The Sheik and the Slave (10 page)

“
I
would like her attired in the traditional abaya but with no veil. That would be
suitable if only Arabs were attending, but these foreign men would find it
uncomfortable and strange.
”

The abaya was a traditional dress worn by Muslim women to
cover their clothing. It had long sleeves and was floor-length. Abayas were
usually black, but other colors could be used. For the gathering, he wanted
Katharine to wear something bright and lively.

“
Yes,
”
Bashasha said, and she
nodded.

“
I
would like her attired in a silver fabric and have her hair unbound. I do not
like her hair bound up. It is not to my liking.
”

Bashasha swallowed nervously. She watched the way the sheik
spoke of Katharine and it frightened her. He had never lain with her
–
she knew that much from
the gossip - and yet he seemed infatuated with her. His desire for her was
evident.
Where would this lead
? she wondered.

Certainly, she had considered that the stranger would get
under his skin. No one had ever seen a woman that looked like Katharine, with
her light skin, golden hair, and Arabian Sea eyes. But Bashasha had considered
that once Katharine
’
s
blood had stained the sheik
’
s
bed, she would be mistress over the harem. Never had she considered that the
white girl would rule over them all.

Bashasha had never seen the look in Mohammed
’
s eyes before. The
burning intensity of raw desire made her shake. It was a fire that could
consume them all. She knew the law as well as any Arab that he was allowed four
wives, but a stranger? An Infidel? No, it had never been considered!

Mohammed
’
s
father had had three wives and many more concubines than his son, but never had
they been white women from the far away land.

“
Thank
you. Send me Farasha,
”
he said. He waved her away and she went quickly to the harem.

***

Bashasha entered the harem and said to the Chief Eunuch,
“
Send me Katharine and
send Farasha to the sheik.
”

Mohammed waited for Farasha to attend him. He wanted to
claim the princess
’
maidenhead, but until then he wanted no one else, so he had summoned Farasha.

“
My
lord,
”
she said as
she walked into the room, always proud and sure but always understanding her
place. She pleased him immensely.

She was quiet and always dutiful. She had been exchanged by
her village for her brother when a small war had erupted and the sheik had
supported one side. Farasha had been raped and her brother captured. Her family
had wanted her brother returned at all costs and had exchanged their lowly
daughter for their beloved son.

She had had sex with Mohammed
’
s
father vaginally but had been just of an age to not understand any other kind.
A visiting sheik who enjoyed young boys had taken her to bed one cold night.
Because Farasha was slender and almost boy-like in her body appearance, he had
preferred her. He had wanted a young boy to sleep with, but the sheik had none.

It was during that night that Farasha had been initiated
into anal sex. The dignitary had been a large, rotund man, with his belly
almost covering his fat sex. He enjoyed Farasha
’
s
squirming and cries, and by the end of the night, she realized that she enjoyed
his cock inside her ass.

Since then, Farasha had been one of the only harem women who
enjoyed having anal sex and, in fact, preferred it. She prepared for anal sex
by cleaning herself, and though he could have forced any of the women to submit
to his cock anywhere, he preferred not to. He was a man who liked his women
happy and sated.

***

“
Yes,
Bashasha?
”
Katharine
asked as she settled herself before Bashasha on the maroon pillows.

“
The
sheik has asked you to attend him tonight,
”
Bashasha replied.

Katharine
’
s
heart leaped in excitement, but then realized it was just the banquet that
Bashasha was referring to.

“
Yes,
he has told me,
”
Katharine replied.

“
Then,
I will send you to be bathed and readied. I am having an abaya made for you in
the color he prefers,
”
she added.

***

He motioned Farasha forward and she was already creaming at
the thought of his cock inside her ass. She moved a pillow beneath her hips for
easier access. Mohammed watched as she lay before him, arching her small ass
into the air. She was delicious and biddable - a woman who knew her place. He
removed his robe and his cock was hard and aching. He needed the release. He
didn
’
t want to go to
the banquet this evening thinking of the little cocktease who threatened his
sanity.

He positioned his cock between her ass cheeks and she
sighed.

“
Please,
my lord,
”
she
gasped. Her hands clutched the pillow beneath her small breasts and she arched
back.

He spread her cheeks apart and saw she was clean and oiled.
She was the perfect harem woman, always ready and willing to please him. His
knees pressed her slim thighs apart as her ass popped into the air and her head
remained down. She grabbed the pillow harder and allowed him to position her as
needed.

He stroked her slim globes as her ass remained ready. His
fingers slipped into her tight pussy and then into her tight hole. Her pussy
was dripping her juices, and her asshole was puckered and waiting.

“
Please,
”
she moaned into the
pillow, trying not to move her hips because she wanted him.

He smiled as his cock
’
s
bulbous head touched into the asshole, so small and tight. She jerked up in
reflex. She was hungry for it. He steadied her hips with his large hands and
let her set a rhythm that suited them both.

“
Harder.
Please,
”
she begged
him in the quiet room, almost sobbing the last word. She needed the release.

He smiled again as she arched like a cat and his cock
slipped deeper into her tight ass. She groaned and slapped her ass against his
hips.

“
I
beg you, harder,
”
she said. Her words were breathless and she jerked her hips into his, grinding
them.

The room was quiet except for the sounds of flesh slapping
flesh and the moaning of Farasha. Mohammed grunted, but with short bursts of
air coming from his chest. He wanted the little blonde before him.

He grunted once and she reached behind and fingered her
small clitoris. Her climax was close and Mohammed waited until he could feel
her body shake. He pulled out, spilling his cream first into her ass and then
onto it. She used a small towel to clean herself before leaving the room.

***

Katharine bathed in silence as she watched the other women
giggle and chat in small groups.

Yasmeen sauntered into the bathhouse, confident and regal in
a deep purple robe that accentuated her dark beauty. She asked another harem
woman why Katharine was bathing.

“
A
banquet. That is all I know,
”
the woman responded.

“
Indeed?
Bashasha!
”
Yasmeen
cried, stalking through the harem looking for the chief.

“
Yes,
Madame,
”
Bashasha
said when she came rounding the corner, looking at the beautiful lady.

Though Katharine hid it well, she understood much of what
was being said about her.

“
What
lies do I hear tell about this upstart slave? A banquet? Attending my husband?
”
Her dark eyes glared at
the lovely foreign woman in the water.

“
Yes.
She is to attend our master at the banquet, for she knows the language,
”
Bashasha told her in
Arabic.

“
Ah,
”
Yasmeen smirked.
“
A translator.
”
She walked over to Kat
and hissed into her ear,
“
I
see you, little bitch!
”
quietly, so no one else could hear.
“
You
are a slave still, and always will be.
”

She kneeled next to Katharine on the cool tiles, while the
blonde remained in the water. She didn
’
t
care that the woman couldn
’
t
understand Arabic. She hated her.

“
You
can eat my husband
’
s
cock a thousand times, just as these sluts do, and you
’
ll never be anything more than a cheap
little whore. He
’
ll
sell your body to the highest bidder once he
’
s
tired of your cunt and your taste,
”
Yasmeen hissed.

Yasmeen took her leave, but Katharine remained chilled in
the water. She had understood a few of the words and knew that she had been
called a whore. Yet, was Yasmeen wrong? As his wife, she had to submit to him
and watch as he took woman after woman to his bed. It was degrading. She had a
right to be upset.

If Katharine submitted to Mohammed, she would become a
whore. After all, he could empty his cream into any of these women! She would
become nothing to him. Her body would become used and loose and she would be
given to other men to enjoy and take. This would become her life if she
submitted. She knew she must escape.

Bashasha waved the women away as Katharine stood before her,
naked. Bashasha smiled. It was no wonder that the sheik was taken with her. She
had a slim body that was appealing, but she was also feminine and curvy, with
long legs the color of cream, a small waist, and high, young breasts.
She
would have to suckle many sons before they became saggy and old
, Bashasha
thought enviously.

The abaya gown was long, with enormous sleeves that fell to
the wrists. The bodice was fitted but not tight, and the gown itself fell
around the hips and legs but did not reveal anything. Deep, silver embroidery
danced along the simple neckline, wrists, and hem of the gown.

The gown covered her completely and gave her a sense of
modesty. Although she was allowed no undergarments, the dress provided
breathing for her and she did not miss the corset at all.

The majlis, a reception room where the meal was taken, was a
large room decorated with carpets and cushions. Katharine had never seen the
room before. It was colorful and decorated in the vibrant colors of red,
yellow, and orange.

Hospitality was taken very seriously in Arabia, and Mohammed
made certain his guests were comfortable and had all that they required.

The meal would consist of lamb, chicken, rice, dates, and
other dishes native to the area. Alcohol was forbidden by Islam, but it could
be offered to non-Muslim guests. Finally, after the meal, tea and coffee would
be served along with date cakes and other desserts.

Many men were already seated around the large room.
Katharine noticed the sheik speaking to several men at the far corner.

Fear gripped her stomach. The sheik spoke English well. Why
did he want her here? Surely, he would not want a mere woman doing business
with these important men. Why had he demanded her presence? She was escorted by
the Chief Eunuch to another corner and smiled at an older gentleman as she was
seated.

The sheik had not yet noticed her, but regardless of that,
her hands shook. She accepted some wine and took a sip. It was warm and
flavorful. She smiled again as the gentleman spoke to her in perfect French.
She knew that alcohol was not allowed, but surmised that the sheik made an
exception for his foreign guests.

Katharine quickly slipped into the French language and the
nervousness ceased. He was telling her of his younger days in Paris and his
first love, which had been architecture. She laughed in delight at his humor
and threw her head back, exposing the long white column of her throat.

Mohammed jerked his head toward her in response and saw her
laugh, her head thrown back in pleasure. Her blonde, golden hair fell around
her and she looked beautiful, like a lovely painting frozen in time. His jaw
tightened as the foreign Frenchman admired her.

Katharine had just finished her first glass of wine when
suddenly she and the Frenchman were joined by a small, stocky man with a
monocle and cane. Katharine
’
s
heart skipped a beat when he spoke to her in a perfectly clipped English
accent.

“
Good
evening, my dear. You might not remember me but I remember you. It
’
s good to see you again,
Lady Fairfax.
”
He
bowed over her hand and kissed it lightly.

Oh dear God
, Katharine thought.
I am going to be
free at last!

Mohammed came across the room and joined her trio, so before
long, she was separated from the Englishman. She tried to remember his name as
she spoke to another French gentleman. She was sure he had been a friend of her
father
’
s and she was
quite certain he was an earl.

She sipped her second glass of the sweet wine but ate
nothing. She was nervously thinking about how she could get a message to the
Englishman when she saw the sheik watching her. She knew those dark eyes
followed her movements, watching her lips as she spoke. She looked away and
tried to follow the conversation with the two Frenchmen. The language was not a
problem to follow, but she felt warm and his eyes made her feel the liquid
between her thighs.