Harem

by Raven J. Spencer

  Harem

  Raven J. Spencer

  Copyright © 2017 by Raven J. Spencer

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are purely coincidental.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Robin

  Last night, I dreamed that I was going to join a harem. I had answered an obscure ad, filled out some paperwork, and against all odds, they called me back. I wasn’t going to be plunged into a life of endless leisure and sex right away, no, I’d move in with a mentor for a while. That mentor would teach me everything I needed to know about the woman in whose inner circle I might or might not end up—for, you know, a life of endless leisure and sex. If I were to pass, I’d live in the harem for another six months at least. After that, I could decide whether or not I wanted to stay. In a heartbeat every dream I ever had would be in reach. After those six months—or a year—I could take the money and travel, Europe, South America, whatever came to mind. I could make a down payment on a house, or, if I happened to become the lady’s favorite, even pay it off. I would never have to worry about money, ever again.

  In return, I would be hers to do with as she pleased, within limits, of course. The contract forbids any form of abuse—that would be grounds for immediate termination. Food, housing, health insurance, all of that would be taken care of. Even if I never got to see her, I’d come out of it with enough money to tide me over for a few months, but of course, that wasn’t the goal. I would give it my best. Not just because I was desperate for a change, but because the concept was such a taboo breaker. It freaked me out as much as it excited me. In the days leading up to day one, I couldn’t sleep. I kept imagining what she would be like. In my mind, I skipped from my time with the mentor straight to the moment when I’d be invited to the inner sanctum. I would make her want me. I knew how to. If anything, I could probably teach the mentor lady something.

  I stand in my bedroom, my packed suitcase on my bed, my heart beating fast. The cab is going to be here in a few minutes, and then there’s no turning back. Silly—the point of no return came and went a while ago, when I signed the contract. Should I have invested in a lawyer, have them go over it? I read it about two dozen times and didn’t find anything alarming, other than perhaps the fact that it sounds too good to be true.

  The woman in question is about a decade older than me, attractive, rich, all the clichés you could possibly apply. I assume she wants to test the boundaries of what money can buy. Who am I to blame her for that? I’m going to benefit from it, big time, and so will the other women who were crazy enough to sign up. Does that mean she has a dozen of “mentors,” women who are what, trying out the applicants? Or a number lower than that, and they’re going to sleep with more than one applicant? Part of the contract is an extensive medical record—everyone is going to be just fine with everyone else.

  What will her fantasies be like? Ordinary, as in two people together, or would she want to push the envelope, voyeurism, exhibitionism, orgies? There was nothing about BDSM in the contract, so I take for granted that it won’t be an issue. Other than that, I’m open to pretty much everything, aren’t I? I could possibly write a book about my experience later.

  There’s the small, extremely unlikely chance that I might fall in love. I shake my head at this ridiculous idea, then jump as the cab driver honks outside.

  This is it. There’s no excuse—it’s official that I must have lost my mind.

  I’m joining a harem. It wasn’t a dream after all.

  * * * *

  The size of Addison Belmont’s estate is stunning. From the gate, it takes minutes until we see the first house. The driver checks the address, but it’s not the number I was given. We come across a mansion of expanses I’ve only ever seen in movies, and past it, there’s finally the house in which I’ll spend the next few weeks. I give him a generous tip, because once I leave this place behind, I’ll be rich. I won’t have to spend any money on food, clothes or the roof over my head for weeks to come.

  It’s the perfect plan.

  It’s also slightly terrifying. I left a copy of the paperwork in a safety deposit box, but who would come looking? I am single, both of my parents passed away, and I haven’t been good at keeping friends lately. There are a couple who would probably miss me after some time. I’ll be thinking of them once I return a millionaire.

  Surreal.

  Yet, I’ve signed a contract that says if I live with Addison for six months and satisfy her in every way possible, this is how she’s going to pay me back.

  As strange as that might sound, the prospect of not having to emotionally invest suits me perfectly. I’ve done that before, got burned, and didn’t learn from it. Not this time. One million dollars for half a year of casual sex in a harem, it’s a good deal in my book.

  The woman who opens the door to me is tall, attractive, I notice.

  “Hi, I’m Robin. I think you’re expecting me.”

  Her expression is carefully neutral as she shakes my hand.

  “I’m Elizabeth, your mentor. Come on in, let’s get you settled.”

  She takes my suitcase, and I follow her into the spacious house. It’s not as big as the mansion, but quite luxurious nonetheless, open and modern. It doesn’t scream harem at first sight, yet, she’s the one who will initiate me. This is all crazy, not to mention the taboo attached to it, but I am interested. I am eager. This is supposed to go well for me, and it will be. I am certain.

  “How many of us are here? In this house, I mean.”

  “It’s just us,” she says. “No distractions.”

  “Okay. Fine with me.”

  We go upstairs, where she opens a door and lets me step into a bedroom that’s the size of my apartment. A king size bed. Lots of room for…whatever. I notice that it would be easy to fasten handcuffs to the headboard. Not that I usually pay attention to these things, but I just filled out pages and pages of questionnaire detailing what I’d be willing to do in bed—so that detail catches my eye. There is no distraction, as she’s promised, from the concept of what we are going to do. I assume that the training will start today or tomorrow. Why would they wait longer?

  “It’s very nice,” I say which is the understatement of the year. I don’t want to sound desperate. I’m not. I didn’t come here for easy money. At least that’s not all of my motivation. “Can I take a shower first? I mean…I had one this morning, but if you—”

  “Wait.” Her expression has turned from surprised to amused in a matter of seconds. “Of course you can freshen up for dinner if you like, but your training starts tomorrow. Today, I’ll just show you around and explain a few things. The kitchen, as you saw, is downstairs. There’ll be some staff during the day, but they don’t stay over night. There’s a pool in the back, and we’ll see some other rooms for exercise on the first floor.”

  “I’m sure I’ll get plenty of exercise,” I joke, though I can’t help feeling a little out of my depth. This is not a casual social situation, like interacting with a woman who caught my eye at a bar.

  I don’t have to wonder if she’s going to take me home. I’m already here.

  “Well, there are different kinds. Your physical and psychological wellbeing is important to us.”

  On the ground floor, we step into a room with a full glass front, allowing the view of a lush garden with a pool. There are mats and a couple of exercise machines on one side. Wow. I had to send in a medical, but I didn’t expect they would make me do an exercise routine.

  Elizabeth noticed that I’ve gone silent. She lays a hand o
n my back, the contact oddly comforting.

  “Don’t be afraid. We’re not training for a marathon or the Olympics. It’s just a short day-to-day exercise.”

  “And those?” I point to the thick, colourful pillows on the other side.

  “Guided imagery,” she says.

  I let that sink in. Elizabeth waits patiently for the realization to come to me.

  “Like an imaginary x-rated movie?”

  “A little bit like that, but classier. It’s not just about a close-up on the act, you know.” I imagine sitting on one of those pillows, listening to her voice that is already extremely pleasant to me, relating sexual images…wow. “Actually, I don’t know, but I guess I’ll find out.”

  “Oh, come on. You’ve had fantasies at times when you couldn’t do anything about them at the moment, right? We’ll build on that. It will help you reduce stress and be more open to pleasure. I promise.”

  “I look forward to it, then.”

  I remember reading about certain rules, different subjects for different weeks, but I’m sure that curriculum is flexible. It’s just the two of us in this house—who’s going to check?

  Everything seems legit and according to the contract, so I’m starting to relax. This is exactly what I’ve been looking for. Sex, safe, without romantic expectations weighing anyone down. Chances are Elizabeth has done this a few times before. She appears confident and comfortable as she leads me from room to room.

  “Great. You can unpack, and I will get you for dinner.”`

  “Thank you.”

  She said the training was going to start tomorrow, but I believe we could get a little better acquainted after the meal. I can’t wait.

  * * * *

  I sink back into the warm water, sighing in pleasure. This was an odd, but I believe successful, first day. Elizabeth seems okay, if a little distant. I assume it has to do with the setup—she’s an employee after all, paid to be a mentor. She did run my bath though.

  I’m quite excited about the lessons we’re going to have, lots of sex without regrets or taboos. No romance involved. This is all about learning to please the harem’s keeper, and I’m willing and ready to please within the framework of the contract. I’m more than able as well, but Elizabeth is going to improve my skills over the next few weeks.

  Fantasizing about the subject, I close my eyes. My hand has a mind on its own, wandering over my left breast, my stomach and between my legs.

  I jump when someone else’s hand comes into play.

  “Not yet,” Elizabeth, who has joined my in the bathroom, whispers. My eyes snap open. She’s sitting next to the tub, reaching into the warm water, touching me gently. My heart is starting to pound. I am certain that she’s merely teasing me, and we’ll get right to it on the first day after all. After imagining the scene for so long, casual sex with a purpose with an intensely attractive woman, it’s finally coming true.

  After a mere brush of fingertips against my clit, she gets up, picks up a towel and dries her hand.

  “That’s okay. You know I signed all the consent forms. I can’t wait to get started.”

  A small amused smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

  “No, that’s not how it works. When you’re done, come find me downstairs, and we’ll talk some more.”

  “Talk about what? I read every single page of the contract—more than once.”

  “Don’t touch yourself,” she says and turns for the door. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  I don’t understand, but I slip into new sexy lingerie and the satin robe. I’ll make it easy on her. It’s not like there’s anything left to talk about.

  Elizabeth waits for me in the spacious den, looking me up and down, but not commenting on my appearance. Oh well. I’m fine with casual. She doesn’t have to court me. On the table, there’s a bottle of wine and two glasses. Okay. Maybe a little courtship.

  “I am not allowed to touch myself, but wine in the middle of the week is okay?” I joke.

  “I believe you answered some questions regarding alcohol,” she says, unimpressed. “We monitor it. As long as it’s not too much, it’s fine.”

  “Okay. So what is it you wanted to tell me?”

  She leans back into the couch, studying me. “Sit.”

  I take a seat next to her.

  “You read that the first week is all about easing you into your new life.”

  “I’m easy already. I signed up to be part of a harem.”

  Again, the smile comes and goes quickly, as if she doesn’t quite allow herself to be charmed by my wits.

  “It’s about experiencing discipline.”

  “Um…ouch?”

  “Not that kind. Are you taking this seriously or not?”

  I realize that I’ve crossed a line. “I am. Sorry. I guess there was something left I didn’t understand.”

  “That’s not a problem, but we should clear it up right away. There is no sex in the first week, not between us, not solo.”

  I can feel my jaw drop. “Okay, I misread the timeline, but…why? Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

  “It’s about pleasure, yes, mainly sexual. Controlling yourself is part of it. You might not always be the favorite.”

  I resist the urge to come back with a sarcastic retort, and listen instead. This is not what I had expected.

  “One week and nothing? What happens after the first week?”

  “You may pleasure me,” she says calmly.

  “I’d definitely like that.”

  “You already know that it’s not about you in the first place, but with week three, reciprocation comes in.”

  “Two weeks, no orgasm. Those are odd rules for a harem.” I take a deep breath, aware that my cheeks feel warm. I feel warm in other places too, and ready. Two weeks seem like an eternity.

  “Not really. You hone your perception, sharpen your senses. Believe me, all of this will be extremely helpful once you are part of the harem.”

  I’m not so sure. The laden atmosphere in this house, the luxury and soft fabrics everywhere, not to mention gorgeous Elizabeth, make it hard to think about anything but sex.

  “How would you even notice if I did it under the blanket, or in the bathroom?”

  “Page 17, paragraph 3.”

  “What?” I’m a bit embarrassed by this undignified squeal, but…come on. “There are no cameras where the toilet is, right?”

  “No. We trust that applicants play by the rules. Any other questions?”

  I am tempted to chug the wine, but take a careful sip. For the first time since I came here, I realize I wasn’t prepared for everything. I’ve gone one week without sex before, so that won’t be a problem. Given the circumstances, it’s just…odd.

  “All right then. I’ll be a good girl. What are we going to do if we don’t do that?”

  “I’ll have some materials for you, and you can familiarize yourself more with the surroundings and rules. Don’t worry, there’ll be enough time for everything.”

  I realize she’s absolutely serious. This project turns out to be a lot different from what I expected, even with the intense questionnaire. It’s no casual hook-up, that much is for sure. It sounds more like a temporary arranged marriage.

  “Okay, in the first week, we get to know each other. I understand. Well…” I raise my glass. “To success.”

  She gives me a bemused smile, but clinks her glass against mine.

  “To success.”

  I’m finally starting to settle down. This is a good gig. I’m on my way to a million dollars, and the path to wealth leads through this gorgeous woman. More like over, and under. The heat rushes to my face, excitement, not embarrassment. It’s far too late for the latter.

  * * * *

  The alarm is a warm, melodic tone, mellow and not annoying as alarms go, but at six-forty-five, it’s still early.

  “I didn’t expect that in a harem,” I mutter to myself, reluctantly pushing the sheets aside and then realizing I’m nak
ed. Next, I notice Elizabeth standing in the room.

  “You can come down to the kitchen for breakfast when you’re ready,” she says. “We have a lot to do.”

  She said I could wear some night gear from the drawers, or sleep naked. I chose the latter. I didn’t miss the way her gaze traveled over my body before I covered myself with the soft sheet again. Despite her subtle hint to hurry up, I snuggle back into the covers for a moment, enjoying the soft fabric on my skin, comforting, and, in places, exciting. Who needs discipline in a harem? It’s all about one specific purpose. Perhaps that’s part of the first test? See if I can tempt her?

  The options for sleep wear are what you’d expect, silk and satin. The day to day clothes I find in the closet are surprisingly casual, shirts, shorts and skirts. Training. It’s not a metaphor.

  Eventually, I shower and dress, and then go downstairs in search of Elizabeth. In the kitchen, the table is set in appealing colors. Juice, fruit, cottage cheese. I frown at the absence of eggs and, I admit I hoped for it, bacon. This looks pretty…healthy.

  Thank God there’s coffee. I remember what she said about alcohol.

  “Did you sleep well?” Elizabeth asks. I notice that she’s dressed a little less casually. That’s interesting. It sets the scene, lets me know without a doubt who’s in control. It’s not uncomfortable—on the contrary. I sit down, only now realizing how soft the fabric of my underwear is, its brush against skin leading to pleasant sensations…and it’s only seven in the morning.

  She studies me as if she’s well aware.

  “Yes, pretty good, thank you.” I take in the display in front of me. “I didn’t know I was going to have to lose weight. That was nowhere in the contract.”

  That seems to startle her. “We’re not going to make you lose weight,” she says. “It’s just about moderation.”

  “I’ve tried that before, but there’s usually too much going on.”

  “You won’t have any stress here, and the rewards…” A smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “Will be of a different kind.”

  I feel breathless imagining what kinds of rewards this mouth might offer me. Really. There’s no need to draw this out for a week. I can’t wait to get to work.