The Sheik and the Slave

by Italia, Nicola

  "I truly don't." Katharine said, as she handed a vibrant orange silk blanket to Bashasha.

  "Farasha is the only women in the harem who enjoys anal sex."

  "Anal sex?"

  "Sex in the bottom."

  "Oh," Katharine answered, turning pink at the mention of it. "So?"

  "Well, I assume that because the sheik cannot have the woman he wants above all else, then no one else will do. So sex with Farasha will suffice."

  Katharine turned her large eyes to Bashasha and then turned away.

  "I see," Katharine said, resigned. But her heart thudded unnaturally as she thought of the sheik keeping himself from all but one of the women because he could not have her.

  Katharine resumed her harem duties, which included bathing but also helping Bashasha. Together, they performed small details such as counting blankets, sorting towels, and refilling essential oils. Bashasha had not seemed surprised at Katharine's return to her duties. She enjoyed her role as bather, especially since she spent long periods of time alone and did not see the sheik. Her Arabic had improved greatly, and Bashasha schooled her in the long afternoons and nights when their work was complete.

  Katharine relished her time alone and could be found walking in the small gardens connected to the harem. The gardens were filled with palm and date trees and lush plants, as well as two small fountains. Since the sun beat down upon the white buildings surrounding the garden, it grew very hot during the daytime, so she bound up her hair when she was able to walk quietly through the area.

  She explored the gardens alone in the afternoon when most of the household took to napping. One day, while exploring on her own, she walked through a curved doorway and heard someone coming toward her.

  "Hello?" she asked, and almost crashed into the sheik.

  "Princess," he said quietly. He stood with a book in his hand.

  "I didn't mean to disturb you," she told him. She watched him lay the book across the bench and stand before her.

  "You do disturb me," he said darkly. His eyes wandered over the length of her. He had seen her from afar on several occasions, but had kept his distance. When she was close like this and when he was alone with her, he wanted nothing more than to touch her. He wanted her underneath him, taking his cock inside her body.

  His fingers brushed across her collarbone and touched her neck. He couldn't stop himself.

  "Are you unwell?" she asked him, as her heartbeat sped faster at his touch. Why did he have to touch her? She could stand anything but his warmth upon her body. His fingers were like magic, warming her with his touch.

  "Yes," he said, as his fingers threaded into her hair, finding her ivory combs and pulling them out.

  "Don't," she said. She shook her head and his fingers tangled into her hair.

  He stood directly before her as he breathed in the jasmine sent of her silken tresses.

  "Why jasmine?" he asked, as his hands moved over her shoulders.

  "Because," she started to say something, but she couldn't finish. She couldn't tell him the reason.

  "Because?" he asked, his mouth touching her neck and his hand sliding down to her breasts.

  "Because you like it," she said, so quietly that he barely heard her.

  His mouth captured hers and his tongue delved into it again and again. She could feel his goatee rub against her soft skin. His hands moved down to her bottom to cup it and pull her into his hardened cock. He could feel his cock bounce at the closeness of her. Katharine could only feel as his hands wandered the length of her body and she became the woman he wanted. She was lost until he suddenly pushed her away from him.

  She stared up at his handsome, bronzed face and he looked back at her.

  "Keep your distance, princess. Lest you get raped again," he added. She saw him clench his jaw. Nervously, she turned and left him.

  Mohammed, Sheik of Arabia, stood in his small private garden holding the two small ivory combs tightly.

  ***

  Katharine's thoughts whirled around her. She had to leave this place. She was losing her sanity. Given half the chance, she would have begged the sheik to take her in the garden, not caring who could have been watching. She was mad! She was losing her mind in this palace, where no one back home knew she existed.

  Worse than her mind, she was giving into her lustful wants and desires with no promises of tomorrow. She wanted him and nothing else seemed to matter. Other men had wanted her in England, and she had never cared. She knew it was something about the sheik himself that made her want him. He was powerful and sensual and he looked at her as no other man had. It was a look that would consume and burn.

  She stumbled into the harem, not sure of her thoughts. It was so dark inside. Even with the low candles, she realized it was too dark. The last thing she remembered was something hitting her head as she fell to the floor.

  Yasmeen smiled as she tossed aside the large urn she had used to attack the girl.

  "Little whore. You made too many enemies," she said to Katharine’s helpless, limp figure on the floor. She watched as the two men bundled up the girl to take her away.

  Chapter 7

  The man looked at the young girl beneath hooded eyes. Fajer was well-known in Arabia and for all the wrong reasons. He was the man you turned to if you wanted something smuggled into Arabia, something smuggled out of Arabia, and anything else that was illegal or forbidden.

  His fingers dropped the greasy chicken leg back onto the plate and he brushed his hand idly on his round stomach. His girth was large and rotund after many years of easy living and having his underlings to do most of his dirty work. He owned a large estate on the edge of the sea and enjoyed his three concubines most of the time, but this was a matter he had to attend to himself.

  His fingers brushed the long, golden hair of the girl and she stared back. His dark hooded eyes took in her porcelain perfect face, lush feminine curves and blue eyes like the Arabian Sea.

  He could feel himself stirring. He was a short man with little hair on top of his head and too much hair everywhere else. He had never been a handsome man, even when he was young, but he made up for it with his cunning and devious ways.

  His chicken-stained fingers brushed into the girl’s hair again and he watched her struggle with the bonds that held her hands tightly behind her. So the stories were true. It had been rumored that the great sheik had been so taken with a foreign beauty that he had forsaken his concubines and wife and had become obsessed with the girl.

  Having seen her beauty before him, he didn’t doubt the stories or the obsession. His greasy fingers fingered the tight nipple through the abaya fabric and he smiled. She was a beauty. He would give the little bitch Yasmeen whatever she wanted as long as the foreign woman would taste his cock that evening.

  Katharine shook her head and tried to move away, but she couldn’t. She could feel the rope biting into her wrists that held her tightly bound. Her breasts were thrust forward and she wanted to cry out as the odious man that Yasmeen had taken her to touched her intimately. She struggled again, but they had put a cloth over her mouth.

  Katharine had been given a glass of water before the two men had tied her up and covered her mouth. She was truly at the mercy of the two men and the sheik’s wife.

  “My lord,” Yasmeen said as she stood to one side, watching the scene with amusement and disgust. She loathed Fajer.

  Fajer was a fat little fuck who had been born of a whore and a camel breeder. Growing up, he had never had more than a handful of riyals to his name. He had been a street urchin, then a hoodlum of the streets, and then a mercenary. Slowly, he had built himself a house of gold from his evil doings. Yasmeen must have been crazy to have come alone here to sell the little cunt, but Fajer was her only hope. He alone could secure the whore’s passage out of Arabia and never tell a soul…for a price.

  “Yasmeen,” Fajer acknowledged. He hated doing business with women, especially an uppity bitch like Yasmeen who didn’t know her place and never o
bserved hijab – the special covering reserved for Muslim women to cover their head and body to preserve modesty and morality.

  “My lord Fajer, I require your assistance for a small price,” she spoke reverently and bowed slightly.

  Katharine watched the two Arabs discuss what was most likely her fate. She had known that Yasmeen had been behind this plot to destroy her. She should have been more careful. Where is Mohammed? she wondered.

  Fajer listened to Yasmeen drone away and watched the young foreign beauty. She would have a tight, glistening pussy that would constrict and hold his cock, and legs that he would pull and force to come around his waist. Her breasts would be high and lovely as he jerked into her slick passage and he would make sure he had satisfied himself and maybe her – maybe. A woman’s pleasure is never necessary, he thought to himself.

  He listened to Yasmeen’s voice and his eyes suddenly wandered over her form. She was also a beautiful woman, sultry and dark in a true Arab way. She was fuller in form than the white girl, with eyes that were dark and dangerous. She had long, black hair, and her body was the color of honey.

  He stopped touching the girl’s hair and realized he wanted the uppity Yasmeen instead. Here is a bitch to tame appropriately, he thought to himself. A bitch to be put onto all fours and taken roughly like a dog. Her ass would be high in the air as he slapped her again and again and stuffed his thick meat into her ass and pussy.

  Yes, he thought idly, as he rubbed himself with no shame.

  Yasmeen watched the fat Fajer touch himself. Disgusting pig! she thought. He wanted the little cunt already and she had just arrived a while ago. Why did all the men lust after her? She was a pale little thing with white skin, golden hair and Arabian Sea eyes…so what? Did her pussy taste like honey? What was the fuss about?

  Yasmeen continued to tell Fajer about her plan to get Katharine out of the country and on a ship to Africa, where she would be sold into slavery.

  Fajer stroked himself again and watched the way Yasmeen’s eyes glowed in anticipation. The dark kohl surrounding her eyes made them seem wide and exotic. He thought of the little bitch taking his cock into her mouth. His cock was suddenly rock-hard underneath his food-stained robe. Yes, he thought to himself. She needs to know the proper place of a woman.

  “It is indeed an interesting situation, Princess Yasmeen,” he said. Fajer noticed that the white girl was drifting off to sleep and figured that Yasmeen must have drugged her.

  “I agree, Fajer. It will all go according to plan and none will be the wiser,” Yasmeen replied. “Inshallah.”

  “What about Sheik Mohammed?” Fajer asked. “Won’t he miss his little treasure?”

  Yasmeen snorted. “Who cares about the little whore? He has a harem filled with beautiful women. What is one more?”

  Fajer chuckled. The little bitch was jealous. He didn’t blame her. The white woman was a beauty.

  “What does Sheik Mohammed think has happened? Does he know yet?”

  Yasmeen studied the sleeping girl and sighed.

  “He knows she is gone, but not who has done the deed.”

  Yasmeen remembered the scene. She had hidden the little cunt in a small eunuch’s room until she had been ready to leave in the night. Mohammed had summoned the whore and had discovered her missing. He had been in a furious rage when he discovered his precious little jewel was missing. He had torn the palace apart looking for her, and had been inconsolable. By the time Yasmeen departed, Mohammed had sent riders out to the four corners of Arabia to look for her and awaited their news.

  “Why come here alone and risk discovery and his wrath?” Fajer asked.

  “He would never suspect me. And the men I hired to carry her and deposit us here are long gone, but were paid well. No one will ever be the wiser,” Yasmeen said, nodding smugly.

  “You have thought of everything,” Fajer said.

  Yasmeen nodded and looked down at him sprawled on the pillows.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “What about an outsider telling Lord Mohammed about his beloved’s presence?” Fajer asked thoughtfully, as if the thought had just come to him.

  “Who would do such a thing?” Yasmeen asked arrogantly.

  “Or keeping quiet in exchange for something else?” he added.

  “What are you saying?” Yasmeen asked, but then she realized Fajer’s plan. The fat fuck would turn me in, she thought. Of course! She had been so blind to think everything would have been easy. He would turn on her. He would get more money from Mohammed to return the little bitch to him, and she would be exiled or worse.

  “I have no need of your gold or wealth. I have all I could require and more,” Fajer spoke lowly to her. Yasmeen remained silent. “But to have the high and mighty bitch princess Yasmeen take my stiff fat cock up her cunt, now that is something worth trading.”

  Yasmeen looked shocked and appalled. He didn’t want her money, but he did want her. It was disgusting! He was disgusting! She would never do it. Never!

  “I’ll take my time with you, Yasmeen. And when I have had my fill, and my big black Moors have had their fill, you and I and the little foreign girl will all go back to the sheik. I’ll be a hero and you? You will most likely be exiled,” he said, chuckling to himself.

  Yasmeen was ready to run away when he clapped his hands twice.

  His two large muscled Moors appeared suddenly. They immediately held her arms as she struggled and cursed his name. The Moors were large African Muslim men who had been in the service of Fajer many years. They had participated in his group sex acts before and, like Fajer, they enjoyed the squirming and cries of the women they conquered.

  “You disgusting shit!!!” she yelled. Yasmeen began kicking the Moors and tried to spit on them.

  “Cover her mouth. I have no need of that soft orifice yet,” Fajer said. The Moors covered her mouth as they had been instructed with a piece of cloth.

  Fajer eyed her body and clapped once. The two large Moors stripped her body naked, displaying her honey-colored body to their eyes. She cursed them in Arabic as they appraised the naked, squirming woman. One large dark Moor held her arm securely in his grasp while the other held her equally tight. They looked exotic in their robes of red and blue, holding between them the haughty, honey-colored naked woman.

  Fajer came slowly to his feet. His body was large, and he was not agile as in his younger days.

  “Oh yes,” he purred as he examined her naked body closely. She was the color of honey, with her breasts dangling but not too saggy from suckling her two girl children. She had a slim waist, spread hips, and long legs, with a snatch that held but a sprinkling of hair. Fajer ran his hands over her body as if assessing a prize mare. He cupped her breasts, roamed down her belly, and dipped his fingers into her tight snatch.

  Yasmeen cried out into the gag, but Fajer only laughed.

  “You still have a tight pussy,” he observed, referring to her two pregnancies that he knew of from servant’s gossip.

  Yasmeen struggled between the two black men, but they held her tightly at their master’s bidding.

  Fajer picked up a small jar at his right and dipped his fingers into it. A white creamy liquid covered his fingers. He smiled and advanced upon Yasmeen. She tried to kick and squirm but she was no match for the large black Moors.

  Fajer nodded once and suddenly Yasmeen was thrown upon the blankets and pillows face down. The sleeping foreign beauty was but a few feet away as each Moor held Yasmeen’s arm to the bed so that she could only move her legs and lower body. One black man stuffed a pillow underneath her hips as Fajer advanced upon her. He settled himself between her legs and smothered the cream into her ass cheeks and tight asshole.

  “Ah, I see the sheik has never initiated you into the finer art of anal sex. I will be your first, Princess Yasmeen,” he said, smiling as she shook her head and cried aloud. The pillow and gag smothered her words.

  “The more you struggle, the more pain you will cause yourself,” he told h
er.

  Fajer stripped himself naked. His large body was filled with rolls of fat, sagging flesh, and too much hair. The two Moors looked on and enjoyed the sight of the beautiful woman at this fat man’s beck and call. She would surrender, because she had no choice.

  “Either way, my cock will have its taste of you,” he told her. His hard cock was thrust forward; its purple bulbous head looked angry and mean.

  Yasmeen’s ass wiggled in the air as she struggled, but it was no use.

  Fajer used his hands to move Yasmeen’s ass onto the pillow, which popped her ass into the air for a better angle and view. Her ass was slim and round. He enjoyed her squirms and muffled cries.

  Fajer had never been married and enjoyed sleeping with his concubines, but he especially enjoyed raping and using women. He considered them the weaker sex and hated women like Yasmeen who didn’t know or chose not to abide by their rightful place. His cock was the equalizer that would show Yasmeen who indeed was boss.

  “Squirm, lovely princess. Fight me,” he taunted her. His hand whipped out and slapped Yasmeen against her ass, coloring it red.

  She shook her head and he chuckled. The Moors were growing restless, both wanting a piece of the princess. Fajer’s liver-spotted hands cupped her breasts and roamed down the length of her delicious body.

  He settled himself between her spread thighs and his cock was positioned between her ass cheeks.

  Yasmeen cried into the pillow and struggled, but Fajer took his cock in hand and pressed it into her ass. It slipped into the tight hole and he sighed. She was as tight as a virgin on her wedding night. The sheik had never fucked her there.

  “Yes,” he said hungrily. His cock slipped in further and further, and Yasmeen tried to dislodge his fat cock.

  He suddenly held her lower hips in both hands and slammed into her tight asshole. He began banging away into the tight virgin ass. His hips slapped into her ass again and again as he forced his cock up into her.

  Yasmeen was crying out into the pillow. He pulled back once and then slid his meat back into her. She cried once more, but then he felt her suddenly push back into him. She wanted his touch. Fajer nodded to the Moor on her right. The Moor released her arm and untied her gag. He moved himself beneath her head, and suddenly Yasmeen was suckling on the black Moor’s enormous cock.