A Reluctant Leap of Lust

Author's Note: Part of this storyline is around reluctance, since the plot is rooted in exacting. Yet, overall theme is beyond unwillingness, thus I'm posting this story in loving wives category. The story is a pure work of fiction, all characters and events in the tale are imaginary and fictitious.

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One week ago:

30 year old Sheikh Jamal-al-Omeri was marveling the exterior of his new shopping mall in Dubai. He was a very affluent man, royal descend, politician, merchant, mayor of this town and a Landlord. A big, loud man, with a stare, and a metallic laugh. A man made out of coarse material, which seemed to have been stretched to make so much of him. With his 6'1 macular stature, Sheikh Jamal was superb male animal in prime condition, and always proclaiming. Some considered him as a bully of humility, but he hate being measured as greedy. He thought himself as an addict. Absolute power, countless money and women of regal class, were his three addictions.

From his Hammer jeep, Sheikh Jamal's eagle-sharp eyes spotted three Indian ladies, walking out of shopping mall. A young Indian man was walking with them, indifferent of loaded shopping trollies that ladies were pushing. Dopey expression of Indian man made him look as though he was always half-sedated.

With a wicked smile, Sheikh Jamal recognized this young man. He was a new fool Indian investor, Ravi. But, the main focus of Sheikh's sheered salacious interest remained those enticing three ladies.

In their simple Indian sarees, these voluptuous dusky beauties were not those untouchable Bollywood supermodels, Jamal had never met. They were the beauties that live right next door, where you never look for them. These sensual delights thrilled him with their fully- developed feminine allure.

The moment ladies got into a cab, Sheikh Jamal dialed a phone number of local magistrate. "I need a legal notice to a man called Ravi and an unknown woman, on the charges of cultivating opium..." instructed Sheikh Jamal in cold voice to the magistrate. "But, don't file anything on record."

"Okay Prince, but without filing..." replied the magistrate in feeble protest. "I mean, that would be little illegal."

"But it won't be illegal to drill a new hole in your ass, you son of 50 yard cunt," Sheikh Jamal yelled on phone.

"Excuse me your highness..." magistrate replied in embarrassed and little terrified voice. "I didn't meant to offend you, let me see, how I can do it for your prince."

"You're already fired ass-hole. A new magistrate will replace you, tomorrow." Saying this ended the call and licking his thick, he follow the cab.

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One week later:

Kalpana froze in shock as if an iceberg has fallen on her, out of nowhere. She felt lightning crackle through her veins and time slowed down, like her heartbeats. She stood there, dumbfounded, a tear slides down her cheek, as her hands flew to her 36 C chest, unconsciously. Her mind was invariably painting a D-day scenario:

I cannot let that happen...! I will lose everything. Ravi will be hanged, my daughter will be his young widow, this house and every penny that we own will be confiscated and I will be on street with two young daughters in this foreign land.

Kalpana was left with no sympathy on her crying son-in-law Ravi, but intense rage on his imprudence. His one fatal mistake and their lives and fate were in jeopardy. Ravi, her son-in-law, had invested entire family wealth in getting this land and farmhouse, on the outskirt of Dubai. Kalpana's entire savings, the money they got from the sale of family home in Chennai and even the family jewelry of ladies, all was invested in this fucking venture. The last knell in her coffin was that she ensured from India that land is acquired in her name.

"How could you be so naïve Ravi? How you could never find these farmers are growing cannabis cherry on our land? Kalpana yelled on Ravi who was now literally weeping and his tears were dripping over legal notice from the local mayor.

"You don't worry old woman," retort Ravi and impatiently looked for his passport in the drawers. "I will go to India and have some connections there to fix it."

"What...?" Kalpana questioned this time in rage, watching him stuffing cloths in a shoulder beg. "What the hell are you doing Ravi? Where, where the hell you're running now?"

"I must run or they will hang me." Grabbing shoulder bag and his passport, gutless Ravi escaped from his house, as duck, without even saying a good bye to his young wife, Pallavi.

Up there in her bedroom Pallavi heard a loud sound of door slamming and something falling on ground. She rushed down stairs and found her mother on collapsed on floor unconscious and her husband gone. Never to return...!

=====

Kalpana, a 43 year old Indian widow had arrived to the UAE just a month ago, with her two daughters. Pallavi, the elder one was married to Ravi for two years and younger one was Ramya, still unmarried.

Ravi had moved here a year ago, when he got job opportunity in Dubai. He was never a hard working professional and always kept looking for shortcuts to a goldmine. In that quest, he discovered the idea of growing a cherry crop. A local broker, (who used to work for Sheikh Jamal), guided and facilitate him in this venture. Mohan was promised a much higher and quick return on investment.

Without any background of farming the happy-go-lucky invested all his money and even forced mother in law to sell their family home back there in India to afford this agriculture land and luxury farmhouse on the oasis.

Kalpana resisted to the idea but it under pressure of Pallavi, she agreed hoping the family will stay together and Ravi may earn them all a better life. In a way Kalpana was also exhaust of her job as a primary school teacher, which always earned bread and butter for the family.

Ravi was too naïve and fall in trap of local agent, who provided him all the workforce for harvesting. The contract labor cultivated the identical looking cannabis cherry with Ravi having a slightest clue of it, till the day he was served a legal notice.

===

"Prince will be online in few minutes, hold on lady," a cultured female voice informed Kalpana on phone. After the departure of Ravi, both Kalpana and Pallavi were fanatically trying to approach the appropriate authorizes for explaining their case. Both the magistrate and council guided them to consult to Prince Jamal-bin-Omari. Finally after three days of efforts they were able to get connected with that mysterious man.

"Hello Prince Jamal", said Kalpana with utter obedience as she heard a loud husky voice on the other end. "I'm Kalpana Iyer Sir and I need your precious time to discuss a legal notice, magistrate has served me.

"Oh, so you are that fucking drug grower..." retort Sheikh Jamal angrily. "Why you're not still behind the bars?"

"No...no, Sir..." Kalpana almost cried feeling really terrified now. "It's all some confusion Sir, we don't even have any idea what those crops are. Someone has trapped us."

"And why someone has trapped you?" Inquired Sheikh Jamal. "Just because you are so damn sexy that everyone would want you under him?"

"Excuse me Sir," replied Kalpana feeling so disgraced and humiliated on that lecherous question. "I think there is some misunderstanding and authorities."

"Shut up bitch..." Sheikh Jamal shout, "there is no misunderstanding, you're the sizzling woman with two damn fuckable young daughters, and we have caught you red handed with a decisive evidence."

Like a cold wind his words went through their flesh and Kalpana quaked in fear and contempt. "Sir my daughters has nothing to do with it, please," she feebly responded. "And I've done no crime, please trust me."

"Hahaha", Sheikh Jamal laughed. "You're now wasting my time bitch, you better invest these moments pondering, why we don't have your big ass behind the bars, still?"

A sudden sense of fear ran through her nerves like the chill of an icy wind. Keeping in view the grave charges, her imprisonment was obvious. "Sir, trust me, you can check in India, I'm not a criminal but a school teacher and just caught her in some trap."

"Stop this hogwash sexy..." Sheikh Jamal replied in a playful voice. "The only thing which and pacify the substantial body of evidence against you, is your own curvy body."

Her carnage was descending perfectly, like a curse from heaven. She lost speech and her senses hearing those threatening voice. And took her few minutes to regain some confidence to speak. "You cannot blackmail me, whoever the hell you think you are..."Kalpana spitted her anger and humiliation. "I will fight in courts to prove my innocence."

"Great Idea..." replied Sheik Jamal in same playful tone. "I was really longing for some private time with your sexy daughters. They would soon forget dear Mama, amid their ravishment."

Kalpana almost dropped the phone out of fear, as if a door were suddenly left ajar into some horrible world unseen before. "Don't you dare bring their names on your filthy tongue, you bastard," Kalpana yelled amid sobbing.

"Enough bitch. One more time you raise your voice, I will fuck your daughters in front of you", he replied in much louder and angrier voice.

"You know Sir, we are innocent..." Kalpana pleaded softening her voice. She knew her words here won't only have meaning but implications, as well. "Please tell me, what I've to do, for keeping my family out of it?"

"Good question" replied Jamal. "You submit to me and nothing is going to harm your family."

The inexorable facts closed in on we like prison-warders hand-cuffing a convict, yet Kalpana inquired in disbelief. "Submit Sir?"

"Yes..." retort Jamal in cruel voice. "Total and complete submission of your body and your love."

"You bloody rapist..." Kalpana was swayed in the sudden grip of anger and yelled back aloud. "You can exploit vulnerable ladies for your filthy pleasure, but you will never see a smile of love."

"Who you would like to see in my love? Your elder daughter or the younger chick...?" Sheikh Jamal inquired in threatening way. "You seems not interested in my favor. "She is virgin I guess...!"

Hearing about her daughters, Kalpana again felt so terrified, like an icy wave, a swift and tragic impression swept through him. "You want to rape me, do that, but you will reach to my daughters over my dead body."

"Ha hah..." he laughed again. "Oh what a dumb bitch you're... Can't you see, it's all about your luscious body?" and with heavy breath he added. "I need that irresistible body of yours, with all its charms and offerings."

To the much of her charging, his words gave her a curious satisfaction, as when a coin, tested, rings true gold. She had almost forgotten in her painful life that once she was a very alluring beauty. "That's and that's is only, what a rapist can have..." Kalpana replied in anger again.

All right..." this time Sheikh Jamal replied in strange voice, as he is not comfortable on her surrender. "No one dare challenge the Jamal, you little Indian bitch. I won't rape you and I won't touch your daughters but you will now beg me for a wild proper fuck."

"In your dreams, you loser..." Kalpana replied with a sigh, for the first time she felt gaining an upper hand in this conversation. Her blackmailer must be some egoistic person and that gave her a new hope to manipulate him.

"I won't rape you and you will do whatever I will ask and your compliance will safeguard your family." She heard him saying and it came as bit surprising and she did not expected an egoist narcissist to come up with such a scripted response.

"What? What does it mean?" Kalpana inquired confusedly, like a flight of dark shadows.

"It mean I won't fuck you bitch till you beg and you will do anything that I will order you."

She was unsure what he will order her to do or what he wants, but certainly it felt less threatening, than getting raped and putting her daughters at risk. "Okay, so what will I have to do? What you want me to do?"

"You will have to live as my KEEP, as my woman. You will wear, eat and drink whatever I want. Your body, your house and your time, I will own all, but still I won't fuck you till you beg."

"But Sir", she responding again in pleading manner, as thing got bit clear for her. "I've a family, my daughters. How, I mean how I can do any of such things, in front of them. Please don't disgrace me, like this."

"You've only two choice..." replied Jamal in angry voice again. "Beg me to get fucked or accept my generous deal or consider this conversation is over now."

"No, no Sir, please..." Kalpana replied impatiently.

"Good..." he replied victoriously. "Cook a full course Tamil dinner for me and I want you to be dressed perfectly to host a dinner for me tonight in your home."

"What?" My home? Kalpana could not believe, she will have to cook for this pig and invite him at her house. "Sir please, not my home...please."

"Enough you bitch," Sheikh Jamal shout so loud that she felt a shrill in her ear. "If I'm dying to fuck you that does not mean, you can say No to me. One more time you question anything or decline any instruction, this deal is over. Understand?"

"Okay Sir, okay. I will cook whatever you would like to eat, please come for dinner." She replied, as if she is completely at terms with him now.

"You will receive a dress in few hours and I want to see you in that over dinner... give your measurement to my secretary." He replied and without waiting for her reply, ended the call.

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At a quarter to 8 Kalpana pulled off the low-cut party wear Pallavi had wolf-whistled, earlier this evening when a courier boy had brought this expensive cocktail dress. Her entire afternoon and evening was spent in cooking 12 course South Indian meal for the uninvited guest. The only relief for Kalpana was Pallavi and Ramya, did not put much resistance, to go for a night stay, at their Indian relative's place.

Kalpana felt so ashamed when she put on that bold dress. It was a black dress, with thin shoulder straps and went to just below the knee, the glossy wrapping of fabric complemented her jet black hair, hugged her almost C-cup breasts and clung to her long legs and trim stomach. With spaghetti straps and a low cut neck line the dress travels all the way down her body to mid-calf. The thong tanga she had to wear was nearly invisible beneath the fabric. Curtsey those long pencil heels, Kalpana almost stood 6 feet tall.

It was a night of June — with full moon, when Sheikh Jamal stepped down from his Hammer jeep at the farmhouse. He could not take his eyes off from Kalpana's silver face, like she was a moon and it captures him with her mired beauty. She was trying not to look long at him, as if he was the sun, yet she saw him, like the sun, even without looking.

She could not sustain Sheikh's gaze. His eyes were deep, far too deep, but eyes without expression, without soul, eyes that could watch a lion tear a man to pieces and never change, that could tell her all the lecherous things about her, she never knew.

Feebly, Kalpana smiled at him she'd gone lightly on the make-up and the thin fabric of tight dress revealed her toned upper body. There was firm, deep creamy cleavage on show, much to Sheikh's delight. Best of all, her legs were long, sleek and currently tightly closed.

On reaching closer, Sheikh Jamal realized he did not want to know her better. She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not up close. Dusky oval face hosting, deep black eyes, with velvety eyelashes. There was a vulnerability in her eyes he could resist. Pouting lips and big mouth, naturally fashioned for yum-yum. His eyes travel from her face to her a long tender horse neck. She had a sculpted figure which was twine-thin. Without any implant her blouse clad breasts they were full-moon round. Below he found, she was wasp-waisted.

"Hello Sheik Jee...!" Kalpana interpreted his vulgar scrutiny with compulsive greeting. She was trying hard to keep her breath and heart beats, low. "Thanks for coming."

"Pleasure is mine, Baby," he replied and to her utter surprised, Sheikh's hand move and with a sudden jerk, her body flew to his massive chest, like a flower in the wind. His big palm has captured her midriff and with other hand he was gripping her chin.

"You are looking so fuckable Kalpana." He applauded her beauty.

"Ow... NO, please..." Kalpana swallowed. She could feel the thrumming strength of his fingers and she also spotted a muscle pulsing at his jawline. An owl hooted, its shadow momentarily blocking the moon as it swooped over the forest. "Please leave me, you promised you won't rape me...!" She whispered.

"Hahaha" He lowered his face closer to hers with a laughter. "No baby, the deal we had was, you will be mine and I won't fuck you, till you beg me." He slid his hand down from her jaw and curled his fingers around her nape, drawing her closer. It was warm and rough against her skin, an outdoorsman's hand.

A warrior's hand. A hand capable of love. And death?

Kalpana felt herself melt inside, drawn to his complexity, his strange need for her.

He lowered his head, bringing his mouth near hers. "And you took a challenge that you will use your anger in fighting your own dark desires of getting fucked properly," he murmured, feathering his lips softly over her mouth. Even in his soft murmur, the icy cruelty of his heart fall on her neck, with his warm breath.

"I've only one desire, which is to get out of this mess with dignity please. You shall not abuse us, please," she tried to put into her gaze her vulnerability and resentment for him. Maybe he would take pity on her.

"So you don't want to get like a real woman, and have orgasm after orgasm, huh...?" He brushed his lips even more firmly over hers, drawing her closer at the same time. "Don't you want to scream out your frustrations, your grief, your anger, amid sheering over sinewy length of mine?

He must have taken her lack of resistance as encouragement, because he slide his hand down her back to cup her ass. An ass that seems to exist in a fourth dimension beyond that cocktail dress. An ass that could drag the moon out of orbit. An ass, Kalpana never liked until she met him.

Bastard, don't you dare paint your filthy dream in such romantic fashion. She thought but could she retort otherwise in feeble voice. "No, I hate your ideas, as much as I hate you."

She tried to push out of his arms, her heart racing as a stinging sweat broke out all over her skin. Fear flooded her. His restrictive hold triggered her terror even as she struggled to fight off both it and him.

"Fucking cock tease," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "Your resistance is not making me crazier. Take it easy, I won't fuck you till you beg," He murmured again and he fisted his hand in the back of her hair, pulling hard enough to really hurt.

Her midnight-black hair spiraled all over her long beck to her big round butts. Her beautifully formed breasts skimmed tantalizingly against his chest. His pulsating manhood twitched against her naval.

"You are a Prince Sir," she replied in little relief trusting his words. "You have all those powers and you can get any woman. Why running my life, sir?

"You, are entirely too much of a temptation, Kalpana." He retort, while stroking the edges of her dress and slowly smoothed his hands across her silky thighs. "I need no one in world but you, and I'm not running your life or I would have rapped you already."