tagBDSMThe Caliph's Dancer

The Caliph's Dancer


He looked like a caliph, straight out of the movies, seated on a pile of pillows and furs. He wore a black silken robe, belted with a royal purple sash that held a jeweled dagger. Close to his right hand, on a golden pillow, like a lethal snake lay a coiled, leather drover’s whip.

At his left was another man, wearing a burnoose and robe. He protectively clutched a drawstring bag that bulged bumpily and clinked when he moved it. His eyes were narrow, rat-like in his angular face. He nodded slightly, touching his fingertips to his forehead in respect.

“Noble sir, this unworthy one has many miles to travel across blazing sands. Can we not proceed with our business so I may be on my way? Bring out the slaves for me to see, so I may pay your fee and go home to my meat and wife.”

The larger man frowned at him.

“Always with you it is business, Mujin. You have no taste for the finer things in life. I told you, the slaves are being prepared for your view. Until then, we must wait. Here, have more wine,” and he passed a metal decanter. “But let it not be said that my tent is without its entertainments,” he continued.

Then he clapped his hands, and four men and a small boy silently filed into the room. The men carried musical instruments, and after they took their seats the boy tied blindfolds over their eyes. He then turned towards the big man, who smiled and nodded. The boy beamed, brought his fingers to his forehead, and backed from the room.

The ruler barked a command and the blindfolded band began to play. To the tune, a flap pulled aside. Into the room stepped a striking figure. She was tall for a woman, and the billowing white silks she wore for a costume did a poor job of concealing her well-designed curves. Her face was hidden behind a veil, leaving only her flashing blue eyes visible, and her golden hair flowed down her back in a soft ponytail.

She moved gracefully, seeming to be made of swirling fog as her white-swathed form drifted towards the men. She lowered her eyes, and knelt before the bigger man, folding her hands before her in subservience to him.

Mujin stared at her. “Great One, you’ve been holding out on me,” he gasped. “This one would bring a prince’s ransom in the market. Let me see more,” and he was reaching for her.

“No,” said the other man, grabbing his wrist. “Her sweetness is for me alone. Show him, my pet,” he purred to the woman. At his word, she raised her chin and lifted her veil, showing them the tooled leather collar she wore. Its silver ornaments twinkled in the torchlight.

The thin mans eyes widened. “Those symbols on the collar,” he gasped in awe, “their meaning -- Great One, you have dared to...”

“Let them hate me if they choose,” the man he’d called Great One replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Such is the favor she finds in my eyes that she walks above them all. She is my property, and more, my love and my lover. She deserves the honor.”

“But if the Council of the Sands sees it, they will...”

“I do not care what they will say. The choice is mine and I have made it.” Then he smiled at the woman. “Dance for us, my pet.” Lowering her veil again, the blond stood and began to move to the music. She swayed and waved to the rhythm, her silks flowing around her like smoke. Her arms reached high above her, causing the veils to slide across her breasts, accentuating their size and firmness. She turned, smoothing her hands across her backside, emphasizing the smoothness of her ass.

Then she was kneeling, her knees wide apart, writhing to the throbbing music which filled the tent around them. Rising again, her breasts heaving with her frenzied movements, she leaped and cavorted like a gazelle. She spun and pranced and then fell to the floor, her head between her master’s legs in a wildly erotic make-believe of fellatio. Just as quickly, she was on her naked feet, spinning like a dervish. Then, as the music swelled and crescendoed, she fell before her master, one leg curled beneath her and the other pointed like an arrow at him. Her head bowed, her eyes closed, the music ended and the only sound was her rapid breathing.

“She is truly a prize,” Mujin gasped. “The Gods have smiled on you, Great Sheik. “No jewel ever shone brighter than this one!”

“Blessed, indeed,” he answered. Then he snapped his fingers, and the woman immediately moved to his side, curling up by his leg like a svelte panther. She turned her head, rubbing her face against the hump of his knee. “Dohb-chi nohk,” he called, and the boy returned, leading the still-blindfolded musicians from the room.

“Now, as to the price of the slaves,” said the sheik. But he was interrupted by a voice from behind the curtained door.

“Forgive me, great Master,” came a male voice, “but Raseem sends for you. The stallion you ordered has arrived, but great Master, you must come at once!”

The sheik cursed and rose to his feet. “Forgive me, my guest. I shall return momentarily. Have more wine.” Then he grabbed his walking stick and bustled from the tent.

The room was quiet in his absence. Mujin sipped his wine, his gaze never straying from the blond woman who knelt, head bowed, on the floor. “You truly are a pearl,” he said to her, his voice low and raspy. “Why do you bow to him? He can’t be worthy of you. I could place you with a master who will treat you much better. Or keep you for myself. You are beautiful enough to be worthy of a man like me.”

She did not move, did not look up. Except for the movements from her breath, she might have been a delicate statue of porcelain.

“Do not ignore me, woman,” he said, the thin edge of threat coming into his voice. “I will not tolerate it.”

She looked up at him, and her eyes flashed with a frigid anger. “This one is already owned,” she responded. Ice hung in her words, and her voice was cold with hatred. “My master treats me very well; better than I deserve. I wear his emblem proudly. I love him, worship him, and if I was taken from his side I would surely whither and die. You are my master’s guest, so I must tolerate you. But do not speak to me further, for you are not my Master’s friend.”

“Stupid bitch-slave,” he growled. “Your pig of a master does not deserve such beauty in his tent. And a man like me takes what he wants!” With that, he leaped to his feet, grabbing for her.

She feinted, dodging his hands, and leaped for the door. But he was fast, and suddenly Mujin’s hand was closing on the soft fall of her hair. He yanked cruelly, pulling her down at his feet. His foot drew back, preparing to slam the toe of his scuffed boot into her face.

But before the boot came down, there was a soft slapping sound, and the man named Mujin stiffened. His eyes widened in surprise and his mouth fell open, and the woman’s hair fell from his slackened fingers. He collapsed to the floor, the torch’s light gleaming off the rapidly spreading slick of red on his back, centered around the glittering hilt of a jeweled dagger sprouting between his ribs. In the doorway stood the sheik, the scabbard at his belt now empty.

The large man motioned behind himself, and as he came into the room three servants followed. At his command, they carried the form of Mujin outside. “Leave him in the desert for the wolves and vultures,” growled the sheik as he pulled the gory knife from the man’s back in passing.

He tossed the knife onto a low table in the corner as the slavegirl dashed into his arms. She was shaking.

He lifted her chin until she was looking into his eyes. “Did he hurt you, child,” he whispered.

“No, my Master,” she stammered. “But he -- he wanted to -- to,” but he stilled her with his finger to her lips.

“Mujin was a fool. He deserved death.” As he held her close, he stroked her hair. Then the tears came. She wept in relief, wetting his shoulder. Her knees buckled, and he lowered them both to the pillows. She rested in his arms, the calming effect of his love soothing her.

They lay together silently for long minutes. Finally, she spoke, “Master, promise me that no one will ever take me from your arms. Promise me that you and I will always be together, that you will never find another who takes my place. Promise me that you will love and cherish me the same way that I worship and adore and love you.”

He thought a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft and low as though he were sharing a confidence. “My sweet child, I have placed my emblem upon you. With that action I have bonded us for all time. You are mine for all eternity. No man can separate us, ever. The brand on your collar identifies you as my slave, and my love. That can never change.”

“Oh, my Master...let your slave show you how much she loves you,” she whispered. Then she was pressing her lips to his, rolling onto his body. There was fire in her kiss and as he tasted it she could sense the increase in his pulse.

As she kissed him, probing his mouth with her tongue, she began to pull the neck of his silk robe open, baring his chest. She began kissing her way down his throat, playfully nipping at his skin and making him gasp his pleasure. Then her skillful tongue was dancing on his stiffening nipple and his eyes closed in surrender to the waves as they swept through him.

Skillfully she untied the sash at her master’s waist, baring him to her gaze. Then she sat back on her heels and began to remove her silken scarves one by one. He watched them fall, and her body was revealed to his appreciative eyes. With each scarf that fell away, she watched her master’s cock as it filled and stretched, like a housecat waking.

She smiled as she watched the length of it harden and point skyward. “My Master still loves his slave,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Now naked, she grasped his hard shaft in her dainty fingers. She was always amazed by the first burning touch of his prick when he was aroused... so hot and hard, like the blade of a sword that was left lying in the desert’s merciless sun. Stretching out between his fuzzy legs, she began to kiss his scrotum.

Her nose filled with his scent, musky and male, as she tickled the wrinkled flesh with her tongue. Inside, she could feel his balls slide around at her touch. These jewels had always fascinated her, so different from any part of her own smooth, lithe body. And now she played with them, knowing how it would tease and torment him.

He moaned softly, deep in his furry chest. She was delighted at the sound, knowing it was because of her. Dribbles of precum formed at the eye of his cock, finally running down over his engorged glans. She was also glad of this, knowing it was a sign of how aroused he was. The knowledge awoke her own responses, and she felt the lips of her pussy swell and moisten.

Her deft tongue flicked across the head of his dick, gathering the moisture of him. His hand reached down, petting the sunshine softness of her hair. “Yes, my sweet pet,” he murmured. “Yesssss...” but the words changed into an unintelligible moan as her lips parted and she slid the length of his cock down her throat.

The slave sucked her loving master’s organ with expert style. She had done it enough times to learn where his most sensitive spots were, and what techniques he liked the best. True to her role as a pleasure-slave, she had made it her sacred duty to know all this. After all, she was only truly happy when HE was happy.

The blond woman’s lips drew on his meat, and each time her head slid upwards, her tongue massaged the thick vein that ran up the underside of his penis. With each such stroke, he would moan softly. She knew how he loved it; he said it felt like she was literally trying to suck the seed out of his balls. And if she had any doubts, they were dispelled by the taste of a rush of precum that striped her tongue with each draw.

She let his hard organ slide free of her mouth, but began to stroke his length with her fist. “Master,” she said, “your slave needs to feel your hard cock in her wet pussy. My cunt begs to be filled with you. May your slave please, please have that pleasure now?” Then, immediately, she slipped her mouth back over his stiffness. Her master would not have to wait a single second without her sucking him while he considered her request. To do less would disgrace her, and she knew it.

“Yes, little one,” he rasped. “Yes...ride your Master’s cock!”

Giving him one last lick, she quickly moved astride him. Taking his red cock in her hand, she positioned the flaring tip at the opening to her womanhood. Then she stopped, again recognizing his preferences. “Take me, Master,” she crooned. “Take your slave as you wish!”

His hands released the pillows on which they lay, his cramped fingers untangling from their death-like-grip of rapture. Instead, they grabbed her slim waist, and with one brutal motion he yanked her downwards and rammed his pelvis up! The hard spear of his cock stabbed upwards, impaling her so savagely and painfully that her heart skipped a beat and she lost her breath for a moment. Then he was fully inside her dripping hole, and they were still for a moment as he relished the feeling of her around him. Then he began to slowly pump his hips, and she quickly fell into his rhythm.

They fucked like a well-oiled machine. He moved like a restless sea beneath her, and she rode him as though he were a spirited stallion. His heavy hands found the pink-brown buttons of her nipples, teasing them into hard nuggets on her breasts. She leaned forward, her hands on either side of his shoulders to allow him better access, and he began to suckle her breasts, one after the other. Now it was her turn to close her eyes and ride the swells of pleasure that crashed inside her.

The slave rode her sheik wildly, his staff threatening to bruise her inner walls, but she didn’t care. She loved him insanely, and would do anything to please him as a symbol of that love. With every downstroke, her clit bounced against his groin, sending sparks into her soul. She was rapidly approaching her orgasm, and if she read her master right he wasn’t far behind.

“Oh, Master,” she gasped, “your cock is so big inside me...so hard...gods, it hurts so good in my wet cunt...” and then she was falling down onto him, kissing him anew. Their bodies still pounded against one another, but now her breasts were being crushed against her ribs, scrubbing on her bones in time with their thrusts. His arms wrapped around her, squeezing her brutally to him, as they screwed.

Her mouth was by his ear, and she whispered, “Master...Master...oh god, how your slave loves you...fuck me...fuck your slave!” Then she whispered directly into his ear, “please, please, Master...cum...cum in me...let your slave feel you squirt into her hungry cunt!” Then she ran her tongue around the inner curl of his ear, and that did it.

“AaaaaaaaahhhhhGOD,” he roared. Growling like a mad beast, he shoved as far up inside her body as he could reach, and began to come. Gouts of hot semen geysered from his prick, washing her inner tissues with sticky semen. It triggered her own climax and she writhed atop him as they exploded in blinding orgasm together.

When the wildness drained from their motions, she lay on his panting body, his softening cock still in her vagina. She could tell he’d flooded her again because she felt the thick syrup of their sex oozing out of her and trickling over her clitoris. She was exhausted, wanting to sleep now in his arms. But she knew her master well, and that her duties were not finished. She was not to ever allow his cock to remain syrupy as he drifted to sleep. So she started to pull free of him, but he would not let her go.

“But Master, it is your slave’s pleasure to lick your mighty scepter clean of our nectars.”

“Not tonight, my sweet slave. Tonight, your master wants only to hold you.” And she slid to his side, cuddled safely under his arm. He pulled a blanket up over them, and drew her close to him.

“I love you so, my beautiful, wonderful Master,” she purred.

“And I love you, my treasured one.” Then their lips met in the tenderness of love, while the desert wind outside the tent sang them to sleep.


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