then come back here. We're almost done and we're out of time."

Quickly, she released my hands, and I retired to the bathroom to rinse the tear-trails from my face, and her slippery effluent from my body. My new piercing gleamed dully in the dim light of the room…strange…alien…its deceptive attractiveness disguising the pain of its insertion. All that remained of my ordeal was the exceptional puffiness caused by the metal through my flesh, and a slightly reddened effect that spoke of its recent addition. Strangely, of the agony to which I'd been subjected, little appeared to remain…the only scars those which haunted my mind.

When I returned, the box was gone, and instead there sat a caftan of thin, pale silk, nearly transparent, clinging and diaphanous, its cleavage slashed to the knee. The two halves were held together at the breast by a single crescent, embroidered richly of golden thread. It was luxurious… something that spoke of forbidden pleasures…passionate perversions.

With a small sigh, as though parting with a favorite toy, Samantha slipped a delicate golden serpentine chain about my waist, it's dangling tail brushing the newly bared flesh of my shaven sex. To this she added a second chain, equally as fine, but running from my collar to the ring in my left nipple.

Then, ordering me to don the delicate covering, she crossed to a door on the far side of the room, one that I had never been allowed to enter, and knocked, waiting to be recognized.

"Come," a voice directed. Only that. Nothing more.

Samantha opened the door, and stood waiting in the dim light of the room beyond, as though listening to a voice that reached her ears alone. She remained that way for most of a minute, then pivoted on her heel and once more appeared at my side.

"Stand," she ordered, taking a silken strip from her pocket. "And do as you're told. Speak only when spoken to, and obey without hesitation. Anything less and you'll be forced...and severely punished. Do you understand?"

Briefly I nodded, then felt the delicate blindfold being tied around my eyes shutting out the world beyond. My wrists were once again bound behind my back, twisted upward by their leash to arch my back and perhaps accentuate my breasts. It was then that Samantha led me across the room, presumably to the mysterious doorway that held my trembling fate.

The odors here were different, I noted, my feet pausing on the threshold…pipe tobacco…aging leather…sandalwood and cedar. My toes explored the edges of a rug, natural…fine woven, and I heard the crackle of a fireplace somewhere within. This was nothing like the warehouse beyond…a room better suited to an English countryside if my impression was correct, and yet here it was…in the orient, and I was its prisoner.

Hooking her finger beneath my collar once more, Samantha (was it Samantha…or someone else?) led me across the room until I felt my knees brush against something solid, human…warm. Then her touch abandoned me, and I felt a second presence close at hand… soft and ungloved, its thumb pressing between my lips as though to assess the worth of a horse. Deftly, it stroked my hair, then traveled onward toward the golden crescent between my breasts.

I shivered, and it paused, a low chuckle caressing my cheek.

"You tremble before me, Little One. That is good," he said, his accent that of the middle east. "Let me see how much more Mustafah can make you tremble before we are done."

With that, I felt the clasp give way, and the silken cocoon part before me, exposing my body to the gaze of this man who called himself "Mustafah".

Silently I waited, feeling his eyes stroke my body, his hands touching…kneading my breasts…examining the ring which had been so recently attached. Fingers, warm and demanding now slipped between my legs, caressing the bare flesh of my sex, and I shivered once more.

Another chuckle. "I will see more," he demanded. "Remove her clothing, and let me inspect this shivering creature."

Immediately my hands were uncuffed, and my caftan was allowed to drift to the floor at my feet. Then, bound once more I was forced to kneel, thighs splayed, on what I assumed was a large hassock.

Moments passed. Finally the fingers were back, probing between my shaven lips, forcing their way along the crack between my buttocks. Then in one swift motion they penetrated my flesh in both passages at once! I gasped, falling backwards, restrained by unknown hands.

Another chuckle.

Now I felt his breath between my thighs, his hands opening me…exposing the pink folds of my intimate passage to his probing gaze.

"She is not a virgin?" he questioned, his voice rising. "How do I know that some man has not spoiled her for service already? She will have to be retrained!"

It was then that Tony's voice broke the stillness. "Your Highness…I would not offer you inferior goods! This woman has had but one lover (he lied)...one brief interlude with passion. We have taken great care to break her will to yours. She is a blank page upon which to write…you have only to command."

Again I felt him circle, his hands stroking…fondling until tears of humiliation begin to well up beneath my blindfold.

"I wish to sample this one before we strike a bargain," he said, now in trader mode. "Remove her blindfold and let her taste the seed of the royal house of Ben Hajid, and then, if she pleases me we will negotiate."

At once my blindfold was removed, and the room swam into focus. It was much as I had anticipated, richly appointed, masculine, very English in motif.

Before me, leaning back in an overstuffed leather chair sat the man I assumed was to be my new owner, Mustafa Ben Hajid, a riding crop clutched tightly in his right fist, his body cloaked in robes of fine linen. He appeared to be a man in his early forties, with a sun-kissed complexion and a hard muscular body that spoke of either physical exertion, or a strict adherence to a training regimen. His eyes… black and piercing, were mesmerizing, and I soon found myself within his power…bound to his will.

He spoke not a word, but instead nodded between his spread thighs, indicating the position I was to assume. His armed minions, of which there were two, stifled hungry grins behind his back as they viewed my degradation. My skin prickled. Never before had I been forced to submit in so public a manner!

Briefly I glanced in Tony's direction, taking in at once the stern and threatening look in his eyes, and knowing that if I were to fail I would be sorely used! I swallowed, wishing that my hands had been unbound as well, then crept on my knees across the floor to take my position before Ben Hajid.

Gently, he lifted my chin with the tip of his riding crop, admiring the blue-green of my eyes. "Lovely," he murmured as he opened his pants and stretched his hardened cock out before me. "You may begin, Blue-eyes"

Shivering once again, I cringed as all eyes focussed upon me and I took his cock between my lips. Gently I began to suck, feeling him lengthen and grow in my mouth, his uncircumcised member an alien sensation against my tongue.

"Has this one never been whipped?" Ben Hajid questioned, his riding crop stroking the tender crevice between my cheeks. "He skin is so smooth…she may mark easily."

With that, Tony gave a nod, and I felt the sting of the crop against my buttocks, causing me to cry out in shock and pain, a livid welt rising against my pale, quivering flesh.

The Emir laughed. "Yes, Little One, you must get used to the crop, (another whack) for a good slave must know her place!"

He groaned as I tasted the first thick spurts of his cum against my tongue.

(Whack! Whack!)

My flesh was on fire as I sucked harder and harder, attempting to end my ordeal as quickly as possible.

(Whack! Whack! Whack!)

Salty tears poured from the corners of my eyes as his whip cut into my tender flesh, and then with a loud moan his hot spunk filled my mouth, flowing down my throat as I gulped frantically, attempting to contain it all within me.

(Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!)

He swung his whip in frenzied repetition as he came, his hand pressing my head between his thighs, his cock hammering deep in my throat. And then, sated, he secured his pants once more and allowed me sink to the carpet at his feet, my usefulness over, my body discarded on the floor.

Dimly, I tried to collect myself as the bargaining went on around me, until finally ten minutes later a price had been reached.

I had been sold once more.

Slowly, the Emir rose to his feet. "Cover yourself, Little One," he directed as he unshackled my wrists. "We leave now for the airport and my private jet. By morning we will be in Otaire, but tonight…" a smile played across his lips. "Your presence will make the journey shorter, I hope. You will learn much before my plane reaches my homeland."

With that he turned and strode to an outer door, leading me into the velvet blackness beyond, my time with Tony and Samantha over….my time as a slave in the palace of Mustafah Ben Hajid just beginning.

It was a different woman who followed so complacently behind…accepting her fate with unquestioning submission that night. Gone were the days of my innocence…the child I had so cherished had been left behind with my illusions. I was property now…and what had been lost could never be regained.

As stepped into the well-appointed limousine on the dimly lit waterfront of Seoul, I was aware that my life was about to be altered forever…that Amy Carlisle would exist no longer. The days that followed would be fraught with change, filled with success and failure.

But that is another story. My tale, for now has ended. My Master beckons.

And so I leave you until another time.

Be well, my friend…until we meet again.