Harem Days

As he switched his mouth to my other breast I begged him, "Please! Please don't do this." He ignored me, and a moment later his fee hand gripped the waistband of my silken pants and ripped them off as well; he didn't push them down, but literally ripped them away from me. Truly desperate now I kicked out at him, but he thrust his own legs between mine then outwards, forcing them wide apart. All my attempt to fight had done was make things easier for him. With a satisfied grunt he pushed his dick deep into me. I was not a virgin, but I had never had a penis that big inside me and it felt as if it was tearing me open as he thrust viciously at me. Totally insensitive to my screams for help, and my continued begging for him to stop, he pounded at me, his balls slapping against me, the weight of his body making me struggle for breath. At one point he gripped my cheeks and squeezed, forcing them open. Then he thrust his tongue deep into my mouth, his beard and moustache scratching against my face like sandpaper.

I could feel myself getting wet inside, but I derived no pleasure from Hafiz's attack on me. Despite myself, my knees rose up and my hips thrust at him, even as I wept my heart out. Finally I felt him surge inside me, then he collapsed onto me, driving even more breath from my body. I tried to wriggle out from beneath him, but he was a dead weight.

After a time Hafiz finally rolled off me. I rolled onto my side sobbing, curling into a fetal position. I don't know how long I lay there before he stood over me, gripped my shoulder and roughly shook me. "Now you are truly my wife. What is your name?"

Through hands covering my face, I whispered, "Emily." Then, dropping my hands, leaning up on one shoulder, I screamed at him, "Emily! My name's Emily, you bastard! You ANIMAL!"

Before I knew what was happening, he had grabbed a length of my hair and swung me onto the floor with it. Then he kicked at me with all his strength, his bare foot connecting with my stomach. I didn't have enough breath to scream, and I lay curling in on myself as he kicked me a second and third time. Then he leaned his face very close to mine, and spittle flecked my cheeks as he roared, "Bitch! Your name is Farrah. Remember that next time I ask you. Farrah!" With that, he turned his back on me, lifted a bell and shook it vigorously. Within seconds, hands reached beneath my armpits, and two guards half-dragged me, half-carried me, still naked and screaming with fear and pain, through the corridors of Hafiz's palace to a room where they passed me on to an old woman. Silently she put her arm around me and helped me to a plush chaise longue, where I lay on my side, weeping.

I must have slept, through sheer exhaustion. When I woke, my pussy feeling as if it was on fire, an Arab girl was kneeling beside me, running her hands through my hair. I guessed her age at 19 or 20. She was quite pretty, dressed the same way I had been before Hafiz raped me. She had long black hair, but seemed fascinated by my blonde locks. I pushed her away, and rolled over, my face to the back of the chaise, to continue my crying. A short time later the old woman came and gently shook my shoulder. She said something I didn't understand. The girl was beside her, and said in English, "You must come. Our Lord wishes you to see something."

The old woman gave me a lightweight bathrobe to wear, then took my hand and led me to the door to the room. A tall, fat man in a silk vest and pants and a turban, stood aside, and I shrank back as I saw Abdullah smirking at me. The last time I had seen him was at the dinner party, where he had been prepared to kill Gerald for denying me to the prince. In his heavy accent he said, "You come with me", then he grabbed my wrist and wrenched me along beside him. I found myself on some kind of concealed balcony, above what could only be described as a throne room. Hafiz sat on a huge golden chair, a guard either side of him, and stood before him were Gerald and Captain McHugh!

I drew breath to scream, but Abdullah's hand clamped over my mouth, and the sharp tip of his cruel dagger pressed into my throat. I heard Hafiz's voice echo up from below. "I am sorry gentleman, I know nothing of any lone horseman. I only wish I could tell you where Miss Buchanan is. There are several groups of brigands operating around here, and they are not unknown to kidnap young women for ransom, or...for other reasons. I will send some of my men to see what they can find out, but I am afraid I can do nothing more for you."

I watched, tears streaming down my face, as Gerald's head dropped. David McHugh however, took a step forward, and said "Are you sure you haven't seen Emily, Your Highness?"

At David's movement Hafiz's guards both drew scimitars and began to move in his direction, but Hafiz raised a staying hand. His voice dripping with ice, he said "Captain McHugh, are you questioning my word?"

For fully five seconds David held his position and said nothing. Then, reluctantly, he stepped back and said, quietly but distinctly, "Of course not, Your Highness." I squeezed my eyes tight shut, trying to stem the flow of tears, as Gerald and David turned to leave, thanking Hafiz for his kindness. Mindless of the dagger at my throat I struggled, but Abdullah hissed into my ear, "They see you, you die, they die." Then he pushed me back to the room he'd brought me from, laughing uproariously at my misery. At the room he raised a foot and, placing it against my rump, kicked me back into the arms of the old woman.

Her name was Aamina, and I suppose she was in her sixties though it was difficult to tell. The younger woman was Hayfa. There were three other women in what I realised must be Hafiz's harem, Hayfa's mother Fakhriyya, and two other young women, Muna and Salha. I never did find out the names of the eunuchs who guarded the door. Aamina, it seemed, had been a concubine of Hafiz's father, and was now living out her days as a sort of internal manager of the harem. In fact, she spent most of each day dozing. Among the women themselves, there were two clear camps. Muna and Salha kept to their own company, and Hayfa dismissed them as "stupid, ignorant, foreign girls." They both spoke Arabic, so I wasn't sure where they were from. They occasionally had screaming matches with Hayfa and Fakhriyya. I made a token effort to get to know them, but we had no language in common, and when I tried with gestures they just gave me sullen looks and remained unresponsive.

I was surprised there were not more women in the place. Hayfa explained to me, "Our Lord considers it vulgar and unsophisticated to have too many women at any time. There is one other, but she is currently heavy with child, and has been isolated until the baby is born." I was also surprised that Fakhriyya was Hayfa's mother, she didn't seem old enough. Hayfa explained that too. "My mother married Our Lord when she was 15 years of age. She is very old to remain in the harem, but Our Lord likes her for sentimental reasons, as his first wife."

It took a moment for the implications of Hayfa's words to sink in. "Wait a moment. Hafiz is your father. But you live I here...I mean, do you...he, er, boffs his own daughter?"

Hayfa frowned. "I do not know this word, 'boffs', but I pleasure My Lord as he desires. It is the purpose of my being, as Allah wills it. I have borne him children too, and they are being educated, as I was." I thought that was the sickest thing I'd heard, but in the circumstances I kept the thought to myself.

The day after he'd first raped me, Hafiz sent for me again. I stood sullenly before him, dressed again in a little pink harem suit. He stood sternly with his arms crossed across his chest, and said, "Wife, what is your name?"

I lifted my head, and tossed my chin at him. "My name is Emily Buchanan. I am a citizen of the United..."

The upper cut caught me squarely under the jaw, sending me sprawling. I was still reeling from that when he pulled me up by an arm, and swung me backwards into a wall. I landed on my fanny with a thump. I was only half-conscious as Hafiz raped me this time. I vaguely felt my shoulders rubbing across the carpet as he pushed at me, grunting as he came. Then he stood astride me, and pointed a finger at my face. "If I ever -- EVER -- hear the name Emily from your lips again, I will have Abdullah rip out your insolent tongue. Believe this."

That night, lying on the hard pallet that served as my bed, my jaw still aching, I heard a moaning sound from across the room. Thinking that someone was maybe unwell, I crept in the direction of the sounds. I pulled up with a shock, and barely suppressed an audible gasp. In a beam of moonlight through a narrow window, I saw naked bodies straining against each other. It took me a moment to realise who it was -- Hayfa and Fakhriyya! Each had her head between the other's thighs, licking at their pussies and moaning with arousal. Hayfa, on the bottom, squeezed one of her own boobs even as she lapped at her mother's cunt, while the older woman probed her daughter with tongue and fingers. As if it wasn't enough that Hayfa was being screwed by her own father!

I felt horrified at what I was watching, yet at the same time I couldn't drag my eyes away. After a minute or so Hayfa gave a small scream and her hips jerked at her mother. The older woman waited until the younger had finished her orgasm, then calmly resumed nuzzling her. Hayfa, when she had caught her breath, began to lick her mom's pussy again. Suddenly her eyes swivelled sideways, and locked into mine. After a moment I turned and crept back to my pallet, praying that I was caught in some Hellish nightmare, and that I would eventually wake up in my bed back in the Grand Hotel.

I don't know whether they put something in our food to make us docile, or whether I was beginning to lose hope of rescue -- maybe a bit of both -- but the third time Hafiz sent for me, four days after my arrival, all the fight had gone out of me. It had begun to seem as if Gerald had accepted my captor's lies, and this harem life was my future. Whatever the reason, when he asked me on my arrival what my name was, I cast my eyes down to my bare feet and muttered, "My name is Farrah, and I exist to serve My Lord."

He was sitting, naked, in a large armchair, and a huge grin spread across his face. "Good. This is very good. Now, my wife, come and kneel here." He pointed to a spot on the carpet between his big hairy thighs. I did so. Then he reached down and pulled my flimsy blouse over my head, before taking my breasts in his hands and gently kneading them, flicking my nipples with his thumbs. He shuffled forward in his chair until his erect cock was less than two inches from my mouth. Then, huskily, he murmured, "Now you may pleasure me."

I stared up into his eyes. "I'm sorry...my Lord, I don't understand. You want me to...?"

Chuckling he placed his hand behind my head and pulled it forward, until the tip of his prick nudged against my lips. Obediently I opened them, and it slid into my mouth. Perhaps I was naïve, but in my entire life to that point it had never occurred to me to suck a man's John Thomas. A thought briefly arose that I had an opportunity to clamp my teeth down into it, but I knew that if I did my remaining lifespan would be measured in seconds. I was aware of the expression 'a fate worse than death', but at that moment my body clearly didn't feel this was it.

I didn't know what I was expected to do, so I just slid my lips up and down it, swished my tongue around it, and cradled his balls in one of my hands. It seemed to be the right thing as his breathing became deep and ragged, and he began whispering encouragements in Arabic. After a few minutes his hips thrust at me, driving his cock deep into my mouth, and a stream of jizz hit my throat. I nearly gagged at that, but I held off and, assuming it was what was expected, swallowed, feeling a warm slimy sensation in my throat. Hafiz slumped back in his seat and ruffled my hair, like I was one of his dogs. Not having had permission to move, I rested my head on his thigh, wondering what came next.

I soon found out. He stood and led me by the hand to the bed. There he knelt and slipped my pants down my legs, pausing for a good look at my hairy blonde triangle. Then he had me get onto the bed and, like a toy doll, I compliantly let him arrange me onto all fours. I felt him move behind me, his hands caressing my buttocks; then his cock rubbed momentarily against my cheeks, before thrusting into my pussy. He gripped my hips and rammed hard at me. I gasped with the force of his penetration. As he fucked me I could feel my boobies swinging beneath me. I had never had sex in that position before, and his prick seemed to be hitting different spots to normal. I felt myself heating up and, unable to stop myself, I moaned and started pressing back onto him. When he gave one particularly deep thrust I pitched forward, catching my weight on my forearms, and Hafiz carried on screwing me, the different angle again producing new sensations inside me. I definitely came that time, with a small squeal, just before My Lord shot his bolt.

Despite my continued misery at my enslavement, I felt an unwelcome frisson of satisfaction that I had served My Lord well. I was oddly deflated therefore, when, without a word, he withdrew wiped his prick on my discarded pants, and left the room without a backward glance at me.

When I arrived back in the harem, Hayfa came and sat with her arm around me, stroking my hair. I assumed she was just being sympathetic to me, and gave her a grateful smile. After a while she kissed my cheek and left. Later that night I awoke with a start, feeling breath on my face. In the darkness, I saw Fakhriyya's face smiling at me. She was lying on my pallet, inches from me, and as my hand accidentally brushed against her I realised she was nude. In an instant I thought back to Hayfa spotting me seeing her make love with her mother, Hayfa stroking me earlier in the evening...

Before I could take that line of thinking any further, Fakhriyya rolled half on top of me and began kissing my face. I was shocked. I'd known there were a few girls in college who had done this sort of thing, but I'd always been too interested in boys to find the slightest attraction in my own sex. The woman spoke no English, and I no Arabic, but I whispered urgently, "Fakhriyya, no please, I'm not...I mean, I don't..." She simply took the opportunity to slip her tongue into my mouth. I pressed my hands gently against her chest, trying to ease her away from me. A mistake -- they pressed flat against her big breasts, the nipples pressing into my palms, and she moaned and pressed her groin against me. I felt wiry pubic hair rubbing against my hip

I didn't want her to continue, I really didn't. But the truth was, I felt absolutely desolate, mentally and physically ragged, and Fakhriyya's tender kisses and soft caresses were very different from the rough way in which Hafiz used me. I needed some warmth and kindness, and there it was, from this darkly beautiful thirty-something woman. Her hands slipped up inside my blouse, one extending a warm, soft arm around my back, the other cupping a breast. I felt myself beginning to heat up, my nipples stiffening and my pussy, seemingly of its own accord, rubbing against my new lover's thigh through my pants. I began kissing her back, my tongue drawing circles around hers. My hand closed around her breast and began softly squeezing. She eased us sideways on my pallet until we slipped with a soft thud onto the carpet. When she tugged at my blouse I raised my arms to allow her to slide it over my head and off. Then we lay in each other's arms, kissing deeply as my boobies squashed against hers.

Fakhriyya trailed her lips down my throat. I sighed and stroked her hair as her mouth locked onto one of my breasts, a hand gently kneading my other breast. She tweaked one nipple with fingers, flicked the other with tongue, as I writhed beneath her. For all the times Hafiz had fucked me, I'd never felt remotely as turned on as I was then. I threw my legs apart as my mistress's hand slipped between my legs. She instantly found my clitty, and my knees jerked up in response to her touch. I felt her pulling my pants down y legs and off. Moments later Fakhriyya's tongue slipped across my belly, then I whimpered as I felt her warm breath on my inner thighs. I shuddered as the tongue licked the length of my slit, then wormed its way inside me. Nobody had ever kissed me there before, and I thought I had never felt such intense pleasure. She moved her tongue and lips onto my clit, and began reaming my pussy with her fingers.

As I'd seen Hayfa do the previous evening, I began kneading my own boobies with my hands. My eyes were half-closed, but I saw a shadow flicker across me, then a weight dropped onto my chest. Hayfa was sitting lightly on me, her black pubic bush inches from my face. She gazed down into my eyes, uttered one word -- "Please" -- then slid forwards, until her pussy lips were pressing lightly against my facial ones. Inexperienced as I was, I placed one hand on her ass to steady her, and with the other I prised her cunt open and ran my tongue along it. She bucked and, encouraged, I dove into her, my tongue thrusting deep inside.

It wasn't easy as I kept having to stop to moan or sigh as Fakhriyya continued to drive me crazy, even as I licked out her daughter. I felt a pressure on my backside, then Fakhriyya wormed her fingers into my anal passage. She was now pleasuring my pussy with tongue and one hand, while with the other hand she reamed my ass. I wasn't sure how much of this erotic delight I could take, but I bravely continued to lick and suck at Hayfa as she swayed and groaned above me, gripping her breasts in her small hands..

Finally, I felt an explosion welling up between my legs, and I bit on one of my knuckles to muffle my scream as I flooded my juices onto Fakhriyya's face. She rolled away from me, then, before I could start in again on Hayfa, the younger woman flipped herself around, so that I was now licking her pussy from behind, and she bent forward and took over from her mother in tongue-lashing me. We sixty-nined for minutes on end, each coming time and time again as we manipulated our tongues and fingers inside each other's pussies, torturing each other's clits with our caresses. I felt a hand on my booby and realised Fakhriyya was kneeling next to me. Blindly I reached out a hand and found her pussy. I slowly finger-fucked her as she stroked me and Hayfa and I continued to eat each other's cunts.

After that, although I could never have truly accepted life in the harem, I began to habituate to my new reality. I was losing track of time as one day merged into the next. When not called upon to pleasure My Lord, by day I lounged around the harem, by night Fakhriyya, Hayfa and I fucked and sucked each other in every possible combination. We had to be careful in our timing -- Hafiz could call on any of us at any time, day or night, and it wouldn't have done to be caught in the midst of our lesbian fun fest when he wanted us. He often took girls away in combination -- either Muna and Salha together or, more kinkily, Hayfa and Fakhriyya as a pairing. I was only ever called upon to serve him on my own though. I cannot say I ever enjoyed sex with Hafiz, but I did start to come every time, and I began to get used to his rhythms and match to them, which was better for both of us. Sometimes he would actually make love to me tenderly and considerately. Most times he would fuck me as roughly as possible. On occasions, when he was displeased with me (I never knew why) he would beat me.

During the long days when we weren't called upon, we made our own entertainment. There was only one book in the harem, the Koran in Arabic, and Hayfa would translate passages to me. She began to teach me phrases in Arabic. She taught me to dance, better to please My Lord if called upon to do so. At other times we would just talk, or I would lounge drowsily on my pallet, or take long soaks in the large sunken bath at the back of the room. More than once Hayfa joined me, and we lay kissing, sucking each other's breasts, and fingering each other to orgasm under the water. Talented lover though Fakhriyya was, I so loved Hayfa's vibrant youth and enthusiasm when we coupled, and increasingly I sought opportunities to have her to myself. I soon realised that Fakhriyya had noticed, and an unhealthy jealousy seemed to be building up between mother and daughter.