Baraka: Slave to the Sheik Ch. 03

The heavy frankincense incense burned into her nostrils and afflicted her eyes as they rolled about the interior of the tent. The lush folds of gold, red and purple material hung about her creating ghostly faces in the shadows. They seemed to laugh at her humiliation as her legs sprawl open over the silk floor covers circled in pillows tossed away in the struggle. The rope hung like an umbilical cord from the steel loop on the ceiling connecting to her tiny wrist. Only, the shelter was not her life support, but the man whose presence held up the world inside the tent.

"Do not dismay," he spoke soothingly as he stroked the inside of her leg. "Baraka's voice will return. I have only taken it a short while to teach my slave how to speak."

Baraka looked directly into his face. The thick brows drew shadows around the lids making his onyx eyes shine like a raven's coat. The masculine nose, strong and prominent, divided his face with perfect symmetry. His full lips would have almost been feminine on a lesser man. However, the wide curve curled out to meet the jutting of a square chin only created through years of flawless breeding. Surely, he was the devil because no man could have possessed such wicked beauty.

"Turn down your eyes," he quietly commanded as he spread her pussy lips looking into her hole with detached interest. "Do not look upon Master without permission."

Hesitantly, she obeyed. Stillness settled in the air between them as he continued his inspection. Her stomach fluttered as a faint cry echoed in the distance. Her mind played with the idea that it was a hallucination brought on by the guilt of tempting the young guard. His kind eyes filled with pain because of her inequities. The thought grew claws and began to tear at her heart. This pain brought no pleasure unlike that given by her Master.

"Baraka pleases me in her obedience. Listen to my voice and know how I feel. I expect Baraka to know my intent with only a few words. Also, never speak to me without permission. When granted permission, remember Baraka is property and use only the name I have given. You may address me as Master or Sir."

Baraka nodded still feeling the heavy numbness in her throat.

"Good slave. Now, I will remove the bindings. Do not run. Baraka's feet will not carry the weight and it will result only in more punishment."

Baraka nodded again as his hands reached out for her wrists. The caramel hands were smooth and untouched by work. With delicate expertise, they released the knots allowing her arms to drop loose at her sides.

"Now kneel before me and present.... Good...knees spread, back straight, eyes down and hands in the rear."

She pulled into position with some effort. Her muscles ached from her previous struggles. The straightening of her spine proved difficult in her fatigue. Nevertheless, she thrust out her bare chest spreading out her full breast. No longer erect, the nipples disappeared into a baby pink almost indistinguishable from her fair skin. Her pussy was spread for display. The inner lips stretched wide framing her empty hole.

"If Baraka does well in her training, then I will wrap her in silk and bejewel that golden mane of curls. Won't all the others be jealous of my new prize? I may need to keep you in a separate chamber. I'm not sure if I want to others looking upon my Baraka..."

Lost in the rise and fall of the melody of his voice, she let her spine slack. Immediately, Master lashed out across her back with a whip. The skin stung quick as she suck up her cry. Righting herself, she did not fall and stiffened again not to invoke his wrath further.

"I did not tell Baraka to ease her stance," his voice was stern. "My slave must learn to hold her presentation. I will not have less then perfection from my stable."

He did not want to show his excitement too much in the gift the American had made of his niece. Her beauty was unmatched by any of the other slaves. No man he knew had a more precious jewel in his collection. The fine boning of her tiny frame contrasted by the large natural breast was breathtaking. The bald pussy accentuated the tender slit. The danger of such a treasure was not lost on him. Hopefully, he thought she would not fight her training too greatly. The smooth white skin should not be scarred damaging her value. Other leaders would want her company. She may be requested in trade. Considering his options of hiding her versus parading his prize, he paced in front of her.

Eternity passed as the dull pain in her spine grew into a screaming stab. Finally, he stopped his steps and stood out from her line of vision. She prayed for his relief.

"Baraka must learn control," he spoke firmly. "I will start now...hmm...Assume all fours. No! With legs spread...further. No, no, no, that isn't right. Forehead to the ground. Grab the ass and spread. Better."

Her bones popped as she released the presentation. The sand shifted under her weight and her knees sunk into the ground. He barked out commands. He was displeased with each shift made until she was face down. Her arms reached back spreading her ass. The air felt odd against her private crevasses . Feeling the tingle, she grew excited at the prospect that his large cock would enter her soon. How would she not scream? Her pussy began to swell and sweat at the thought of his massive head pushing into her gap. The rounded tip forcing into her. The ridge would stretch her as never before, slightly tearing the taunt elastic flesh, before sliding in. Then, every ripple and vein twisting over his hardness would slip against the wet vice grip of her sopping tunnel. Deeper and deeper, he would bury into her touching places no other man has every reached. She would buck. She would have to move to take in all of his girth. Would he punish her for her need? The images that played through her mind tighten the grip on her cheeks spreading her wetness.

He smiled at the sight of her. His slave seemed eager for his next move. How easy it would be to just drive into her and leave training for another day. However, a good Master has a responsibility to his slaves. He would not fail her in his selfish need. Walking over to the table with the empty pitcher, he looked for his roots. The largest knuckle stood out from the cluster of roots. Pulling out his jeweled dagger, he began peeling the rough skin from the selected root to reveal the white meat. He watched as she pulled harder spreading her ass cheeks almost flat. Fighting a grin, he did not fail to see her arms shake with her hunger. Baraka had submitted fully he thought as he carved out two grooves a few fingers apart. He inspected his handwork turning over the cylinder. Satisfied, he laid down his dagger to withdraw a paddle from the table. It was no ordinary paddle. The smooth wood was studded in rubies with star patterns cut outs .

She felt a cool pressure against her sphincter. Stiffing, she felt the small cylinder slip into her ass. Wrapping around the tiny indention, her pink ring clutched its new toy. The smooth object began to slowly warmed inside her.

"Still. Be still, my Baraka," he commanded. "Now let go and place your hands on the ground in front of you."

She obeyed as the slight heat gained intensity. As the burning sensation grew, she fidgeted at the discomfort and moaned. Her master reacted with a sharp blow sprinkling her skin with red patterns of triangles and stars. Bracing for the next strike, she squeezed tightly down on the root. The result was an explosion of pain. She screamed out as her hands balled into fists. The paddle struck her repeatedly. However, she hardly felt the hit as she fought to hold onto control. Slowly, she relaxed her hands and breathed in deeply. The burning began to fade when he pushed the cylinder deeper lodging her down on the next dip on the cylinder. Again, the heat grew within her. However, she retain control and held her position. The heat subsided with time as her satisfaction grew in enduring the test with minimal punishment.

After twenty minutes, his prize had not moved. He could not help, but feel himself grow with pride. Pulling out the root, he pressed his nose into her crack breathing in musky ginger. She was so slippery he could smell her need. The welted pattern rose on the curve of her ass like intricate henna paint preparing her for consummation. She had been a good slave. He would reward her with what she really desired. Pulling up his robe, he wrapped his fingers around his erection. The blood rushing to his member made it grow darker in color as the tip sprung a drop of precum. Held close to her cunt, the thick cock seemed too great to be swallowed by the tiny hole. He savored the moment by rubbing up and down her crack feeling the velvety flesh. Then, he thrust his cock deep within the resistant pussy that crushed around him with virginal tightness. Buried to the hilt, he stopped all motion to concentrate on the feeling of conquest...