Garden Art Pt. 01

Garden Art, Part 1

(fetish, body-modification, tattoo, pierce)

By ChangeYourPassword

Author's Note: This is a work of fiction. It is a story of sexual fantasies and fetishes. These sexual practices are not for everyone, but those of us who delve into them understand the allure. The characters in the story certainly do. If you enjoy this story and the fetishes involved, great. If not, please forget the whole thing.

Synopsis: Mark gets lucky and discovers the love of his life, in a Prince's Palace.

Damn! Flying in a private jet was, without a doubt, the only way to travel. Perhaps I should buy myself one. He thought. Nah, I'm not that rich. At least not yet.

"Is there anything I can get for you Mr. Clemons?" The pilot asked over the intercom system. The little galley, aft, is fully stocked with beer, booze and sodas, and you'll find a bunch of snacks and comfort-food back there too.

He laughed. "It's Mark. And I'm surprised that a good Muslim aircraft like this one is so well stocked."

The Pilot laughed, in turn. "I'm Jerry, and well, Mark, we carry all kinds of passengers, and there are Muslims and there are Muslims, if you know what I mean."

"Hah, I do. Thanks. I'll find something in a bit. By the way, how long will it take us to get to the Kingdome?"

"Well, the computer tells me that we'll be in Riyadh in a little over seventeen hours and twenty-two minutes."

"Christ," he moaned. "No refueling stops? No chance to stretch my legs?"

"Nope, not in this aircraft. Only the best for the Prince and his guests. If you get lonely, back there, or want a change of pace, you can always come up here, and swap places with one of us. We'll be happy to take a rest, while you stare at the clouds for a while."

"I might just do that later. Unless this thing also has a treadmill stashed somewhere in the tail."

Mark heard the laughter as the pilot responded. "No sir, sorry, we're not that well equipped. I imagine that if the Prince knew you'd be bored, and interested, he would have provided you with an escort, to keep you entertained."

"Really? I thought that kind of 'gift' went out of style decades ago." He said, chuckling.

"Well, we've been driving this bus for the Family for several years now, and have seen it all. But I've already said too much. Please forget it and have a good flight." And Mark heard the speaker cut off with a click.

As he settled down with a Coke and his laptop, he began wondering for the thirty-second time what he was getting himself into.

Why was he even considering selling his company to the Arabs?

He was already rich.

But he was kind of bored, too.

While earning his Master's Degree at the School of Engineering at USC, he'd more or less stumbled upon the idea and set up his design for a Social Media site for specific minorities. The one for Asian teens hadn't gone well, but for some reason the one for Muslim teens had exploded into a hugely popular web site. When he had someone run the analysis, it turned out to be just pure luck. Some group of kids in Dhahran started using his site, and the word spread, and then the whole thing took off.

As soon as he'd reached 100K users, the advertisers started throwing money his way, and when he hit ten million, worldwide, he'd become a millionaire.

But like computer nurds everywhere, and let's be frank, that's what he was, he didn't know what to do with all of that cash. And he didn't have a wife, or even a girlfriend -- and certainly not a boyfriend, he was defiantly a straight nurd!

He had met plenty of women, and bedded a few, but the pretty ones were either not intelligent enough, or were, per the standard model, after his money. And the intelligent ones, were not pretty enough, nothing special in bed, by comparison, and were also after his money.

In the movies, by now he would have bumped into the pretty waitress with a heart of gold and the sex cravings of a nympho, but that hadn't happened yet.

So here he was being pursued by a billionaire Saudi Prince, to sell his company for a boatload of money.

Well, why not? There were other things he could do. Other challenges out there, for a really, really rich computer nerd.

When the plane finally landed, he was met by a guy in a suit who bundled him into a huge limo and then escorted him into a stupendous suite in a ritzy, gold-plated hotel.

Room service was already waiting to provide him a fantastic meal, and then he was left to crash and recover from the jet-lag.

Late the next morning he was up and dressed, fed and again collected by the same assistant and taken to meet the Prince's business manager. They, and a bevy of assistants spent several hours discussing the particulars of the offer.

Mark quickly realized that he should have brought along an accountant and a lawyer of his own, but he could always get them involved to review the paperwork, later. Anyway, it really just came down to, 'we'll give you a ton of cash, deposited to whatever bank you want, for 100% of your holdings.'

The amount would increase his current wealth by a factor of 100!

It was certainly well over what anyone back home figured the company was worth. And it made his head spin!

When the business manager, saw his skeptical expression, he explained.

"Mr. Clemons, let me be frank. We know that number is high. Much more than your company is actually worth. But the Prince is adamant. He likes what you've done for the Muslim youth, and he wants to make sure that your web-site, remains a Muslim community facility, free of interference from any Western influence, and also free from any over-zealous Muslim force."

He paused for a moment to let his words sink in, before continuing. "His Majesty the King, has blessed this enterprise. You should be proud. But what that also means, is that we're willing to pay you very handsomely for your enterprise."

As Mark sat there, stunned, the guy stood up. "Now, if you'd come along, the Prince himself would like to meet you and learn more about your company, for himself. I'm sure you'll find that he is quite well versed on the technology."

They paraded through the elaborate corridors of the palace, all eleven of them, for hundreds of yards.

Mark did sense a difference when they entered the more private halls and rooms of the residential portion of the palace. The increase in the number of guards was also a giveaway.

At first, Mark was very much intimidated by the exhausted royal. He was older, handsome and elegantly dressed in a casual Western suit. They met and concluded introductions in his large and ornate office, before moving to a comfortable and much less formal lounge, nearby.

With the relocation most of the assistants, advisors and hangers-on were excluded, and Mark and had a chance to relax a bit and just talk to the man.

He was, of course quite a bit older, almost fatherly as he questioned Mark about his company and the software that he was so interested in buying. He also seemed happy to show off how much he actually knew about the technology.

Mark was admittedly impressed, and he found it easy to explain how and why he had created the web site, as well as go into the technical aspects that he had conquered to make it work so well. He was afraid that some of it went over His Majesty's head, but the man asked intelligent and insightful questions, smoothly covering his shortcomings.

This guy really is intelligent. Mark thought.

After an hour, their discussion became more casual and personal, and the Prince seemed to enjoy drawing Mark out about modern youth, particularly in Arabia, as well as how they were perceived by Americans.

Mark was able to be honest and forthcoming as he had always had positive experiences whenever he had met or worked with his Moslem customers.

They really did hit it off, and enjoyed their discussion. So much so, that the Prince cancelled a couple of appointments to prolong their session.

While ordering one of the schedule changes, in Arabic, he apparently also called for refreshments and companionship.

Three beautiful women came in, a couple of them dressed scantily, and one stunningly naked.

Mark was dumbfounded, and he almost came in his pants as he was introduced to Garden. Her unusual name fit her perfectly, as her entire body was covered in tattoos that made her look like a walking garden. And she was fully nude, to show it all off.

The Prince, seeing his reaction, assigned her to sit with him, while the other two curled themselves around their master.

"This beautiful work of art is Garden, you can understand her name, I'm sure. She is the creation of a pair of my favorite artists. They do fantastic, and erotic work. Don't you agree?" The Prince asked, proudly.

Mark had to take a deep breath and swallow to clear his throat. "Your highness, she is truly a work of art. I have no words..."

The Prince chuckled, "I can see that."

They continued their discussion, and Mark did a surprisingly good job of continuing to participate with intelligent conversation despite being aroused and distracted by the fetish fantasy Garden sitting next to him.

Her face and her body were perfectly beautiful. The girl was absolutely stunning, erotic, exotic and a bit bizarre, too. Her skin, from her neck to her toes was mostly green, tattooed to look like she was covered in vines and leaves, like ivory, but with colorful flowers interspersed. And to add to her eroticism, she also sported several piercings with golden rings, and some chain, as well.

She was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

Despite her wet-dream appearance she was personable and intelligent, and when the Prince was interrupted by some assistant, she spoke to him casually and comfortably despite his obvious fascination. And the undeniable bulge in his pants. Her English was flawless -- she sounded like a normal American, a well-educated one, at that.

He had to tear himself away from her, to resume his conversations with the Prince, but only for a few more minutes.

"I'm sorry Martin, I'd love to talk with you more, but I have several meetings I must take care of. Perhaps we could get together again later this week. I'd really like to continue our discussions and get to know you better."

Even though the great man spoke as if it were a question, Mark knew it was by local standards an order, but he had to get home.

"Your majesty. I'd love to stay, but my return flight is scheduled for tomorrow."

"Please call me Robert, now that we're friends. It's the English name I use. And reservations can easily be changed. And he spoke to one of his attendants, who immediately got on his phone.

Nodding toward the guy, the Prince again addressed him. "Mark, your return flight will be adjusted and your stay at the hotel extended. Spend the week here. Enjoy yourself. I'll arrange for us to get together a couple more times, to discuss business and pleasure."

Then with a playful smile, he put his hand on Mark's shoulder.

"And to ensure that you have no issues keeping yourself busy, in the interim, I would appreciate it if you would allow Garden to keep company with you for the rest of your stay."

That really struck him dumb. Holy shit! He'd have his own slave girl? The most erotic and exotic woman he had ever seen!

It took him a minute to actually speak. The Prince, entertained by the impact of his offer, sat quietly and expectantly, waiting.

Finally, Mark was able to spit it out. "Of course, your Highness. Er, Robert. I'd be delighted."

The old man smiled and winked at him, "Very good. Enjoy yourself. Until this evening, then." He said as he walked out, followed by his staff, and the two beauties who had been hanging on him.

Mark was left standing, with Garden next to him. This can't be real, he thought to himself. But when he looked at the girl standing just inches away, he knew it was.

"Mr. Clemons," his escort said, interrupting his revere. "If you would please have a seat for a few moments. Garden must run off and dress to leave the palace. Then a car will take the two of you back to your hotel, or wherever you'd like to go. The car and driver will be yours for the day and will return you here this evening."

"Great, thanks." Mark said as he sat back down. He remained in a trance as he watched Garden give him a small bow, before she turned and sauntered across the room and out a side door.

"Of course, you realize what an honor and a responsibility the Prince has granted you. His majesty trusts you to enjoy his woman, but not harm her. Enjoy her, all of her, but protect her, as well. The populace will recognize her, and won't bother you. You may go anywhere, take her anywhere. But by all means do not let her go anywhere without you," the Prince's man explained.

"I understand." Mark said solemnly. All he really wanted to do was spend time with her. Preferably in private, in his room, in his bed. But he wasn't sure if that was on the menu.

'Excellent. To make it easier for you I will recommend to the driver a pleasant shopping area, and an exceptional restaurant where you could entertain dear Garden, this afternoon. Would that be acceptable?"

"Very much so." He said, thinking; she would be his tour guide, not his sex partner. Oh well. It would still be a fun adventure.

A few moments later Garden returned in a hooded cape that covered her from head to toe. It was a beautiful garment. Deep red with golden embroidery, reminiscent of the wardrobes of old Hollywood movies. She also wore a matching mask that hid the bottom half of her face.

Mark was disappointed that her fantastic body wasn't visible, at all. But he still had the memories...

The two of them were escorted out and to the waiting car. Garden described the landmarks as they were driven to a very up-scale indoor shopping mall. He was impressed as all of the famous name brands of Paris and Rome had stores lining the walkways, inside.

He was also intrigued by the deferential attitude shown them by everyone they passed. He assumed that the rich clothing worn by Garden identified her as a VIP, and therefore he was included in that class, as well.

As they walked and chatted, Mark became even more impressed by Garden's personality, intelligence and wit. She was truly a delightful woman, in addition of course, to a very sexy one.

After only an hour, she seemed to know him well enough to escort him into a Hugo Boss shop where she instructed the proprietor to provide him with a beautiful suit, properly tailored, for the evening's meeting with the Prince.

The garment was handsome, and several times more expensive than anything he owned. But there was no mention of payment. When he asked Garden, she waved him off, casually. "It will be billed against his majesty's account, and forgotten. You need to be better outfitted if you are to spend the evening with my Master."

"Well, if you say so."

She turned and looked at him. "I do. And I want to see you in those clothes. I think you will look very attractive. Now I believe I'm hungry. How about you?"

"I am."

"Well, let's go eat. And when we're finished, it will be time to return here for your new suit. Then we can take a break back at your hotel before returning to the palace."

Mark, just nodded. All he could think about was her mention of a break in his hotel room.

The restaurant was elegant and busy, but the two of them were shown to a cozy, and very private dining room.

Once inside, with the door securely closed, Garden casually slipped off her robes, and again stood before him beautifully naked, in all her artistically decorated glory. He reacted has he had back at the palace. Staring dumbfounded with his cock hard and tenting his pants.

"Are you all right?" she asked with a small, confident smile.

"Um, yes. You're so beautiful. I don't know what to say; how to react."

"Well, your body seems to know." She said, giggling and glancing down at his crotch.

He blushed and stammered, "sorry."

"Why? That's the intent. The prince had me decorated so I would always arouse him and any other man I met. I'm used to it, and to my role."

She grabbed his hand and they sat down side-by-side on a low couch.

"Now tell me about our sex life. You can imagine mine. But I'd like to know more about you."

The next couple of hours were a mind-blowing whirlwind for Mark. All throughout, he had trouble forming coherent thoughts. Garden's naked presence kept aroused and his brain muddled.

The food was excellent. And the servers were all female and discrete.

Garden drew him out, and despite his embarrassment, he admitted to his intermittent and vanilla sex life. She didn't seem surprised, disappointed or scornful, just interested.

"Okay. Enough about me. I'm curious about you. How was it that everyone seemed to automatically understand that you were, ah, privileged?"

She smiled. "My collar."

He was a bit startled. But then it made sense. She was wearing a very ornate and obvious slave collar. It was tall, gold, and bejeweled and beautifully etched with Arabic calligraphy. He realized that despite her robe, hood and mask, her collar was always visible.

He was irked when he also realized that she'd been wearing the thing all day, and distracted by her body, he hadn't really noticed.

She seemed to understand his chagrin. "It identifies me as belonging to the Prince, and I can never remove it."

As he thought about the implications, he became upset. He'd been lusting after her since the moment he saw her. And like most men, his cock had overridden his brain and his compassion.

Again, she read him and his expression, like a book. "It's okay. I'm used to it. Resigned, to my life. And actually, it's not a bad life, at that. I've always been the pragmatic sort."

Embarrassed and troubled, he asked quietly. "Do you want to tell me about it? I am curious, and also concerned."

She smiled, placidly. "If you'd like. I've told it before, several times."

She then went on to explain that she had been a grad student, working on her PhD in Archeology. She and a small team from the university had spent a couple months o a dig in the Nile valley. When it ended, she and a few friends had decided to take advantage of the location and do some more exploring, touristy kinds of things, around other parts of the Middle East.

They'd headed East and visited Kuwait, Bahrain, Qatar and the Saudi Kingdome. It had been fun and exciting. As time went on, though the others had headed home, until there were just two of them, left. They'd become friendly with a couple of professors at the University and had been asked to stay and do some additional research with them. It was an easy offer to accept, and they'd been well treated, and had met a lot of the upper-class. A big deal in these parts.

When her friend had to call it quits and head home because of a sick parent, she had stayed on, alone. Not her smartest decision. Western women, alone in Arabia were easy pickings. One of the lesser princes that she'd met took a special interest in her. He'd had her picked up and brought to his uncle's palace, where the Prince himself had been intrigued by her and in rescuing her from his nephew, had kept her around.

Of course, she'd been horrified. Frightened and offended too. How dare they? But she'd already learned enough about the way things worked, here, to understand that there was no way she could fight it.

And they were so good at it. There had been drugs, and she had been treated like a princess to such an extent that she'd quickly gotten used to her new life, and all of the perks.

And there hadn't actually been any rape, at least nothing violent. Women were just expected to submit to the men.

After a couple of months, she had accepted her new reality. And only then did they step it up a notch. They drugged her, and she actually only came to a couple of weeks later, with her new body, and name.