by Lynn, KT
After she had stripped me, Cat threw her head back, her hair flapping back like a giant breeze had just taken control of it. Cat looked on me, now smiling, all her earlier reluctance was now absent from her face, and I was entirely confused. I began hoping that Slickson would just cum early and spare us from going any further. Stop thinking about his cock, I started chanting in my head. It was only making me horny, and I didn’t want to be horny.
“Cat, start eating out Lisa.”
He can’t be serious, I almost said. I looked up to Cat so that our eyes could meet in mutual protest but Cat was already focusing on my cunt, and I felt her tongue slip into my pussy, floating weightlessly in it like a soothing current of slight pressure. Fuck, it felt so good, but I was trying not to admit that truth with my face. I opened my eyes and looked up at a reflection, and watched Slickson’s hands effortlessly slide up and down his pulsating rod. Holy shit, her tongue felt so good in my pussy, her arms reaching around my ass and squeezing it. I fought the urge to moan loudly numerous times as waves of sensations continued rippling across my body.
“Now Cat, turn around and sit on Lisa’s face so she can eat you out while you continue eating her out.”
“Fuck that!” I screamed, well aware of the consequences. Slickson ripped his dress shirt off, buttons flying everywhere. His chest was enormous, his abs were ripped and his arms were big, with well defined muscles. Without saying a word he marched towards the bed pulled me by my shoulders so that my head hung off the edge of the bed, he grabbed Cat by the hips and began eating her out. With his cock pressing against my face, I felt like the only thing I could do was suck it.
As Cat continued eating me out, and Slickson’s cock filling my mouth as his big smooth balls lightly slapped against my forehead, I felt a wave of warmth rush over me. I began shaking my hips, Cat’s tongue going longer and harder than before, fucking my pussy with her face with much more passion after Slickson began eating her out and fucking my face.
“Don’t stop,” I tried to say, my voice completely muffled by Slickson’s cock. Before I could try and say it again, I heard Cat’s voice scream “Fuck me! Fuck me!” and I felt Slickson’s smooth hard cock pull out of my mouth and slide into Cat’s wet pussy while Cat continued generously eating me out.
I saw Cat’s hard nipples glistening from the sweat of our bodies, and I had an urge to feel them and touch them, and then I looked up and saw Slickson’s balls, levitating above my face as his cock continued pounding Cat’s pussy. I could see Cat’s pussy tighten and squeeze around Slickson’s cock, and I heard Cat begin screaming, feeling the vibrations through my pussy causing me to tremble.
I began squeezing my thighs against Cat’s head and I felt her begin fingering me while she was eating me, while Slickson’s throbbing cock began fucking her harder and deeper than before. Finally I couldn’t hold myself back and I began screaming with pleasure. I heard Cat lean her head up as she continued fucking me with her fingers and she screamed for pleasure as well, while Slickson continued fucking her deep and hard.
My breath grew short and fast as I continued moaning louder. I reached one of my hands down and pinched my nipple, and twisted it hard as Cat continued ramming her fingers into me harder. My hips began rocking like waves in the ocean, and I could feel my cunt begin to pulsate.
“Fuck!” I yelled and I could feel myself begin to come.
Immediately after I began coming, Cat lifted her head and began screaming. I could see her coming over my head as her juices began overflowing and running out of her pussy. At that moment, instinct just took over and I reached up and grabbed Slickson’s balls squeezing them tightly with my hands as he continued fucking her through her orgasm. I released them and Slickson roared like an animal, coming inside of Cat while his cum rushed out of her pussy falling on my face.
Slickson pulled out his cock, shot some of his sperm over her back and then shoved his cock in my mouth and continued coming inside of me. I had no choice but to swallow his warm load. When he finished, he stroked his cock into my mouth a few times, and then pulled it out and walked over to his clothes lying by the chair.
He picked up his clothes from the floor and walking towards the door of the suite said “Now cuddle each other,” and although I wanted to defy him, because I wanted him to get back in the bed and cuddle me, Cat threw herself on me, squeezing me tightly while I thought of him and watched him walk out of the room.
“Now, before we land, we’ll talk about our new business relationship and how it’s going to work out,” and he closed the door behind him.
I wanted to ask him what the hell he meant by new business relationship, but I was too relaxed to argue and although it wasn’t him, it felt good having Cat cuddle me.
The Slave of Pleasure
by Cherise Kemps
Themes: lesbian; vanilla; light bondage
I was shivering. My long blonde hair was almost the only protection I had from the biting cold, but the high wind was blowing it into my face, so I had to take my arms away from my body to keep my eyes clear of the unwelcome strands. I had to see what was happening. The rest of my life depended on these next few minutes.
I was on the block, the central platform of the slave market. It was a position I had seen hundreds of girls in; dark-skinned, russet-eyed Syrians, they were the most common. Then there were the Nubians, their dull looks attracting only the basest of curs, those who could spare no more than a few kurus. I, the fair-skinned daughter of a wealthy merchant, had never expected to be up here myself, but I would fetch the highest price of all. I had always pitied the girls, all wide-eyed and frightened, clutching the short robes which marked them as soon-to-be slaves around their often emaciated bodies, watching as hard-faced men bid for the use of their flesh. But now it was I who held my own coarse robe tightly, trying to prevent it from blowing up and revealing my nakedness to the group of hecklers, bidders and leering onlookers. Apart from myself, there were few other women in the crowd. I caught the eye of one, dark-haired and elegantly dressed. She gave me a secret smile. I wondered briefly who she was before the horror of my situation wiped any further thoughts from my mind.
A sudden gust of wind caught me off guard, and for an instant, I could not prevent my robe from blowing upwards, exposing me to hundreds of eyes. There were roars of appreciation, and I blushed fiercely, almost sobbing in anger and humiliation.
Just a week ago I had been living a comfortable life. My baba was a kind, cheerful man, although he was away a lot, travelling across Anatolia to buy and sell goods, sometimes even further, across the whole of the Ottoman Empire. When he was away, I had my own slave to protect me. Poor Abdullah, he had defended me to the last, but with his throat slit and his blood spilt over our plush white carpet, he was now in a safer place than I was.
My father had always returned from his adventures with a smile on his face and a gift for his only daughter, some trinket or novelty from the far reaches of the Empire. Some ornament for the finest jewel in Anatolia, he always said. On his last trip I had eagerly waited his return, my anxiety building as the day for his return came and went. Finally, I heard feet downstairs, late one night, and rose with joy from my bedchamber. Baba was back. But then I heard the shouts, the voice of Abdullah warning me to stay above stairs, to flee if I could, the soft vibration of metal being pulled from a sheath. I should have concealed myself. I should have run. But my fear and my confusion prevented me from keeping hidden – I rushed downstairs in time to see Abdullah crumpling to the ground, scarlet blood coursing from his ruined throat. A band of rogues was at the ready, grabbing me roughly before I could so much as scream, and taking me to their master. My father had lost the merchandise entrusted to him by a wealthy fur merchant, and the merchant, furious at the loss, had taken his vengeance with murder. Now he had come to claim his compensation.
“A lovely girl of such good breeding,” leered my father’s murder, “would make a fine ornament for my bedchamber. But you will make an even finer li
ning for my purse. Tell me, girl. How do you fancy being the plaything of Sultan Selim?”
Sultan Selim. I could see him amid this filthy crowd as I squinted through my unruly hair, his fat hand, clogged with thick gold rings, raised in yet another bid. I had heard rumours about him. Everyone had. Almost every girl of good blood and breeding who was sold into slavery found her way into his greasy embrace. And I had heard more than one story of the cruelty they suffered at his hands. Whips, ropes, even cold, hard steel; from the arrogant twist of his thick lips I could tell that he already thought I was his. Worse still, considering the amounts he was bidding, the horrible lurch in my stomach told me that those stubby fingers would soon be creeping over my naked skin. The thought was almost enough to make me retch.
“The bid is one thousand kurus for the fair-haired slave. Handsome price – any more takers? No? Well, then the prize goes to Sultan S-“
“I bid two thousand kurus.”
The voice which had spoken was clear and authoritative, a slight southern lilt to its accents. Everyone in the crowd strained to see who had spoken. It was the elegant woman, tall and confident, that small, slightly enigmatic smile still hovering around her lips. I barely heard the words which sold me into her service; the relief coursing through me was too strong. But once the first joy of being saved from the clutches of the cruel Selim had worn off, the worry began to build in the back of my mind. Who was this mysterious woman, and what fate did she have in store for me?
-
I quickly learnt I was the property of Nar Hatun, or Madame Nar, the owner of one of the city’s many pleasure houses. Of course, I had heard the name before. Madame Nar’s girls were infamous. Only the most promising of girls were bought my Madame Nar. My panic rose again to dizzying heights as I realised I was to be a concubine, but anything was better than being sold to Sultan Selim. Wasn’t it?
As soon as I entered the house, richly furnished with coloured silks and plush cushions, escorted by two tight-lipped eunuchs, I was greeted by two girls. They were breath-taking; honey-skinned, ebony-haired, and with liquid amber eyes. They could have been sisters. Both were dressed in loose, gauzy trousers of a fluid and beautiful material, coral red and shimmering. Apart from these, though, they were naked, their full breasts exposed, only thick-plated golden necklaces clothing their throats.
“Don’t look so terrified,” one of the girls said, smiling at me with full, glossy lips, showing perfect white teeth; she was obviously well bred, like me. “You won’t have to wear something like this just yet. Not unless you’re a very fast learner. My name is Emine, this is Fatima. Welcome to Madame Nar’s house. Now let’s get you out of that horrible robe and into a bath.
“I-”
“Don’t worry,” Fatima said, her voice gentler and quieter than Emine’s. “It’s really not a bad life. You’ll learn to enjoy it. We’ll make sure of that.”
I was led to a wide chamber, laid with soft carpet and draped in silk. In the middle of the room was a golden tub, both wide and deep. I could see the steam rising from the warm water, and smell the heady fragrance of oils. I was so eager to sink luxuriantly into that warm, soothing water that I barely registered as the two girls began to undress me, unfastening my scanty robe and letting it fall from my shoulders.
“Why don’t you get into the water?” invited Emine, her voice seductive.
“O-ok,” I stammered.
“Relax,” she encouraged. “We’re not going to hurt you. We just need to prepare you so you can start your training.”
“It’s fine,” Fatima added with a soft smile. “You’re already so beautiful. And your hair is so fine. There’s really not much we need to do.”
I sank into the water with a groan of pleasure. After being pulled around, blown away, half frozen and almost sold to a disgusting pig, this was heaven. But I wasn’t allowed to relax for more than a minute before Emine and Fatima were by my side. Fatima was preparing something in a bowl, mixing it together with her fingers.
“This is a sea salt scrub infused with essential oils,” she told me. “It’ll make your skin as soft as silk. Stand up.”
I stood, letting the warm water course off my body, the steam spiralling from my skin as it met the cooler air of the room. It felt strange, having soft, feminine hands on my body, and the coarse scrub burned and left my skin red and tingling. As Emine’s hands stroked in wide circles on my thighs, and Fatima’s fingers explored the plane of my stomach, I thought about the mysterious Madame Nar. I did not know quite what to make of her, of all of this. I should be more afraid, more disgusted at the thought of a life as a concubine, hired out to pleasure whoever should choose me. But with the gentle smiles and encouragement of these girls, and their hands running all over my body with the stinging, sweet-smelling scrub, I felt… excited. Eager to learn from them. I was anticipating learning the arts which would make me as elegant and seductive as they were. And maybe if I learnt well, I would be chosen by some kind, handsome sultan…
But it was foolish to fantasize. For all I knew I would be sold again to some coarse, vulgar boar.
“You can rinse yourself now,” Fatima smiled at me. I started, and realised that the treatment was finished. I stepped back into the bath, and my skin sang as I stroked my hands over my limbs, now satiny smooth.
Once that was done, it was a whirl of creams, potions, and all manner of other things applied to my skin, face, hair, each one sweet-scented and gently applied.
“The next step,” Emine said softly, “is to be completely clean.”
“I am clean,” I protested. Both girls exchanged a look and smiled indulgently.
“As a member of Madame Nar’s house, you have to be shaved,” Fatima explained. My face instantly blushed bright red at the thought of them touching me there.
“Don’t be so shy,” Emine laughed. “We’ve seen hundreds of women. It’s our job to pleasure men, but it pays to know the secrets of our own bodies too. If it helps, just lie back and close your eyes.”
I lay back and closed my eyes as the two women set me on a tiled seat and stretched my legs apart. I was nineteen years old, and I admit that I had explored myself before. I had caressed and squeezed my breasts, pretending that my hand was really the broad, tanned hand of a handsome young sultan I saw in the city sometimes. I had put my fingers between my legs and stroked myself before, marvelling at how wet I got, the strange, thrumming feeling of pleasure which built inside me as I moved my fingers in rhythmical motions. It felt strange, very strange, to have other hands gently parting my legs and touching me between soft folds of skin as they stripped me of all hair. Part of me was in an agony of embarrassment, but my heart was beating fast.
“You’re ready,” said Fatima with another gentle smile, as I was once again rinsed off to reveal my glistening, bare body, shaved, polished and perfect. “Now, since we’re all already in the mood, I think it’s time for the first part of your training.”
I swallowed. I was a little nervous, ignorant of what sort of thing could be in store for me.
“Stop thinking,” Emine said, gently but firmly. “The best way to look like you are enjoying attention is to really be enjoying it. The best way to make sure that your master is enjoying himself is by knowing what feels good. We’ll start with the art of massage.”
I watched in wonder as Emine and Fatima both removed their scanty clothing, revealing bodies just like mine, bare, toned, smooth and perfect. The three of us stretched out on a more comfortable, cushioned bench, wide and long enough to accommodate us with ease. Fatima brought a small jug of oil, and poured a little of it into her hands.
“Start by warming the oil,” she instructed. “Make sure you do it slowly, showing your master how supple and dexterous your hands are. Every movement you make should be like a dance. Then,” she said, turning me around and arching her hand from the small of the back up to my shoulders, “be sensuous. This should be about pleasure. The enjoyment of warm skin under your fingers. You need to feel wher
e to move, which muscles need to be relaxed.”
Her dainty fingers kneaded my tired muscles with the ease and precision of an expert, sometimes lingering, sometimes applying a little more pressure to a certain area, sending warm waves of relaxed pleasure through my entire body.
“Now you try,” Fatima whispered in my ear. “Pour the oil into your hands.”
My fingers trembled slightly as I warmed the oil in my hands. I tried to be confident as I stroked my hands lightly up the exposed, slender back of Emine.
“Harder,” Fatima instructed. “Here.” She leaned across and put her hands over mine, guiding them firmly along the curve of Emine’s spine. “Read her responses. Know what she likes. Just here,” she pushed my fingers a little harder into the gap between Emine’s shoulders and neck, and Emine groaned in pleasure. “Remember what felt good for you. Have some confidence in your power to seduce.”
Fatima removed her hands, and I let myself explore the warm, golden skin before me, loving the way it glistened with oil, loving the way her muscles flexed as I kneaded them gently.
“She’s a natural,” Emine said finally. “I think we’ll be moving on to better things in no time.”
-
It seemed like no time from when I slipped my naked body between silken sheets and closed my eyes, to when I was once again seated on plush cushions with Fatima and Emine, their odalisque smiles once again in place.
“Today,” Emine said calmly, “we’ll be taking things a little further. You’ve learnt how to set the mood, but once that’s done, there are no limits to the pleasures you will be required to master. This is one of the skills every woman of Madame Nar’s is required to be expert in. How much do you know of the pleasures of men? I take it you are a virgin?”