Chapter 6 - Sareth

“Sareth.”

I bit my bottom lip at the sound of my name, turning quickly.

“My Prince,” I breathed, dropping to my knees and lowering my head.

Prince Ibrahim Aziz bin Saud was the direct descendent of King Abdul Aziz ibn Saud; the fifth son of a second wife, heir to little more than a life of absolute privilege, and the undisputed ruler of his house and everything in it. Including me. He was tall, dark, and strong with short black hair, almond eyes, and a caramel complexion. My Prince looked more Persian than Arabic, thanks to his mother who had been born in Tehran. I could tell the difference now between Persians and Arabs, unlike most westerners, and I could write and speak Arabic, although not quite fluently yet.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, crossing the large room in his English suit and Italian loafers. After graduating from Oxford, Ibra preferred to dress as if he still lived in England.

“As I’ve missed you,” I replied, rising in my silk caftan which was quite unlike the sort most people would be familiar with. The golden robe was very thin, almost sheer, and through it my body was plainly visible. My nipples were dark and erect, not only because of my arousal, but also because of the ornate jewelry which decorated them.

The Prince had a fetish for such things and I wore not only the gold rings through my nipples and the seven golden chains of varying lengths between them, but an emerald large enough to fit inside my bellybutton, a small golden ring through the underside of my penis, just under the glans, and likewise a golden ring through my scrotum, much like Monica had worn. My cock was connected to my scrotum that way, pulled down and locked in place with a tiny, but very functional padlock. My Prince kept the only key so I couldn’t pleasure myself in his absence; no one else would dare try to fuck me.

I wore an emerald stud in my nose, only a carat, but of immaculate quality. I wore two more just like it in my ears and green was Ibra’s favorite color for me. I had other jewelry in rubies and sapphires, and diamonds, of course. Today I’d dressed in emeralds, wearing my necklace and several bracelets made of gold and laden with the precious stones. I even wore emerald bangles around my ankles and I couldn’t know how much they might have cost, but it’s safe to say I was worth a million dollars just standing there. Even more than that if you added in the quarter of a million the Prince had paid for me.

An outrageous amount for a sixteen-year-old transsexual, even one so perfectly beautiful as myself? Perhaps, but the thing to remember is that men like Prince Ibra find as much pleasure in spending money as the most miserly housewife does in saving it. Had he paid any less for me, the man would have been genuinely insulted. Such a philosophy has vexed the western world for centuries, but I understood it perfectly on the eve of my seventeenth birthday. I wasn’t merely a wonderfully crafted toy for my Master to play with, but a work of art to be admired.

If I’d had a vagina instead of a cock and balls, I might have been called one of the world’s most beautiful young women. As it was, standing before my Prince, we both knew I was much more than that. After raping me into submission and spoiling me with affection, confusing my heart and mind until I had no choice but to love him completely, Prince Ibra had created the only person he truly loved. It would have been quite disappointing to his first wife, the lovely daughter of a sheik, to discover Ibrahim’s mistress was not only a boy, but a slave as well.

“Why are you wearing your batula?” he wondered, meaning my veil, and I raised my smokey eyes to his.

“I have so little else to hide behind, my Prince.” I tilted my hips, thrusting my sex towards him. “I like it when you undress me.”

He reached for the tiny clasp just behind my right cheek and let the batula fall away from my carefully painted face.

“I’ve dreamt of you,” he whispered just before we kissed and I pressed my body against his suit, opening for his tongue.

Ibra reached between us to feel my cock through the silk and it ached against the bondage of that small lock. He cupped the shaft and played gentle fingers against the glans, teasing me with the luxurious texture of that golden material. The rings pulled my hairless ballsack taut and the sensitive flesh just beneath the glans felt the pinch as my penis tried to stand upright. I wouldn’t beg the Prince to release me, however, not yet. I’d been tormented far worse than that and his lips were a welcome distraction.

I nibbled at his mouth, drawing Ibra’s lips between mine and sucking them while my hands roamed his broad shoulders. I wished to undress the man and I started pushing his suit coat off. We’d been apart nearly a full week and my male balls were overfull of sperm, my ass cunt clasping on the awful emptiness inside. I needed his cock as much as I needed to vent my pent-up passion and as soon as his coat hit the floor, I began undoing Ibra’s trousers.

“You’re in a mood today,” the Prince said with a breathless chuckle, watching as I knelt before him.

“I’ve been empty too long,” I told him truthfully, looking up so he’d see the truth in my dark eyes. “You shouldn’t leave me so alone. I’m unhappy without you.”

“I know,” he said, loosening his necktie while I removed his shoes and then his socks.

“I’ve been trying to write you a letter...” I opened his trousers and pushed them down.

“Why?” Ibrahim stepped out of his pants and I tossed them carelessly aside.

“ ... asking you to sell me to someone else,” I said. “To find me a Master who will not want me to sleep alone.”

“Don’t say such things,” he told me, undoing his cufflinks as I pulled his boxers down his strong thighs.

Ibra’s dark penis stood stiffly erect, long and thick the way a man should be. His balls were large as well and he had fine, black pubic hair. The rest of his body was relatively smooth, however. He had no hair on his chest and the man’s legs were covered only thinly. I loved his body very much as he took very good care of himself. The Prince enjoyed sports and physical activity and he had a hard stomach with well defined muscles, broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He was very handsome and I felt jealous when he left me alone, imagining him with his first wife whom I knew was pregnant.

“I want you to sell me,” I whispered, holding his cock with both hands, looking up from my knees to see his eyes.

“No,” he said, touching my face briefly with his fingertips before removing his shirt completely.

“Then put me in a brothel,” I demanded. “Let every man in the Kingdom have me for his whore...”

SLAP! My left cheek reddened sharply and tears flooded my eyes, but I kept them open and on his face.

“ ... the humiliation will comfort me in my loneliness,” I continued in a soft, quailing voice.

SLAP! He hit me again, frowning as his face grew dark and his eyes flashed with anger.

“You’ll earn your money back, my Prince,” I breathed. “I promise you that much.”

“Be silent!” He nearly shouted, yanking me to my feet only to throw me back down, bending me over one of the many pillows that furnished my boudoir.

“Yesssss...” I hissed between clenched teeth as Ibra drove his cock into my rectum, finding my boy cunt hot and already prepared with scented oils.

“You won’t say those things to me,” he whispered, panting the words as his fat cock stretched my hole around him.

“I love you!” I gasped.

He held my hips and slapped my ass while we fucked, working his cockhead to the very bottom of my hungry sex. His balls would find mine as I used my well-trained muscles to caress and milk the man’s penis. I’d become adept at such tricks, skilled enough that the soft walls of my fuck hole seemed to ripple with tiny contractions. I could clamp my taut anus around the shaft of his prick and draw the muscles against him like a fist, tugging at his cock and pulling him deeper.

Prince Ibra would hold himself there, neither of us moving except to breathe and enjoy the sensation of my asshole sucking his cock. I felt the bulbous glans in my bowels, pressing against my prostate and the smallest shiver would only add to the wonder of that strange and particular joy. He reached beneath me to find my perfect breasts, holding them in his hands and squeezing, thumbing the rings in my swollen nipples and kissing my shoulder and then my face. I turned my mouth to find his and I could make him cum that way; he didn’t have to fuck me at all, but only savor the intense pleasure my body offered.

And he did cum finally, after all of three minutes perhaps, and I smiled at his frustration. Ibra’s first orgasm always arrived much too soon in his opinion, but not in mine. I needed his warmth inside me and I rocked my hips, grinding my ass against his pelvis and thighs while his cock jerked and spilled his semen into my body. I didn’t relax my cunt muscles either, but kept my rectum tight and undulating with spasms to draw as much cum from the man’s balls as possible. I wanted every drop and it would make our lovemaking that much better after he recovered.

“I should have you whipped for teasing me that way,” my Prince whispered as I fucked his cock with mine.

“You should,” I agreed with a petulant smile, laying on his chest and straddling his legs with my knees at his hips. “You haven’t whipped me in months.”

He let me kiss him as I slid my body back and forth over his, rubbing my tits against his chest. Ibra had unlocked my penis and we were both hard. My pinkish cock lay alongside his and I moved deliberately, keeping us together that way. My cockhead would caress his shaft and play across and around his own smooth glans. Our precum mixed together, our balls touching as his hairy scrotum tickled my own. The Prince stroked my back and held my round ass in his hands, moving me the way he liked. We were making love that way, without penetration.

Soon enough he pulled me upward until I sat on his chest with my erection dripping onto his handsome face. I urged the man to take me in his mouth and that’s precisely what he desired. My beautiful Prince took my penis between his lips, washing the precum away with his spittle and swallowing eagerly. He played with my ass, fingering my boy cunt and feeling me wet and greasy as his semen drooled out of my tender anus.

I gasped happily as he pulled me deeper, opening his throat so that all seven inches of my sexy cock filled his mouth. My balls rested upon his chin and I blinked at the tightness of his throat, the odd pleasure of being swallowed. After a few seconds I’d pull myself out, but only enough to let Ibra catch his breath, and then we’d do it again. He loved sucking my cock, almost as much as he loved fucking me, I thought.

“I’m going to cum,” I warned him after only a few minutes and I’d been on the edge for a long time already.

“Hmmmph...” he moaned, watching my face and refusing to let my aching prick go. He teased the golden ring piercing the underside, tickled my pisshole, and took me one last time into his throat.

“Oh!” I gasped, arching my back and holding the man’s head as my balls emptied with a rush of hot semen.

He didn’t even have to swallow, my cockhead was lodged firmly within the tight confines of Ibra’s throat. I poured my creamy load straight into the man’s stomach while he pushed his middle finger inside my cum-filled rectum. It was a good orgasm and my first in a week and I had to pull my cock free of his mouth before it was finished. The Prince panted for air as I took my penis in my hand and stroked the last few spurts onto his face. I slapped his lips and cheeks with my wet cock, giggling with the euphoria of pleasure, and then bent my head so that I could lick the semen from his skin.

Later, after making love for a wonderfully long while, I asked him about his wife.

“Have you told her, yet?” I wondered, stretched along his body with my right knee bent upon his thighs.

“She knows I have a mistress,” Ibra said without smiling, but I could tell he enjoyed my fingers massaging his damp scrotum. His penis lay flaccid for the moment and I ignored it.

“I’m asking if you’ve told her about me,” I whispered. “That you love me.”

“If she knew about you...” he sighed. “It wouldn’t be safe, even here.”

“Hmmm...” I frowned and understood it to be true. The first wife of the Prince was widely known for her jealousy as well as her beauty.

“She thinks I’m keeping a whore in Jiddah.”

“Instead of a whore in Sakakah?” I asked, letting him hear the petulance in my voice.

“I did not call you that, Sareth,” Ibra said, kissing my hair and stroking along my spine with his fingertips.

“Bring me to Riyahd,” I said. “Please? I dislike this place when you’re away. If I’m there, we can be together every night and...”

“And she will find us out,” he told me with a small shake of his head. “You shouldn’t underestimate her passion.”

“And what of mine?” I asked, kissing his narrow jaw and pulling gently upon the man’s ball’s, rolling his testes even as my middle finger slipped lower. “Am I cold to your touch?”

“You have a capacity for love,” Ibra smiled, “but she knows how to hate. Believe me when I tell you this, she would harm you.”

“And you wouldn’t protect me?” I wondered, fixing my dark eyes on his. “Do I mean so little to you, my Prince?”

“You’re being spoiled now,” he said with a laugh, pointedly ignoring my questions. The could be no protection from the wiles of a jealous woman, no way to preserve my place on this earth ... except one.

“I may surprise you someday...” I teased his anus with my finger, coaxing Ibra to spread his legs. “Do you love her still?”

“She’s the mother of my children.”

“The mother of your daughters,” I corrected him, bringing my finger to my lips to wet it. “She can’t even give you a son.”

“Neither can you, Sareth,” he reminded me and I bristled silently at the insult, although the truth is never that.