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Authors: Nicola Italia

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BOOK: The Sheik and the Slave
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***

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

Mohammed walked down the tiled corridor and into a small
hallway that twisted and turned awkwardly. It led into a secret panel that
opened into the bathing area of the harem. The panel had small holes that were
part of a decoration on the harem side but in actuality served as peeping
holes.

His father had been a sexual man like himself, but had been
particularly fond of voyeurism. He had 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 while in the act 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.

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 women
experience anal sex for the first time. He had loved to hear them scream, cry,
beg to stop, and then beg to continue. The young girls would at first 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 them to stop,
but then, as the men guided their asses lovingly, the women would become
wanton, arching their asses into the air and begging the men to continue. The
men would eventually spill their cream inside the tight little virgin holes.

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

He watched as the young blonde stripped naked in the
bathhouse. Her slim, long legs were the color of ivory. Her slim hips curved
out, her waist dipped in, and her high breasts jutted out again. Her delicate
nipples were the color of pomegranates. She was very feminine, with a slim
hourglass figure. Her mass of blonde hair had been secured up and he watched
her step into the water. She sighed as the water pooled around her legs, bottom
and waist. She settled into the warm water in deep appreciation for the
solitude. She picked up the luf sponge and massaged herself.

Mohammed watched the entire scene and felt himself growing
hard as well as 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 wanted him. He was
a man and she was a woman. It was a natural act between them. He remembered how
she had been in the bath with him and his cock jerked awake. He lifted up his
long robe to fill his hand with himself. His hand moved down the length of him
and then up again while he watched her in the water.

She sponged her legs, feet and arms, and then her breasts
and back. She settled back onto the stone seat underwater and then slipped her
hand into the water. Her fingers were 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
a virgin and had never been touched by any man except for the sheik. He had
laid claim to her already. Little by little, he was taking what he wanted.

In England, she had pushed the societal rules by rebuffing a
marriage proposal from one man and been outraged by the role of mistress
offered by another. But here she was in a foreign land, being offered the role
of mistress by a completely different man. A confident and handsome man. She
had never seen a man equal to him in England. Why was she fighting him?
I
want him
, she admitted to herself.

If only she weren

t
a slave! But she was a slave,
his slave
, and she was not free to give
what she had. He would demand, and she would have to submit.
That could not
be the way!
she thought.
No, I must fight him
.

She rested her head back, inserted her fingers into the
passage, and moved them in and out quickly without breaking the thin barrier.
Her breathy sighs echoed in the room.

Mohammed watched her close her eyes and finger herself just
as his hand moved quicker along his cock and he could feel his climax building.

"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. So, the little falcon wasn

t so immune to him as she
would like him to believe. He watched her leave the bath, admiring the small
ass he ached to pound. She wrapped herself in a towel. He smoothed his robe
down and emerged into the bathhouse.

"Princess," he said quietly. 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.

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

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

"You mean bathe you in public?" Katharine asked,
shocked.

Mohammed smiled.

"No,

he explained.

I
want you to sit with me and eat. Nothing more."

"I cannot. Your wife would be furious," Katharine
said, not wanting to incur the hot little Yasmeen's temper, who was sure to find
out about this.

"I command this. Yasmeen commands nothing."

"Please. Your whim this evening is that I attend you.
Yet tomorrow you will be gone, and I will go back to the harem and incur her
wrath."

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

"And never bind your hair up when I summon you,"
he said, placing the combs in her hands.

"You never summon me. I'm not a harem girl," she
said. She tried to look away from his mouth as she remembered his warm mouth on
her.

"No, you're not," he said. He watched her as she
watched his mouth. He was a man who knew desire. He knew when a woman wanted
him, and she could not hide it.

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," he whispered. His voice was so low he barely
recognized himself. He wanted this little falcon and no one else.

"I will attend the banquet," Katharine sighed.

"No," he spoke in her ear again. "Come to me
tonight. After the banquet. After the festivities. When night is settled. When
the dignitaries are visiting with the women, when the princess should be
sleeping on her mat and pillows. Come to me. Come to me," he whispered.

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

"Don't you desire me, princess?" he asked softly.

"No, I don't," she lied. Their eyes locked.

"You don't?"

"No," she said. She swallowed nervously.

"So why did you cry my name as you climaxed?" he
asked. His eyes met her shocked ones.

"You were spying?" Katharine said, embarrassed.

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

Katharine turned her head away from him. Then, he changed
the subject casually.

"You have been to many grand dinners, no doubt, as the
daughter of a lord."


Yes,

she answered.

"Then you will attend me tonight in a fine gown. You
will smile, enjoy the dinner, converse, and impress these men who have come for
business with me," he explained to her.

"As your whore," she spat out.

He grasped her small chin in his large hand.

"As a lady within my household,

he corrected her.

As a lady who can converse intelligently, as
Yasmeen cannot."

Katharine held her tongue as he spoke the last sentence.

"And tonight?" she asked him.

"Yes?" he replied. His liquid brown eyes held
hers.

"What would you have me do tonight?" she asked,
fearing 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 asked,
mocking her.

She blushed darkly and said, "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?" She
tried to pull away, but he would not allow it.

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

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

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

His handsome face was serious. She saw no mockery.

Katharine shook her head, but saw that he would hear her
response. "If I was your wife, you would be my husband. By English law, I
could deny you nothing. You would have my dowry and 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 for
him. Katharine 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 closed her towel tightly and almost stumbled, 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 tonight, if for nothing
more than to read me to sleep and be beside me when I wake up," he said
calmly. Even as he said the words, he knew it was a farce. It was a dangerous
game.

Katharine

s
voice rang through the room when she asked, "Read? Sleep?"

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

Katharine shuddered. To sleep beside his warm body and not
feel his touch would be torture.

Mohammed strode out of the bathhouse.
Why play this
dangerous game
? he asked himself. With the hot and cold falcon, he would
get no sleep, just an unsatisfied cock.

Katharine watched him leave the harem and knew her resolve
was breaking.
I must find a way to escape the palace and escape him
, she
thought.
Before it is too late
.

Chapter
5

Bashasha lowered her head quietly and waited for the great
sheik to speak. She had been summoned before him and prayed to Allah that
neither she nor any of the harem girls had angered him.


Praise
be to Allah, great sheik. I am yours to command,

she spoke, head lowered, waiting for the young man

s reply.

Mohammed watched the older woman in a compliant position and
smiled fondly. She had always been a figure in the household. As a young girl,
she had been a lowly servant in the kitchens. As she gained experience and
showed competence in her work, she had become supervisor of the palace
kitchens. As she aged, her pleasing manner and relationships with other
servants caused the sheik to place her as chief of the harem. Often, this role
was given to the mother of the sheik or a Chief Eunuch, but because of her
service and his regard for her, Bashasha ruled over the harem. It was a great
honor that required skill in keeping the women happy, free from bickering, and
pleasuring the sheik above all else.


Dear
Bashasha. You served my father before me.


Yes,
sire.


You
have done your duty well.


Thank
you, sire. Inshallah.


The
harem women will attend the men after the banquet tonight. I know that they are
readying themselves, but I require a special addition tonight.

Bashasha waited patiently for him to continue.

Mohammed stood and his long white robes flowed about him.
His height was impressive, and Bashasha had always considered him a handsome
man. His father had been known for his good looks, but Mohammed

s mother had been a great
Egyptian beauty. He had inherited her dark bronzed skin and flashing liquid
eyes.


This
banquet tonight is for the palace, but it is for business. These gentlemen have
come from far away to deal with me and to discuss the Arabian horses and coffee
to export to their lands. I require a different service tonight,

he said. He walked
across the floor in front of Bashasha, pacing.


These
men know our ways, but some things are foreign to them. Someone who knows their
language and ways would put them at ease and make the business transactions go
smoother. Someone who is indeed one of them.

Bashasha nodded. He was a wise man indeed.


Therefore,

he said, stopping before
the older woman and meeting her eyes,

I
would like Lady Katharine to attend the banquet tonight.


I
will ready her myself,

Bashasha said.

BOOK: The Sheik and the Slave
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