The Sheik and the Slave

"May I stay behind for a little while? I never have any time to myself and don’t enjoy public bathing. It's very uncomfortable for me," she said. Katharine struggled with her frustration.

Bashasha tried to stem her impatience. She had heard that the English were a cold, restrained people, and Katharine seemed ashamed of her own body.

"As it's a concert, everyone will be there.” Katharine continued. “The sheik has planned dozens of activities and will have no need of me. I will certainly not be missed. Please," she lowered her voice at this last request.

Bashasha watched as the other women made their way down to the quiet gardens and knew that Katharine would not be missed.

"All right little one. You are excused, but only for a short while. When you have bathed and are ready, please join us. I don't want the other women accusing me of favoritism and I certainly don't want to explain your absence, should anyone ask. I will say the sheik asked for you."

"Thank you, Bashasha," she said. Katharine watched the last of the women leave the harem and sighed with relief.

***

Mohammed had been watching the women leave for their concert from his private balcony high above. He noticed his favorites leave, and then the kindly Bashasha exited, but he failed to see the little falcon.

He had rested poorly the night before. Her lips beckoned him into a fitful sleep and had he not been an educated man, he would have been convinced of witchcraft. He relived their bath again and again in his mind and could not escape it. Her hair smelling of vanilla, her soft lips underneath his and urging him on no matter what she said. Her breasts and hips curving into his own body and his cock, even now, hard and thrusting forward, wanting to tear into her body. He wanted to feel the rippled walls of her tight pussy as she lifted her legs around his waist. He would relish the feel of her nails on his back as she raked them, leaving her mark on him. He would claim her virginity as no other man had or would and watch her grow round with his son, the next sheik.

***

Katharine bolted the door behind the women and began to ready herself for the bath.

Mohammed walked down the tiled corridor and into a small hallway that twisted and turned awkwardly. It led into a secret panel that opened into the bathing area of the harem. The panel had small holes that were part of a decoration on the harem side but in actuality served as peeping holes.

His father had been a sexual man like himself, but had been particularly fond of voyeurism. He had loved to watch his harem beauties bathing and coupling in intercourse with visiting dignitaries. He enjoyed hearing the moans and grunts of the men and women while in the act of sex. He especially loved to listen as the women were rammed and filled to the brim in group acts and loved watching them being filled in the mouth with thick cock.

He liked the women who would cry out and then turn into wanton bitches, enjoying the hard cocks and pushing back, wanting more.

His father's favorite passion had been watching women experience anal sex for the first time. He had loved to hear them scream, cry, beg to stop, and then beg to continue. The young girls would at first cry that they had never taken it up there. Then, the men would tear into the little holes, trying not to hurt but unable to stop. The women would beg them to stop, but then, as the men guided their asses lovingly, the women would become wanton, arching their asses into the air and begging the men to continue. The men would eventually spill their cream inside the tight little virgin holes.

Mohammed the son had stumbled upon this secret viewing room by accident. Though he enjoyed watching the women in secret, nothing compared to the sex act itself.

He watched as the young blonde stripped naked in the bathhouse. Her slim, long legs were the color of ivory. Her slim hips curved out, her waist dipped in, and her high breasts jutted out again. Her delicate nipples were the color of pomegranates. She was very feminine, with a slim hourglass figure. Her mass of blonde hair had been secured up and he watched her step into the water. She sighed as the water pooled around her legs, bottom and waist. She settled into the warm water in deep appreciation for the solitude. She picked up the luf sponge and massaged herself.

Mohammed watched the entire scene and felt himself growing hard as well as angry at her. She always kept herself so aloof and cool. She pretended to be a marble statue in his arms, yet he knew she wanted him. He was a man and she was a woman. It was a natural act between them. He remembered how she had been in the bath with him and his cock jerked awake. He lifted up his long robe to fill his hand with himself. His hand moved down the length of him and then up again while he watched her in the water.

She sponged her legs, feet and arms, and then her breasts and back. She settled back onto the stone seat underwater and then slipped her hand into the water. Her fingers were between her legs.

"Ah," she sighed into the lonely bathhouse, as her fingers encircled the va

gina lips and then sank into the small opening. She was a virgin and had never been touched by any man except for the sheik. He had laid claim to her already. Little by little, he was taking what he wanted.

In England, she had pushed the societal rules by rebuffing a marriage proposal from one man and been outraged by the role of mistress offered by another. But here she was in a foreign land, being offered the role of mistress by a completely different man. A confident and handsome man. She had never seen a man equal to him in England. Why was she fighting him? I want him, she admitted to herself.

If only she weren’t a slave! But she was a slave, his slave, and she was not free to give what she had. He would demand, and she would have to submit. That could not be the way! she thought. No, I must fight him.

She rested her head back, inserted her fingers into the passage, and moved them in and out quickly without breaking the thin barrier. Her breathy sighs echoed in the room.

Mohammed watched her close her eyes and finger herself just as his hand moved quicker along his cock and he could feel his climax building.

"Mohammed," she cried into the bathhouse and came quickly.

His cream shot onto the wall where he was standing and he looked at the little blonde incredulously. So, the little falcon wasn’t so immune to him as she would like him to believe. He watched her leave the bath, admiring the small ass he ached to pound. She wrapped herself in a towel. He smoothed his robe down and emerged into the bathhouse.

"Princess," he said quietly. She whirled around to face him.

"My God, you frightened me!"

He said nothing.