The Sheik and the Slave

by Italia, Nicola

  Indeed, Katharine was as beautiful after the birth of her son as she had been before. Her curves were lush and full, and her breasts more so after the birth. Abigail had watched several of the novices eye Katharine’s beauty with envy and awe, but she was a lovely woman, and her manners were impeccable. She was also a loving mother to her small son.

  Katharine was lonely and missed the time she’d spent with Mohammed. She missed his attentions to her and knew it was only a matter of time before they were reunited.

  At night, when she lay alone in her bed, she caressed her body and thought of him. Her hands became his dark ones moving over her light skin. His fingers were inside of her, and his body filling hers and spilling his seed inside her with another son.

  She watched her son closely and knew he resembled Mohammed very much. There would never be any doubt that he was the father and she the mother. Though he was dark haired, his eyes were the color of the sea. Her heart swelled at the sight of him.

  She ached that she had not been able to feed him from her own breasts, but she knew that their next child would have that benefit. She knew with certainty that she and Mohammed would be together again, and that many children would be the result of their union. She clung to that hope. Indeed, it was the only thing that made all the hell she had been through bearable. She would be with him soon.

  ***

  Safiya smiled into the looking glass. She was all but queen in the palace. All had fallen into place. Mohammed had been true to his word and looked after her, but he barely acknowledged her.

  He gave her a large suite of rooms in the palace, but kept his distance from her. Safiya was treated like a true lady, and after being the daughter of a poor sheik, she was glad to have the choicest meats and sweets, and musicians to play at her command.

  She combed her hair and pinned it up, and watched as her father pranced around the garden. He was so pleased with the turn of events, and he counted the money that would soon be in his hands. He would build his own small palace and have his own harem. He would own camels and other livestock and be a wealthy man.

  But Safiya’s smile faded. The rise to queen came at a price.

  Her uncle visited her nightly and never took no for an answer. He had initiated her into oral sex and thrilled to watch the lovely girl on her knees with his cock in her mouth. He had even taken to lighting a candle in the darkened room and watching her in the looking glass. He would watch, fascinated, as her pink lips moved over him and his cock plunged deeper and deeper into her warm mouth.

  A short, squat and hairy man, Khaldun seemed to delight in the fact that he alone had sexual access to his lovely niece. He watched her jealously during the day and was always wary of anyone near her. As a young woman, she was surrounded by older women, and no men ever saw her. But he was jealous nonetheless.

  He enjoyed the sexual control he held over her and knew that Mohammed had no interest in her whatsoever. Unlike his brother, he knew that the little slut must quicken with child soon, or any chance they had of being linked to the prestigious family would be done.

  Khaldun knew with certainty that his niece was pregnant, as her bleeding has ceased. But as Mohammed had been drugged the only night he had slept with the girl and had not ejaculated, the child she carried was his own.

  He enjoyed watching his little niece squirm underneath him as he plowed into her. She was a slender thing, with small breasts and hips. He loved wrapping her long hair around his hand as he took her from behind. He was also fascinated with the looking glass and often moved it close to them as they fucked.

  As the first man to have her, besides the one quick thrust of Mohammed’s, she had a tight little snatch, and he wanted her to remain his alone. He had told none of this to his brother, her father, and visited her secretly at night.

  This night, he admired the globes of her tight ass and moved his hands over them. He thought of anal sex, which was a degrading and dirty act that only whores performed. He had never been one for it, but he wanted his niece entirely his. He wanted to conquer every part of her and that would be the final act. Once his manhood was inside her ass, she would be his. He plunged his cock deep into her tight vaginal passage and moved onto one knee to grab her hips.

  Her breasts bounced with the movement, and Khaldun climaxed loudly, coming into his niece’s passage and pulling out while his thick white ropes of semen splashed onto her ass.

  His niece covered herself and moved away from him.

  “I don’t want this anymore,” she spoke softly.

  Khaldun smiled, as his niece looked defeated. She was no longer a happy young girl, but a woman, defeated, and a slave to his whims and, more importantly, his cock.

  “I think you will do as I say, my little cocksucker,” he said to her.

  “Don’t call me that. You have no right. I will be mistress of all of this soon and you will be cast out,” she muttered.

  Khaldun kneeled before her and smacked her cheek lightly.

  “You will be queen of nothing if you don’t shut that mouth when I say and open those thighs when I say,” he threatened.

  She inched away from him.

  “You are breeding already, and we both know the babe in your belly is mine. So watch yourself, Safiya. You are my little toy. No one else cares for you but me,” he said. His hands trailed along her slim thigh and he pushed one fat finger into her slick wet passage.

  “You be a good girl. You please me greatly and that’s all that matters. Don’t get so high and mighty. The sheik cares nothing for you. But I will watch over you,” he said.

  His hand threaded into her hair.

  “You were always my favorite niece,” he said. He kissed her quickly on the mouth and then left.

  ***

  Mohammed sighed. It had been several weeks and still he had not been able to leave Arabia for England. He chomped at the bit to be away from this place and on his way to recovering Katharine.

  The young girl Safiya was breeding and it was confirmed. He remembered very little of the night, but he did recall pressing her thighs apart and penetrating her. He even remembered breaking her hymen, but that was all.

  Mohammed spent the time in Arabia pondering much of what occurred with Katharine. He desperately wanted to know who had hired Jean Baptiste. It unnerved him that someone hated her enough to want her out of his life. Who on earth had followed them from Arabia to England to fulfill such an evil deed?

  He had already given Daleel instructions to release the harem girls with dowries to marry or settle their lives outside the palace. Each was given money according to her time spent within the harem walls and her age. The older women had less of a chance to marry, so more money had been settled on those women. He tried to be extremely generous to the women, some who had even served his father. He wanted them all settled and would continue to help them monetarily until their deaths.

  He knew that Katharine would only agree to a true marriage of one man and one woman, the European style. She would not consent to a multiple marriage, and he was willing to live that life.

  He had been in contact with Lord Fairfax, and he hoped that the Bow Street Runners would discover something more than Abdullah had.

  ***

  Abdullah was smiling and rubbing his hands together in glee. It was all coming together. Mohammed had stalled returning to England, as the young girl was indeed pregnant.

  Though Mohammed had disbanded the harem in anticipation of reuniting with the white witch, Abdullah knew it would not happen. Once the girl Safiya gave birth, everything would move into place and Mohammed would forget this fantasy with the Infidel.

  His servant quietly entered the room and placed the large pile of correspondence before him. The letters and missives were many, and he sifted through them quickly, separating them into piles of importance. When he picked up the letter, he immediately noticed the foreign language and unusual postage stamps decorating it.

  He slashed open the envelope, which contained only one p
age. His heart sank as he read it quickly. It read:

  My dear sir,

  I write to you with news of the utmost importance but equal in joy and happiness. Lady Katharine is safe with us in Ireland and being well taken care of. She is eager to be reunited with you and waits word that you are coming to her.

  I am also happy to inform you that you have a healthy baby boy. He is a beautiful child- all smiles and laughter.

  We wait to hear from you, sir…

  Your servant,

  Abdullah dropped the letter onto the table and leaned back in the chair, sucking the air into his chest. Everything went black as he tried to focus. Allah! Oh Allah the merciful, have mercy on me, he spoke to himself. All was lost. All was lost.

  She had a son. The witch had a son.

  Chapter 21

  Mohammed scratched his beard, which had been unattended and allowed to grow longer that he desired. He stared out into the setting sun and pondered the past several weeks.

  He could not place his finger on it, and he had no proof, but there was something not right with Abdullah’s behavior. He had always served him faithfully, and he could not complain. Though he knew it might be irrational, he did not want Abdullah involved in his current plans. Things had been steadily getting worse, and instead of finding Katharine and bringing her back to where she belonged, by his side, Mohammed felt things were slipping from his grasp. So he summoned Daleel to his presence.

  “My lord,” Daleel addressed Mohammed.

  Mohammed had summoned him alone and made certain that there were no ears or eyes in the room as he spoke. Daleel had always been trustworthy and, though he was a religious man who revered Allah, he had not been frightened of his growing love for Katharine. Indeed, he recalled that Daleel had thought she was beautiful, educated, and would do well in Arabia.

  “I require your assistance, Daleel.”

  “My lord,” he said as he bowed slightly.

  “I wish to return to England immediately,” Mohammed spoke quietly, eyeing Daleel.

  “As you wish,” Daleel replied.

  “I want you to arrange the travel for me as soon as possible,” Mohammed continued.

  Again Daleel bowed, but his brow furrowed.

  “Is there something wrong?” Mohammed asked.

  “No, my lord. But I had thought Abdullah was handling all the arrangements, and I had not heard that you were going back to England so soon.”

  Mohammed studied him and turned his back.

  “Yes, you are correct. But I have changed my mind. And, there is more that I need from you,” he continued.

  Daleel arched an eyebrow and looked around the room. No servants were to be seen and the room was eerily quiet. He waited silently for Mohammed to continue.

  Mohammed turned to him and advanced upon him quickly. He stood directly before Daleel.

  “What are your thoughts about Lady Katharine?” he asked.

  “My lord?” he asked. His confusion was plain in his voice and on his face.

  “Lady Katharine. Your thoughts on her.”

  “I-I don’t know the lady well enough to speak.”

  Mohammed smiled. He was the supreme politician-in-training.

  “No, Daleel. You do not know her. But you know that she is a foreigner and that I wish to marry her. So what I ask is this: how do you think she will do in Arabia as my wife?”

  Daleel cleared his throat.

  “Will the Lady Katharine convert to Islam?” he asked.

  “We have not discussed it.”

  Daleel looked away and then spoke.

  “The Qur’an allows a Muslim man to marry a Christian woman provided she believes,” Daleel said. Mohammed nodded and Daleel continued.

  “The Qur’an states ‘Do not marry women who associate others with Allah until they believe. A slave woman who believes is better than one who associates others with Allah even though she allures you.’” But if she believes, then she will be accepted. And because you love her, the people will come to love her. But it will take time.”

  Mohammed smiled.

  “You give me hope,” he said to Daleel.

  “There is always hope, Inshallah,” Daleel replied. He bowed slightly and then smiled back.

  Mohammed laughed and it felt wonderful. He felt wonderful. Things were looking well.

  He clasped Daleel on the back.

  “Make the arrangements,” he said. Daleel bowed and turned to leave. “There is one thing more, Daleel.”

  Daleel smiled and turned to his master.

  “Under penalty of death, tell no one of my plans. And I mean not a single, living, soul.” His words rang out cold.

  Daleel’s eyes widened.

  “Yes my lord. It shall be as you say.”

  Mohammed sighed. A weight had been lifted off him. There would be progress, finally.

  ***

  Katharine lay in the small bed and studied her son. She never tired of looking at him and she always seemed to discover something new.

  The sea blue of his eyes sometimes changed color, and his hair was brown, but sometimes lighter in the sunlight. His limbs were so chubby and healthy.

  She delighted in him. She adored him and her heart swelled as she watched him squirm next to her.

  She wanted very much to give Mohammed a daughter and her son a sister. Her heart tugged. She had already spoken to Abigail to make the arrangements to return to England. Now that she was recovering, she need not stay in Ireland any longer. She had spent too much time away from her home and family, who were probably frantic over her disappearance.

  No one at home knew of her little son. She realized that everything had changed. Mohammed was a father, and her parents were now grandparents.

  She kissed his chubby cheek and smiled down at him.

  “You and I will go back to England and you will meet your grandparents,” she told him. He cooed and she smiled again.

  “And you will meet your father,” she added.

  ***

  Safiya watched her uncle pull his robe down and leave her room. She felt more disgusted than ever at the acts they performed. He took her whenever he wanted and no one stopped him.

  Mohammed had never glanced at her again after that first night, and she knew he was in love with the mysterious white woman that had been whispered about. She could not compete with her and the hold she had on his heart.

  She was pregnant with her uncle’s child and the thought disgusted her. She moved to the wash bin and rinsed out her mouth. She could still taste the sticky sour bitterness of her uncle’s seed in her mouth. She hated him.

  She sank to the floor, crying. What would happen to her now? What could she do?

  She wanted to cut ties with her uncle but knew it was impossible. As she didn’t have Mohammed’s support, she knew no one would take her word over an older man that he was taking advantage of her sexually. She had run out of options.

  She packed a small bag in the early morning. She took only a few clothes, some water and food to last for a few days.

  She would join her mother’s people, who might be willing to help her. She knew that the life she had dreamed of was no longer possible. She would be willing to make this change knowing that her uncle would never touch her again. She set out into the desert by foot.

  ***

  Abdullah had thought long and hard over the one-paged note that contained his ruin and surely Mohammed’s downfall from Islam as well.

  It was clear he must never know about this bastard brat that the witch had birthed.

  How were they even sure that the brat was Mohammed’s? Surely the witch had spread her legs many times, and this was just an attempt to get the riches of Arabia for herself and her little bastard.

  He would have none of it.

  He muttered a quiet prayer under his breath. He would save Mohammed from himself. He was bewitched, but Abdullah would do what must be done to save them all.

  He set the sheet of paper aflame watched as it
caught fire. The words “My dear sir” curled and turned to ashes.

  Abdullah sighed and settled into his chair. He knew he must think. The young girl was pregnant and, though Mohammed was not taken with her, it was beginning.

  He would drive the witch from his master’s mind soon enough. Indeed, now that he had burned the letter and Mohammed was here and the witch was in Ireland, he would never know about his son.

  He chuckled lightly. He would surely have the last laugh once Mohammed married Safiya and she gave birth to a Muslim son.

  ***

  The air was cool and the wind hit Mohammed squarely in the face. While everyone else settled down below to avoid the winds whipping around the ship, he remained on the upper deck.

  Daleel had kept his word and never told a soul. How he had managed, Mohammed never asked, but he had booked passage for him in record time.

  After being stagnant for so long, he was finally moving. The winds picked up again and he looked across the vast ocean with a thrill in his heart. His robes fanned out behind him and he smiled.

  He was returning once again to England, and this time it was to bring home his wife.

  ***

  Abdullah had not survived this long as an accomplished courtier to both Mohammed and his esteemed father by relying on fate. No. He relied upon his wits, and fate usually followed. It would do so again.

  The white witch seemed to have the very gods of hell on her side. She was a Shayatin in female form.

  But nonetheless, he would make certain that her reunion, if it ever came about with Mohammed, was a very unhappy one.

  Dear Madame -

  He wrote to the Abbess in a letter that was wholly fiction and partly made-up lies that were all designed to rip the white witch and Mohammed apart forever.

  We received your letter regarding the Lady Katharine and are pleased to hear that she is well. However, Princess Safiya has recently announced her pregnancy and the Sheik is making arrangements for the birth of his legitimate firstborn son to his wife. A son. –Inshallah.

  The more Abdullah wrote, the more he realized that he was forever inching away as a true trusted advisor of Mohammed’s. Yet, he knew it was the right thing to do. He had tried to erase the witch from their lives, but had not succeeded.