The Darkest Dinner Date

In the former nest of heaven, Old Cairo City is woven with the dead wood of sin that now make up the sprawling city. Neon advertisements and burning lights stick through the ash that tightly winds the night this evening. It's an incubation of broken shells of people spilling yokes of fools gold into the cracks of the pavement.

And Preeyah is out in it, kicking away the soot from her pristine boots, for the first time in her life.

The women at the party told her that the mediator is only available at the surface. His office is only occupied at night. And in Zamalek, Preeyah shakes with both fear and anticipation at knowing she enters the bowels of the most decrepit area of sin.

Seeking exactly the kind of sin that it offers.

An offer that, she's told, only the Mediator can broker.

After navigating a dark alleyway with mostly pink neon and empty shops, she finds herself inside of a dark door with a slippery stairwell leading up to an office. She keeps her hijab and filter mask on, feeling that she wants her identity kept safe knowing what she is asking. Anonymity in these times is rare, but it's especially needed for her to mask the fear that makes her entire body shake as she ascends the stairs.

The office is disguised as a computer repair shop, even though computers are antiques after quantum computers. There's a young Arab attendant at the desk. She greets him in Arabic.

"May I help you?" he asks.

"I'm told that there's someone here who can fix something for me," she says walking into the door. She notices old flat screen monitors piled on cabinets that spout wires from their open drawers.

"What do you need fixed?" he asks.

Preeyah reaches into her jalabiya for her pocket and pulls out a card with a QR code on it. The man's stance changes and he points her to the office down a short hallway.

"Come in," says a short stubby old man in Arabic.

Preeyah closes the door behind her and takes in the disheveled office. His office is littered with typewriters, old 21st century cell phones, and the occasional generator. He sits behind a large desk and has shisha and tea going. He stands up as Preeyah presses her back against the door. She realizes she still holds the card up in her fingers.

"Ah, you must be new," he says walking towards the small electric kettle. "Chai?" he asks.

Preeyah nods without a word and watches the man carefully as he places a hot steaming crystal glass on the desk in front of an empty wooden chair.

"Please. Sit. Let us talk. I am Omar, the Mediator," he says.

She sits on the edge of the seat and places the card by the glass. Folding her hands as she does her legs, Preeyah searches for words but chooses not to allow them to fill the room. She shivers and looks about.

"So..." Omar says, breaking the silence. "I take it this is a very first time experience for you. Based on your clothing, you must live below the surface in the first world tunnels, yes?" he says.

Preeyah can feel the betrayal of her motives crawling all over her skin and seeping into her. It's true. Her first trip to the surface to taste the ash and see the city it once was is overwhelming. The shelter below in the tunnels is a far contrast to the dynamic of this world.

Where she lives with clean filtered air, there's nothing but ash to take in.

Where the tubes are brightly lit and monotone, the streets above are dark and dynamic with neon.

Where everyone knows each other and waves, here on the surface everyone is a stranger and can be anyone or no one.

And where she is basically a simple servant who is never pleased by her husband...

The darkness here holds pleasures that can slake her lust.

Omar blows over his hot tea as Preeyah finally motivates herself for the dark sin she desires.

"That's correct, Omar. I live below the surface. It's my first time for... All of this," she motions to the room and to him. It makes Omar chuckle.

"Well then you are rather brave. I applaud you. And whatever brought you here, it must be something with heavy desire. Would you like to share it with me?"

Preeyah starts to blush. Not only has she never shared her darkest fantasy with anyone, but to describe it to a random man, a stranger, makes her happy her entire face is covered. She adjusts her mask and twists in her seat then looks into her hands.

Omar grabs a piece of paper and a pen from the drawer. Preeyah looks at the ancient objects as he slides them across the desk.

"Perhaps if you wrote it down instead of saying it out loud, you will be more comfortable," he offers.

Preeyah is caught off guard for a second time from being offered real paper. The first was the man with the blue and purple implants that gave her the card. It was received in much the same way. During a party she wasn't supposed to be at in the pristine circular bar, a man overheard conversations between her and her friends that she would never dare repeat in front of her husband. She noticed the man and met eyes with him. Her smile and posture must have betrayed her, relaying her blushed cheeks and naughty thoughts in the dark. He reached over and slid it through the planter between them. By the time she took the card, the man was gone.

And now she felt her thoughts betraying her again as she looked at the paper.

"Trust me *habibi*, whatever fantasy that you have, I assure you that many have the same. I've seen it all many times over. Please, take your time to tell me and I can arrange it for you."

Without a word, Preeyah takes the paper and writes down sentences that she never thought she'd ever put into words. Her hand shakes as she writes, letting the anticipation and desire flow through to her hand.

---

## The Restaurant

A few weeks later, Preeyah takes the rising elevator to the surface for the second time. The cold ash does nothing to cool the embers of her desire and the coming encounter she so meticulously explained to Omar, the Mediator. Old paper, she finds, is the best way to keep things secret and anonymous as the maroon niqab dotted with small yellow flowers that she wears.

As she walks, she puts the burner visor over her eyes as she walks, allowing the orange letters of the mediator's instructions to display along the neon streets of Cairo.

*'He will meet you at the crowded Bab Al Qasr restaurant in the Royal Maxim Palace Kempinski Hotel by the Cairo Airport. When you arrive and ask for your reservation, give them the name "Uhija".'*

The Royal Maxim Palace is a well known tourist spot and used to be heavy with traffic back in its day. Now, slightly understaffed and clinging onto better days, the hotel has the feel of yesterday's opulence.

She sees it on the scuffed marble floor still polished to a fine glisten. The chandelier is a modern fixture of holographic neons that trace white and yellow lights across the old wooden tables and faded white pillars lined with fake gold. She marches through the throngs of colorful jalabays and dark suits to the elevator to the restaurant floor.

Preeyah walks through the elevator doors to a room with glimmering LED brick arches and a traditional turkish blue and white mosaic on the floor. As she approaches the host, she scans the white table clothes with people sitting in maroon satin chairs that match her dress.

A host with a ratty tuxedo and green implants in his eyes greets her.

"Name for the reservation?" he asks.

"Uhija," she says.

He takes a menu and they snake through the restaurant to the table.

As they do, she lets the instructions of the mediator scroll through her burner HUD one more time before her eyes lay upon the man at the two person table.

*'As you've requested, I've found a man meeting the description that you desire. A man with a very dark complexion of African descent. Much larger than you in stature that can easily overpower you in both physicality, endowment, and in demeanor. This man shares the same fantasy as you and has agreed to operate with consent and under the rules of safety.'*

Preeyah feels the adrenaline hit her mind and slows the world around her as the host pulls out the seat for her.

Uhija is a stunning image of a man that fits exactly into the fantasy she's played in her mind. As he stands, his black suit is high in the shoulders and encompasses her entire view. His smile is white as gold and his eyes dark as her desire. When he greets her, his voice is traced with such a low vibration she can practically feel it in the thin panties she wears. When they sit, she accidentally grazes her foot against his.

*My god he must be massive under there*, she thinks, trying to keep her focus on the coming conversation.

"I've taken the liberty to order for you," he says. His accent is Nigerian and his Arabic is perfect. She nods as the waiters bring a plate of organic quinoa goat cheese salad and Japanese poke. The conversation moves past small talk very quickly.

"You don't come up to the surface very often, eh? Why?" he asks.

"It's dangerous up here," Preeyah responds.

"Come now! A beautiful woman such as yourself? You must be escorted about the streets like a princess. You have nothing to fear," he says.

"But I must protect my sanctity. There's not many people today that honor such things."

"You're right. There aren't," he says with a low voice as he smiles.

Preeyah tightens her grip on the chair with her gloves as she twists her legs together. The smoothness of his voice makes her wet just thinking about how he's playing into the character they set out. She remembers the instructions of Omar as their appetizers are removed and dinner is served.

*'As per your wishes, Uhija will become more forward and more aggressive the more the date carries on. He will ask more personal questions. More uncomfortable topics that, as you say, you will give signs of wanting to escape.'*

"I'm sure you are not as pious as you lead on," he says as they begin their dinner.

Preeyah squirms with delight at the thought of him poking at her vanilla bedlife with her husband. She scoffs playfully under her niqab.

"Oh rude of you," she says.

"Come now. You must have some fun down there in the lower tubes, yes?"

"I'm a very proper woman," she shoots back.

"I doubt that. You must have a dirty secret in the bedroom with your husband. Tell me," he demands.

Preeyah squirms in her seat, enjoying how he prys at her.

*I hope he's this prying in the bedroom. God knows I need to be broken open*, she thinks.

"That's not for your ears," she says, egging him on.

"He only does missionary, doesn't he?"

Preeyah adjusts her niqab over her face and diverts her eyes.

*That's true*, she thinks.

"You're being so rude," Preeyah says.

"Bet he's not rude like this in the bedroom. He's probably so soft you don't even feel it when he goes inside you."

Never hearing such things before, the statement makes Preeyah both excited and revolted at the same time. Her body shakes and her legs cannot hide their shaking as they do nothing to keep back the drop of wetness in her pussy.

She stands, ready for the encounter and ready for him to be...

...Rude, with her.

"I've had enough of this," she says, standing and making her chair scoot against the mosaic floor. She starts stomping off to the elevators.

She hears Uhija get up from the table and follow after her. The adrenaline dumps into her system as the words of the mediator flash on her burner HUD.

*'As part of your price, the room upstairs is included. When you enter the elevator, ensure that you give him enough time to intercept you and get in. At that point, your forced sex scene will begin.'*

Preeyah presses the button to the elevator and feels herself catching her breath. She stammers, scared and excited all at the same time.

The doors open and she goes to step inside.

Then she feels a large hand on the back of her neck forcing her in.

And the doors close.

The dinner of her darkest night begins.

## The Drinks - A Kiss of Saffron

*'Safety and consent during scenes is a priority for us and our clients. This ring is part of your safety. Wearing it will give us your location as well as signal your consent. The moment the ring comes off, you no longer consent and the scene is over. This is your main safety option and is important, as you have expressed that resisting and saying "no," in this context, does not mean no.'*

Preeyah is pushed against the wall and she turns around. A large hand rips off her facial covering, revealing her made up face with heavily painted eyes. The exposure of her face above ground sends sparks in her mind at the feeling of being unmasked by surprise.

As he does this, Preeyah is in shock and has no time to respond with any words as his large hand makes its way around her neck, choking off her scream.

"I knew you were a pretty slut under there. I could see it in your eyes," says.

Preeyah tries to resist by giving a weak strike, but he catches her hand easily and presses it above her head.

Uhija interlaces his fingers with hers and she feels the ring as he holds her tight. Then he lets go, just leaving her fingers free and presses her wrist instead.

Preeyah notices this for just a moment, just as he moves his hand up to her chin and presses down, forcing her mouth open. He kisses her, shooting his tongue into her so that she feels it jam right into hers. He tastes like sweet oil and smells like old saffron and ginseng. She mixes her tongue with his trying to press him away but mels into his body as he presses his massive torso into her, enveloping her against the wall. She starts to moan in protest, wiggling and trying to move away from him.

But it just makes him more aggressive, more excited, and makes him kiss her with more vigor.

His large hand runs down her front, feeling the shape of her body and breasts over her niqab as she tries to wiggle away. But she continues to melt under his touch, feeling powerless as his hand commits reconnaissance for his later use.

The elevator opens at one of the top floors and Preeyah feels herself being grabbed by the hips with his hands. Her feet leave the ground as her high heels almost fall off with the force. She sees her vision suddenly tip toward the elevator floor and spin around as her stomach goes over his shoulder. Uhija carries her out with one strong arm clamping her legs, preventing her from even thinking of kicking.

*My god, she thinks, this is better than I ever dreamed.*

---

## The Appetizer - Dragging Down the Hallway

Preeyah begins to struggle, hitting him on his large back to no avail.

"Let go of me you pig!" she says as forcefully as she can.

But as Uhija takes a left down the taupe colored hallway, a firm hand comes crashing down on her ass with a loud spank.

Preeyah moans in pain and pleasure, trying to push off his back as he marches down the hall.

Another spank comes. The sting sends vibrations through her body despite the cloth over her. Every time she struggles, a harder spank comes down on her.

"Keep struggling. I like it that way. Your ass is going to be sore before I throw you on the bed and use my belt," he threatens.

The way he says it makes Preeyah become more wet than she already is. More spanks over her jalabiya come with almost every step, beating her like a drum as he makes his way to the end of the hall.

By the time they reach the room, she can feel the heat emanating off her ass and the fight and strength in her already have gone, ready to give in to her arranged fate.

He drops her to her feet and her knees nearly buckle her to the floor. But he grabs her by the top of her head, stringing his large fingers through her dark hair and taking a firm grip. She grasps onto him, trying to pry his hand away.

But he easily holds her as he slides his key card through the door and thrusts her into the room with one hand. She stumbles through the dark corridor of the room and trips over her dress, falling to her side onto the carpet. She turns around to see his silhouette against the light as the door closes.

She hears the bolt lock of the door.

And then, the sound of his belt being undone.

---

## Preeyah's First Course - Ujahs Dessert

Preeyah crawls backward and away from Uhija, feeling through the dark as she feels his presence move forward.

"Don't! Please!" she pleads with him.

But he stands over her and places the belt around her neck. He pulls it tight and she feels the choking sensation immediately with his force.

The tug brings her to her knees and a hand goes to her chin. She feels him squatting down to her level.

"Time for you to get treated like a rude slut, just like you were rude to me at dinner. Now, open your mouth for dessert," he says.

The firmness of his hold on her makes the last of her fight leave her. The submissive side of her comes out, knowing that she wants this final release. The rough treatment of her dreams, letting go of any inhibition about propriety or sanctity that she constantly must have around her husband.

She's ready.

She stops resisting against him and gives into his force. She feels his stance change as she does.

"Open your mouth and stick your tongue out," he commands.

She complies.

And then she tastes him for the first time. She inhales in shock at his size. His cock engulfs her entire mouth as it jams into her. She wants to pull back, but he pulls the belt into himself at the same time. She moans in surprise and it makes him moan back.

As he withdraws, she can feel her spit follow him. Preeyah takes a deep breath and looks up at him, her eyes now adjusted to the dark.

He looks down at her as he takes another fist full of her hair. He bends down and spits on her. She moans with surprise, closing her eyes, just as the big black cock goes right back into her mouth. He begins to slowly face fuck her, making her take his member further and further down her throat. She remembers to relax, wanting to take as much as possible to please him and ensure that his roughness translates to both her pleasure and his at the same time.

"Such a good rude slut. I bet your husband doesn't do it to you like this," he says between fucking her face.

She feels spit start to stream down her chin and mouth as he repositions the belt. Everytime he forces her forward, she chokes on the belt and his cock at the same time. The breath play sensation makes her so horny she becomes woosy.

"You like my big black cock for dessert?" he asks her.

Preeyah looks up into his eyes and nods and moans in the affirmative. He withdraws and slackens the belt.

"Yes!" she says. "Please forgive me for being such a rude slut. Please!" she says.

Before she can say more, she feels his large hands under her arms and brings her to her feet. He lowers his hands down below her jalabiya and lifts it clean off in one fell swoop. He then throws her onto the bed.

The dim lights come on as she comes up on her hands and knees, seeing his face change to surprise as he looks upon her.

The transparent lace bra and crotchless teddy across her luscious deep body has only graced her smooth since one before. On her wedding night with her husband. And now, before her giant big black cock of her dreams.

Uhija smiles as he takes off his coat and dress shirt, revealing a set of muscles fit to be his own army. He begins to stroke himself as he lets his eyes feast upon the last course of his meal for the evening. Preeyah pants as she watches him.

"You're going to like how hard I fuck you. I guarantee it," he says.

## Uhija First Course - A Glazed Pussy

Uhija comes onto the bed as Preeyah claws at the sheets to try and get away. He pulls her ankle, bringing him before her. A firm hand goes over her neck, pinning her to the bed. His large frame makes it in between her legs, holding her open with his shoulders.