Chapter 31: Announcement

Nicola and Gwennie were almost as surprised as the Chief Eunuch when they received formal invitations to take tea with the Emir. The Chief Eunuch’s surprise came from the instructions that they were to be allowed to dress in western clothes, and were not to be prepared for his bed.

At the appointed time they were led through the bedroom into the Emir’s study, where he sat on a comfortable armchair by a coffee table. Waving them to sit on a sofa close to him, he called for coffee and tea to be brought.

“I have called you in to discuss your futures,” he began, “Nicola may suspect that she is pregnant, and I can confirm that I will have another son in some seven months’ time. She will have to stay here at least until her child is weaned, and then she can decide if she wants to stay permanently.”

The two women stared at him, speechless.

“Gwenllian,” he continued, “I understand you have inquired about staying here. Is that right? And if it is, why do you want that?”

Gwennie recovered her wits sufficiently to nod, and to say, “It’s champion here. I don’t want to go back to having nothing after seeing all this.”

“Did Princess Zubeydeh explain what that would involve?”

“Yes. She said I would have to sleep with anyone you ordered, and that they could do anything they liked to me.”

“There is more than that. You would have to obey any order I gave, instantly and without question,” he said, adding, “And I do mean any order. Will you agree to that?”

Gwenllian nodded, “Yes, Master, may you live for ever, I will obey.”

Turning to Nicola he said, “You will stay here as my honoured guest. When the time comes you will be allowed to decide whether to stay here or return to Wales. Of course, my son will remain here.”

Nicola stared at him, unable for a moment to say anything. Then she said, “I could never abandon my child.”

“No need to make that commitment for another two or three years. See how you feel then,” replied the Emir.

Coffee and tea arrived, and the Emir was much amused to see Nicola blush when he said, “Will you be mother and pour?” to her.

The talk turned to idle chatter about the different ways of making coffee and the merits of the various pastries on offer.

When Gwenllian put down her coffee cup, the Emir said, “Gwenllian, strip.”

“What?” she asked.

“You said you would obey. Strip. Now.”

Slowly she rose and started to unbutton her blouse.

“Stop.”

She froze.

“I don’t want a striptease. I want you naked as fast as possible,” he ordered.

Gwenllian took off her clothes hurriedly, dropping each garment on the floor. A eunuch collected them up when she had finished.

“You won’t ever need those clothes again,” said the Emir, “Now bend over that chair arm, and spread your arse cheeks so that I can bugger you.”

There was only the slightest delay before she walked to the indicated chair, and draped herself as he demanded. Nicola could clearly see her mother’s darker rosebud clenching and unclenching in anticipation of the Emir’s penetration.

The Emir rose from his chair, moved over to Gwenllian, and his hand descended hard on one cheek of her arse, leaving a bright red imprint. A second slap ensured that her arse cheeks were once more a matching pair.

The Emir and Nicola were both surprised when Gwenllian squirmed in obvious arousal. As more blows fell she quickly came to orgasm, grinding her pelvis against the chair.

When the Emir stopped, she said, “God, it turned me on when you did that. I knew some people liked to be spanked, but I never realised I would.”

“Hadn’t you tried it before?” he asked.

“No. Nicola’s da was too timid to try anything much. I had to suggest sucking him off, but he soon liked that.”

“And nobody else suggested it?” the Emir asked.

“Naughty,” she said, “There has been nobody since I married. Only my husband for fourteen years, and nobody for the last eight. Before I married, well ... that’s all private, but nothing tidy happened; just the usual teenage fumbles.”

The Emir turned and walked out of the room, and the two women were escorted back to the harem, Gwenllian walking erect and proud, apparently unaware of being naked, and with an arse the colour of a ripe apple.