by S. J. Lewis
She saw the sheik say something that she couldn’t quite hear to Juba, who raised her head. She stayed on the floor, half reclining against the couch and began doing something with the sheik’s robes. In profile, Juba’s face looked just a little too heavy to be called beautiful, but there was nothing wrong with her body. She had big, full breasts that complimented her rump, their effect increased by the narrowness of her waist. And she seemed very happy to be serving the sheik.
“What are you, Felicia?” he called out to her.
“I am a slut, master,” Felicia replied quickly.
“And what else?”
“I am your slave, master.”
“What do you like, slave?”
Felicia tried not to wince. What she was about to have to do was bad enough. Having to talk about it made it worse, if that was even possible. The sheik seemed to delight in causing her as much shame and embarrassment as he could at every opportunity. All she had to console herself with was that it was very unlikely that any of the harem besides Neha understood English.
“I like to suck cocks, master,” she said. She had to make an effort not to sigh wearily.
“Come here, slut.” The sheik beckoned with a crooked finger. “On your knees.”
At least the carpets were piled thickly enough to give her some padding for her knees. Felicia made her way towards her master, trying to ignore his grin of anticipation and the ugly smirk on Juba’s face as she kept fiddling with his robes. This was going to be difficult enough without that bitch watching it all in close-up. As she slowly crossed the space between her and the sheik it occurred to Felicia that after this she would be expected to service whoever the sheik gave her to. She pushed that disturbing thought back down, hoping that there wouldn’t be all that many of them.
Just as she came close to the sheik, Juba flicked back the lower part of his robes, showing his cock, already hard, with Juba’s hand clasped around it, stroking it slowly, almost lovingly.
“Suck on my cock, slut,” the sheik said with a smile.
Okay… there was no mystery to this, she’d done it before, Felicia told herself…but under less shameful circumstances. She leaned forward, opening her mouth slowly. Juba still held his cock, and as Felicia lowered her head she guided the head of it between Felicia’s lips. Then she put her other hand on the back of Felicia’s head and pushed her down onto the cock, deeper than Felicia had been hoping to go. The sheik’s cock hit the back of her throat, and she choked. She tried to pull back in reflex, but Juba wouldn’t let her. Felicia choked and gagged, writhing like a worm on a hook until Juba finally let her pull her head back just far enough to remove the irritant from the back of her throat. But the sheik’s cock still felt too deep in her mouth, filling it uncomfortably. She couldn’t help drooling. Her saliva dripped down her chin and splashed onto her beasts and thighs.
Then Juba let go of her head completely. Felicia drew back, gasping for air.
“Do you still like the taste of a man’s cock in your mouth, slut?” the sheik asked.
“Yes, master,” Felicia puffed. “I love the taste of your cock in my mouth.” She was far from loving it, but at least it didn’t taste too bad. With a little luck and determination she could get through this.
“Prove it,” the sheik said. “Kiss my cock. Lick my cock. Do it, slut!”
That wasn’t something she had done before. Felicia started by lightly kissing the head of his cock, then slowly working her way down the thick, throbbing shaft, stopping well short of his balls, and then working her way back up again. It would have been a lot easier for her, she thought, if he’d just made her suck him until he came. At least it would have been over pretty quickly. But he seemed determined to draw it all out, putting her shame and subjugation on display for all of his other women to see.
She arrived at the head of his cock again and began licking, awkwardly and tentatively. She tried to remember anything from any of the few porno films she’d seen that might help her through this, but nothing came to mind. She licked her way down the shaft and then back up it, exactly the way she had while kissing it.
“You know nothing of how to worship a man’s cock, slave,” the sheik growled. Felicia whimpered and stopped, eyes closed, expecting instant, painful punishment. When it didn’t come, she gave his cock a hesitant little lick, then another.
“Bah!” the sheik grumbled. “If you can do nothing else with your mouth and tongue, at least you can suck, like any common street whore. Suck, you bitch!”
Juba was more than helpful in guiding the sheik’s cock back into Felicia’s mouth. Once again, she put her hand on the back of Felicia’s head, but this time she didn’t push.
“Look at me, you clumsy bitch,” the sheik growled. Felicia opened her eyes and looked up at him. He smiled and stroked her hair gently.
“A woman never looks so beautiful as when she has a man’s cock in her mouth,” he said. “How does it feel, slut? Is your pretty little mouth quite full of my manhood?”
Still sucking, eyes still open, Felicia managed a tiny nod.
“And you still enjoy the taste of it and the feel of it, you lying whore?”
Felicia whimpered plaintively and nodded again. She really didn’t like having to look into his eyes while she was sucking on his cock. It made her feel more like a slave than ever.
“I do not believe you,” her master said. “Suck, bitch, and make me believe it!”
Felicia moaned. How the hell was she supposed to do that? She closed her eyes and began to suck harder, moving her head back and forth in quick, jerky little moves. She had never cared much for porn movies, but now she wished that she’d watched more of them, or at least paid more attention to the ones she’d seen. In her experience, which she was learning was sadly lacking, none of her boyfriends had ever complained. They had all seemed so appreciative of what she was doing that she’d thought she was well-skilled.
“I do not believe it yet, you clumsy slut,” the sheik said nastily. He yanked his cock out of her mouth. “I will have Selim take you away to your cell and punish you. Perhaps after that you will be more willing to learn.”
“No! Master, please!” Felicia almost choked on her words, but they came tumbling out anyway. “Please, master! I want to give you pleasure! I can give you pleasure! I love the taste of you and the feel of you in my mouth! I beg you, let me try again! Please, master!” Stunned by what she had just said, trembling with the fear of being dragged back to her cell and whipped by Selim, she looked up at the sheik pleadingly, tears coming from her eyes.
The sheik simply regarded her for a long, terrifying moment, his eyes dark and merciless. Then she saw him relent, and dared to draw a full breath.
“Very well,” he said with an air of resignation. “But you must please me, slut, or I will have Selim whip the skin off of your back!”
She didn’t doubt that. “Oh, thank you, my lord!” Felicia sobbed. “Thank you!” She waited as Juba moved the sheik’s robes aside again. He was no longer fully erect. Juba began to stroke him again, but Felicia leaned forward quickly and began showering kisses on his cock. They were desperate kisses. She kissed the head of his cock, and the shaft, and every part of it that she could reach with her lips, all the way down to his balls. When she got there, she kissed his balls as well, even as the coarse, black, curling hairs tickled her nose. Then she began to lick his cock, with just as much energy as she had put into kissing it. She felt him grow fully erect again, and kept licking, licking, licking, washing his cock with her tongue until she tasted the first little drop of precum that oozed from it. It was thin and salty. She forced herself to lap it up, driven by the terrible memory of Selim and his whip. Then she opened her mouth and took him in, sucking as hard as she could, taking him in as deeply as she could. She heard him make a faint sound of pleasure, and kept on going, running the tip of her tongue up and down against the underside of his thick, heavy shaft as she leaned forward and pulled back in rhythm. He made another sound of p
leasure, louder this time, and Felicia whimpered. She hoped that she was doing enough. Oh, how she hoped that she was doing enough! She took in little gasps of air between every other stroke. She could hear herself whimpering and making tiny grunts.
He came in her mouth without warning, groaning loudly with each thick, salty spurt. At his first groan, Juba had pushed Felicia’s head forward and held it there so that she was unable to do anything but let the sheik empty himself into her mouth. Surprised, Felicia squalled in anger and outrage through her nose as her master just kept spurting and spurting. She writhed weakly, too afraid to really fight as hard as she could have. She felt her master’s cum, mixed with her saliva, oozing out from the corner of her mouth. More than anything, she needed air.
Juba abruptly let go. Felicia reared back. The sheik’s cock, already going soft, slipped out of her mouth as she took in a long, noisy gasp of air. She kept her head tilted back so no more of the fluids in her mouth would dribble out. She didn’t know what she was expected to do next, but she felt certain that spitting it all out wasn’t part of the program.
Juba let her take in another deep gulp of air and then grabbed Felicia again, one hand on the back of her head, the other, under her jaw, closing her mouth. Felicia squirmed for a moment longer, making muffled sounds of protest. Then she yielded to the inevitable. She went completely still and swallowed, loudly enough for all to hear. Juba snickered and ran her palm up and down along Felicia’s throat until she swallowed again, just as loudly. Only then did Juba let go. Felicia sagged backwards on her knees, panting and gasping. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at the sheik until he spoke to her.
“You are not yet finished, slut,” he said grimly. Felicia, still breathing through her open mouth, blinked up at him. He indicated his cock.
“Clean me off, slut,” he ordered.
Felicia closed her eyes and sobbed weakly. But she leaned forward again and began licking her master’s cock clean. She told herself that what she was lapping up now had already been in her mouth, but it was scant comfort. She bent and twisted her head to reach every spot with her tongue, then went back over it all again. She would have started in for a third round, but her master moved away from her and began rearranging his robes.
“You will do better with practice,” he said to her. “You will have to do better with practice.” He stood up and looked down at her. To Felicia he looked angry and she tried to think of what she might have done wrong. But in the end all he did was turn and leave the harem. Juba waited until he had gone and then seized Felicia’s head one last time and planted a long, long kiss on the startled girl’s lips. Then she let go, slapped Felicia once, not too hard, and sauntered away, chuckling, her full hips ticking side-to-side as she walked. Felicia stayed on her knees, her head down. The whole harem had watched the performance and she didn’t want to see the looks in their eyes. She hoped for a while that Neha would come and comfort her, or at least free her wrists of the bindings. They were so tight that she could barely feel her hands now. But not even Neha dared to approach her. Instead, after a while, Selim appeared and helped her to her feet. He didn’t put a leash on her, but she followed him docilely all the way back to her cell. There he cut her hands free. As she sank wearily onto the thin pad that was her only bed in here, she saw that someone had left food and water for her, each in its own bowl next to the pad. The food was too hot to touch, and there was no spoon or fork with it. Felicia lay on her side, looking at it, rubbing her wrists and working her fingers. By the time she was able to use her hands properly the food would probably be cool enough.
Chapter Twelve
Felicia shifted uncomfortably on her sleeping mat. She was sure that what little padding there was in it was shifting with continued use, leaving some parts thinner and other parts uncomfortably lumpy.
She sighed to herself. For all of her efforts, she was still kept in this dim, depressing cell, usually in complete isolation. She had hoped to be part of the harem by now. It would still be a vile, degrading, disgusting existence in there, but it would be a much more comfortable vile, degrading, disgusting existence. There would be better food, things to drink besides water, couches to lie on instead of beat-up old mats, and some human company. Instead, she was still here in this dingy cell, uncomfortable and alone. What was the old line about who did you have to fuck to get something? Well, here she not only had to fuck whoever she was told to, but suck them if so ordered. And she did. She knew that she was acting like a whore. She didn’t like thinking about that, and kept telling herself that she had no choice.
She shifted onto her back and spread her legs. Earlier today they had done something to add to her discomfort, and her shame. She reached down with one hand and gingerly felt the two rings piercing her inner labia. They were very small rings, and if she kept her legs close enough together they were just about invisible. But she could feel them, no matter what she did, small, hard and irritating, piercing her most intimate parts. While she had been strapped down on that horrid examination chair, spread wide and helpless for that sick, sick doctor and his evil nurse, she had heard them talking about when they might pierce her clit. Not ‘if’ they might, but ‘when’ they might. Her master, the sheik, had listened to their conversation and told them that it would be done, but not just yet.
Felicia shuddered. She had heard of some girls who had their bodies pierced, but it was usually for a belly ring or a tongue stud. She had always thought body piercing to be a stupid and possibly dangerous thing to do, but at least those girls had made their own choice to do it. She wasn’t being given any choice at all about anything. And they would pierce her wherever and whenever they wanted, and she would let them partly because she had no choice, and partly because it might bring her another step closer to being put in the harem.
If she’d actually had a choice, she would rather be back in the states, picking up her college courses where she’d left them off. Or back on a nice, warm beach, wearing her favorite bikini, eying and being eyed by wealthy men who might want a lovely young, blonde, American mistress. But she had no such choice, and probably never would. So all she could try to do was make her abject submission and constant defilement less uncomfortable.
She knew that something was up. After her latest piercing she had been taken to the baths and allowed to clean up. Once she was out of the baths, they had brought in Neha, who showed her how to put that dark makeup on around her eyes. She had seen herself in the mirror afterwards, and she’d looked good. They weren’t letting her make herself pretty for no special reason, though. And that horrid old woman hadn’t shown up with her collection of nasty sex toys for another ‘training’ session. That was a relief so long as she didn’t think about the reasons for it.
But she couldn’t help thinking about it, not while there was absolutely nothing else to do in this damned cell. The sheik visited her regularly. When he came alone, she knew that he intended to fuck her, or make her suck him. When he came with another man, or men, she knew that she was expected to perform as ordered. And the orders were always humiliating. And she always obeyed them. Whenever she thought about it, she despised herself for submitting so readily, even when she told herself that it was for a good reason.
She heard voices in the hallway outside her cell. But she had finally found a fairly comfortable position, and she was loath to move. Besides, according to the rules here, as she had come to understand them, she wasn’t required to move unless and until she heard someone entering her cell or someone ordered her to. The voices sounded as if they were still some distance away. She listened intently. She didn’t have to move at all to do that. She still couldn’t tell who was speaking, but it sounded as if they were approaching her cell door slowly. Well, she would stay where and as she was unless and until she had to move. Just a little while ago she’d thought that she might be able to drift off to sleep. She still might be able to, if she wasn’t bothered.
The voices were just outside her cell now. She recognized
her master’s voice and thought she also recognized the voice of the one called Abou, the one who had the tall, blonde German slave. There were other men out there too, but she had no idea who they might be. She kept still, pretending to be asleep. They never cared if she was sleeping or not, but this way she was able to cling to her relative comfort for just a little while longer.
She heard the key turn in the lock, followed by the shrill creaking of the hinges as the door to her cell was opened. It was time to move. She got up onto her knees and turned to face towards her visitors. She knelt with her knees apart, her back straight but her head down, and her hands on her thighs, palms upraised.
“She has learned her lessons well,” she heard Abou say approvingly.
Felicia had become adept at seeing things without looking directly at them. A few stray locks of her long, curling honey-blonde hair hung down, partly obscuring her face. Through them she could see the hands and knees of another naked woman, close alongside the feet of one of the men. Whoever she was, she had leather cuffs buckled around her wrists and ankles, ones with rings set in them. If the man was Abou, the woman had to be Anulka. She had seen how her master had looked at Anulka, and knew that he desired her. She had seen that same look in the eyes of Abou when he looked at her. Once, a long time ago in a completely different world, she had delighted in getting men to look at her. Now she wished she could turn invisible.
“She is quite submissive, my friend,” Ismail said. “I will show you.” Felicia tensed.