The Sheik & the Slave Ch. 04

The women of the harem dressed in their best silks and gauze veils in readiness for their concert in the smaller garden in the East of the large mansion. The Sheik had prepared a large musical and arts festival for all the neighboring people and a smaller concert had been arranged for the harem women. Though by Arabian standards the Harem women remained in seclusion inside their mansion rooms and wing, the Sheik always provided for them and made certain they were entertained also.

"A fine Egyptian flutist will be playing this evening," cried Gameela happily clothed in a light yellow silk pants and tight bodice shirt. Her small ballet slippers matched her outfit.

Nahweh, the West African girl with dark skin, wore a deep blue outfit that complimented her.

The women stood around in small groups discussing the upcoming concert as Katharine approached Bashasha.

"Bashasha, may I speak with you?"

"Of course little one, what is it?" Asked the older diminutive woman.

"I wanted to see if I could stay behind. Just for a little while. I never have any time to myself, and I loathe public bathing. It's very uncomfortable for me." Kat struggled with her frustration.

Bashasha had the urge to roll her eyes, but knew from gossip and talk that the English race seemed to be a restrained and cold people.

"And it's a concert. Everyone will be there. The Sheik has planned dozens of activities this evening and will have no need of me. I will certainly not be missed. Please, I beg you." 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 no one needed this proud English girl at the moment.

"Alright little one. But only a short while. Then 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." Kat watched the last of the women leave the small bath house 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, the kindly old woman Bashasha leave but he failed to see the little Falcon leave. He wondered about it.

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 spoke. Her breasts and hips all womanly and curving into his own body. His cock – even now – hard and thrusting forward wanting to tear into her body. Wanting to feel the rippled walls of her tight pussy as she arched her back into him and lifted her legs around his waist. He would relish the feel of her nails on his back as she raked them – leaving her mark for all the world to see. And he would claim her virginity as no other man had or would and watch her grow round with his son - the next Sheik.

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

Mohammed decided quickly. He would not be missed and walked quietly down the corridor and into a small hallway that twisted and turned awkwardly and led into a secret panel that would open into the bathing area of the Harem. The panel had small holes that was part of a decoration on the Harem side but was in actuality peeping holes.

His father had been a sexual man like himself but had been particularly fond of voyeurism. He had always 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 whilst in the middle 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 and stuffed up their cunts with hard meat. Sometimes his father had paid the dignitaries to be especially brutal and harsh but never painful.

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 the women get cock up their anal holes for the first time. He had loved to hear them scream, cry, beg to stop and then beg to continue. It would always begin the same. The young girls would always 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 to stop – then as the men guided their asses lovingly – the women would become like bitches in heat. Arching their asses into the air and begging the men to continue – to pound harder and they would surrender as they laid their heads down like claimed mares and the men would spill all their cream inside the tight little virgin holes.

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

He watched quietly as the young white woman undressed.

Katharine sighed happily at the quiet, serene feel of the small bath house. She was alone and she reviled in it. She undressed slowly taking her pants off, her bodice off and all the other jewelry she wore.

He watched as she stood naked in the bath house. Her slim, long legs the color of ivory. Her slim hips that jutted out – womanly – and then her waist dipped in and her high breasts so proud jutted out again. Her breasts were dipped at the tips the color of roses. She was very feminine with a slim hourglass figure. Her mass of blonde hair had been secured up as small tendrils fell about her neck and face. He watched her step into the water. She sighed as the water pooled around her legs, vagina and then waist and she sunk into it. She picked up the sea sponge and massaged herself.

Mohammed watched the entire scene and felt himself growing hard and 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 creamed for him. He knew in the bath with him she had wanted him. She would have cried no until his cock had filled her tight pussy and then she would have clung to him like a little bitch in heat.

His cock jerked with the visual of her naked beneath him and he lifted up his long robe to fill his hand with himself. His hand moved down the long length of him and then up again. He watched her in the water.

She sponged her waist, legs, feet and arms. She sponged her breasts and back. She settled back onto the lounge seat and dipped her fingers into the water. It pooled around her hand and then she slipped her hand between her legs.

"Ah." She sighed into the lonely bathhouse as her fingers encircled the vagina lips and then sank into the small opening. She was very tight. As a virgin, she had never had any man touch her where the Sheik had touched her.

In England, she had pushed the societal rules, but that's because they were always so restrictive. An unmarried young lady never went anywhere without a chaperon and she was never allowed to be alone with a man. She never wanted to become a whore in England she just wanted her freedom.

When her father had tired of her outrageous behavior – he had arranged the marriage of Lord Benton.

She had never told her father his words but Lord Benton had accosted her in the small parlor one evening, grabbed her breast in one hand and told her roughly in her ear, "I hope you aren't breeding, little whore. I won't have some bastard carrying on my name."

After that, she knew what she must do. Embarrass Benton publicly so he would call off his suit, and flee England. She knew her father and everyone else thought her a loose tramp and so be it.

Women were prisoners in the house and Kat would rather die than live such a boring, useless life. She had gotten her wish. Benton had called off the suit and her father had sent her away. Away to bondage so it was to be.

But why was she fighting the Sheik? He was very handsome. Certainly the most handsome man she had ever seen. But the fact that she was a slave and his prisoner irritated her. Not free to give what she had. To be called every other week to be his whore. To be forced to submit to him in any manner he required.

She rested her head back and inserted her fingers as high as they would go without hurting her thin barrier. She sighed again and her breathy echoes murmured in the room.

Mohammed watched her close her eyes and finger her tight little pussy. His hand moved quicker along his cock and he could feel his cream building.

"Oh, 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.

She wasn't so immune to him as she would like him to believe. He watched her leave the bath, small little ass that he wanted to pound, and towel herself off.

He smoothed his robe down and emerged into the bathhouse.

"Princess." He spoke lowly and she whirled around to face him.

"My god, you frightened me!"

He said nothing.

"What do you want?" She asked warily as she clung to the towel tightly.

Her hair was lovely pulled up onto her head with small little curls escaping everywhere. And her eyes...were so expressive – he could barely wait to thrust into her and watch them change colors.

He stood before her. "There is a banquet tonight. You will attend me."

"You mean bath you in public?" Kat asked, shocked.

"No. I want you to sit with me and eat. Nothing more."

"I cannot. Your wife would be furious." Kat asked not wanting to incur the hot little Yasmeen's temper.

"I command this. Yasmeen commands nothing."

"Please, no. Your whim this evening is that I attend you. Yet tomorrow you will be gone, and I will go back to the bath house and be abused by whomever listens to Yasmeen."

"I command this. Yasmeen will not harm you." He reached up and withdrew her combs and her hair fell into a mass of gold around her face and neck.

"And never bind your hair up when I summon you." He spoke to her and gave her the combs.

"You never summon me, I'm not a Harem girl." She tried to look away from his mouth. She remembered them on her lips and body. His mouth was warm as hers was cool.

"No, you're not." He watched her as she watched his mouth. He was a man who knew desire. He knew when women wanted it and her mouth could lie but as she watched his lips she could hide nothing.

His lips touched her ear and bit it lightly. Goose pimples broke out along her arms.

"Come to me tonight. Not because I command it, but because you want to." His voice was so low he barely recognized himself. He wanted this little Falcon and no one else.

"I will come to the banquet." Kat sighed.

"No." He spoke in her ear again. "Come to me tonight. After the banquet. After the festivities. When everyone has settled down. When the dignitaries are visiting with the women, when Yasmeen has gone to bed. When Kat should be sleeping on her mat and pillows – I want her to come to me. Naked and warm and wanting me."

"No. I won't." She shook her head, her juices pooling between her legs.

"Don't you desire me, Princess?" He asked softly.

"No, I don't."

"You don't?"

"No."

"So why did you cry my name as you had an orgasm?" His eyes met her shocked ones.

"You were spying?" Her face turned pink as he smiled.

"Yes. And I have been emptied of cream again because of you."

Kat turned her head away.

"You have been to many dinners no doubt as the daughter of a Lord."

Kat nodded.

"Then you will attend me in the finest gown we have. You will smile, enjoy the dinner so that I may show you off. You will make conversation and impress these men who have come for business with me."

"As your whore." Kat spat out.

He grasped her small chin in his large hand. "As a lady within my household. As a lady who can converse intelligently as Yasmeen cannot."

Kat held her tongue as he spoke the last sentence.

"And tonight?" She asked him.

"Yes?" His liquid brown eyes held hers.

"What would you have me do tonight?" She feared his answer.

He pulled her to him and opened the towel at the junction of her legs. One long sun darkened finger licked into her tight pussy that was dripping and longing for his cock.

"What would you like to do tonight?" He mocked her.

"Yasmeen is your wife. I am your prisoner. By the laws of my god what you ask of me is a sin. As a whore – it is adultery. As a woman – adultery. You think because I am in this place – that I can forget the rules and laws that I was raised by?"

"And if Yasmeen was not my wife? If you were my wife?" He pulled her to him so tightly she had to look up into his dark face.

"What game do you play?" Her heart thundered.

"I asked you a question, Lady Katharine Fairfax. If you were my wife, what then?"

Kat shook her head but saw that he would hear her answer. "I would by your wife. You would be my husband. By English laws, I could deny you nothing. I could not deny you my inherited lands, my money, or my body." She spoke to him and he watched those lips, so full and seductive move as she spoke. It hardened him.

He moved his finger into her again and her pussy dripped and juiced for him. Kat gasped at the intrusion and the pleasure he caused her. He removed his finger and she watched as he sucked his finger with her juices still on it. She blushed and closed her towel tightly stepping away from him.

"I will tell Bashasha. You will attend me at the Banquet."

She lowered her head.

"And tonight you will come to me." He told her harshly.

She began to protest.

"Yes. I will have you with me in the night. If for nothing more than to read me to sleep and be beside me when I wake up."

Kat shook her head. "Read? Sleep?"

"Yes. If you want more from me, I am sorry. All I require tonight, is a good book."

Kat shuddered. Sleep beside his warm body and not want his touch? Torture.

Mohammed strode out of the bathhouse. Sleep? Who was he kidding? With the little hot and cold Falcon he would get no sleep just a full time hard on that would never be relieved.

Kat watched him leave the bathhouse and knew that her resolve was breaking. She prayed there might be someone of importance at the dinner tonight who could get a letter of hers to her family in England.