Her Calling (Emma Book 3)
Page 17
She kneels back on her heels, giving him room to get behind the top girl as she continues to bury her face in her fellow prostitute’s pussy.
Not that I think any of us are prostitutes right now. What sane woman would say no to this scene? We might be getting paid, but that’s merely a bonus. I increase the pace on my clit again. Annika spots me, and smiles. She obviously likes my idea, because she imitates me as she watches the prince from behind.
He makes a good view from any angle, I’m certain of that. His butt is perhaps the steeliest part of his steely body. That much is clear even in profile. I wouldn’t trade my position for anything – except underneath him, of course. I can see his gigantic dick preparing to enter the girl, and then watch in awe as it slides into her. She whimpers as its full size and girth and length seeps into her, while her friend does her best to keep licking her from below, even when the prince’s balls begin to slap her on the forehead.
I so want that to be me. Especially when I see how hard he fucks. I don’t know if he’s always like this in the harem – my plane experience tell me he might not be – but today he wastes no time getting down to the rough stuff. I watch the beads of sweat develop on his forehead as he pumps her, and hear the sounds of her moans ring around the room with every thrust.
Several of the other girls have begun to copy myself and Annika now. This is almost too hot to do anything but take in and enjoy by yourself. I’m not sure why nobody is reaching out to touch the prince from behind – I can think of a few things I’d like to do – but I’m going to take my cue from the crowd for now. I suppose it’s ‘hands off’ until he claps his hands again?
And then, just when it can’t get any more sizzling, it does. I swear he’s about to come, surely, but just before I hear the unmistakeable sound of release, I see him pull out. Fuck, it’s like a colossal tree trunk of curved, twitching masculinity. I want it!
All in one move, he reaches down with one hand and prises the lower girl’s mouth off the just-vacated clit it’s been licking. She hopefully opens up her jaw. And she’s just in time to receive a huge dousing of his seed.
It makes me explode myself. And judging by the noises around me, I’m not the only one to climax hard.
I may not have gotten pounded by a prince yet, but at least I came at the same time as one.
Chapter XVIII
Prince Yousuf doesn’t hang around long after his Tuesday morning session with us. And, much as I want him inside me, I hope he’ll go and get some rest for a while. Because after all this stimulation, a flight across time zones and spending last night sleeping on an aeroplane floor, I’m desperate for some real rest.
But first I have to find the showers. Which isn’t difficult, because all the girls head there after the chamber session. They’re actually in the atrium, under a veranda off the corridor the runs along the side of the pool, with the same terracotta tiles forming the floor. Which makes sense, I guess. Why wouldn’t the prince want to happen upon us showering when he visits his sex den?
The shower is welcome and delightful, and I’m oblivious to anybody else around. There’s a magic soap that makes the oil disappear as easily as it went on. Gorgeous, soft towels lie stacked on a shelf next to the wet area, and I help myself to one when I’m done. I notice that the towel is very small, though, and I can’t even wrap it around me. Which is a good thing, I realise. Because actually wrapping it around me would contravene the nudity rules.
I wander around the atrium on my own as I dry off, looking in the other rooms. There’s a fully kitted out massage room – one that would work very well for sex, too. There’s a hot tub room, which isn’t as silly as it sounds because it’s the one place in the atrium that has air-conditioning. Next door there’s a dripping hammam, where a couple of the girls have actually gone to sweat out the oil. Far too hot for me right now, but it looks worth a try one evening.
Curiously – or maybe it’s just my warped mind – there doesn’t seem to be any area dedicated to kinky play. No room of pain, for example. Fair enough, maybe His Majesty just isn’t in to all that stuff. After all, he’s one of only a handful of men in the world with access to his very own harem. Maybe that’s more than enough fantasy for one person.
I spend the rest of the day getting my bearings and getting a few introductions. I unpack my bag into my storage space, which takes all of about five minutes, and discover that my room-mates are Cindy (the black girl, who is from Ghana and almost as tall as the prince), Rebecca (the one with the curls – she’s American) and Kimiko, a petite Japanese woman with delightful little breasts.
Each one of them welcomes me with a light kiss when we meet properly. It’s as though that’s the secret handshake in here. I recall the section in the notes about not rejecting any sexual advances, and I wonder if anyone will do any advancing on me. I’ve definitely got my eye on Annika. Like I said, she’s Petra without the iciness!
I try lying down on my mattress, which wraps itself around my shoulders like a light, relaxing massage. I guess directly after a session with the prince is logically the best time to try and get uninterrupted sleep, and I let myself nod off for a couple of hours. At first I crawl under my sheet, but at one point I wake up roasting. I have no idea where I am for a moment, and I’m completely disoriented. Then my mind slowly fills in the gaps, and the crazy memories of the last 24 hours take shape once again. I throw the sheet off me, lie there for some time pondering the strange fact that I’m lying naked in a harem dormitory, and then nod off again.
The prince doesn’t call again all day, so I’m free to have a good look around. I discover the buffet after I wake up, and pile a plate full of food, sharing a table with the equally ravenous Yelena.
There really is something for everyone, from souvlaki to curry to sushi to Irish stew. Which is just as well, because as I start meeting the girls properly, I realise that they really are from all over the world. We have a Montenegrin, a Mongolian and a Greek – that’s Yelena.
It’s fascinating to hear all of their stories. Almost all the girls are in a similar age bracket to myself. Actually, come to think of it, that means we’re only a few years younger than the prince, who I believe is 32.
Clearly Yousuf likes it natural, because I don’t see any fake lips or breasts wandering around the building. Nor out on the narrow roof terrace, which I’m shown by Lanika, our other female minder. This terrace, cunningly build into the roof architecture at the back of the building, has high walls all around it, so we’re free to sunbathe unobserved up here. The prince could even fuck us up here if he wanted to.
A conversation over my lunch with Priya, a tan-skinned beauty from a small town between Delhi and the Himalayas, reveals that it’s not unheard of for the prince to visit other parts of the building from time to time. It’s possible that he might skip the alarm procedure. “Be ready for anything,” she smiles.
I have to believe Priya knows what she’s talking about, since she’s on her fourth stint here. She proudly shows me her tile in the atrium after lunch, and I find myself unthinkingly running my palm across her soft bottom whilst I stand there next to her, admiring her full-frontal shot. We end up kissing right there in the atrium corridor – my world gets more exotic by the day!
Lanika also shows me round the entertainment room, which is where most of the awake girls tend to hang out, especially if they’re feeling sociable. Ten computer terminals are there for our use, plus four televisions, and headsets that you can tune in to any of them. There are all the on-demand movies and series you can think of, and there’s plenty of binge watching going on.
The wireless headsets are amazing. They’re so smart that they can pick up your speech. Say a song’s name out loud, and it’s playing within a couple of seconds. You can take the headsets anywhere, and enjoy them on the roof or in your room. I quickly discover that they’re full of audiobooks, too.
I enjoy browsing the library, too, from which we’re free to help ourselves to a range of brand-new books
The buffet and entertainment room, along with Lanika and Monosira’s office, are at the back of the building, near where we came in from the car, and look out onto the fabulous courtyard. It’s bursting with vegetation, and even though it’s semi-indoors it attracts a lot of small, colourful birds. Surfaced with cool concrete paving stones, it’s a pleasant place to find a bit of shade and fresh air.
The eight bedroom dormitories, with up to four girls in each, follow the line of the covered corridor on each side of the courtyard. It’ll take time to learn who sleeps where, especially if there are going to be new arrivals all the time. Lanika, who is as pleasant and professional – without being too familiar – as Monosira, tells me there’s a Finnish girl, a French girl, a Thai and a Mexican arriving tomorrow.
“Not much chance of remembering all their names!” I remark to Lanika.
“Well, that’s our job,” she replies. “And you know what, His Majesty remembers the name of each girl who comes here. Instantly. He has a photographic memory that way. And he remembers your names because he treasures each one of you.”
I’m impressed. And curious.
“So it’s very international…but has there ever been a local girl in the harem? One from Dunei?”
She shakes her head. “No, that would not be acceptable to him. It’s illegal for a Dunei woman to prostitute herself, so he could have nothing to do with that. And it’s probably best that way.”
“But…he could marry someone local? One day?”
“He certainly could, of course. I can’t speak for His Majesty and his wishes, however.”
I understand that she doesn’t want to talk any further. She switches the subject to practicalities, telling me that massage is available 24/7, and all I need to do is ask in at her office. There are at least five masseuses in the main palace, and often one hanging around the harem. She also makes sure to take my mobile away from me, which there wasn’t time to do in the flurry of my arrival.
She also points out the bathrooms, which are discreetly hidden next to the back door, alongside a small room where we can leave any washing that needs to be taken care of. Finally, there’s the hair salon and beauty studio, which also squeeze into the back of the building near her office. They’re small, but they’ve got everything you’d need. They’re staffed around the clock too, she tells me – all I have to do is knock.
“Try to plan any complex treatments for immediately after a visit from the prince,” she says tactfully. “You can usually be sure of at least a couple of free hours after that. Fridays are best for that kind of thing, in fact.”
Good point. You really wouldn’t want the alarm going off while you had curlers in your hair. I do wonder though, if there are any other times when we’d be sure of being free.
“Do we get told if…the prince is out of town? I mean, I guess…he’s just been in London, right? So the girls knew they could be a little more carefree?”
“If he leaves the country on a trip, then we’ll let you know. But even if that happens here, you only leave the premises on Fridays. Tradition is very important to His Majesty. In any case, I’m not aware that he has any travels planned for the time you’ll be with us.”
With nothing much else to learn or do for the afternoon, I decide to request one of those terrific-sounding massages. It’ll be the perfect way to unwind, especially as my shoulder’s a little sore from my awkward sleeping position on the plane. Within twenty minutes I’m on that table in the atrium, enjoying strong hands working my muscles deep. This is one of the very best perks of my job: I think I’m going to indulge every day while I’m here.
Monosira catches me in the evening and tells me the photographer will be shooting Samantha, myself and the four new girls in the back courtyard late tomorrow afternoon, when the setting sun’s rays will bathe us in the best possible light. We’ll be posing in the same spot as all the others on those tiles: in front of the creepers that cover the wall between ‘our’ courtyard and what I assume must be the central chamber.
After an evening meal, I decide to give one of the computers a try. There’s no point thinking about Skype – cameras are conspicuously absent on these machines – but I’m able to log on to my webmail account with no problems at all.
There’s a message from Charles, but I keep it for last. First, I send out a few ‘arrived safe’ messages to Sarah, Latifa, Alyssia, Jack, Martin, a few other friends, and my family. After that, I turn to his e-mail with a mix of dread and curiosity.
Dear Emma,
I trust that you’ve arrived safely in Dunei. I would love to hear from you and know that you’re on the ground and that all is going smoothly. I’m sure you will have an incredible experience there, and I know Prince Yousuf is going to be very pleased with you.
I am wondering what you’re feeling after the last time I saw you. For what it’s worth, I’ve been an empty shell of a person ever since you left my friend’s house that morning. I made the biggest mistake of my life, and I would give anything to turn back the clock.
Yes, I would still like to do those things to you, no question. But only if you know it’s me doing them. I dream of owning you, Emma. I don’t know if you’d call that a relationship, but you’re the only woman that’s made me think in those terms since I decided to switch to using escorts several years ago.
There’s no point beating about the bush, is there? What I’d love from you is forgiveness. I’d love another chance with you. I thought that it would be easier to ask you in writing, while you’re a long way from home with lots of time to think.
I write these words with trepidation and very little hope. But I want to believe that a man can have a second chance in life, even if he’s made a grave error of judgement. And if you don’t ask, you don’t get.
Yours,
Charles
I re-read the email three times, just trying to process it at first. He makes a case of sorts. I’m glad he isn’t trying to bullshit me, at least, and hasn’t tried to justify his actions. And also that he’s willing to admit his mistake and move on.
His talk of owning me is annoying, though. It’s extremely dangerous territory for someone who has broken trust on the level he did. And that’s before we even consider whether I like the idea of being ‘owned’ by anyone. Submissive scenes, absolutely. Rented out to a prince for a month, sure. But long-term ‘ownership’? It doesn’t grab me. After all, I’ve been feeling more independent over the last few months, not less so.
When I read his earnest appeal for forgiveness, I wonder if I’m being too harsh on him. We all make mistakes, don’t we? I’m quite sure I’m not perfect, that’s for certain. I’m sure I might have broken a heart or two in my younger days. I’m a lot more aware of that now that I’m so much more aware of the value men put on me.
I’m certainly not going to write much back to him right now. Like he says, I’ve got plenty of time to think whilst I’m here. But I’m happy to let him know I’m safe. And there’s something I want to throw back at him. Something that’s been bugging me more and more.
Charles,
Thanks for your email. I’m safely here in Dunei, and it’s going very well so far.
I do not have a problem with forgiving, and I never have. Nobody’s perfect. Forgetting, well, that’s a different story. I’m not sure about the rest of it. Let me think.
Either way, I need full disclosure to move on. I need to know who your friend is. There can’t ever be trust between us as long as this secret exists. It was okay for him to be a mystery when it was between him and Lucy, but once you two decided to swap places, he’s too tied up in this whole thing.
Emma
Chapter XIX
Life in the harem settles into a very pleasant rhythm of prolonged boredom interspersed with wild sexual moments. The lion’s roar becomes a regular feature of life – one that never fails to make my adrenaline pump and my heart race. It comes at least once a day, but sometimes it roars as many as five times.
I grow to like the alarm. As masculine and regal sounds go, it’s an excellent choice. One that really gets the pulse thumping. It’s scary when it wakes you up in the dead of night – as can happen – but within a minute you’re off your mattress and excited by the possibilities.
It doesn’t take long before I really begin to let go when we’re gathered in the central chamber. I learn how to position myself well, and manage to take his cock in my mouth on the second day we’re there, this time with him reclined in the centre of the chamber. I take pleasure and pride in the fact that he pulls the other girls’ heads away, making them lick his balls instead. In this position there are ten or twelve girls who can get a hand or a mouth somewhere on his body, and they do. But he makes it clear that he only wants my mouth on his shaft. I feel like the Queen Bee.
And yes, he does taste out of this world. He must have some incredible scented soap back in the palace, because the flavour, the scent and the texture of his hairless skin there makes me want to suck it all day. I manage to swallow him, too, although it’s a push given his girth. He must like what I’m doing, because he lets me keep going for a good quarter of an hour, while all the other girls writhe around him.
But he doesn’t fuck me that time, either. When he claps his hands and everyone stops what they’re doing, he grabs hold of Priya and instructs her to sit on the shaft I so lovingly brought to a massive erection.
It’s hugely frustrating to have to watch that, but I don’t take it personally. I’m starting to see that he likes to do a few different things with a few different girls when he comes in here. And when he’s on a plane, perhaps. And I guess that makes sense from his point of view. There wouldn’t be a point in a harem if you just picked one girl while everyone else watched on.
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