Cuckoldry, Spirituality, Family Ch. 07

During the absence of the newlyweds, my time was split between work and endless moments of thinking at home. I had a feeling of emptiness; I was missing Abida and our Master. This, however, gave me plenty of time to consider the situation I would have to face when they return.

I could not avoid thinking that I had been the initiator of all this, the one, not so long ago, who had proposed my wife to find a "real" man to satisfy her sexual cravings. So I had to face reality: she had found that real Man, and had become His wife. It was an irreversible state of affairs.

I tried to occupy my mind with the company's business. It worked somewhat during the day, and even late in the evening some days, but when I came back home at night, with my boy-cock ensconced in its steel cage, my thoughts inevitably came back to my submissive status and to the uncertainty of my fate.

I remembered very well what Abida had told me on the evening that I came into their room before their wedding: "...I came to realize that you're way too busy as CEO to give us all the attention and devotion we deserve... I expect you to seriously consider your future life with us while we are on our honeymoon... I expect you to continue to be a proactive submissive and to increase your inferior status by becoming our true servant. Whatever ideas that you have to make that a reality will be welcome... When we return, I expect you to come up with suggestions on the way you can free yourself in order to become our full-time submissive."

Some ideas and plans began to form in my mind on the means I could use to satisfy Abida's expectations. I was now 58 years old, two years short of the goal I had set to retire at the age of 60. I had been blessed to pursue a very successful career in the publishing field, up to the position of CEO of a major international publishing house. I was a more than wealthy man, with a 6-figure salary, half of a large estate in L.A. (with the other half belonging to my ex-wife), a great number of highly profitable shares and the perspective of a hefty retiring allowance. I would be protected from any money problems for the rest of my life. With the passing of days, slowly, I developed a proposal for Abida and her Husband, an offer that would most likely be satisfactory to them.

It had been a week since the two newlyweds had left. I kept watching my emails every day, hoping to receive a second one from Abida [see chapter 6]. It came into my inbox at home a few days later. My heart was beating wildly:

Dear servant,

We enjoyed very much our stay in Istanbul. A lot happened in the last few days. As you know, my Husband wanted me to keep you informed of our honeymoon as a "reward" for your devoted submission to us. As a matter of fact, I have so much to tell you that I wrote the rest in a Word document attached to this email. You might print it and read it at your leisure.

Shivering with excitement, I opened the attached document right away, printed it and began reading:

Dear servant,

In my previous email, I forgot to tell you something; it is rather "inexcusable" given its importance. When we woke up after our first true night of love as Husband and wife, we chatted in our bed before having a shower together and breakfast, after which I wrote you my previous email. In the bed, while we were kissing, fondling and playing gently, Faisal made a confession. He told me that He had a concubine here in Istanbul, and that she is the new manager at His office (your office too as a matter of fact), a 22 years old Turkish woman named Faridah that had not been hired yet the last time that I came to Istanbul with Him a few months ago. You might have seen her name in some file at your office. That revelation, only a few days after our wedding, came as a terrible shock to me. Unable to refrain my tears, I parted from Faisal's embrace and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I let go my emotions and cried loudly in front of the mirror, wondering if it was a nightmare or bare reality.

After long minutes of an intense turmoil within, I saw the bathroom door open slowly and my Husband come in, naked like me. He approached me from behind, hugged me tenderly with His strong arms, put his head close beside mine and forced me to look at ourselves in the mirror. Still crying, I told my Adored One that my fear was that I would be too old for Him, not attractive enough, not giving Him all the sexual energy that a younger woman could use to satisfy a young Man like Him. After all, I was 46 years old, 21 years older than Him. He reassured me with His usual calm and comforting voice. He made me understand that having one or several concubines along with a wife is a normal way for Muslim men, a widespread usage in the Islamic world. He also confided His deep love for me, telling me that I am His one and only wife, His favorite, that I would always be His white queen, the woman of His life. Sensing the sincerity of His words, I slowly let my anger and angst subside. I spontaneously bent my head backward, looked right in His eyes and let Him kiss me deeply, still hugging me. He undoubtedly knew then that I was surrendering to His irresistible aura, entering forever with Him in His Islamic realm. I couldn't resist Him, unable to free myself from His overpowering spell.

Faisal then lifted me and took me back in His strong arms on the bed. We made love for almost one hour, furiously and yet tenderly. I surprised myself being more vocal during our intercourse than I had ever been with Him before (and certainly way more than I had ever been with you). I remember telling Him, close to exhaustion from being penetrated so hard and for so long, that I loved Him immensely, that I wanted Him to be happy and to use His concubine as often as He wanted. I told Him, almost crying, that I understood His need to spend His Black Man's great sexual energy and that I would not necessarily be able to satisfy His needs in that respect. I also begged Him – while He was thrusting His powerful black penis within me, reaching up to my cervix, and pleasing me like I had never been before – to impregnate me, to make me and Himself a Black baby, the baby that my ex-husband could never give me: "Oh, my Beloved, I want to give You Your baby, Your Black baby!"

All this happened before I wrote you my last email.

The same day, Faisal and I went to your company's branch office together. I was quite nervous but eager to meet my Husband's concubine. As soon as we came into Faridah's office, He introduced me to her. When I motioned to shake her hand, she offered me a light, elegant curtsey and gently kissed my gloved right hand. She looked surprised to see a white western woman wearing the strict Islamic abaya [cloak worn from the top of the head to the ground], hijab [head scarf] and niqab [face veil showing only the eyes] and elbow-length gloves, the attributes of only the most conservative Muslim women. Her manners and apparent shyness seduced me right away, as it must have been the case with my Husband. She is about 5 feet 6 inches, a little shorter than me, and somewhat on the plump side, and her breasts are a noticeable size, about 38D. This made me jealous in a way, now knowing why my Adored One wanted me so much to grow my own breasts. She was dressed elegantly, the western way, with a dark blue business suit and white blouse, sheer hose and moderately high-heeled black pumps. My Husband had told me that she was a rather liberal Muslim, rarely wearing the modest Islamic clothing common in Istanbul. That attire made her look somewhat older than her 22 years. She had wavy jet black hair down to the middle of her back which was enhancing the stunning beauty of her opal blue eyes. Faisal explained me that her name means "precious pearl". She pleased me upfront not only with that polite, deferent behavior but also by calling me Madam. I asked her if I could call her Pearl or Precious Pearl, mentioning that she had such a beautiful name. She gladly agreed.

Faisal made no secret about their special relationship as lovers. Obviously, He had given her advance notice that I would be aware of their amorous ties. Noticing right away the immediate connection between her and me, He proposed that Faridah take a day off the following day to be our guide in that huge city with a population of nearly 14 million people.

The following morning, we met with our beautiful young guide to begin our tour. Although Faridah was still very respectful and deferent with me, I noticed that she had an inner sensual self and behavior with the two of us, supplemented by a subtly submissive attitude. This didn't prevent her from openly flirting with my Husband. On my part, I had to admit that for the first time in my life, I felt a sexual attraction for another woman. She had the sensitivity, out of consideration for me and Faisal, to dress conservatively for the occasion, wearing a black full-length burqa [type of veil and body concealing all of a woman's body including the eyes, which are covered with a mesh screen] and elbow-length gloves, just like me.

I told Faisal and Faridah that I wanted for quite some time to visit the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, better known as the Blue Mosque, especially since I had converted to the Islamic faith. They readily agreed to make it our first destination of the day.

When we arrived at the mosque, I was astonished by the beauty of that immense temple, with its six high minarets. We were fortunate enough to be there shortly before the Dhuhr [noon] prayer time. When inside, Faridah and I went to the Women's prayer room and Faisal to the main prayer room. Both of us removed our sandals and kneeled, our foreheads on the floor, to pray side by side. I prayed for the happiness of my new marriage and asked Allah to help me cope with the Islamic practice of concubinage and become a more faithful, obedient and loving wife to my beloved Husband for as long as we would live. After about 15 minutes, we got back up and returned outside where Master was waiting for us.

Next, Faridah wanted to show us the famous Grand Bazaar, one of the largest covered markets in the world with 60 streets and 5,000 shops that attract between 250,000 and 400,000 visitors daily. Without her, we would have certainly got lost! With our strict, conservative Islamic attire, anybody looking at us would not see any part of our bodies. I was grateful to Pearl for having decided to dress the same way as me and was hoping that her faith and adherence to the Islamic values would increase under our influence and example. We were avidly perusing the countless eastern fashion and jewelry shops, arms in arms or holding hands, with my Adored One always being not far from us. After entering a hand-made jewelry shop featuring beautiful silver and steel feminine ornaments, I felt a sudden, irresistible urge to offer a gift to our "precious pearl". I told her that I would be more than happy to make her a present as a way to thank her for her kindness and as a symbol of our already close relationship. After many hesitations and changes of mind (Faisal was very patient...), I finally proposed Faridah to buy her a beautiful silver adjustable anklet, with discrete hinge and lock, sporting a true opal gem. She gladly accepted, saying that she would wear it permanently and that this would remind her of "Madam". Faisal readily permitted me to buy it with the Amex card that you offered me. By the way, I converted my bank account, where my salary is deposited (even during my paid sabbatical), to a joint account, so that my Husband has full access to it. Now being an obedient and submissive Muslim wife, I let Him manage and control my finances and assets. So when I need some money to pay for something, I ask His permission. Given His wisdom and generosity, it never has been a problem up to now.

After spending the whole afternoon shopping around, we found a quiet and secluded place where Faridah and I could have an ice jasmine tea with Turkish biscuits, while Faisal had a traditional Turkish coffee. The place was quiet enough so that we could uncover our faces and remove our gloves, under Faisal's reassuring, manly protection. Faridah and I had time to chat, becoming more intimate as time passed. I asked her if she would let me put the anklet on her, which made her blush a little, her sensual eyes nevertheless showing her ready approval. So she bent her right leg up and put her pretty, dainty, lightly pudgy foot on her seat. Only that gesture brought me under her spell, making me wet and my rosebud-plugged anus shivering. I took the gift out of the bag with trembling hands and proceeded to put the adjustable anklet on, and saw that it fitted perfectly. I could not resist to put a gentle kiss on her bare foot embellished with dainty light pink toenails. She thanked me warmly, saying again that she would wear her anklet permanently and that she was honored to receive such a gift from the wife of her boss.

Although we didn't stay at the restaurant very long, Pearl and I were already quite intimate. To the point where she confided to me that she had a white Christian boyfriend for a little more than one year. They were making plans to marry. However, when she met Faisal, she fell in love with Him right away, which had put an end to her relationship with her fiancé. I was astonished to hear her shamelessly express her appreciation of my Husband's sexual feats, insisting on the fact that He gave her way more pleasure than her ex-white boyfriend. I was experiencing mixed feelings. On one hand, I felt jealous and worried about losing my Adored One in the arms of a much younger woman. On the other hand, agreeing completely with her comments on my Husband's sexual capacities, my heart was beating like a drum, and my vagina was as wet as a saturated sponge.

Given that we were leaving the day after for Saudi Arabia, Faisal invited Faridah to share a private dinner with us in our hotel suite and stay over for the night. "It would be a way for us to thank you for having been such an efficient guide today and to strengthen the ties that already bind us," He said. "We board the plane only at 8:30 p.m. tomorrow." Although blushing, Pearl showed her eager acceptance by giving her Lover a tender kiss on the lips and gently kissing my right hand with her usual light curtsey.

"I would need to go home first so that I can freshen up and gather a few things," mentioned Faridah.

"No problem, dear Faridah, we expect you to knock on our door at 7:00 p.m. We are staying in suite number 2, on the top floor at the Ciragan Palace Kempinski. You can take a taxi home. Tell the driver to wait for you and take you back to our hotel. Here is some money," my Husband replied in a gentle but unmistakingly authoritative voice.

I was then somewhat surprised, but pleased, to hear Him say: "By the way, I would like you to call me Master from now on in private, and to call Abida 'Madam' as you have done today, if it's right with you."

"Yes Master," she eagerly replied, obviously longing to be directed, "Thank you for letting me share those moments with You and Madam." She then left and we took our own taxi to the hotel.

When we entered our suite, it was time for the Asr (late afternoon) prayer. Very gently, Faisal freed me of my burqa, handed me my prayer dress and helped me put it on over my sweating body. We then kneeled down, forefront on the carpeted floor to pray, one beside the other. As we regularly do now, we prayed together aloud, sharing our fervent orisons. My Adored One began: "Allah, I want to thank You for the beautiful gift of my beloved wife, Abida. Thank You for having permitted me to meet and marry her. That's the best thing that happened in my life. I dare to ask You to give us many long years together. Might You want Abida to bear our child, I would be eternally grateful for Your great wisdom and generosity. I also want to thank You for having done that my beloved Abida accepted my desire to have a concubine, as Your rules permit. Thank you, almighty Allah, for our health, our love, our promising future."

Hearing that, I cried silently, my face on the floor. I was filled with joy and bliss. With a sobbing voice, I followed suit: "Allah, the only God, I feel privileged to having converted to the faith in You by my so much beloved Husband. Thank you for having permitted that we meet and marry. My only wish is to give Him what He longs for the most, a child, that we would raise in awe of You, the Great God. I thank You for having let me understand the needs of my Husband, including the need to spend His excess stamina and energy by taking a concubine. I only live for Your worship and the worship of my Adored One. I vow to obey You and obey Him, forever."

Our prayer now over, we kissed tenderly. I knew my Husband enough by now... I knew what He wanted... I moved close to Him and we began to undress each other. I was moaning with lust and an irrepressible desire to be taken. I knew that He could see the hunger in my eyes, in my low, plaintive sighs. He knew that He owned me as easily as if He had taken me off the shelf and paid for me, a doll for His amusement. "I want Your baby so much, darling," I whispered in His ear. He knew that when He puts His hands on me, I can't resist, He knew that I was perpetually hungry for His cock.

We were now naked, my body still glistening with the sweat I had produced in the city all day. He liked to see me like that. He liked to move His hands all over my body like that. He liked to lick and kiss my sweaty body. He enjoyed penetrating and owning me, just like the Bull sires the cow.

We made love like rutting animals for more than one hour, during which I kept my rosebud buttplug inside me, as He liked. In awe of my Black Man's mighty power, gasping and moaning, my slit dripping wet from His semen, I thanked Him for being so generous with His monstrous, thick penis and for giving me such bliss. My body was limp, completely exhausted.

(wayne, I want you to know, if you had any doubt, that my Husband, my Master, our Master, gives me so much pleasure and fulfillment. I now realize that before Him, I never knew what was a real, overwhelming orgasm, nor with you nor anyone else. He owns me now. I love you, but just like a sister tenderly loves her brother; you're now merely a provider, a caretaker.)

After long minutes of rest on the bed, we went to take a shower together. Even after such long, tiring, but so wonderful, moments of carnal love, Faisal still had the energy to play with me, pulling out and thrusting back in my bulbous buttplug in my anus under the shower. I was amazed by His strength and stamina.

After drying up and putting on fresh clothes, we had a moment of rest. While I was sitting on the couch facing the great vista offered by the Bosphorus through the large windows, Faisal ordered tea for both of us (you might have noticed that I am much less interested in drinking wine now; it must be that my Muslim faith is having its effect) and made the necessary arrangements for our private dinner for three in our suite at 8:30 p.m.

Having heard Faisal specify the time for dinner, I knew what He was planning. I was so happy to attain an increasing harmony of thought and wordless complicity with my Husband as each day passed.

About ten minutes before 7:00, Faisal removed His bathrobe and lied down naked on the bed for a moment. My God, how beautiful is He! A true Man, a true stallion. I worship His wonderful, powerful, athletic Black body. I praise Allah for the bliss and privilege of mingling my white, mature body with my Man's Black young powerful body. He then walked toward the bathroom to take a shower. Knowing that He would be pleased with my initiative, I undressed to greet His young concubine.