Dilara in the Harem Ch. 01

This will be a fairly long and very dirty story eventually, but Chapter 1 here is just some pleasant foreplay. Chapter 2 gets a little naughtier, and from Chapter 3 on it'll be sexxxual, baby, yeah. I hope you enjoy Chapter 1 all the same!

— — — — — — / — — — — — — — — —

Dilara and Jasmine giggle together in Jasmine's bed.

"At first, when I felt it kind of poking my stomach," Dilara whispers, "I wasn't sure what it was. Like, I thought I knew, but I also thought maybe it was, like, his belt buckle or something. But then I looked up at him and saw how he was looking at me, and then I knew it was exactly what I thought it was!"

"Oh my god!" Jasmine whisper-shrieks. "You gave him a boner! You're so naughty!"

"I guess so," Dilara blushes.

"What happened next?"

"It's so embarrassing!"

"You better tell me!"

Biting her lip, Jasmine tickles Dilara's waist to extract her confession. They wrestle as Dilara tries to grab Jasmine's wrists, but when Dilara "accidentally" shrieks too loud they both freeze, holding their breaths, hoping Jasmine's mom hasn't woken up.

"You better tell me," Jasmine warns after a few moments of not hearing her mom.

"I'll scream if you tickle me," Dilara smiles.

"Fine," Jasmine bluffs, and begins to try to wrench her arms free of Dilara's grasp.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell," Dilara gives up.

Jasmine waits while Dilara catches her breath.

Of course we all know Dilara really wants to tell, but needs a little encouragement so she can maintain her carefully-cultivated maidenly innocence.

"So, after you looked in his eyes and saw that you'd given him the biggest boner ever, what happened?"

"He pulled me closer to him," Dilara whispers.

"Oh no!"

"Like right up against it."

"Oh my god! You little whore!" Jasmine teases her friend, smiling widely.

"I would've run away but I was afraid everyone would see it and that would be even worse! Oh my god, it's so embarrassing!"

Dilara covers her face with her hands.

"It's okay," Jasmine reassures her. "It just means he likes you. You know how many guys have gotten boners dancing with me? I can't believe it hasn't happened to you before."

"Oh my god. I can't believe I didn't run away. It must have been the wine. I can't believe your mom let us dance in the dark, let alone have wine!"

"It was your eighteenth birthday party! What did you expect?"

"I just hope my dad doesn't find out about any of this."

"Shhhh. It'll be fine. The big news is, Trevor Ansara has a crush on you!" Jasmine sings.

"No, he doesn't. He just lost control of his thing for a moment. If he liked me, he'd ask me out."

"Girl, you have to ask a boy like that out yourself. Too many girls are after him. You can't just wait for him to get it all figured out."

"But he should ask me out. That's what a guy does. Especially after today."

"You have to make him admit he likes you at least. Ask him what happened today."

"Oh, I could never...."

"That's your problem, Dil. You're too shy. You're not in Iran anymore, honey. We don't have men like your dad here in the USA. We just have little boys who have to be told what to do."

"As if you would ever ask a boy out."

"Please. I do things you couldn't imagine."

"Like what?"

"You know what, since you're eighteen now, and all grown up, I'll tell you a little secret that I haven't told you yet, as long as you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"Come on. I told you about Trevor's little problem today."

"Right. That's cute. It's been happening to the rest of us since sixth grade, and now you know. But mine is really embarrassing."

"Oh my god, Jasmine. As if mine wasn't."

"Talk to me when you've given him so much as a handie. Or even sucked it."

"I could never...."

"You will, when you're with a guy you really like."

"No, I won't."

"We'll see."

"But now it's your turn. What were you going to say?"

"Well, if you promise not to tell —"

"Spit it out, Jaz. I can tickle too!"

"When I turned eighteen...."

"Yeah?" Dilara puts one finger on Jasmine's waist as a warning.

"I...."

"I know you'd already lost your virginity, so it can't be worse than that."

"No! Not that. But worse, kind of."

"What then?"

"I applied...."

"Oh my god!"

"Yes."

"You did not!"

"How do you know?"

"You talk about it so much."

"Talk about what?"

"Raoul Cock's harem."

"Oh my god! How did you know?"

"Oh my god, Jasmine. You talk about it more than anyone I know."

"But it's like a coming-of-age ritual now. A girl turns eighteen, she applies for his harem. Everybody does it. It's fun. It's like a joke."

"Everybody doesn't do it."

"Yes they do! On the website there's a statistics page that shows how many people from different places applied, and just from LA county it's like a hundred thousand."

"But there are so many...."

"Only single girls eighteen to twenty-six can apply. How many of them do you think there are in LA county?"

"I don't know, a million?"

"Yeah, fine, exactly. Maybe like a million. And like a hundred thousand of them have applied. Think about it. That's like one in ten. It means lots of girls we know must be applying."

"Wow, oh my god, maybe you're right. But do you think anyone we know could get in?"

"I think you could."

"Me?"

"Yes, you! You should apply!"

"Why should I do anything like that? We were talking about Trevor."

"Look, I've watched every single episode of the show, and all the videos online, and I've read all the stuff I can find, so I know what kind of girls he likes, and I think you'd have a really good chance."

"I'm not going there. I'm not going to be naked on TV —"

"You don't have to be on TV if you don't want to. Only a few of the girls there agree to be in the videos. And some of them wear clothes or have their lady bits censored."

"Really?"

"Dil, there are thousands of women there and only like ten are in the videos. The others are completely anonymous. Even their own families don't know they're there."

"Well, still, why would I apply?"

"Don't you even want to find out what would happen?"

"No."

"Dil...."

"What?"

"If they choose you, what's the big deal? I did it the very first night that I turned eighteen. It's easy."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. You know I'm not pretty enough for something like that."

"You are too. You got lots of votes for homecoming queen."

"Like sixty. Less than half as many as you."

"Still, that's fourth place out of the entire class."

"I know. But you are so much prettier than me. And don't try to be so nice, we both know it's true. You might be pretty enough for Raoul Cock but I'm not."

"Listen to you."

"Seriously. Trevor Ansara's thing doesn't get hard for me."

"Shut up! I never should've told you!"

"I'm just saying."

"Anyway, it probably would if you danced with him."

"I'd like to find out someday. Maybe the three of us can..."

"I'm not listening, Jaz!" Dilara covers her ears.

Smiling mischievously, Jasmine sings her response: "I know you can imagine it even without hearing me say it."

"Well, I'm not applying to have a baby for Raoul Cock. We both know I'd never get accepted anyway."

"But what if he likes you?"

"Me?"

"Come on, Dil. You're beautiful. You lost homecoming queen by like six votes. Literally, six votes. And a lot of people said they only voted for Bianca this time because they want to vote for you for prom queen."

"So I couldn't even win that and you think Raoul Cock would choose me?"

"Six hundred people in our class, probably three hundred girls, and you came in second. And he invites almost a thousand women a year. It's probably easier to get in there than it is to be homecoming queen at our school"

"I still don't.... I mean.... Don't really weird things happen there?"

"Sex, Dil. Sex is what happens there. Lots of sex. He puts his big ol' dick in lots of girls' pussies and cums inside them and they make babies. The same thing happens every night in bedrooms all over the world."

"But like, his wife...."

"You don't have to do anything with her. She talks about it right in videos you can see on the website. And she seems really nice."

"Jasmine, are you seriously trying to get me to apply? You just want me to because you did and you don't want to be the only one."

"Don't get mad. I'm already not the only one. But you're really pretty, Dil, seriously. And you're exotic and special, like his wife. How many half-Persian, half-black girls do you think apply?"

"Probably lots."

"See? Lots. So you should too."

"But that means I wouldn't have a chance."

"Even if all of them do, you might be the prettiest one. Seriously."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"No! Why would I do that? Come on, Dil. I really want to go, and my best chance is for you to apply and take me as your companion. Just do it for me, please? Just see what happens!"

"Why don't you try to get a job there?"

"I might, someday, but they won't hire me, Dil. Do you realize how much they pay? Everyone wants those jobs."

"Well," Dilara sighs, "it's probably a waste of time but I guess it might be fun just to apply."

"Oh, good! That's my girl! Can I come over and help?"

"Um, I guess."

"And you can update it later. I update mine every month."

"You turned eighteen like three months ago."

"Exactly, and I've updated it twice already. If you don't update it, they don't look at it again. You just make a new video each time. It's... well, kind of sexy and fun..."

"That is kind of weird, Jasmine."

"But it's every girl's fantasy. Imagine: he chooses you, he picks you up with his big arms, carries you to the bedroom in his palace. Servants scatter rose petals in your path."

"That's too funny."

"Well, it's just a fantasy anyway. No boys like Trevor are pulling me up against their boner so what am I supposed to do?"

"Please. The boys are lined up."

"Not boys like Trevor."

— — — — — — / — — — — — — — — —

Despite Dilara's protestations, Jasmine's suggestion sows a little curiosity in her, and she goes on the website the very next night.

First she wants to know more about Raoul Cock. Everyone knows that he's the richest man in the world, now on his way to being a four-hundred-billionaire, and of course everyone knows how good-looking he is.

But everyone knows he was involved in some kind of weird stuff too, even if they, like Dilara, don't remember exactly what it was. She needs to find out about that before she lets Jasmine get her in some kind of trouble.

The front page of the website is simple. At the top is the title, dark green words in an elegant cursive font on a light green background:

"El Paraíso de las Doncellas Bellas."

That's apparently the official name of his harem. "The Paradise of Beautiful Maidens."

A video in an oval window beneath the title shows Raoul sitting on a bench with his wife May, both almost unbelievably good-looking. The power of his massive body rests latent but palpable beneath a precisely tailored dark gray suit.

Next to him, May looks fragile with her bright red dress closely hugging her tiny waist and pretty hips. Bright white pearls cascade from her neck to her bust, matched by earrings and a bracelet.

Putting her earphones in (just in case her mom or dad can hear anything through the door), Dilara clicks the play button.

"Hello, I'm Raoul," he says in a voice so deep and wide that it seems to echo from a volcano. She's heard him speaking in various videos, on the news, and so on, and every time she hears his voice it startles her.

He speaks an airy and charmingly inflected English dialect, which Dilara will later find out comes from Camfordshire, where he went to school, but with hints of aspirations to Received Pronunciation. His diction, alas, is alarmingly littered with Americanisms, but sometimes spiced with a bit of Singlish, lah.

Just Raoul, he says, not Raoul Cock. Which is too bad. She'd like to hear how he pronounces his name in that accent. She smiles, imagining him being introduced somewhere, perhaps even in the queen's presence, as "Lord Cock."

Imagine a boy growing up with that name. Cock this, Cock that. No wonder he's messed up.

"And I'm May," his wife lilts like a songbird, apparently the sweetest, softest little belle ever to escape the American South, "and we'd like to thank you for your interest in El Paraíso de las Doncellas Bellas. We hope you'll find all the information you want here on our website."

Remembering what Jasmine told her, Dilara eagerly notes that May does look "exotic," and for that matter so does Raoul. Both have warm, golden skin, though his is about two shades darker than hers.

His thick curls are coal black, and when May turns her head to look at Raoul — and she can hardly stop looking up at him — a dark brown ponytail flows genie-style from the top of her head all the way down her long body to her waist.

With a short but thick black beard covering his sharp jaw, his facial features are both commanding and cute. His mouth is a little pouty, and his large brown eyes seem haunted by a secret pain, so that Dilara longs to pull his head against her chest and console him.

May's features, though, are intensely sexy-cute, with endearing dimples in her hollow cheeks, and her eyes are filled with unhidden admiration for her man.

Even through the screen, an aura of intimidating charisma surrounds them, making Dilara instantly ache for their approval. In person, she thinks, she would be too shy to approach them.

"If you are a young woman interested in bearing one of Raoul's children," May continues as if she were talking about the most ordinary thing in the world, "and you're between the age of eighteen and twenty-six, we encourage you to just go right on ahead and apply. Raoul here" — touching his leg lightly, she adopts a playfully confidential tone — "just loves meeting new ladies and making babies with them, so every day we welcome new women from all over the world, and nine months later a few of them give birth to wonderful, beautiful babies."

"That's right," Raoul agrees, glancing somewhat wryly at May. "We'd both love to meet you here."

"Please don't be shy, y'all" May coos encouragingly, brushing aside his mischievous innuendo. "Unless you try, you'll never know if you could join our family here and become one of our lucky mothers. The entire process is completely confidential, and our admissions teams are happy to assist you in any way they can."

"We'd appreciate you giving us a chance to meet you," Raoul says, and for a moment Dilara feels him looking through the internet almost right at her.

"And we guarantee that if you visit us here," May resumes, "it'll be absolutely the time of your life. So you just look around the website and find out anything you need to know, and then apply as soon as you can so we don't have to wait any longer to see you."

"Thank you," Raoul says, and May, waving with a radiant smile as the video ends, sings, "Goodbye now, we look forward to meeting you soon!"

— — — — — — / — — — — — — — — —

Wow, Dilara blinks, they got straight to the point.

She watches the video again to confirm that May really says what she thought she says: essentially, please come fuck my husband.

I'd like my gorgeous, amazing, handsome, perfect husband to fuck you in your pussy and put his babies in you.

And sure enough, that's exactly what she was saying.

Even though Dilara can hardly believe the meaning of their words, and she knows that tens, maybe hundreds of millions of young women have seen that video, something about the way they speak — perhaps the friendliness of their tone, or their comfortable, relaxed body language — makes her feel that somehow they were talking almost directly to her.

As if they went to all that trouble just to reach her.

She actually feels personally invited to El Paraíso de las Doncellas Bellas.

Is that a paradise for beautiful maidens, Dilara wonders, trying to shake off her absurd credulity, or a paradise of beautiful maidens for Raoul?

Or, she wonders, correcting herself, is there actually a difference?

— — — — — — / — — — — — — — — —

Below the video are three buttons. The one on the left reads, "Click here for more information about El Paraíso de las Doncellas Bellas."

The one on the right, "Click here to seek employment at El Paraíso de las Doncellas Bellas."

In the center is the largest button: "Click here if you want to conceive a child with Raoul at El Paraíso de las Doncellas Bellas."

She looks at that middle button for several seconds, tempted.

God, he's handsome. The thought of him — she can't even think it. She's not ready to click it.

"More information," she decides.

— — — — — — / — — — — — — — — —

There's an "About Raoul" section with basic facts about his life, but it seems too fawning, so Dilara doesn't trust it. She opens another window, Oogles his name, and spends a few hours learning about him.

She watches videos of his acting when he was a teenager, and judges that he was great in Matter of Britain but mediocre in the Fist Punch movies. The eye candy factor was always there, though, and watching the Obsessed for Men commercials, with closeups on his nipples and abs and butt, dripping with sweat (or, she knows, more probably oil) gets her rather hot and bothered.

Tempted to start touching herself, she remembers just in time that she needs to find out the weird stuff about him, so she checks his Shikipedia page. It turns out that not long after he became the world's richest man in 2008, having aggressively shorted basically all the major financial institutions in the world, someone leaked a video of him with a gaggle of Russian prostitutes, probably a sour act of revenge by someone who'd lost a lot of money in the crash.

After that, Raoul was even arrested, but at his trial it emerged that he'd been a CIA agent from 1995 to 2004, and apparently a great one. According to one website, in addition to his prodigious multilingualism, his wealth gave him the unique ability to put tens of millions of dollars on the table without raising questions about where he got the money, which meant he could infiltrate criminal organizations at levels that normal agents would never have access to. He'd hindered or even helped to bring down human traffickers in Eastern Europe, drug smugglers in South America, money launderers in East Asia, and small arms dealers in Africa.

In other words, in those apparently scandalous videos, he was actually working. The girls in the videos, it turns out, were enslaved, and thanks to him most of them had been rescued, given new identities, and hopefully been able to live free lives.

Dilara does find some people on a pinkkit thread who claim that the story of him being a CIA agent is implausible, that Raoul somehow bribed the CIA to make it up. No doubt in part swayed by his looks, Dilara takes his side, dismissing the conspiracy theories.

Any man that handsome is a good guy.

Being that handsome is practically the definition of "good guy."

So that's settled, but there's other weird stuff.

For example, she finds discussion groups of women literally worshiping him. Women around the world apparently write love letters to him, poetry about him, erotic literature.... Many have named their vibrators "Little Raoul." Some — it is hard to distinguish satire from reality — apparently prostrate themselves in prayer before images of him.