Hillary had crawled back up onto the bed after being dumped on the floor. Her ass and legs were so sore that she laid down on her stomach. She’d almost gone to sleep when the door opened. She looked up at a man dressed in a white tunic. He had something in his hand. A collar and chain.
“الوقوف فتاة” he said.
She stood up as he requested. He placed the collar around her neck and began to walk out of the room. She followed. She was embarrassed and her body flushed as she walked past guards and other servants in the house. It didn’t take long for the man to take her to a room. Hillary realized it was a huge bathroom. The man hooked the leash to the wall and motioned for her to stay. He then took off the emerald necklace.
The servant whistled as he had before. The three women came forward and he instructed them to clean up #145, but to dress her specifically for Prince Jamal. They nodded and one woman went with the servant to choose appropriate clothing.
Hillary watched as the manservant whistled and then three women appeared. She was catching some of the conversation, but not enough. Two of the women came over to her and one left with the manservant. They undid the leash and lead her over to a bench where they had her sit while they shaved her armpits and legs. She thought at one point that they would shave her mound, but apparently her red hair was a novelty, and they just trimmed it up. Once that was done, they helped her shower and wash her hair.
“Ouch! Not so rough!” she said. They looked at her blankly. “خشنة للغاية!”
This time they understood and eased up on her scalp. Once she was dried off, they trimmed up her hair, did her makeup, painted her toe nails and finger nails and perfumed her body. Salve was rubbed into her abused ass where she’d been spanked. “Now I feel like a whore,” she thought.
The other woman and the manservant had returned with clothing. Hillary wasn’t sure what ethnic group inspired the clothing, but it was silky and revealing. Once she was dressed, the manservant put the cleaned emerald necklace back on her and a silky floor length veil was draped over her.
The servant took #145 by the hand and lead her to the formal dining room. Once there, he put her up against a wall and bade her to stay. “البقاء هنا” he said.
Hillary stood there like a piece of furniture. She watched as two men, one of which was the man who’d beaten and abused her came in and sat down. The room was a mix of Arab and European styles. Thick cushions and a small round table for the food, and around the edges of the room, sideboards chairs and small square tables. They were served by men dressed like the manservant who’d taken her out of the cell. The scent of food was making her hungry. She tried to understand as much of what they were saying as possible, but it wasn’t easy.
“Jamal, my brother. It’s good to see you.”
“And I you, Haveer. I take it the girl over there is my present?” asked Jamal nodding his head in to his left.
“Yes, and we will inspect her shortly. First, dinner.” Haveer rang a bell and dinner was served. He knew the scents of the food would reach #145, and he counted on her hunger making her more placid. They ate slowly, enjoying the lamb, couscous, rice with raisins and cardamom, pistachio halva and hot tea. When they were sated, Haveer turned the conversation to his new acquisitions.
“And then on this yatch, were these two perfect women. One a dark haired feisty beauty and the other…” he trailed off and stood up to walk over to where Hillary stood against the wall.
“Don’t tease, Haveer. Show her to me!” said Jamal.
Haveer brought Hillary towards the center of the room and unveiled her. Pale skin, red hair and green eyes that matched the emeralds around her neck. Jamal stood up and walked around her.
“Ah, she’s exquisite,” he said. “Responsive?”
“Indeed. She will take a little training, but well worth the price,” said Haveer.
Hillary had tried to stay as passive as possible. She had understood enough to realize that she was to be given to Jamal. To realize she was now a piece of property, a slave and that no one short of a miracle would ever find her. She knew that these men would think nothing of getting rid of unruly women. Her best bet was to be pleasing. She took a deep breath as the veil went off.
The two men chattered about her and Jamal walked up and looked her over, touching her hair and stroking her skin. To her embarrassment, her stomach chose to growl with hunger at that moment.
“آه، جائع؟” Jamal asked her.
“Yes, I’m hungry,” she said.
“English?” he asked.
“Yes Master,” Haveer said with a growl.
“Yes Master,” she said softly.
“Well, if you want to eat, what will you give me?” asked Jamal.
“I… I don’t know,” said Hillary.
Jamal motioned for her to kneel on a cushion next to where he had sat. He noted that she sat carefully. “Haveer, was she punished earlier?”
“Yes. She refused to eat.”
“Ah, and hence your hunger now,” said Jamal. “Well, for a bite of couscous, I want a kiss.”
Hillary took a deep breath, leaned forward and kissed Jamal on the cheek.
“On my lips,” he said.
She kissed him on the lips and was rewarded with a small bite of couscous. Jamal smiled as she carefully licked his fingers clean. “For some lamb, I want to see your breasts,” he said. He picked up a bite and held it. Waiting.
Hillary undid the sash of her tunic and slowly lifted the tunic off of her torso. She knew she was turning bright red, and could do nothing about it. When she put the tunic off to one side, she put her hands by her side and waited.
“Ah, lovely,” said Jamal, and he fed her the bite of lamb. A second bite of lamb was procured by Jamal being allowed to suck on her nipples. Hillary gasped as the sensations coursed through her body because of his tongue. He laughed when she gasped. Haveer watched silently, enjoying the scene.
“Now, for dessert. Halva for your hidden delight,” said Jamal.
Hillary shivered a bit. She didn’t want to undress any more, but realized that she had no choice. She stood up, undid the buttons on the side of the sarouelles. Once they were undone, she stepped out of the baggy silk pants and dropped them to the floor. She stood there in an emerald necklace and nothing else.
“Oh Haveer, what a treasure you have given me. Such coloring. Such dainty limbs,” said Jamal. “Come here little one.”
Hillary moved back to the cushion. She sat and opened her mouth. Jamal placed a piece of pistachio halva on her tongue and slowly ate it. She tried not to think of Jamal’s hands as they stroked her skin and touched her. He fed her another piece of halva and nudged her to open her legs. She did so and tried to concentrate on a plate on the table so that she wouldn’t think about him. He touched her mound and then let his fingers move farther back.
“So soft,” he whispered. His fingers explored her folds. Jamal pulled back a moment and then moved closer to Hillary. He fed her one more piece of halva. As she ate it, he began to suckle her breast as he fingered her. His fingers slid deeper as his hand became slick with her juices. He began to play with her clit, and his hand squeezed one breast as he nipped and sucked on the other.
Hillary couldn’t stay detached. Her body ached for him to keep touching her and she moaned softly. As he continued to pet and tease her, she gasped and finally reached out to touch him. Jamal laughed against her breast as she did so and increased his attentions on her clit.
Haveer stood up, his own erection aching. “I will leave you to enjoy your gift.”
Jamal paused. “Thank you Haveer. Enjoy yourself,” he said and then turned back to sucking and nuzzling Hillary’s breasts.