Chapter 3

Doleman now knew without any uncertainty, that a knew life had been set out for him, not in any way his imagination had envisaged, but by the controlling hand of a feminine despot. Naked, bound and gagged on display on silken sheets, his boning erection betrayed the fact that a dark and shameful pleasure also accompanied his bewilderment at the situation ... and as yet unknown to him, one which would ensure his obedience to the woman who paid Jalbala the right price. As she entered the room, Doleman hearing multiple footsteps announcing she was not alone, her mocking laughter, and unconsciously sexual pleasure, at seeing the erection which illustrated his perverse lust at being the captive of a woman, had that erection bone even harder. A voice which he’d not heard before, followed Jalbala’s victorious mirth, its crisp feminine tone, laced with sultry pleasure at seeing a western male bound, readied for slavery ... and erect.

“Oh yes, yes! Jalbala ... and I see he has the weakness! ... I’m sure he’ll give little trouble, after some rigorous training of course.” Doleman squirmed on the bed, his rational side wanting to make some protest, yet another hijab wearing woman, alongside the one who’d spoken, smiling with curt pleasure at his distress, as Doleman’s realisation that he was gagged, resulted in no more than a feeble grunt ... and an extra perk to his erection at the sweet humiliation of it. She gave her response to his daring to attempt to speak without permission, in a spitefully pleasured tone.

“I see he needs that training immediately.” Jalbala laughed again, this time, in a dark and sneering tone, then turned to the athletic maid, also in attendance.

“Show him the whip Qadira ... have him know his place...” The muscular woman, who’d worn a niqab on their prior encounters, now wore a hijab; Doleman boned, ready to spurt his seed as she poked him with the stiff whip, wanting him to see she’d exposed her face just do as he could witness her utter pleasure in punishing him. Without further hesitation, she showed that spiteful pleasure, the other women extolling her virtues with sighs and laughter as Doleman knew the sound and sting of the whip for the first time. His sound thrashing was witnessed with smug delight by the other women, their cunts hot and wet at his misery ... and the growing masochism developing within him as he thrust his stiff cock at the bedding.

Unable to control the dark pleasure that the pain of being whipped by women who now well and truly owned him, he looked to Qadira’s eyes and saw the acute and spiteful pleasure in them as he grunted in a different tone ... one that she and Jalbala were more than familiar with when breaking male slaves. Jalbala’s sense of victory gave her an exhilarating thrill, Doleman had not so much had a sniff of her cunt, but he’d be licking it, and that of Qadira’s in thanks, many times from now as he was trained in that art.

“Thrash him Qadira! ... You have him!” Doleman had not been sure over what it was that had him masturbate over the mature and tanned woman, a confusing desire to know her authority had brought forth his seed plentifully by the stroke of his own hand. Now, by the stroke of that cruel whip, and with that superbly authoritative voice in his ears, he knew exactly what that desire was as the seed burst from his balls in pure ectasy, the bondage, the whip, the gag ... the look of sheer sadistic pleasure in Qadira’s eyes as her relentless application of that stinging whip ensured the surrender of his seed ... that desire to submit was enhanced deliciously by the scornful and mocking laughter of Jalbala and the black clad women as his semen was given up in masochistic evidence.

One of the two women, rubbed her clitoris through her long black and concealing dress as the white male before her spurted his seed readily at the dark pleasure of the whip, she, overcome by the eroticism of it. She’d seen many a male lose his cream to a dominant woman while being viewed as a prospective purchase for her Mistress, but never a western example. His more than generous tribute, sent longingly to the sheets as he took the whip from the smiling Qadira, thrilled her like nothing before.

“Ohhh my god, yes ... Madam Fatima would so love to show him on a leash as her own!” The other woman concurred, she too, unable to resist fingering her cunt as the grunting male writhed in bound ectasy under the whip, her words extending the spurting of his semen, in confirming that Jalbala was simply a slaver, and he, simply another asset to be sold off by her. She caught the bewildered look in his eyes as his balls spent their last, while looking at the woman he’d come to adore. Her cunt swelled deliciously with spiteful intent.

“Oh you fool! ... you didn’t seriously think I had any personal interest in keeping you? ... you’ll become as familiar with the whiff of my cunt as you will the whip while you’re here, but you’ll likely never, ever, see me again once I’ve sold you on!” The first woman sighed with a want to have him know the scent of her cunt too, and had practicalities in mind, as well as her own selfish needs.

“I’m sure Madam Fatima would delight in having such a prize raw, and perfecting some of that training herself ... now I’ve seen for myself now easily he’s succumbed to feminine authority...” She sighed again, longingly, as she watched him squirm in his own mess while Qadira stroked his flesh with her whip, wearing a spiteful smile which showed just now much pleasure could be had, in instilling that authority over a male who’d stand out like an albino amongst a pack of brown horses, when shown on a leash.

“ ... and his arrival at your household will have been noted by many ... have your pleasure of him immediately, Madam Jalbala, we need to secrete him away as soon as possible. I shall return to Marahwah, and I’m sure my description of what you have for her, will have her agree whatever price you ask.” He was already beginning to erect again, on seeing Jalbala nod her approval, and the two closing together, talked quietly out of earshot as the visiting woman’s impatience took her and her feminine accomplice closer to the door. He watched as Jalbala mumbled something, and the woman looked back at him with a longing smile, making an announcement audible to one and all ... especially the bound and gagged western male, soon to know an obedience to womanhood such as he could never have dreamed of.

“I’m sure that price won’t be a problem, I’ll be back within the week to see him to his new owner ... and a life of permanent servitude to her.” No sooner had the two women hurried off to embark upon their boat, and masturbate in the comfort of their cabins, than Jalbala clapped her hands high, signalling to the maids who’d waited unseen behind the latticed walls, and having thoroughly appreciated what they’d already witnessed, converged eagerly upon their Mistress and her prize, knowing the pleasures they were about to indulge in, whenever a sale of any particular note had been achieved by Madam Jalbala Ayad. Doleman’s cock was seen to have already lifted high to a near erection as Qadira and the maids moved him to lay on his back, that stiffening cock glistening with the evidence of his prior shame under the whip.

As if the delicate scents and spiteful smiles of those maids that wore hijabs and the wide eyes of those in niqabs - each having witnessed his weakness, and each now having him know their lust to dominate him - were not enough to have him fully erect, the high pitched warbles that all the maids gave up, including those who wore burkas and remained visually unknown, as Jalbala let her dress drop, had him bone in awe of their uniform delight ... and his first sight of the mature woman’s superb body.

Saved from the rigours of pregnancy and childbirth, any cock her sweet cunt had succumbed to, being at the desire of her pleasure only, her near hour-glass shape had developed it’s curves in all the right places as far as any red-blooded male was concerned. Retaining her hijab as a symbolic mark of her solidarity with the women around her - to them, a chosen symbol of their dominance over masculinity in hiding as much of their visual beauty - cheating males of any pleasured fantasy until they alone decreed it. The hooded garment somehow emphasised her lushly erotic beauty, the lower fringe of its material gracing the top of her full but still firm breasts, the nipples poking hard with sexual excitement, her broad hips and thighs displaying a smoothly shaven cunt, the lips puffily expressed in the need for satisfaction.

The maids jostled for position in a near frenzy, as Qadira grabbed his boning cock, claiming it for herself in knowing what was to come. Jalbala smiled at the athletic woman’s eagerness in knowing what was to come, her smile at Doleman, as the woman who’d whipped him to orgasm took command of his manhood, having his cock perk its salute to her dominance as Jalbala took to the bed. He entered a second heavenly aura as he sampled the whiff of her highly aroused cunt on her straddling his face, the spice of it, and that of her anus, both rubbed across his his nose and face immediately, her impatience to come, now matched by his, as Qadira stroked his standing cock toward a lusty oblivion, the soft hand of the other maids caressing his balls and fingering the exposed parts of his cock as the stern woman’s hand slipped up and down.

The wetness of Jalbala’s cunt and the sticky tang of her pucker had him snort and buck in near delirium as his cock was worked, the intensity of the warbling from the maids, adding to his lust for absolute submission as the woman who’d seen to his enslavement sighed out an erotic command to her more than eager maids.