Her Calling (Emma Book 3)

by James Grey

  She’s led us into a square room, which doesn’t seem to have an actual door apart from a mosquito screen. Two windows, with mosquito netting across them, allow the bright sunlight to beam inside. A black girl, her skin dark and fascinating, lies dead to the world on top of a sheet in the far corner. Another girl sleeps too, although she’s under a sheet and I can only see a sea of curly blonde hair splayed across a purple pillow.

  I feel like I’m in a dream. Maybe I’m the one sleeping here.

  The mattresses are like vast beige roll-out futons. Around them is a huge selection of pillows and cushions. They’re a symphony of colours: pink, sky blue, lime green and purple. I can’t wait to relax in this room. Everything looks airy, soft and welcoming. And while it’s basic in one way, there’s more comfort available than you could possibly use in one go. It’s all fittingly palatial.

  I notice that there’s no sign of air-conditioning in this room. Hence people sleeping without covering, I guess. I can feel exactly why they’re sleeping so deeply too: I know from experience that tropical heat tends to have that effect on me as well.

  “Come along,” says Monosira hurriedly. She leads us two doors along and stops outside the door to an identically-furnished room. “Samantha, put your things here on the vacant mattress.”

  My fellow newbie is back in the hallway in an instant, and trots after Monosira and myself. The courtyard on our right is now gone, and we’ve got a wall to our right now. It’s considerably dimmer here, as there are no doors or windows either to the left or the right. Only understated lamps light the way.

  Finally the corridor makes a sharp turn to the right, and we see daylight in front of us. Monosira walks us into it and signals us to stop. She takes on a reverential tone as we look around in fascination. A large, automatic-looking door to our left reveals a huge garden that’s as lush, busy and colourful as Eden itself. Beyond that, a good couple of hundred yards away, is the massive white palace we drove past just a few minutes ago.

  I want to take it all in, but Monira claps her hands and commands our attention.

  “So, this is where it gets serious, girls. As you can see, His Majesty’s palace and gardens are just outside. Although there is a lot of light coming through this door, it’s one-way glass. You will also find that this door will not open from the inside, except for the prince, whose face the built-in software recognizes. This entrance is for his exclusive use. The rest of us come and go from the back – understood?”

  We nod. My brain’s a bit tired, and I hope I don’t forget anything important from this briefing.

  “Excellent. Now, turn this way!”

  Just across the hall from the glass door is an archway that leads into the area that I guess we just walked around. It’s a bit like another courtyard, but with more going on around it, I think. It’s surprisingly bright in there – and what a playground it looks to be! There’s an indoor swimming pool stretching away into the distance, with terracotta tiles all around it.

  “This is the atrium area,” says Monosira, leading us in through the door. “Your interactions with the prince are almost always going to take place here. As you will no doubt have read, sexual activity may only take place in this area, unless of course initiated by His Majesty elsewhere.

  “I’ll start with the most important room, the central chamber. It’s at the very far end. You can go along either side of the pool to get there.”

  We follow her along the side of the swimming pool, which sits almost flush with the tiles all around it. There are about three yards of tiled corridor on either side of the pool, with various doors leading off them. I’m seriously curious about all of this, and barely know where I want to look first.

  As we hurry along I notice that the atrium walls are covered with a series of tiles bearing photographs of naked women, all of them in a similar pose to the one I saw Yelena standing in on the plane. Each one bears a cursive caption. First names – Jasmina, Carmen, Joanne – and a date beneath them. The dates on the tiles ascend as we walk along.

  These must be all his girls – or at least his favourites! It turns me on something fierce to think I could have my own tile in here soon. It’s escort immortality, or something like that. He’s got some sexy ideas, our Prince Yousuf. When you’ve got sex on tap, though, I suppose you have to get creative to keep things interesting.

  I glance up and see where the light’s coming from – the whole roof in this part of the building is glass! I guess the wedding cake must somehow look a bit different from above. The pool is several metres long but only about four wide, so it won’t host any Olympic events any time soon.

  But for a harem? It’s perfect. I like how it narrows in the middle, with the paving squeezing in like the Straits of Gibraltar, so that only one person could pass through the gap. There’s a huge potted tree on either side of the narrow passage.

  Only as we get to the far end of the pool do I notice there’s a girl in the water. Obscured by one of the pot plants until now, she’s just chilling quietly, resting her elbows on the paving around the edge, her eyes closed. She wakes up with a start as she hears us talking our way past, and watches us with undisguised interest.

  Two leaping fish statues guard the steps at the far end of the pool, each of them doubling as a beautiful fountain. Not like one of those lame ones you see at the garden centre: these ones spray three jets of water out all the way into the middle of the pool, forming a magnificent arc. Cleverly, the jets all meet each other at a single point. It actually creates a little spray, which in turn makes a mini-rainbow as it mingles with the morning sun pouring through the roof.

  We round the top end of the pool and then stop in front of a rich, thick red curtain covering another doorway.

  “This is the entrance to the central chamber, ladies. And this is the holy of holies, so to speak. When you hear the alarm, this, by default, is where you need to be within five minutes.”

  “What does the alarm sound like?” asks Samantha, sounding like someone with at least another hundred questions lined up. And I know exactly where she’s coming from.

  “I can’t fire it up now, of course, because there’d be pandemonium amongst the girls if I did. But I do have the sound file on my phone. I’ll play it for you when we’re done. Anyway, so another thing you need to know is that the prince only allows oiled women in this room. Do you see these tubs built into the wall on either side of the door? You need to be thoroughly oiled up before you enter the central chamber, understood?”

  I nod, thinking about the disappointment I had the last time I got oily with the prince. Still, I’ve always loved oily skin on oily skin. I bend down and sniff the oil. It’s got a delicious, aromatic scent. Lavender oil, I think.

  “We change the aromas from time to time, so you won’t get bored,” smiles our guide. “And it’s the best money can buy, so it will be nothing but good for your skin. There’s no such thing as too much oil for His Majesty. Seeing a roomful of slick, shining women sliding all over each other like eels in a jar is exactly what he wants when he comes in here.

  She pulls the curtain aside. The first thing I see is two dutifully oiled girls pleasuring each other in a 69 position. The one on top, her dark hair tied up in a bun, looks up for a moment, smiles at us, then gets back to licking her companion.

  I’m riveted, but Monosira treats them as just another exhibit in the tiny chamber. “As you can see, every atrium area is available for sex at any time. Occasionally the prince likes to drop in unannounced, rather than call for a large gathering. If that happened now, for example, these two would have him almost to themselves!

  “But, when the alarm rings, we all come in here, right?” I ask incredulously. The room’s tiny for a large group of people. I’d say it’s only about eight by eight metres. A blaze of blue and yellow tiles, also lit from above, decorates the walls all the way to the dome above. There’s natural light in here, too, streaming in through windows in the base of the dome.

  “That’s rig
ht, it gets cosy, which is exactly the point” she admits, surveying the tiled, sloping shelf on which the two girls are getting busy.

  After passing the curtain you have to climb a couple of steps to reach the shelf, which curves around facing the door, like an amphitheatre. Covered in much smaller, slightly rough blue tiles, this drops gently from back to front. The central semicircle is the only completely flat part, or even slopes slightly the other way. There’s a tiny drainage hole facing the door, which I guess is where the oil ends up.

  “It’s designed in such a way that nobody hurts themselves,” adds Monosira. “And if you slip on one oily body, you’ll only land on another!

  “Oh, and one more thing,” she goes on, pointing to shelves built into the walls all around the edge of the room. “There are cushions available for heads, knees and elbows. They’re handy sometimes.”

  She withdraws from the room, leaving the two girls to their business, and sighs contentedly. “Well, that’s the most important thing for you to see. You know what to do if the alarm sounds, right? Any questions?”

  “Yes,” I reply. “How many girls are here at the moment?”

  “There are twenty-three in residence right now. We don’t go beyond thirty, as that’s the realistic capacity of the central chamber. This is quite a big intake week, actually. There are another four new girls arriving tomorrow.”

  “I see,” I reply thoughtfully as we meander back towards the other side pool. My eye catches the womanly images on the tiles again. They also adorn this wall of the atrium, running right up to the central chamber. “And who are all these people?”

  “As you’ll guess, each woman who is a member of the harem gets a tile. His Majesty is a meticulous record-keeper, so her name and date of first arrival are immortalized here. He’s had two hundred and thirty-six women so far, and he has every intention of filling this wall. You’ll both be photographed later in the week. Take note of the pose His Majesty likes! Now, let me show you the rest of the atrium.”

  Two hundred and thirty-six girls? I’m stunned by the number. This man must have no limit to his appetite for sex. Wow. Just wow.

  A sudden sound makes me leap out of my skin. It’s a dead ringer for the roar of a lion. Fuck! Does he keep wild animals in here?

  “What’s that!” I yelp, grabbing Samantha’s arm without even thinking.

  “That’s the alarm!” says Monosira excitedly, as the lion’s roar rings around the building. “It’s the real thing! Sorry girls, I thought you’d have time to settle in, but you’re in the deep end! Get your oil on!”

  Chapter XVII

  Just my luck! I’ve hardly even met anyone yet, nor had a chance to sit down. And now I’m getting thrown into my first harem experience with exactly zero preparation. I’m bursting with nervous energy, feeling more terrified than even my first day of school.

  “Christ, seriously?” says Samantha, obviously echoing my thoughts. “Already?”

  “I don’t think it’s a joke,” I remark. “Look, that other girl’s getting out of the pool in a hurry! And there’s some others. They’re running in the front door already.”

  “Alright! No joke! I guess we just have to do this!”

  “Quick, then – oil! Before there’s a line!”

  We quickly dip our hands in the oil buckets and slather it all over our bodies. I’m glad Samantha’s with me, doing the same thing, just to remind me I haven’t gone crazy and didn’t mishear Monosira, who has already disappeared. By the time a host of unfamiliar bodies and faces begin to crowd around the curtain, we’re just about done slicking ourselves up.

  What a way to meet everyone! Once again I summon up all the strength I learned at Cranleigh House on that very first morning.

  I’m surprised to find the two girls still fucking in the middle of the chamber when I pull back the curtain and cautiously climb up the stairs, Samantha right behind me. These two don’t look remotely interested in moving. Well, I suppose they were there first. And I’m guessing front-centre is the place you want to be when the prince arrives.

  Is that where I want to be on my first day, though? Be brave, Emma! I boldly squeeze into the flat lower level right behind the tongue-flicking duo, curling my knees up to my chest and watching everyone else pile in around me. Samantha’s not feeling quite so up-front (maybe because she got a little more of a workout on the plane), and has crawled up the slope behind me.

  Within two minutes, the room is packed out. Body parts press and brush against me as women try to get behind me, next to me, over me. A pair of hands – I don’t even know whose – reach around from behind and begin to massage my breasts. And very pleasantly too. Two other girls manage to claim a place next to me, in a vaguely upright position, but more are still flooding in.

  Soon, there’s no point even trying to get a place of your own. You have to sit or lie on somebody else. One of the last girls to arrive lays across the laps of three of us, resting her head in my thigh and casually reaching up to stroke the slick butt cheek of the top girl out of the original oral sex duo.

  Several of the girls are now kissing, or more, actually, while others are manoeuvring themselves into the most suggestive positions they can manage. Mimicking some of the others around me, I open my legs as much as the pressing bodies will allow, and hold my pussy lips open with my fingers. The hands on my breasts begin a jiggling motion.

  If I thought the last few months were crazy, well, absolutely nothing comes close to this. This is a mad, manic frenzy. But the atmosphere is still terrific. Sure, it’s competitive, but, remarkably, it doesn’t feel catty. I hear laughs and giggles mixed with moans of pleasure. Maybe nobody stays here long enough for any feuds to develop. Maybe a month is just the right sort of period for us just to enjoy each other and gun for the royal cock.

  Speaking of which, the curtain draws back and in steps the familiar figure of Prince Yousuf. Unhurriedly, he surveys his empire. The jiggling hands jiggle my tits harder, so I pull my pussy open wider. With at least four bodies in front of me by now, though, I doubt he can see. But by God, this is making me wet all the same.

  The prince has changed into jeans and a T-shirt, but after looking around the room in satisfaction, he pulls them off in an instant. His cock…oh my, can that thing be for real? I’m transfixed by it. Beautifully trimmed so that there’s no hair apart from a patch just above the shaft, it looks enormous. The colour of a cappuccino, I’ll bet it tastes just as good.

  A murmur goes around the room when it springs free for all to see. I sense reverence for his potency in the air. Nobody moves. His jaw tightens as he decides what he wants to do. He’s not oiled up himself, but he won’t need to. There’s enough oil in this room to power a massage parlour for weeks. It’ll rub off on him in no time, whatever and whomever he chooses.

  I’m feel almost certain I must be dreaming now. This whole thing – sharing a tiny chamber with twenty-two other women, dripping with oil and watching a naked prince decide which of us is going to get it – is simply too far-fetched.

  Especially when, a split second after he’s undressed, he claps his hands. Immediately several of the lower-placed women scramble for his penis, including the one who’s been lying across me. Three of them reach it with their mouths at the same time, somehow all getting a piece of it as they kneel at the edge of the shelf. Those who fall short make do with hopping onto the stairs and exploring his torso with their hands. One of them is the black girl I saw fast asleep in my room – wow, did she move fast or what?

  Without even thinking about it, I stop holding my pussy lips open, and instead begin to rub my clit. The hotness bar has just shot up once more, and I’m steaming with lustful pleasure. I’d like to get involved, but I could come just from watching this.

  While three girls pleasure his cock, the prince pulls two of the others nearer his standing figure, and, while their hands keep on roaming his chest and stomach, I see his own run down their backs, onto their behinds and then stop, his fingers searching
for somewhere to penetrate them. With all this oil around, he could choose either hole, I suppose. Maybe that’s the whole idea.

  Seeing his hand disappearing behind them, but not knowing exactly how or where he’s touching them, sends me into a spin. I begin to rub my clit furiously, while Annika materialises from somewhere on my left, sliding across the female flesh until her tongue meets the cleft of the brunette on top of the original 69.

  I’m dripping with perspiration. Now that I think about it, there’s no air-conditioning in here either. That’s doing nothing to reign in my horniness though, as my finger gathers pace. I feel shameless, and why not? This room is the ultimate place to express yourself. It’s built for sex.

  Just as I’m on the verge, the scene changes. He withdraws his hands from wherever they are between the two pairs of legs, and claps once more. The mouths instantly pull back from his cock. I guess this must be his stop-start signal.

  His eyes are wild, with none of the softness I remember from when he pulled me close before asking me to massage him in the plane. They flick around the room, like those of a hawk searching for a victim. I wonder if he’ll see that I’m masturbating? Will he like that?

  But no, his eyes fall instead on the steadfast pair of pussy-licking fiends who’ve been there since before the alarm even went off. He climbs slowly up the steps, his eyes never leaving them. He steps onto the shelf, then over, through and around the glistening bodies, who don’t touch him. Presumably they’re waiting for another hand-clap.

  He reaches Annika, who still has her face buried between the top girl’s ass cheeks. He takes hold of her hair, and gently pulls her away.

  “I want her now,” is all he says.