The Crusader: Crescent DaughterbyBelle_in_south©
In her father's house, she had known her place. As the oldest daughter of her father's first wife, she had enjoyed a position of privilege in Basil al-Zafir's house. Among her sisters, she was Basil's favorite. He called on her service when he entertained merchants and leaders from other clans. She moved silently among the reclining men, keeping their glasses filled with sweet drink as they discussed business and treaties with her father. She listened the whole time and the men would talk freely. After all, she was a Muslim woman. She was seen and heard only when her father acknowledged her.
They didn't see her until her father called for her to dance. She hypnotized her father's associates with her swaying hips. They fell into the deep pools of her dark eyes peeking above her veil. Her thick mane of black hair swayed the opposite direction of her body, the entire performance mesmerizing the audience until they were willing to bend to her father's wishes.
A dance had led her away from her father's home to the house of the Marid al-Kasim. Marid was older than Rida Zafir, but he was in love with Basil's daughter. He made many trips to Basil's courtyard, always asking for a dance from Rida before he left. He was always a gentleman and had earned her father's trust. When Marid had offered a hefty sum to marry Rida, Basil had accepted it. Rida had joined Marid's caravan home without questioning her father's decision.
Rida had known her place in her husband's house. She was not Marid's first wife, and the other woman resented the younger, beautiful girl. She danced for Marid's guests and for her husband in private. She bore the hateful insults of Marid's first wife and obeyed the woman's commands. She endured the leering stares of Thabit, Marid's oldest son, confident he would not dishonor his father by acting on his lust.
Marid enjoyed his new wife's intelligence and wit. He sought her counsel. She knew she pleased her husband because she was often invited to his chambers at night. He was gentle and tender in the bedroom. She accepted her position in his household without complaint even when she missed her father.
The raucous laughter floating down the hall from the great room pulled Rida from her memories of her father's home. The laughter meant the period of mourning was over for Thabit and his brothers. She had been barred in her chamber since Marid's body had been found. Only the arrival of a servant girl bearing a tray of meager rations had marked the passing of days for the young woman. She went to the door and pressed her ear against the wood, straining to hear the cause of the laughter. She could hear distant mumbling but could not make out any of the words.
She frowned and paced away from the door, chewing nervously on her finger as she peered out the small window. She looked across the olive trees to the distant desert. If she could get word to her father about Marid's death, then perhaps he would offer to repay the bridal price so that she could return home.
The voices in the hall grew louder and she turned nervously toward the door. Her trembling fingers reached for her veil. She heard the lock scrap and her fingers fumbled in an effort to cover her face before anyone other than her husband saw her without it. The heavy door thudded back and Thabit's broad form filled the entryway. His massive hand grabbed the veil and pulled it away. "You are my property now; there is no reason to hide your face."
Meekly she lowered her hands, allowing Thabit to circle her with leering, lustful scorn. Hatred radiated from him. She resisted the urge to cower as he leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear. "You enchanted my father. He was spellbound." He laid his hands on her shoulders and slid his palms slowly down her arms. He inhaled against her neck. "I am not as weak as my father. You'll not be able to weave your control over me." He grabbed her hips and pulled her backward, allowing her to feel his semi-hard manhood pressed against her.
"Please," she answered, her voice quivering as she fought tears. She swallowed hard, determined not to allow Thabit to break her. She could not finish her request.
Thabit was rocking back and forth, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. He pressed into her and pulled away, each forward movement revealing more of his stiffening root. "Please, what?" he growled in her ear.
Rida knew the request was useless. She could tell by his actions where his intentions toward her lay, but Thabit frightened her. She wanted to be as far away from him as she could get. "Send me back to my father. He'll return the bridal price, I'm sure."
His chuckle sent chills down her spine. She had known before he answered that he would say no, but she had to try to escape. "Perhaps I'll change your mind," he growled, spinning her to face him. She cried out in surprise as he gripped the material of her tunic and ripped it down the middle. Rida attempted to cover herself, but he slapped her hands away and gave her a shove. She sprawled on the floor, her dark eyes wide as she scuttled backwards. He reached down as she moved out of reach, grabbing the flimsy fabric of her billowing trousers. He yanked them from her body, lifting her hips from the ground with the force of his motion.
What was left of her clothing was in tatters as he advanced on her. He removed his robe without breaking his stride. She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to clear the blurred screen her unshed tears created. His shoulders were broad and his chest and arms defined by the outline of muscles. He reached down and grabbed her hair in his hand, pulling her to her knees and toward him. He tilted her head back as he took hold of his manhood with his free hand. He rubbed the swollen head against each of her cheeks and guided it over her lips. She resisted the impulse to shudder, fearing the wrath she felt boiling beneath his surface.
"This is how you controlled my father, wasn't it?" he snarled. "You made him ache for you, and then used that to manipulate him. Show me how you won my father's favor." When she did not respond to the order immediately, he pulled her hair and bellowed, "Show me!"
In surprise, Rida cried out. As soon as her mouth opened, he thrust his root forward. The head hit her throat and she convulsed. Thabit did not notice her discomfort, or didn't care, as he continued pushing until his heavy sac hit her chin. She struggled to breath and her eyes watered, but he did not give her an opportunity to recover or adjust. He placed his hands on the side of her head and began rocking his hips forward and back, sliding the thick phallus in and out of her throat. Her mouth was stretched around the hard shaft as he pushed faster, intent on his own pleasure.
Her tongue touched the underside of his staff as his thrusts became harder. Her lips dragged over the organ, increasing his sensitivity. Each time he lunged forward, he pulled her head toward him, attempting to drive himself deeper into her. She lost track of time as he continued his assault until he exploded into her throat. She gagged as he groaned loudly, emptying himself into her mouth.
He pulled out, a thin thread of sticky white trailing from the head of his now flaccid sex to her lips. He used the back of his hand to slap her. Spittle sprayed from her lips and his cum dribbled onto her chin. He narrowed his dark eyes and slapped her again before walking out of the room.
She crawled over to the chamber pot and threw up as soon as he was gone. "Throw away all of her clothing," she heard him order as he marched down the hallway. A moment later, one of his guards stepped into the room. The boy blushed and looked away as he hurried to complete his assigned task. Rida did not attempt to cover herself. She was too exhausted mentally and emotionally to care that she was exposed. The guard disappeared with the last of her garments and as she heard the heavy bar fall in place over the door, she realized that she would never return to her father's house. She would never be the favorite wife again. In Thabit Kasim's house, she knew her place.