Sahara Ch. 02


Hassan made his way though the dimly lit streets towards the market place. More and more people started to throng the streets, haggling for the late night entertainment from the sellers and foreigners mingled there. The narrow streets were stifling with the day's heat emanating from the sand covered walls. He pushed past the groups of chattering women draped in their black garb, hiding whatever assets they might have from the world around them. The darker shade of the house came into view as the alley opened out into the crowded square. The smells of various foods and the people around him assaulted his senses as he crossed through the throng of people towards his goal.

He pushed aside the heavy beads that veiled the arched doorway into the darkened house. The entryway was illuminated only be a few oil lamps high on the side of the wall. The narrow corridor had many doors leading off of it, though all but one was closed. A thin fraction of light speared the floor of the darkened corridor. Incense hung thick in the air like a bride's veil waiting to be parted as he walked towards the light. Hassan had been here many times before and did not need to look at the doors as he passed, many had lights shining beneath them and the sound of muffled voices penetrated their wooden separators. He did not bother to knock on the door but pushed it quietly aside. The room was bathed in a warm amber glow from the various glass lamps around the room. The light gleamed off the various gilded surfaces of tables and the ornate bed posts. Barely a surface was uncovered from an opulence of rich colour and gold.

The focus of the room was the bed. It stood on a raised dais and was draped with a deep burnt orange gauze. Voluptuous carved figures entwined around the gilded posts were engrossed in various acts of debauchery. As Hassan neared the dais he could see the shape of the body that lay within. A thick dark mane of curls spread out across the various pillows and cascaded over the edge of the bed. Her breathing was deep indicating that she was unaware of his presence. Hassan stood taking in the scene. Bahira had always instilled a strong sense of yearning within him, and despite her ample customers she was always available for him. He remembered the first time he had seen her when one of his older brothers had brought him to the very same house to help him "become a man". He had been too young to understand what he had meant despite it had barely been two years ago.

Bahira shifted her weight on the bed, and one of her breasts spilled out of her gown. Her dark eastern skin seemed luminescent in the light, punctuated by the dark chocolate colour of her areola. Hassan pulled his jelaba over his head and removed his feet from his sandals. He stood and waited in case she awoke at his movement. His hand found its way to his growing erection, and he stroked it to bring it to its full potential. Hassan felt a moan escape his lips and he saw Bahira's eyes flicker under her eyelids. Her eyes looked at him with a glazed look of one who is still partly asleep. Their deep amber colour seemed be glowing with a liquid fire reflected from the soft light of the lamps. She rolled over and gazed up at him from under her thick dark lashes. Her seemingly innocent guise made her all the more alluring, though Hassan was fully aware of the seductress she truly was.

He parted the curtains and he felt the bed sinking with his weight as he sat beside her. Her legs curled around his back and he could feel their warmth through the silk of her simple attire. Hassan stroked one hand up her leg feeling her supple skin under her gown as she gazed at him from under hooded lids. Bahira always exuded a certain grace, and Hassan often forgot that he wasn't the only one enjoying her talents. She opened her arms to greet him as he bent to kiss her. Their tongues massaged each other and she pushed back at him with an equal passion to any he had known. Her fervour and assertiveness was refreshing after Xanthe's timidity. Hassan felt his desire strengthening for her as their heated kiss continued. Bahira's arms snaked around his neck and pulled him closer to her. He could feel her firm breasts against his chest as she pressed herself against him. Her warmth was making it clear to him that she was thoroughly available to his every desire.

Hassan was becoming impatient with her, he was here to satisfy a need that Xanthe's short interlude had failed to quench. Finally his temper was starting to flare and he shoved her hard back onto the bed. Her eyes were a little perplexed but she was no stranger to his rougher side, and she knew what it was he wanted. Bahira sat up and slowly slid her gown over her head. She handed him a white scarf that was tied around the nearest bed post, she was well aware what he wanted. Hassan grabbed her wrists and tied them to the bedpost. He had been patient enough for one evening and he knew that as always Bahira was going to be very accommodating to his needs. Bahira knelt on the bed and opened her legs enough to accommodate him. Obviously he hadn't had a good day, Hassan wasn't normally in such a hurry. He brought himself up from behind her, he loved the feeling of having such power over a woman, especially one like Bahira that he could just use. Without further ado he thrust himself into her. Hassan savoured the feeling of how tight she felt. Xanthe seemed so pointless at this point. He tightened his grip on her hips and admired the smooth round globes of her shapely behind as he began to thrust harder and harder into her. It was almost a release to feel able to express his aggression.

Hassan could feel his balls slapping against her, and when she moaned he knew it wasn't just practice. Each time he thrust into her they smacked against her engorged and tender clit sending a bolt through her, and making her muscles contract even harder around him as he thrust. He finally couldn't contain himself anymore and with a grunt he felt his seed flowing into her contracting orifice. Hassan fell back onto the bed feeling far more sated than he had in days. Bahira turned towards him and sighed loudly. She wore a look of total feigned innocence that clashed with her flushed cheeks. Without a doubt she was totally unsatisfied by the experience.

"Hassan habibi, please can you untie me, my wrists are sore."

He looked at her with contempt. He wanted to rest and relax himself properly without being bothered by a woman. She should know her place to hold her tongue like the whore she was paid to be. Slowly he pulled himself up to the edge of the bed and took her chin in his hand.

"I will do what I like with you. That is what you are here for!"

Hassan saw his hand smack across her face before the sound registered. He often hit her and he knew she was used to it but he knew she preferred him not to touch her face because it was all that was visible to the world when she plied her trade outside. He grabbed her wrists and wrenched them away from the post. His anger had flared up so that he saw nothing around him but Bahira. Her eyes were wide and to someone who wasn't in a fit of range they would have seen she was terrified of Hassan. He held her arms above her head and her feet barely touched the floor. She whimpered and he smacked her again.

"You are nothing! You worthless little creature. I don't pay you to cry and complain."

Bahira was crying openly now, she had never seen Hassan so mad and she attempted to hold back a sob. He struck her twice more. His breathing was ragged and fast and he looked at her reddened face. A small trickle of blood dripped from her nose and he threw her down on the bed. She made no sound or movement but just lay there. He realized that the anger had left its mark on him too and his erection had reappeared. Hassan had no trouble with the woman being unconscious to do what was needed. In fact he was going to teach the piece of meat a lesson tonight. To respect a man like she was paid to do. He was not an amateur in many ways but he failed to show how little he had practiced this exercise. He rolled Bahira over on her stomach and hoisted her legs up so that her still rouged parts were visible to the world around. Hassan then took his fingers and inserted them into her still warm and wet hole, then smeared the mixture of his seed an her juices over her limp behind. Only once had she let him do this before because he knew it caused her some pain. But it was pain he wanted to cause her now, pain and satisfaction that she was submissive to him.

He slid his fingers over her, admiring the taught brown skin around her ass, and then slowly slid it inside. She gave no resistance at all but lay there as she had before. He needed no reason to care if she awoke or not. Hassan worked his finger inside her, widening her so he could fit inside. He smeared more juices over her and the act of this was driving him crazy. He wanted to posses her and the waiting was making the need ever greater. Hassan carried on though because he knew it could not work if he did not make her somewhat loose. The fact that Bahira did not move or speak showed him that he had won and she would do anything. Her eyes were still closed and her face was beginning to show a puffy redness where he had struck her, but he cared not what her face looked like at that moment. He drew himself up to her and while he was working his fingers in her ass slid himself into her wet quivering flesh. Her lack of resistance was beginning to bother him, he wanted a fight out of her and he wanted to win. The warm flesh enveloping him seemed to quiver with anticipation. She shuddered as he withdrew his wet cock from her and prepared to reenter her. He positioned himself above her and began to push gently. Hassan groaned as he felt the head slip inside her ass. He remembered how much he enjoyed her darker side now and why she only allowed this on special occasions.

He pushed further inside her, relishing the feeling of her tight flesh sucking him in. He continued to daub himself with her fluids, aiding in his entrance. Bahira stirred beneath him and he heard her moan. Whether it was pleasure or just her awakening was immaterial to Hassan now. He had what he wanted and he began his strokes slowly so he did not ruin her before he had finished. She tried to sit up but he pinned her shoulders down onto the bed. As she struggled to try again he started to increase the speed of his thrusts. He felt exhilarated at humiliating her like this, of taking everything she could offer and giving her nothing in return. He heard her moan again but this time he heard the pain in her voice and it made his desire spike even more. Harder and deeper than before he drove into her and he heard her sob loudly. He enjoyed the feeling of her bucking against him, trying to escape his impalement, seeking respite from the assault and finding none. She clawed at the bedspread trying to find something to pull herself away. Her sobs racked her body as she pleaded with him to stop. Hassan heard her, he stopped. His breath was as ragged as hers and he grinned down at her as he felt her continue to struggle beneath him. The feeling of her clenching her muscles around him and trying to slip him out made him go crazy.

He had no intention of withdrawing from her, but he let her escape a little. Just enough to increase her struggle and think she was winning. Then he grabbed her shoulder again and with one swift thrust drove himself to the hilt inside her. Bahira screamed. He grabbed her head and wrenched it back covering his mouth with his free hand as she squirmed and sobbed underneath his harsh onslaught. The rush he was feeling was more exhilarating than any he had ever known with a woman, the deliciousness of her futile struggle made her so much more appealing than when she was willing. He continued to pump into her and he could feel her insides becoming raw and strained. The tightness of her seldom frequented area was so much better than her over used pussy because he knew that he was the only one who could have this. He felt himself coming to his peak and he thrust harder and faster into her. His strokes became a blur with the smacking of his flesh into hers as he pinned her to the bed drowning out her sobs and protests. Hassan heard a deep cry welling up within him and he released it as he came into her. He continued to push into her until he was finished. She had stopped struggling but was crying openly on the bed. He savored the feeling of his own fluids swirling around him as he began to grow limp inside her.

"Never forget that I am a man and that makes me a master. Whores are owned by the men who pay them, and for now I own you. You belong to me. So I can do whatever I want with my property and no one will care."

She tried to stifle a sob as she gazed at him. Her tear stained face was streaked with the kohl from her makeup and had begun to swell from his earlier onslaught. She dared not move incase she provoked him further but vehemently wished he would leave. Bahira vowed never to allow him near her again. Hassan had broken her spirit and she could never forgive him for that. She felt used, betrayed and filthy. To him she was nothing more than a possession, an object for his entertainment. Bahira would have her revenge, she just had to find how she could hurt and humiliate him like he had done to her. He felt her shudder as he finally withdrew. Her raw and bruised flesh sucked at him as he slid himself out. Hassan retrieved his sandals from under the bed and dressed himself. As he walked out the door into the hallway he threw some notes onto the table. After all she has been fairly accommodating to his needs that evening and he did not want her attitude to alter next time he visited.

As he passed down the corridor most of the lights had gone from beneath the doors. One of the torches guttered and died as he passed. Hassan stood in the doorway gazing out over the rapidly emptying market square. The sellers were closing up for the evening and people were returning to their homes. The smell of food that had seemed so inviting earlier was now stale and sickening. Many of the sellers had already packed up, and their darkened stalls seemed to mock him for having to prove so much to someone who deserved so little. He could no longer hear Bahira's sobs. He stepped out onto the steps debating where to go next and deciding that he should head home. His mother would worry if he did not appear for breakfast before prayers in the morning, and besides he had to be at work so that Xanthe could come running like the little puppy that she was. Yes he would enjoy doing the same to her, breaking her naive and demure countenance, showing her what women should be and exposing her for the harlot he knew she was inside.

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