The Sheik & the Slave Ch. 05byNicola_Italia1©
Bashasha lowered her head quietly and waited for the great Sheik to speak. She had been summoned before him and prayed to Allah that neither she, her girls nor anyone under her command had angered him.
“Praise be to Allah, great Sheik. I am yours to command.” She spoke, head lowered waiting for the young man’s reply.
Mohammed watched the older woman in a compliant position and smiled fondly. She had always been a figure in the household. As a young girl, she had been a lowly servant in the kitchens. Then as she aged, she had become a supervisor of the young maids and servants. Then as she became older still – she had been given the supervisor position of the Harem. It was a great honor that required skill in keeping the women happy and from bickering and always demanding the Sheik’s pleasure above all else.
“Dear, Bashasha. You served my father before me.”
“And you have done your duty well.”
“Thank you, sire.”
“I have a banquet to attend tonight. You have of course readied the women for entertainment later, but I require a special addition tonight.”
“Of course, sire.”
Mohammed stood up and his long white robes flowed about him. His height was impressive and Bashasha had always considered him a handsome man. His father had been known for his good looks – but Mohammed’s mother had been a great Egyptian beauty and he had inherited her dark bronzed skin and flashing liquid eyes.
“This banquet tonight is for the people of the village and tribe but it is also business. These gentlemen have come from far away to deal with me and to discuss the spices and oil that are abundant here. I require a different manner of business tonight.” He walked across the floor in front of Bashasha pacing.
Bashasha bowed her head as she listened intently.
“These men know our ways -but they are foreign to them. Someone who knows their language and ways would put them at ease and make the business transaction go smoother.”
Bashasha nodded. He was a wise man indeed.
“Therefore,” He stopped before the older woman and she met his eyes, “I would like the Princess bathed and ready tonight.”
“Yas – “ She was about to question his intent – sure that Yasmeen would not be at all suitable when she realized that he was not speaking about her.
“Of course, sire. She will be ready.”
“I would like her attired in the traditional Arab gown but no veil. That would be suitable if only Arabs were attending but these foreign men would find it uncomfortable and strange.”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“I would like her attired in a silver gown and have her hair unbound. I do not like her hair bound up. It is not to my liking.”
Bashasha swallowed nervously. She watched the way the Sheik spoke of Kat and it frightened her. He had never lain with her – she knew that much from the gossip. And yet, he acted as if he had tasted her and could not get enough.
His desire for her was so evident and it scared her. Where would this lead? Certainly she had considered that the stranger would get under his skin. No one had ever seen a woman that looked as Kat did with her milky skin, golden hair and Arabian sea eyes. But Bashasha had considered that once Kat’s blood had stained the Sheik’s bed she would be mistress over the Harem.
Never ever had she considered that the white girl would rule over them all. And the look in his eyes – she had never seen. The burning intensity of raw desire made her shake. It was a fire that would consume them all.
She knew the law as well as any Arab that he was allowed four wives, but a stranger? No, it had never been considered!
Mohammed’s father had had three wives and many more concubines than his son but never had they been white women from the far away land.
“Thank you, Bashasha. Send me Farasha.” He waved her away and she went quickly down the hall to the far wing where the Harem was.
Bashasha entered the Harem. “Send me Kat. And send Farasha to the Sheik.” She told the older Eunuch as he scurried to her bidding.
Mohammed waited for the young girl. He wanted to feel the Princess’ pussy surround his cock and constrict and tighten as he claimed her. Until then – he wanted no one else in this manner so he had summoned Farasha.
Farasha was his concubine who preferred sex like a dog. She was a concubine from Morocco with dark skin, small breasts and hips and long black hair.
“My lord.” She walked into the room always proud and sure but always understanding her place. She pleased him.
She was quiet, rarely spoke and always remained dutiful. She had been exchanged by her village for her brother. There had been a war and the Sheik had supported one side. Farasha had been raped and her brother captured. Her family had wanted her brother returned at all costs and had exchanged their lowly daughter for their beloved son.
She had had sex with Mohammed’s father vaginally but had been just of an age to not understand any other kind. A visiting Sheik who enjoyed young boys had taken her to bed one cold night. Because Farasha was slender and almost boy-like in her body appearance he had preferred her. He had wanted a young boy to sleep with – but the Sheik had no one.
It was during that night that Farasha had been initiated into anal sex. The dignitary had been a large rotund man with his belly almost covering his fat sex. But he enjoyed Farasha’s squirming and cries and by the end of the night – she realized that she enjoyed his cock inside her ass.
Since then, Farasha was one of the only Harem women who enjoyed and lusted after his cock in her ass. She prepared for anal sex by cleaning herself out and though he could have forced any of the women to submit to his cock anywhere – he preferred not to.
He was a man who liked his women happy and sated and he preferred those that liked what they did.
Farasha bowed lowly before him.
“Yes, Bashasha?” Kat came before her sitting on her maroon pillows.
“The Sheik has asked for you to attend him tonight.”
Kat’s heart leaped until she realized it was the banquet she was referring to.
“Yes, he has already told me.”
“Then I will send you to be bathed and readied. I am having your dress made.”
Kat nodded and followed the Eunuch to the public bath.
He motioned her forward and she was already creaming at the thought of his cock inside her ass. She had been miserable because he hadn’t called her. He hadn’t called anyone but she knew he had affairs of state and other issues at hand.
“Lie down.” She did as she was summoned and noted the pillows beneath her hips for easier access to his cock.
“My lord.” She immediately did his bidding and lay before him.
Mohammed watched as she lay before him arching her small ass into the air. She was delicious and biddable as a woman who knew her place and kept it.
He moved his robe up and his cock was hard and aching. He needed this release. He didn’t want to go to the banquet this evening thinking of the little cocktease that threatened his sanity.
He positioned his cock between her ass cheeks and she sighed and jerked her head up moaning.
“Please, my lord.” Her hands clutched the pillow beneath her small breasts and she arched back.
He spread her cheeks apart and saw she was clean and oiled. She was the perfect concubine. Ready and willing to please him. He smiled.
His knees pressed her slim thighs apart as her ass popped into the air and her head remained down. She grabbed the pillow harder and allowed him to position her as needed.
He stroked her slim globes as her ass remained at his ready. His fingers slipped into her tight pussy and then into her tight hole. She was ready for him. Her pussy was dripping her juices and her ass hole puckered and waiting.
“Please, my lord. Please.” She moaned into the pillow trying not to move her hips around, though she wanted to.
He smiled as his cock’s bulbous head touched into the ass hole so small and tight.
She jerked up in reflex. She wanted his cock but she had waited so long and was so hungry for it.
He steadied her hips with his large hands and let her set a rhythm that soothed them both.
“Oh, sire. Harder. Please.” She begged him in the quiet room almost sobbing the last word. She needed him and the release – she had been so long without it.
He smiled again as she arched like a sated cat and his cock slipped deeper into her tight ass.
She groaned and slapped her ass against his hips.
“Harder, sire. I beg you.” Her words breathless and with need and she jerked her hips into his grinding them.
The room was quiet except for the sounds of flesh slapping flesh and the moaning of Farasha. Mohammed grunted but with short bursts of air coming from his chest. He wanted the little Princess as this girl was now. But she would not come to him and he would not rape her so this release was needed.
“Uh.” He grunted once and she reached behind and fingered her small naked clit. Her climax was close and Mohammed waited until he could feel her body shake and he pulled out spilling his cream first onto her ass and then into his palm. He wiped them both clean with a small towel.
“Thank you, sire.” She turned quietly, dressed and left him alone.
Kat bathed in silence. She watched the others giggle and chat but remained alone.
“Where are you going today, slave?” Yasmeen sauntered into the bathhouse confident and regal.
“A banquet. That is all I know.” She cringed. The little vindictive witch would get her for good now.
“Indeed? Bashasha!” Yasmeen cried stalking through the bathhouse looking for the older woman.
“Yes, my lady.” She came rounding the corner looking at the beautiful lady.
“What lies do I hear tell from this upstart slave? A banquet? Attending my husband?” Her dark eyes glared at the lovely foreign woman in the water.
“Yes, my lady. To attend the foreigners for she knows the language.”
“Ah.” Yasmeen settled down. “A translator. See you little bitch?” She hissed in Kat’s ear as she walked back to her where no one could hear.
“You are a slave still and always will be. A translator. Little more than a laundry maid.” She walked closer to Kat in the bath and kneeled down to her.
“You can eat my husband’s cock a thousand times as these sluts do and you’ll never be anything more than a cheap little whore. He’ll sell your body to the highest bidder once he’s tired of your cunt and taste.”
Yasmeen walked away from the Harem women but Kat remained still in the water. If she submitted to him, she would become a whore. He would give himself to everyone empting his cream into all these women and she would become nothing to him. Her body would become used and loose and she would be given to other men to enjoy and take. This would become her life if she submitted. She said a prayer to god hoping that someone at the banquet would be a fellow Englishman and carrier a message home for her.
Bashasha waved the women away from Kat’s body as she stood before her naked. Bashasha smiled. It was no wonder that the Sheik was taken with her. She had a slim body that was appealing but she was also feminine and curvy which was a mouth-watering combination. She had long silky legs the color of cream with a small waist and high, young breasts. She would have to suckle many sons before they became saggy and old, thought Bashasha enviously.
The Eastern province of Saudi Arabia had a specific form of clothing. It was a long gown with enormous sleeves that fell to the wrists. The bodice was fitted but not tight and the gown itself fell around the hips and legs but did not reveal anything. This was the cut of gown that had been made for Kat. As she slipped it on she felt pleased for the first time in months that she wore a similar gown to the West. It covered her completely and her breasts and vagina were not there for any man least of all the Sheik to view. She was satisfied. Although she was allowed no undergarments – the dress provided support for her breasts and she was well covered so felt no need for any other undergarments.
The Majlis – reception room – where the meal was taken was a large room with carpets and cushions decorating the room. She had never been allowed entrance and it was colorful and spectacular. The meal would be taken sitting on the cushions. The foods were much the same as she had eaten. Grape leaves stuffed with rice, eggplant dip, rice, hummus, lamb and Arabic bread. Many men were already seated around the large room and Kat noticed the Sheik speaking with a few men at the far corner.
Fear gripped her stomach. The Sheik spoke English. Why did he want her here? Surely he would not want a lowly woman doing business with these important men? Why had he demanded her presence? Why? She was escorted by the Eunuch to another corner and smiled at an older gentleman as she was seated.
The Sheik had not yet noticed her and her hands shook. She accepted some wine and took a sip. It was warm and flavorful and she smiled again as the gentleman spoke to her in perfect French. Kat responded back and the nervousness ceased. Her was telling her of his younger days in Paris and his delight in a governess who never left him alone.
She laughed in delight at his humor and threw her head back exposing the long white column of her throat.
Mohammed jerked his head toward her in response and saw her laugh and then move her head as an excited mare. Her blonde golden hair fell around her and she looked beautiful. No, he thought. She looked perfect. Like a lovely painting frozen in time. Young, vibrant and alive. His jaw tightened as the foreign men admired her.
Kat had just finished her first glass of wine without realizing it when suddenly she and the French man were joined by a small, stocky man with a quizzing glass and cane. Kat’s heart thundered as he spoke in a perfectly clipped English accent.
“Good evening, my dear. You might not remember me but I remember you. It’s good to see you again, Lady Fairfax.” He bowed over her hand and kissed it lightly.
Oh dear god, Kat thought. She was going to be free at last!
Mohammed came across the room and joined her merry trio and before long she had been separated from the Englishman. She tried to remember his name as she spoke to another French man. She was sure he had been a friend of her father’s and she was quite certain he was an Earl.
She sipped her second glass of wine but still ate nothing. She was nervously thinking about how she could get a message to the man when she saw the Sheik watching her. Those dark eyes following her movements and watching her lips as she spoke - her fingers as she held the glass. She looked away and tried to follow the conversation with the French and Englishmen but inside she shook. The languages were no problem for her – but she felt warm and those eyes made her feel the liquid between her legs. She wanted him.
She tried to concentrate on her escape. How to get the message across? The men discussed business as the night wore on and besides the serving girls – she was the only woman at dinner.
Mohammed idly sipped on his wine and bit into a grape leaf as he listened to the men talk. He watched her with the men across the room and knew at home she must have been a consummated flirt. She had beauty, which a man could not turn away from – and the wit of an intellect. Yet she kept herself so aloof and untouchable that a man could not help but want her and chase her. Had he been a Lord or Earl in her far away land she probably would have led him on --- and who knew how it might have ended?
But such was not the case. She was there – he was here – and such was not the case at all. He wanted her. And the ending for them both would be his little Princess on her back and the next Sheik of Arabia deep in her belly.
Kat’s cheeks cooled at the night air touched them. Many of the visitors were heading off to their rooms having already picked a companion for the night. The Harem would be empty when she returned there. From the moon she knew it was probably close to midnight if not past and she watched the Frenchmen leave almost skipping down the steps to enjoy their night with the women.
Kat looked for the Englishmen from her past but she did not see him. The wind picked up behind her and brushed her hair across her mouth.
“Princess.” He stood beside her and his long fingers took the golden strands away.
”Yes?” She asked breathlessly. She felt light-headed and dizzy as she stood before him. The dinner was being cleared away and the coffee, which was an Arabian custom and specialty, served always at dinners.
“The last of the men are off tonight to enjoy the Harem women. I am tired myself. It has been a long day.”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“I will escort you to our room.” He took her arm and laced it with his.
Kat glanced up and almost jerked her arm away from him. “No – I don’t –“
But then she remembered. He had commanded her to be with him.
“Yes.” She spoke quietly in the dark as the stars filled the sky. They walked past the great water fountain and watched as the men began closing their doors and Kat heard laughter and from one room already the loud grunts and moans of sexual conquest.
She blushed in the dark.
“It is the way, Princess. Men and women. Women’s bodies were made to accept and allow us to come into them and leave our seed.”
“Not when they are unmarried.” Kat complained but she felt her head lighten and she began to feel warm and almost wanton. The sighs and moans excited her and made her pulse run. She could feel her thighs and her body became wet and warm. She could feel her juices begin. She knew her body was readying itself for the Sheik for when he would take her and claim her.
“Perhaps. But it is not natural to deny yourself. Laying with a man is a natural thing. A man’s body was made to fit into a woman. Thus Allah has made it so that we can give you our seed to bear our children. Your bodies are for us to give Allah sons.”
“So I’m unnatural?” Kat asked him. They had stopped outside one door and Kat could hear a woman’s cries of “Harder, harder.” She ground her teeth as she felt her juices pool into her and fall upon her thighs. She knew she wanted the Sheik but fought it.
“You are afraid. You are untried – a virgin. It is natural for you to be afraid but also natural for you to give yourself to a man. It is what your body was made for. You are made to receive pleasure -to give pleasure and then pain – the birth. Such is life.” His fingers caressed across her soft cheek and she blushed at his intimate contact.
They continued walking until they reached his suite of rooms with the pillows arranged, the lights low and the musky scents burning. They stepped inside and he closed and locked the door.
He turned to her and breathed in the scent of her hair.
“They have scented your hair with Patchouli and Jasmine.” He breathed again.
“Patchouli is my favorite. Bashasha knows this.” His hands drifted into her hair.
“Please.” She shook her head but she felt dizzy and stopped.
Mohammed took a strand of the golden tress and lifted it to his lips. Kat tried to look away but could only feel the lightness of her body, the warmth of the man in front of her and the continued drizzle of her wet juices upon her upper thighs.
“What did you tell the Englishman?” He asked her sharply.
Kat stopped suddenly. “Nothing.”
“He knows you. I saw his look upon you.”
“No. You’re mistaken.” She shook her head.
“Yes.” He led her to the cushions and fabric of sheets upon which he slept.
“No.” She shook her head as he eased her to sit beside him – her legs still bent at the knees.
“Who is this man?” He asked softly. He took the hem of her dress and edged it up to her ankles.
“I don’t know.” Kat watched his hands as they moved against her skin.
“You do. Tell me. I will not be angry.” His brown eyes bore into hers.