The Sheik and the Slave

“I will escort you to our room,” he said. He took her arm and laced it with his.

Katharine glanced up and almost jerked her arm away from him. “No, I don’t…” she started to speak. But then, she remembered that he had commanded her to be with him.

The dark sky was filled with stars as they walked through the gardens in the palace. The great water fountain sprouted quietly as many couples walked hand and hand, disappearing together. She watched one couple caught up in the moment as the woman went down on her knees before the man. She heard laughter and grunts and moans of sexual conquest from another room and she turned her face away.

“It is the way, princess. Men and women. Women’s bodies were made to accept and allow us to come into them and leave our seed.”

“Not when they are unmarried,” she reminded Mohammed.

Katharine felt lightheaded and warm. The sighs and moans around them excited her and made her pulse race. She could feel the warmth between her thighs. She knew her body was readying itself for the sheik, when he would take her and claim her.

“Perhaps. But it is not natural to deny yourself. Lying with a man is a natural thing. A man’s body was made to fit into a woman’s. Thus Allah has made it so that we can give you our seed to bear our children. Your bodies are for us to give Allah sons.”

“So I’m unnatural?” Katharine asked, hurt.

They had stopped outside one door and Katharine could hear a woman’s cries of, “Harder, harder!” She grinded her teeth as she felt her juices pool into her and fall upon her thighs. She knew she wanted the sheik, but she fought it.

“You are afraid. You are a virgin. It is natural for you to be afraid, but also natural for you to give yourself to a man. It is what your body was made for. You were made to receive pleasure, to give pleasure an

d then feel pain at the birth. Such is life.” His fingers caressed her soft cheek and she pulled away from him.

Once inside his private rooms, he locked the door. The lights were low and oud incense was burning. He turned to her and breathed in the scent of her hair.

“They have scented your hair with jasmine,” he said, smiling. He looked at the blonde hair curling along his fingers. “Jasmine is my favorite scent. Bashasha knows this.” His hand drifted into her hair.

“Please,” she said. She shook her head, but then felt dizzy and stopped.

Mohammed moved the golden strands off her shoulders and Katharine could only feel the lightness of her body, the warmth of the man in front of her, and the continued drizzle of her juices upon her upper thighs.

“What did you tell the Englishman?” he asked her sharply, suddenly.

“N-nothing,” she stammered.

“He knows you. I saw his look upon you.”

“No. You’re mistaken,” she said, shaking her head.

“I don’t think so,” he argued, leading her to the cushions and fabric upon which he slept.

“No,” she argued back. He eased her to sit beside him, with her legs bent at the knees.

“Who is this man?” Mohammed asked softly, as he moved the hem of the abaya up to her calves.

“I don’t know,” she said again. Katharine watched his hands as they moved against her skin.

“You do. Tell me. I will not be angry,” he promised. His brown eyes bore into hers.

She shook her head once. She dreaded this. She wanted him. She ached to have him here between her legs. She wanted to feel his cock stretching and filling her. She wanted to feel her hymen break and have him claim her as his. She wanted to see the blood stain his cock and know that she was his.

He pulled the hem of the dress further up below her knees.

“Tell me.”

“I truly don’t know. I-I think he was a friend of my father’s, but I swear to you I don’t know his name. But he knows me,” she admitted.

“Indeed? Truly?” He pulled the dress up further past her knees and to her slim thighs. Her legs were slightly apart as he knelt before her. His cock bounced at the thought of her pussy. But he kept to the business at hand. He had to know about this foreign man.

“I swear. We spoke only briefly. Nothing happened,” she said. Katharine cringed as her juices slid out of her, clinging to the small hairs of her pussy.