The Sheik and the Slave

The sheik slept soundly next to her with one masculine leg draped over hers. His position was one of arrogance and possession. His one arm was thrown behind her head and most of her silken hair was caught underneath it. She felt tired, despite the fact that she had slept most of the night. Her legs felt heavy and there was a soreness between them. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, just one she wasn't used to.

She thought of the night and saw herself tangled with the sheik in unadulterated lust. She was ashamed. She had given herself to him with no thought beyond it. He was a sheik with a wife and many concubines; now that she had given him her virginity, there was nothing left.

Her virgin's blood should have been reserved for her husband and now she was used. Yasmeen was right. She would be used again and again until he had tired of her. Then, he would sell her to someone else. She would become nothing to him.

Damn! she thought bitterly, trying to stem the tears that threatened to spill. Islam was correct in outlawing alcohol. It was an evil potion. She never would have given into him without the alcohol, no matter that she wanted him. It was wrong.

She began to ease away from Mohammed. She untangled her legs from his and her hair from underneath his arm. She turned back to look at him sleeping soundly. His face looked younger in sleep. She gazed at the planes of his face. She thought of all that they had done together the night before and turned away from him.

She dressed quickly in the silver abaya and left before he awoke.

***

Bashasha watched beneath hooded eyes as the young girl entered the harem. Most of the women were slowly returning to the harem after the night’s festivities. She watched Katharine walk slowly into the room, half-afraid and half-enjoying the familiarity of the room. As she made her way to her small sleeping pallet, Bashasha watched the young girl’s legs scissor as she walked.

Katharine was flushed, and her manner was different. She had been with the sheik. Bashasha recognized well the signs of sexual conquest and possession. She had been so certain that the foreign woman would never give in to him, but the attraction between them was undeniable. She also knew from the servants last night that Katharine had drank wine and ate nothing, leaving her inhibitions down. Bashasha was determined to have her work as little as possible today, unless she was specifically asked for.

***

Mohammed awoke smiling. Katharine’s surrender had been all the sweeter, for he knew she had wanted it too. She had been tight and pleasing, and he enjoyed the fact that he had been the first man to touch and claim her. He would also be her last, he vowed.

The passion and warmth that she had given him last night was only the beginning. He rolled over and was surprised to find her gon

e. Was she bathing? He knew not, but he was deeply disappointed not to have her in his arms when he awoke. It irritated him. Her place was to please him and to bear his children. He would accept nothing less.

***

Katharine tried to rest her eyes among the pillows, but the women were chattering all around the harem and their voices echoed off the tiles. She remembered again and again the night before and felt him moving inside her. She heard her cries of passion as she climaxed. His hold over her was too strong; she couldn’t find the attraction she felt. She must find a way to contact the Englishman and leave this cursed place. He was her only hope now.

***

It was late afternoon when Bashasha was informed that the sheik was asking for his bather. For the first time since she had ever known him, Bashasha wanted to defy him. However, she didn’t. She summoned the young girl before her and told her she was wanted by the sheik.

Katharine looked away from the older woman as tears formed in her eyes. She didn't want to see him. She knew then that she was weak and he was too strong. Her body became a traitorous thing and she hated it. When she felt his dark, liquid eyes upon her, she grew warm. When his eyes traveled down the length of her, her breasts would soften, her nipples would tighten as she imagined his hard cock inside her, and a blush would spread across her cheekbones. She would deny him.

***

Katharine dressed in a simple white linen shift that reached her calves and had quarter-length sleeves. She entered the sheik's private rooms and saw that she was alone. The room was lit with candles and the oud incense burned just as it had the night before. She felt her head spin as she realized the room was set for seduction, not a mid-day bath.

***

Mohammed spoke with his trusted adviser Daleel as they entered his private chambers. Daleel's admiring eyes took in Katharine standing near the bath.

"That is all, Daleel," Mohammed said quietly, as their business was concluded.

"My lord," Daleel spoke and bowed before Mohammed.

Mohammed walked stealthily toward her, divesting himself of his robes, until he was naked and sinking into the bath.

Katharine tried to look away but found she was drawn to him. His body was muscular and firm and his skin bronzed as no other man had been in England.

"Where did you go this morning?" Mohammed winced even as he spoke. He had never cared what happened to his women after they had been fucked. As long as they were fed and safe, it had never mattered.

"I have other duties," she said as she stepped gingerly into the bath.

"You're only duty is to me!" he told her harshly, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her fully into the water before him.

"Let me go!" she said. She struggled in his arms and the water sluiced between them until the slickness of his naked chest caused her to slip into him.