Chapter 1

Henry Doleman had no intention of returning to the rat infested steamer on which he’d worked his passage to the obscure sun baked port in the Arabian Gulf. He’d been there just the once before; the obscure yet lively haven, obscure due to it being a destination for illicit goods and other trades now considered taboo by the world of commerce, such as opiates and the continuation of slavery. He sought out an establishment run by a mature woman who’d advised how a man of his character could easily set himself up in that society, with a little capital, and if they knew the right people of course. In the early 1900’s he had little to look forward to in his home country, the cold damp climate making this sun-baked one very appealing - even if the heat was oppressive at times ... and something about that woman’s sincerity, and something else about her, had him return to that port having gone home to retrieve what worldly goods he owned.

It had not been easy, finding a trader with any interest in that port, he eventually finding a rusting tramp steamer with somewhat dubious owners, looking to profit from one or more of those escapades now seen as illegal in most countries. He’d been told the ship’s destination was Doha in Qatar, originally when questioning it’s destination and making his requirement known, so underhand was the the operation. His desperation on receiving this information was noted by the Mate, who feeling that this man was no threat, called him back as he motioned to depart, and confirmed the desired port was its true destination. Doleman took to a flea bitten compartment, and counted the days as he toiled aboard the lumbering wreck in various duties, with only the growing intensity of the sun, and thoughts of that woman in mind, keeping him from going overboard.

At last the creaking hulk reached the cramped haven of that port; the difficulties of it’s navigation making it impossible for larger ships of a commercial origin to berth there ... ensuring the larger companies with their co-operation with laws and local authorities didn’t venture there ... making it ideal for those illicit trades which thrived amongst its white domed establishments. Doleman sighed with relief as the steamer berthed, hanging back whilst the other crew members eagerly departed for ale houses, making sure that no-one saw him leave with his entire baggage ... his promise to make the return journey, never in question.

He cursed his choice of thick clothing as he toiled through the baking and dusty alleys and crowded thoroughfares, the sweat pouring from his brow as his memory served him well in seeking the establishment of that pert and somewhat haughty middle-aged woman, whom when back in his cramped berth, he’d found himself masturbating over in his excitement to see her again ... though he wasn’t sure why. Without making more than two ventures in the wrong direction, he sighed ... and erected when the vine entwined verandah of recent memory came into sight.

Madam Jalbala Ayad, a woman fiercely independent of any male influence, the daughter of an Arabic father and white western woman enslaved and put to good use, had been long free of either parent and had no memory of them; her mother having been consumed by opiates when Jalbala was still an infant, her father beheaded for some misdemeanor, leaving her to be raised by a benevolent brothel madam. Her drinking and hostel establishment, ‘The Celestial Garden’ was merely a front, and contact centre, for the illicit business ventures she was involved in, which Henry Doleman and any other outsider were completely unaware of.

She grinned with pleasure, her plump and attractive form shimmering in the white silk gown she wore, its length pulled back up her shapely legs as she declined on a couch with a kneeling male sucking eagerly at her toes - he, an Arabic male, one of the assets she’d acquired for a business she was more than well acquainted with.

“That’s it ... suck them gently and sensually, you’ll find that a female Arabic owner will love that, but be careful not to scrape the flesh with your teeth, I’ve known slaves have all their teeth removed to ensure that doesn’t happen ... after a thorough whipping too, but you’d relish that part wouldn’t you?” He murmured his concurrence with her opinion sheepishly as he continued to suck on her toes, the spite of her dominant sexuality nicely aroused by the moment, bringing a taunt from her.

“So good of your wife to sell you to me, on discovering your pleasures in being subservient to feminity. With no choice in the matter, public exposure would have led to absolute shame for you wouldn’t it ... she took such pleasure in the transaction, and with you officially having died as far as the authorities are concerned, I know she’s purchased an African slave with some of the money, and is enjoying a cock you couldn’t match, as well as the pleasures of dominating him...” She sighed and slipped her hand up to her cunt, stroking her clitoris, sneering on seeing the slave’s eyes illuminate in the hope he’d be allowed to lick it in homage to her dominance.

“ ... so you’ve at least been of some use to two women already ... and there are so many woman who’ll so cruelly enjoy the services of a submissive male like you, one awaits your delivery with her whip on the Isle of Marahwah right now...” She sneered all the more as he jerked his hips, she knowing he’d be fully erect at the prospect of his own helplessness now, having been told there existed a society of the strictest feminine regimes on that island, masculinity only tolerated for feminine pleasure alone.

“ ... and once there, you’ll never come back, neither I nor anybody else here will be aware of your existence anymore ... till my contact there makes a request for your replacement of course.” The pleasure she was enjoying was brought to a rude conclusion by a rap at the door, and the voice of her maid and confidante, Nasira, a raven haired beauty with dark seductive eyes, a life for males to the Celestial Garden.

“Jalbala ... there’s a male here ... a western male, asking for you!” Jalbala pulled her toes from the obedient slaves mouth, then slipping on a velvet slipper, pointed him to a corner as she composed herself, smiling spitefully as she eyed a small glass bowl which awaited him there.

“Strip naked and masturbate with thoughts of your wife’s sale of you, and what’s to become of you now ... I want to see good evidence of your pleasure in your fate, before I have you lick it clean.” She sneered with contempt on seeing him discard his loose garment, and strop his erect cock vigorously, even before she’d left the room.

Coleman sat in the cool of the shade beneath the vines, his cock twitching as the sweetly scented Nasira swept her curvaceous body toward him in her silky gown, modest, but it’s tight waist emphasising her womanly breasts and broad hips as she delivered him a refreshing lemon drink.

“Madam Ayad will be with you in a moment ... she’s just tending to some business.” From a slot in a shutter inside the white domed building, Jalbala eyed the white male as she adjusted her hair, her already nicely aroused cunt tingling on recognising him as one she’d taken a fancy to a couple of months back, and had enticed him with talk of a land of milk and honey which could be achieved by someone with just the minimum of a western currency. She already had an owner in mind for him ... if he were foolish enough to return. The fact that he’d approached her, if indeed even by chance, and not any male, had immediately got her suspicious as to his sexual desires and the hope that he may have submissive tendencies ... the fact that he’d returned to see her in particular and had obviously not sought advice or knowledge elsewhere, reinforced that hope. Either way, she could see by the chattels that accompanied him, that he had not the intention to return from wherever he came from ... and she would ensure his stay was permanent.

Doleman felt his erection swell as the rewarding sight of Jalbala greeted his eyes. Just the relaxing atmosphere of the place and its surroundings had seen to his arousal, the furtive and suggestive smiles he’d received from women on his approach to that area - especially those whose faces were partly obscured by a niqab, which gave them an air of exotic mystery - had him longing to masturbate again with the relief of having arrived, and now, looking more attractive than ever, the middle-aged and confident woman greeted him with a smile which glowed with mutual pleasure ... though her pleasured thoughts were already on his preparation and sale. He stood and couldn’t help but sniff at her sweet perfumes as she took his hand.

“Welcome back again, I see you couldn’t resist sampling further pleasures of our bountiful land...” She enjoyed the feel of his hands, rubbing them as she thought how they’d look, tied at the wrists with silken cord as he was led away in triumph by a female owner, her own hands having received a plentiful portion of gold. She eyed his baggage, and enjoyed the fact that he was momentarily speechless as the pressing of her body close to his, gave the promise of intimacy to her body language ... an intimacy she to intended to further as soon as possible.

“ ... I see you’ve decided to make your visit a permanent one this time ... I’ll be so glad to assist you in your venture, and keep your things safe till you decide on your own accommodation ... and just where that might be.” Her cunt swelled deliciously as she thought on just where he’d go ... the destiny set in stone in her mind ... a little island where he’d be more than welcome, even though it had not been his choice. Doleman swallowed hard at her advance, his cock now rigid on sampling her bold presence once more, this time even more intimate than their prior liaison ... over which he’d already masturbated. He fought away those sexual urges in composing himself.

“It’s so good to be here again...” He chanced his arm, on the closeness of her, and the obviously intimate strength of her greeting, already hoping to get even closer to this attractive woman ... and shoot his mess in her presence, one way or another.

“ ... and it’s so good to see you too.” His cock pulsed as her eyes flicked to his with a wanton and wicked smile.

“Oh, I intend that you’ll see a lot more of me too, now that I have you to myself.” She could already feel his excitement, and his silence broken only by a pleasured sigh, confirmed he was ripe to be led by her ... yes, he’d make a very good pet indeed. She pursed her lips and moved back slightly.

“You finish that drink, then have Nasira show you a room which I’m sure you’ll be happy to take...” She pulled at the collar of his thick jacket.

“ ... I’ll have her and the other girls set out some more suitable clothes for you, I can’t wait to see you in them, after you’ve had the bath they’ll run for you.” She turned and left, leaving him to enjoy the bustle of her broad backside in the silk, the movement of her globular cheeks in the smooth material, having his cock pulse in the need to worship her. He sank back into the chair as the heat of the sun filtered through the vines, his eyes going to the thoroughfares which passed by it as he sipped, noting several women in black, gesturing and tittering to each other, having watched the near intimacy with interest. Their fully enclosed burkas couldn’t disguise the obvious pleasure their body language showed, at seeing a western male so close to an Arabic woman ... one who they knew many rumours about.

Jalbala gave Nasira and the other maids their instructions re a nice bath and clothing for the male outside, both her pleasure at having him, and her contempt for him, bringing smiles and sexual excitement to them all as she sneered back in his direction. She took one maid aside for a special errand.

“Rashida, go to Madam Malika’s residence, tell her the husband is ready to make his final trip, he’ll see the island tomorrow and I’ll pay her extra for the unseen haste...” She grinned curtly as she squeezed the girl’s slender shoulders, and looked toward the vined verandah.

“ ... we have another interest now.” With the maid’s at their duties, and Rashida on her errand, Jalbala swept back into the room where the slave was held, her cunt now in dire need of relief, catching him about to shoot a further meagre load, mustered from his tortured but pleasured balls, the glass bowl already appointed generously with his milky seed, the thoughts of his wife’s cruel and satisfied smile on selling him sold like a worthless dog, ensuring the semen had flowed with submissive lust.