My Wife - the Sheikh's Mistress
Copyright© 2025 by Desert Nights
Chapter 22
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 22 - My wife and I were living the dream life employed by a rich Sheikh in his Singapore office. But the dream turned to a nightmare when the Sheikh decided that he wanted to add a new trophy to his private collection. And that trophy was my wife!
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Blackmail Consensual NonConsensual Fiction Cuckold Sharing Slut Wife Wife Watching Wimp Husband Humiliation Light Bond Rough Interracial Oriental Male Oriental Female Cream Pie Food Oral Sex Safe Sex Voyeurism Royalty
When I woke up, I found myself lying on a luxurious hotel bed. I was not handcuffed, not restrained, and not locked up in a cell. I looked around and realised that I was still in the same hotel suite, the same one which was assigned to Lydia and me. I felt very thirsty and had a splitting headache. I reached for the bottle of water by the side of the bed and finished it in one gulp. It took me a couple of minutes to steady myself before I could stand up. Walking towards the door, I opened it only to find Rashid and Alisha sitting in the living area. They were sipping tea while they enjoyed dates and Arabian deserts.
James: What the fuck...
I mumbled to myself as I touched my throbbing head.
Rashid: Hahahahahaha ... like a dream isn’t it James? It’s like a dream ... Alisha: I’m sorry for the drama James ... but you cannot deny it was exciting wasn’t it? Hahaha ... I stared in disbelief at the two of them. Rashid stood up and put a finger to his lips. Rashid: Shhhhhhhhhhhh ... Come ... let me show you what I have done ... hahahaha...
I followed Rashid out of the hotel suite and it was only at this point when I realised how far he went to stage the whole thing. Yes, he staged everything from the fake guests, to the hotel staff, to the uniformed officers. Everyone was in on this except us.
James: Wh ... why...?
Rashid grinned.
Rashid: Because I can...
He needed it to be real. The emotions, the fear, the reaction he was trying to invoke from both of us, it had to be real. If not, he would not get his arousal.
Rashid: To see and feel the hate Lydia has for you, it’s a really arousing thing. Did you know that? Hahaha...
Rashid’s line of thought and reasoning was simply horrifying. He explained that he enjoyed the process rather than the end result.
Rashid: I’m going to have Lydia. I know I’m going to have her one way or another. That is a fact. But beyond putting my penis into her tight cunt and ejaculating into her to claim her as my own, it’s the process. James, it’s the process that makes the whole thing magical isn’t it?
He chuckled as he put his arm around my back.
Rashid: Sex is just sex. Intercourse is over-rated. It’s just inserting your reproductive organ over and over again into the reproductive organ of another. Yes, I love sex but the satisfaction derived from the process of getting there trumps everything else. Men who pay for sex will never be able to get the same level of satisfaction when compared to men such as you and me, who put in the effort to get to the end game. Think of the time you spent pursuing Lydia, think of all the sweet moments, the tension, the build-up ... hahaha ... and it all cumulates to that very peak before you plunge into her. That; is where the satisfaction comes from.
Rashid stopped walking and he turned towards me.
Rashid: I have all the money in the world. I can pay and fuck any supermodel or celebrity if I want to, but I have moved past that long ago. The arousal is just not there. Hahaha ... without emotions in play, we are nothing more than animals. James: But ... all these elaborate ... plots ... and ... and ... Rashid: Hahaha ... I know you think I’m being crazy. All the money, the resources ... but here’s the thing James ... Money is not real; it’s just numbers that people make up. Money is being printed right now as we speak. And it is there to be spent. Hahaha ... and nothing makes me happier than being able to spend it well to orchestrate my very own story.
Rashid had booked four whole floors of the hotel from levels 19 to 22. The top three levels of the luxurious resort were out of bounds to all except Rashid’s entourage.
Rashid: We can make all the noise we want and no one will bother us ... Hahaha ... we can scream, shout, moan, have a rave party ... and no one will ever know ... haha.
Alisha’s room was on the twentieth floor. That level was filled with Rashid’s staff that doubled up as nosey guests trying to see what was happening. In order not to disturb the other guest, level 19 was booked and left empty. The unoccupied rooms were filled with props and whatever stuff that Rashid would need. Level 21 where Lydia and I were checked into was also filled with Rashid’s people.
James: Where is Lydia? Is she okay? Rashid: She’s fine ... a doctor is with her right now. We gave her a sedative to calm her down.
I followed Rashid to a suite located at the other end of the hallway. Upon opening the door, I was surprised to see the amount of re-decoration that had been done to the luxurious hotel suite. All the furniture and carpets had been removed, leaving behind only the bare concrete floor. While the room was still in the middle of the luxury resort and faced the sea, the curtains were drawn, plunging the room into darkness. The air-conditioning had been turned off and I felt the steadily rising heat in the room. The thermostat read 34 degrees and I expected that temperature to keep rising. Surround sound speakers were set up around the suite and a dark ambient sound was being played. It was not music, it was not a melody of any sort. It was just the sound of what appeared to be the ambiance of a sewer or an abandoned warehouse. There was the hollow dripping of water, the occasional rumbling of a truck or a car driving past, the screeching of bats or wild animals. But mostly it was just silence interlaced with a pervasive low mechanical hum. If I closed my eyes, I would think I was inside some old abandoned mall or a warehouse in a dead city.
Rashid gestured to his lip with a finger and pointed to a bed in the middle of the room. I saw Lydia lying there with a doctor beside her. Instead of the lush, high thread count bedsheets, my wife was lying on a rough bed cover. It looked cheap and uncomfortable, much like the low quality bedding you saw in prisons. Her clothes were stripped off, leaving her only in her plain cotton panties and white bra. The doctor took her blood pressure before he came over to Rashid. He spoke softly in English.
Doctor: She is okay, stable. She will be awake in an hour at the very most. Rashid: Thank you Doctor...
The doctor handed Rashid a small case which looked like it held a pair of contact lenses.
Doctor: It’s done ... Rashid: Thank you...
The doctor left the room, leaving behind two female nurses who would attend to Lydia. I waited for Rashid to explain what was going on and he gestured for us to head out of the room in order not to disturb Lydia’s rest. As I walked out, I turned to look at the two nurses who were restraining Lydia to the bed. They were securing her spread-eagle, each limb bound to its respective corner of the bed. Outside the suite, Rashid showed me the special lenses that he had the doctor put into Lydia’s eyes.