Chapter 25: Mind-Controlled into Harem Sluts

“Don’t learn to be belly dancer sluts!” a blonde girl in a fairly conservative dress shouted. She held a sign that read, God loves modest women!

“You don’t wanna be goin’ in the devil’s playhouse!” the redheaded girl beside her said. She had freckles and her dress was somehow even more modest like she had stepped out of Little House on the Prairie.

Clara grinned from ear to ear as they were harassing people heading into the belly dancing studio that was here in the mall. They were obnoxious and uppity, especially that blonde. For the naked goddess with the power to change reality with a single tweet, this was just the sort of fun she was looking to find at the mall.

“Don’t be harem girls!” the blonde shouted. “Don’t learn to be sluts for Arabs. This is America!”

Learn to be sluts, huh? Clara thought as she began texting.

“The uppity missionaries harassing the belly-dancing school really want to learn how to become slutty concubines! They just need a strong woman to show them the way! #BellyDanceSluts #ConcubineWhores #YesSahib”

Coleen

“You’re being too polite, Ruth Ann,” Coleen said as another woman walked out of there and scurried off from the truth.

“I mean, I don’t like usin’ the S-word,” Ruth Ann drawled in her country accent. She sounded like she should have hay in her hair. “Is that really gonna stop ‘em from havin’ their fascination with ‘em Arab men?”

“If we don’t stop them from twerking their hips, they’ll be whores for Islam next!” gasped Coleen. They’ll be the third or fourth wife of some Muslim fanatic. We have to put a stop to bigamy and idolatry. We—”

DING!

Cell phones all around them all dinged and chirped with notifications like everyone in the area had received the same one at the same time. Which was just insane. It threw off my entire line of thought, though.

“We have to stop these women from being harlots,” I said, fighting that desire to go on in there and be one of those concubine-sluts. To obey an Arab man, my sahib, and be his little belly dancing whore. “Okay, Ruth Ann! We have to save them.”

And me!

“But we gotta use some honey and not just the vinegar,” Ruth Ann drawled.

That was easy for her to say. She wasn’t fighting the temptation to be one of those belly-dancing sluts and worship some Arab man’s dusky cock. I had to be a good, Christian woman. A European saint. This was our country. I couldn’t be weak.

But I wanted to be a slut.

“All we’re going to get with honey is flies,” I hissed. “How is that going to help? It’ll just ruin everything. No, no, we have to stay the course we—”

An Arab woman marched out in her harem garb. That sexy, delicious garb with the purple pantaloons that barely hung on her hips, the belly chains of gold that wrapped around her dusky hips, and her large breasts jiggling in a band of purple cloth, the silk so transparent her nipples bled through. She had a veil draped over her black hair, her face mature.

She marched right up to Ruth Ann and me. I swallowed. She was just so gorgeous and mature, in her thirties. A wife, right. Probably wanted to make us White girls into her husband’s concubines. Some European beauties to get him off. He would degrade us. Make us suck his cock together and cum on our faces then take our cherries.

“Go back to Arabstan!” I said, shaking my sign at her.

“Racist, uppity bitch,” the woman purred, this smile on her lips.

“We just don’t want you corruptin’ people with your scandalous dancin’,” Ruth Ann drawled.

“Scandalous?” She flicked us up and down. “Look at you, hiding your bodies in those dresses. Afraid of what turns you on, aren’t you? Yeah, you’re just a pair of sluts that want to be shaking your hips.”

“W-what?” Ruth Ann stammered.

“N-no we don’t,” I groaned, gripping my sign and holding it before me as a shield. “We’re good girls.”

“Mmm, yes, yes, good, White girls who are just wet to serve a strong, virile, Arab man,” the woman purred. “That’s why you’re here every day. You’re just too scared of your desires. Afraid of those wet, little cunts that you have.”

“That’s n-not true, m-ma’am,” Ruth Ann stammered. “I wanna marry my beau, not be some Arab man’s concubine.”

“Concubine,” purred the belly dancer. A big smile spread on her lips. “You want to be concubines, huh? Little harem-sluts prancing around like this, making your master hard. Do you want to say, ‘Yes, Sahib, I’m your little slut who will suck your cock?’”

“I would never!” I gasped, my pussy on fire, my cheeks burning bright. “What sort of loose, immoral women do you take us for.”

“A pair of White whores wanting to get a taste of passion,” she said. “The joy in submitting to a man and being just one of his women. You’ve buried it beneath all that shame. Mmm, but I can see it. I can tell how wet you both are. Come with me.”

“But, but,” I stammered as she turned and strutted into her studio, her hips swaying back and forth, the silken cloth clinging to the curves of her dusky butt-cheeks.

“Now!” she snapped. “When the first wife gives a command, little concubine-sluts obey! Now!”

I swallowed and found myself heading forward, unable to resist. I knew Ruth Ann would be so disappointed in me, but it was true. I came here every day too scared to go in there and learn how to be a harem whore and please my man. To be his concubine and do whatever naughty things he commands.

To my shock, Ruth-Ann was scurrying in beside me. She had her head bowed, her freckled cheeks flushing bright. I gaped in shock at her. I had no idea that she had the same filthy, shameful thought as me. My sign slipped from my fingers and clattered on the floor.

We passed through the beaded curtains and were inside the studio.

“Mmm, you two are going to be learning to say, ‘Yes, Sahib,’ to my husband,” the belly dancer said. “I’m Sarai.”

Ruth Ann

I swallowed as I stared down at the scandalous garb Sarai had us put on. It was all my fantasies come to life. When I was growing up on the farm, I had seen that devil movie, Aladdin. That animated one. Princess Jasmine had worn blue pantaloons like I was and that band of cloth around her breasts, leaving her sleek, dusky belly exposed. My skin was pale and my hair was red, but at least I was wearing the same sort of harem garb as my fantasy.

I had wanted to be her. It had sparked this wicked heat in me that I had tried to deny so much. I had come here to be a missionary, to lead other girls away from the very temptation that plagued me, but I failed. I wanted to be one of them.

Now I was.

I wrapped the last of the belly chains around my stomach. They had little charms that fluttered as I moved. They rode higher on my waist while the pantaloons were barely hanging on my hips. I felt like a harem girl.

“Mmm, don’t you two concubines look just delicious,” Sarai said. The dusky and busty Arab woman planted her hands on her hips. She had such a mature and motherly face. Like we were her daughters she had groomed to serve the sultan. “My husband is going to love your milk-white skin. Such fair beauties. He will enjoy you immensely.”

I glanced at Coleen. She had on red silk, her large breasts jiggling in the band, her nipples bleeding through the material, crimson shadows. She had on the same sort of belly chains, looking so exotic and gorgeous. Did I look like her?

I shuddered at the thought. It had me quivering.

“Follow, concubines,” Sarai said, her voice cracking. Her lustrous eyes flashed with delight as she marched out of the changing room back into the studio. She threw aside the beads and passed out.

I glanced at Coleen. Her blue eyes were so wide. She breathed heavily, almost panted. Rosy huge danced across her fair cheeks. Bracelets shifted on her wrist as she rubbed at her belly. Then she marched forward.

She wanted this, too. She wanted to be a concubine slut like I did.

I hurried after, my pussy so wet. My bush was dripping with my cream. This was so wild. I couldn’t believe this was happening, but it was. We were going to be harem girls. My heart pounded in my chest as Coleen pushed through the beads.

Then I followed her out.

We stepped into the studio. It was cleared of anyone else save one man. He knelt at the far end in white pantaloons of his own, a vest trimmed in gold on. He had the sort of white-and-red checkered head covering of a Saudi Prince held on by a braided band of lather. He was a mature man, the same age as Sarai, with a trimmed beard and dark, hungry eyes.

He was a powerful man. I quivered in delight as Sarai moved beside him. “This is my husband. If he accepts you two, you will become his concubines. His doe-eyed, European princesses for him to ravish at his leisure. Alexa, music.”

A stirring, Arabic song played. Strings and flutes that I didn’t know the names of echoing around us. There was a sultry beat to it.

“Now, dance for him!” She clapped her hands together.

I swallowed. I didn’t really know how to dance. I thrust my arms together and swayed my hips, my bare feet moving across the polished hardwood floor. My boobs jiggled in the cloth band, my nipples so hard against the silk. Tingles burst from my nubs and shot down to my pussy.

Coleen did the same, her bigger boobs jiggling in her red cloth. They were such large and soft breasts, Double D’s to my round C’s. She cocked her hips from side to side. I tried to match her, feeling so awkward as I moved.

Sarai moved towards us, her every step full of such casual, willowy grace. She didn’t have to try to move with perfection. She just swayed towards us, the charms on her belly chains jingling with her every step. She moved around us, her eyes flicking us up and down.

“No, no, the movement is in the hips, the waist,” she said, grabbing my hips. “You don’t just wiggle our body, you undulate those hips.”

She guided me, her hands on my naked skin so hot. I shuddered, her husband watching us with those dark and powerful eyes. He said not a word, just drank in the sight. Sarai worked my hips from side to side, making them pop. The pantaloons barely stayed up, the cloth moments from falling down my thighs.

“Mmm, you feel how you have to move your legs to make your hips pop like that?” she asked. “This is the start of belly-dancing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I’m startin’ to get it. I’m no old dog. I can still learn a new trick.”

“Definitely not old,” purred Sarai, her hand sliding up my stomach and beneath the band of cloth. I gasped as she grasped my tit, squeezing my firm flesh. “Mmm, eighteen, right? Just blossomed into womanhood?”

“Yes,” I whimpered.

“Keep popping those hips. My husband is watching. You are turning him on. Making his cock so hard. Then you’ll have to satisfy him. With that mouth. That naughty pussy. Every bit of you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I moaned, my virgin pussy clenching.

She went to Coleen next, putting hands on her curvy hips and guiding them. I kept moving my feet to sway the way she wanted, my breasts jiggling as I did it. My heart beat so fast. This was so wild. I couldn’t believe this was really happening.

But it was.

His eyes were so hot and hungry on our bodies. He was flicking his gaze from Coleen to me and back to her. I shuddered, my pussy growing hotter and hotter with every moment. This was so wicked. So wild. I couldn’t believe I was here. That I was finally indulging in those sinful behaviors. But I was. It was happening.

This was so naughty of me.

“Turn around,” the Arab man, our future husband if we pleased him, ordered.

“Yes, Sahib,” I moaned, Coleen purring with me.

I turned in place, knowing that he was looking at my butt-cheeks. He was staring at my rump barely covered by the thin silk. The cloth was clinging to my curves, settling into my crack. I shuddered as I kept moving, kept wanting to please this man.

My heart pounded a wild beat as he watched. My boobs bounced and jiggled in my top as I swayed beside Coleen. The more he stared at my rump, the wetter I grew. Did he like my perky butt? Did it turn him on? Was I pleasing him so I could be his harem girl?

His concubine-slut?

Just thinking that awful and scandalous word sent a wave of heat rushing through me. My ma and pa would have a conniption fit if they could see me right now. I shuddered, feeling so wanton and wild as my butt-cheeks jiggled beneath my pantaloons.

“Strip them,” the man growled.

“Yes, my husband,” Sarai purred with such submissive obedience. None of the strength she used on us was to be found. She knew her place.

I had to be just like her.

She moved behind us and grabbed the knot holding close the band covering my breasts. She yanked it. The cloth fluttered down my body, slipping off my round breasts. They jiggled, sprinkled in freckles like my face. My pink nipples hard, poking out before me like they were greeting the day.

At the same moment, Coleen’s big boobs came into view. They bounced and jiggled as she kept dancing. Her nipples were bigger than mine, and a darker shade of pink. She kept rocking her hips, shaking them to the music.

Sarai yanked down our pantaloons.

I shuddered as the cloth fell away, revealing my jiggling butt to her husband. He let out a pleased groan as he stared at our rumps. He was watching us as we danced. My butt-cheeks jiggled as I swayed in place, my breasts bouncing from side to side.

“This is how concubines really dance for their masters,” purred Sarai, her hand slapping down on my rump. I gasped at the stinging sensation. “Just in their belly chains.”

“Turn around and come closer,” he said.

“Yes, Sahib,” I moaned with Coleen, both of us so eager to be his harem-girls.

My cheeks burned with shame and lust as I turned around. The belly chains jingled as I danced. His eyes stared at my tits as they swayed back and forth with nothing to hide their perkiness. My red bush dripped with juices. I was so wet.

He smiled, nodding as we both danced before him. My heart pounded to the wild rhythm. We were pleasing him. He wanted us. I hoped that meant we would be his concubines. I wanted to serve him with Coleen.

My heart pounded in my chest. This wild rhythm pounded through my chest. It was as wild as my dance. I drifted towards him with Coleen, coming closer and closer to this handsome man. He was far hunkier than my beau back home. I didn’t need a boy.

I needed a man to make me into his slut.

His tongue slid over his lips. He was hungry for us. He wanted to see what we had. He wanted us to fall to our knees and worship him. I could just tell. We were dancing only feet away now, sweat gleaming on my forehead and running over my tits.

He reached into his pantaloons and pulled out his cock.

“Oh, my gosh,” I groaned in awe at the sight of my first dick. It was as dusky-brown as his skin. Dark and throbbing as he held it up before us.

“Suck it,” he commanded.

“Yes, Sahib,” Coleen and I moaned together.

I fell to my knees on the pillows before his throne. A spicy cologne wreathed him. This strong and powerful musk that filled my nose. I leaned forward, my mouth watering. I was about to suck my first cock. I was about to...

Share it with Coleen?

She was leaning forward, too. We had both fallen to our knees. He had not said which of us was to suck his cock. I had never blown one, but I had heard about it. Could we share him? Is that what would make him happy?

He didn’t object as we both leaned in and licked at the side of his cock. Our tongues licked up his dick together, traveling higher and higher. I shuddered as we reached the pinnacle of his dick and licked at his crown.

He groaned as we did that. His face twisted in delight.

Our tongues bathed over his dick. We caressed that pinnacle together. I was just acting on instinct, hoping that I was pleasing him. Coleen must have done the same because she was licking like me. We both were bathing him.

When our tongues brushed, this exciting heat ran through me. It was like we were indirectly kissing his cock. I shuddered at how amazing that felt. This heat swept through me as we were both caressing his cock.

“That’s it, you little harem-sluts,” purred Sarai. She grabbed my ass, squeezing my rump. “Share that cock. Make him happy. He’ll want to cum all over your faces. He’ll want to jizz on that milky, White skin. Yes, yes, a pair of European whores submitting to him.”

“We are, Sarai,” moaned Coleen.

“Yes, ma’am,” I moaned and licked up his cock to the pinnacle.

This time, our tongues brushed again. Our lips, too. We were almost kissing each other as we were caressing over his crown. His salty liquid beaded out of the slit. Was that precum? I shuddered, my virgin pussy on fire.

Sarai’s hand slid down my rump. In moments, her fingers were traveling through my pubic hair and finding the slit to my cunt. She rubbed up and down my folds. I groaned as she did that, this heat shuddering through me.

Her touch was so naughty. I moaned and kissed my master’s cock. Right on the tip. My lips slid over him. I was engulfing him. Giving him a blowjob. I shuddered at how wanton it was to work my mouth down his cock and take more of him in my mouth.

“What a pair of sluts you have found, Wife,” my Master groaned.

“Mmm, and they’re both virgins,” Sarai purred, her fingers dancing over my hymen. “Do you want them to be your concubines, my husband?”

“Yes,” he growled as I suckled on him.

Joy shot through me. I nursed so hard on his dick, so glad to be his. I was so happy. My cunt clenched at the pleasure racing through me. Sarai rubbed at my cunt as I suckled on his cock. Drool ran down my chin as I nursed on him.

Coleen licked at the base of his cock as I pleasured him. I put my all into sucking on him. Loving him. My tongue caressed his crown. I moaned as I loved him, his wife’s fingers stroking me. My Master’s dick throbbed in my mouth.

“My turn to please him,” whimpered Coleen. “I have to blow him, too.”

“Yes, yes, share with your fellow concubine-slut,” purred Sarai.

I slid my mouth off his cock with a wet pop. He groaned, delight crossing his bearded face. I shuddered, so glad to be pleasing him. My pussy burned as I watched Coleen swallow his cock. She engulfed our new Master’s dick. She suckled on him hard.

She bobbed up and down, her big boobs jiggling. Sarai kept petting my pussy, sending naughty delight through my body as I watched my friend sucking on our Master’s cock. No, she was my fellow harem-sister.

“We’re your concubines, Sahib?” I asked, staring up at him.

“Yes, you are,” he said. “If you submit to everything.”

“I will, Sahib!” I moaned, my pussy burning hotter.

Coleen moaned around his cock, clearly in agreement. She suckled hard, working her mouth up and down his cock. She nursed with such passion on his cock, drool running down his shaft. I licked my lips, wanting my turn.

“Please, please, let me suck on our Master’s cock,” I moaned. “I want to please him, too.”

Coleen groaned and slid her lips up his cock. They plopped off. She panted as I shot my mouth down and engulfed his dick. I could taste her saliva on his cock. This wicked heat shot through me as I worked my mouth up and down his dick.

I suckled on him hard. I nursed on him with such passion. My boobs jiggled as I bobbed up and down on him wanting to give him such pleasure. He threw back his head and groaned his pleasure as I worshiped him.

“What a wicked sharmota,” he groaned. “Just sucking on that cock.”

“Mmm, they are such wicked whores,” Sarai purred, her touch electric on my pussy.

I suckled hard. I nursed with all my passion, cheeks hollowing. His dick throbbed in my mouth. The salty flavor of his precum was such a delight to taste. I whimpered, nursing hard. My red hair rustled and my belly chains jingled.

Then I ripped my mouth off so Coleen could have her turn. The blonde sucked his dick into her mouth with force. She gobbled down his cock. He groaned, his hands gripping the armrests of his throne. He held tight as she pleasured him.