Katy's Body Pt. 30

The next day it was a short drive from Master's holiday home to the site of the Ottoman slave market, to which the harem house was attached. The familiar dirty, dusty, dilapidated streets and market square should have been depressing but, for me, brought back many very sexy memories of being sold at the very same slave market. The exterior of the harem house was as shabby as its surroundings but inside it was clean, well maintained and comfortable. The slaves were kept in a very large room at the back of the ground floor. Along the outer wall was a series of individual slave cells. Each was small and basic, separated only from the larger room by a curtain. There was a single bed alongside the wall, underneath which baggage was supposed to be stored. High up on the wall was a long narrow window, enough to provide natural light but not an outside view. On one side of the cell was a toilet and on the other a was basin. A shower room was further along the same wall at the end. Attached to the wall by the bed in each cell was a length of chain attached to a lockable metal neck collar. The purpose was obvious and I later discovered that all harem slaves would be chained for the night if not in use. The rest of the room was well equipped. There was a social area with chairs for harem slaves to sit and talk, a dining area and a series of refrigerators. What was missing was a television or computer. Slaves were expected to have no contact with the outside world and were required to surrender their telephones on entry.

I was the first slave to be delivered. As previously instructed by an email from Master I had brought a couple of outfits which were sexily skimpy and easily removed. The idea was that masters and their guests wanted at least something to remove but that something needed to slip off easily. Both of my outfits were slingshot bathing costumes. I put one on, storing my other baggage under my bed, and sat in the social area waiting for the other slaves to arrive. Whether it was truly authentic or not I was starting to feel like a harem slave and the sense of being kept for Master's sexual pleasure was very arousing. I looked forward to my body being used and abused with increasing sexual desire.

The two slaves who had been at the same trattoria as me the previous night were the next to arrive. Both were Italians who spoke English and were very friendly. Gradually more slaves were delivered. Among them were a couple of French girls, one very sexy indeed. There were a couple of stunning mixed-race girls from Germany, one blonde English girl, a sultry dark haired Canadian and one more Italian - ten of us in all.

Once settled in we sat together and chatted. English was used as a common language. As it was still morning, I had been drinking coffee but someone produced a couple of bottles of Prosecco from a refrigerator. This quickly overcame barriers to conversation and we were soon laughing at each other's anecdotes. We, of course, had much in common, not least as consensual submissive sex slaves.

We had not been long settled in before the slave controller entered the room. He walked over to me.

"Stand slave and put on your rhinestone collar."

I did as he commanded and was taken to another large room on the ground floor.

There were, I would guess, about eight men seated there in leather armchairs, arranged in a horseshoe shape to leave a wide-open area by the door. The slave controller in one quick movement slipped off my skimpy slingshot costume leaving my body naked. There was applause.

"Slave, you are the new addition to this harem. These men here are the owners and our guest masters. Walk up and down slowly and sexily so they can see your body. This is just to introduce your splendid body to them. Any more detailed inspections will come later."

There were many favourable comments. My rhinestone slave collar was particularly popular. If you zoom in on the preceding image you will see that it makes up the word "SLAVE". My exhibitionist inner self found showing my body to a group of sadists very arousing indeed and the humiliation of wearing the word slave around my neck added considerably to my growing sexual desire. I tried to walk as sexily as I could to give a good representation of my body. It was a surprise to be summoned so early but a sexy one. I have had more sexually intense experiences but it was a good start - being forced to submissively exhibit my naked flesh was always going to start my sex hormones flowing.

Back in the slave room I settled down to another glass of Prosecco and more chat with the other slaves. The reality of harem slaves in the past was that they were only in occasional use by their masters and the re-created version probably involved less waiting around than in the past but it was still far from action packed. The presence of the other slaves, sipping prosecco, talking and laughing made the waiting far from boring. It seemed a long time since any of us slaves had been summoned. One of the girls said that she had been told that there was an important business meeting with a visitor from abroad. I didn't give it a second thought but I should have.

Master strode into the slave room, immediately slipping off my skimpy outfit and walking me back to the same sitting room as before.

He stood my naked body in front of one man.

"Slave, did you not recognise this man earlier?"

I looked up and to my astonishment it was Sahib, the man who had owned my body for five days in the Middle East. I stuttered at first, not knowing what to say. I was pleased to see him but did not want to compromise my submissive performance or my loyalty to the current owner of my body.

"Master, I have been told to act submissively and keep my gaze lowered. I didn't see the face of anyone present."

"He is here to discuss business with us. In fact, he would not have been here at all without you putting him in contact with us. We are very grateful indeed to you for that. Your body will be loaned to him for a few hours to use as he pleases to thank him for coming."

"Very good Master"

"One other thing. I did not know that you are an accomplished belly dancer. You will be giving us all a performance later this evening."

"As you please Master."

It later transpired that connecting Sahib with the Giardini (by means of Rashid) was quite unintentionally an inspired act. The Giardini were looking for finance and Sahib was very attracted to being involved in a BDSM location away from the risks of being exposed for adultery or alcohol back in his home country. Sahib would be investing 50% of the funds necessary to start the project.

"Slave, offer your body to Sahib for acceptance as a gift to him for attending today."

I duly offered my naked flesh to Sahib and was taken to a room somewhere upstairs in the harem house. He sat in an armchair sipping what looked like whisky and beckoned me to position my naked body in front of him. An experienced slave like me knew to stand within easy reach with hands behind my back and legs apart. I stood there waiting and wondering what he would do with my subservient body.

I should have noticed the small bowl of chopped fresh red chilli beside him. It had been one of his favourite ways of torturing my body before. He put one of those disposal medical examination gloves on one hand and rubbed the chili thoroughly between the fingers. He beckoned me to stand still closer. He inserted one, then a second gloved finger into my pussy and rubbed around, ending by spreading more on the outside of my labia. After a short delay my sensitive skin was hit with a fiery sense of burning which, over time, increased in intensity. In some ways chili is an excellent form of torture - it creates the illusion of burning but no harm at all is done. I also knew that Sahib liked to watch my body writhe and squirm with the pain and watch the suffering on my face. For its own sake I did enjoy the pain a little but the pain from being beaten with a whip or leather belt - the initial sting and then the build up of warm soreness - was much more exciting to me. Nonetheless for someone to treat my worthless flesh cruelly for their sexual pleasure was humiliatingly sexy to me.

In short, the twenty or so minutes of an intensely burning pussy was enjoyable to a point and, in any case, my body was for his pleasure not my own. Satisfying his sadistic desires was arousing for me too.

Sahib stood and pulled me over to the bed, gesturing me to lie on it. He stripped and, to my initial surprise, pulled a condom over his erect dick. Then the light came on in my mind - he was not going to have his dick burned by any chili left in my pussy. The pain was for me but not for him. He climbed on top and slip his hard, latex covered shaft into my pussy. Unusually, my pussy was not well lubricated from natural arousal. In no small part that was attributable to the, by then, disappeared scorching effect of the chili. With a little more effort than usual we were thrusting forward and backward in approximate harmony. Sahib started to thrust more focrefully and with more passion. It was clear to me that he was approaching a climax. I was nowhere near but, as his approached, I started to fake my own orgasm. Eventually we both came together, his real but mine fake. Of course, it would been better for me if the orgasm had been real but a slave's body exists for its master's pleasure.

After we had both recovered from the experience he poured us each a glass of wine.

"I need to talk to you about business."

"As you please Sahib!"

He explained that he was very grateful to me for linking him to the Giardini. Holding his BDSM events in his own country had risks associated with the strict laws on adultery and alcohol. His influence would prevent any punishment but the risk to his reputation and, hence, his income were severe. His London mansion reduced some of these risks but the media in that city still created a significant risk of exposure. An isolated private Caribben island where, as an owner, he had some control over access was a perfect solution. In fact he was certain that it could be made a viable business by discreetly marketing it to his wealthy and sadistic friends in several Middle Eastern countries.

Sahib had agreed with the Giardini to finance 50% of the project but, since it was their idea, the Giardini would take respnsibility for getting it started and, susequently, running the project. The island was one under the jurisdiction of a Caribbean country comprising a large number of islands. The Prime Minister's husband had been hired as a political adviser and the Chief of Police as a security adviser. These arrangements plus the hiring of a significant number of locals should ensure that the project faced few obstacles locally.

As a token of his gratitude he proposed to change the arrangements discussed earlier- he would pay for an additional $2.5 million share on my behalf, to include a house on the island. This would count as part of the Giardini shareholding and give me a voice in their decisions. He said that he understood my decision not to allow my husband's sale of my body to for one month to him. Since, on that occasion, he had been willing to pay $5 million for the month then I should be willing to offer him a total of 15 days unrestricred use of my body in exchange (essentially one half of a month in exchange for one half of $5 million). These would not all be in one single session and we could pick mutually convenient times. In addition, he had arranged that I would be hired as a key model for the project's promotion. I would be paid standard modelling fees to pose for promotional images and videos.

"Sahib, I am touched by your generosity. I have no need to consider your proposition - I agree to it."

"It is in my interest too. You are exceptional as a slave. Your beauty, the sexiness of your body puts you ahead of most. I know that you did not grow up in England but you have the class - the way of speaking and the manners - of an upper class Englishwoman. It is so very sexy to have such a woman as an occasional slave."

He telephoned for the slave controller to take me back to the slave room. As we waited we embraced and kissed with mutual affection. I looked forward to my future as Sahib's part time slave. Even more, and much to my surprise, I was now independently a prosperous businesswoman, shortly to own a house on a private island in the Caribbean. It would take time to decide how this new direction would change my life.

It was back to chatting and drinking wine with the other harem slaves. They, of course, were interested to know how I had spent the last two hours or so. I simply told them that the important visitor had requested use of my body. I avoided any mention otherwise. In due course some food was delivered - a delcious pasta dish with seafood. Despite enjoying it I only consumed a small amount. I had not forgotten that I would be dancing later and did not fancy wobbling around on a full belly.

Later the slave contoller entered the room and, without speaking, handed me a costume. I knew what was expected and dressed in the belly dancer costume. Readers need to be aware that it has never been possible to be accompanied by my own photographer for most of the events I describe and I certainly cannot take selfies at the time. This means that I often have to use photos taken at other times and places which most closely correspond to my memory of events. This is a case in point. The costume below is very similar to the one I was given to wear but it is my own and taken at a different time.

I was taken so dressed back to the room with the armchairs. A music system had been added. I waited at the front of the room for the last two guests to return from their dinner. From there I could see many eyes fixed on my pussy, easily visible through the thin transparent fabric. As the last two took their seats the deep thumping beat of Arabic music filled the room.

From my position at the front I started my dance with a right followed by a left hip shake on every fourth beat, accompanied by a slight body undulation. I gradually increased the pace so that my hip shakes were to every second beat and made the body undulation more pronounced. After a little time I accelerated the hip shakes into a prolonged frontal shimmy. As the the shimmy ended I turned to face away from my audience in the knowledge that my butt was in clear view through the nearly transparent fabric. Again I built up the number and pace of my hip shakes, knowing that it would provide a sexy swaying motion from the rear. The addiition of body undulations would also have added a sexy up and down motion. From time to time there were ripples of applauses and cheers for a particularly sexy movement.

I turned back to face my audience and used a series of hip shakes to steadily move to dance directly in front of the first armchair. My position was carefully calculated to perform sufficiently close for the movement of my body to seem personal but not so close that I could be touched. Essentially my performance in front of each armchair was a shortened version of the one at the front. As my dance went on the beat soaked more into my soul, my own inner rythmn and, with more passion in my dance, it became even sexier. After my mini performance in front of the last armchair Master clapped his hands loudly. This was the signal for me to remove all clothing and to dance naked, I returned to the front, removed the bra and loosened the waist of my transparent skirt so that movement of my hips to the music caused it to slowly slide to the floor, as if part of the dance.

For a while I danced at the front with increasing passion, my mind increasingly absorbed into an almost subconcious mix of sexual desire and the beat of the music. I am sure that the merging of my sexual desiires with my dance made the peformance even sexier to watch. As before I repeated my peformance with my back to the audience to use the movement of my rear to whip up sexual desire. Again I delivered a shortened version of the performance in front of each armchair. This time I took care to position my body so that it was within touching distance. None of the men present were able to restrain their lusts aroused by the music and the movement of my naked body. Hands were run over my thighs, my pussy was repeatedly grabbed and, when I turned, my butt squeezed and slapped.

By the time I had peformed naked at the last armchair I returned to the front, breathless and sweaty. The music stopped and there was a prolonged standing ovation. As the applause died out there were cries of "more", "encore" and "moltebenavo". I looked at Master and he signalled that I should provide an encore. The music started and I again danced naked at the front. After going through my full routine at the front I stopped, thinking it enough. The music stopped shortly after. Again there were cries of "more" and "encore." Again Master signalled that I should resume. This time I repeated the mini performance in front of each armchair and within touching distance. Again my body was systematically fondled as It moved to the beat. After the very last armchair the music stopped to another standing ovation. I could see that it had been a very sexy performance for my audience, judging by the look of their faces when I was able to sneak a look. It had been very sexy for me to feel the intense lust in he room for so long and I found the merger between my desires and the music very arousing in itself. Despite my pent up sexual needs I was exhausted and very sweaty. I was too tired and too randy to care about my obvious perspiration.

The repeated encores meant that I had been dancing almost non-stop for what I would guess was about 90 minutes. I had put both energy and passion into my dancing for all that time. In consequence it should not be surprising that I was sweaty and exhausted. As the chatter of praise faded I was told to rest. There was one spare armchair but I felt it inappropriate to sit with the Masters. Instead I sat on a small side table, trying to recover my breath. I was brought water and then wine by one of the house staff.

Once I had recovered enough to stand Master took me by the arm. As we were leaving they were moving some bondage gear, including a diagonal cross, into the room.

"For the next show one of the other slaves is to be whipped for the entertainment of masters and guests. You are coming with me. I am desperate to fuck your body after that sexy performance."

"Would you like me shower first Master?"

"Absolutely not. I want to fuck that glistening, sweaty body."

He took me to a bedroom and gestured to me to lie on the bed whilst he undressed. Despite my exhaustion I had been almost constantly in a state of high sexual arousal throughout my dance. Indeed it was only possible to make the performance sexy for others if it was for me too. The opportunity to have eight pairs of male eyes glued to every move of my naked flesh was the stuff of my exhinitionist fantasies and I revelled in it. I wanted desperately to fuck too.