Chapter 4

Doleman’s sense of defeat had him in a dreamlike state, his erection poking hard, on viewing the vine clad verandah of Jalbala’s household which had seemed so inviting, as his eyes peeped through the gauze covered holes in the box he was now captive in. The motion of the trundling cart as its wheels negotiated those areas of cobbled street, seemed to mock him as much as the furtively giggling maids, absorbed by their pleasure in the task, of transporting a beaten and thoroughly dominated male to know the delights of slavery upon the bleak and remote island of Marahwah. Many of them having visited it with their Mistress, knew of the strict regime which prevailed there; the feminine society which they and Jalbala enjoyed here on the mainland was lushly hedonistic with respect to female domination, but they had to remain discreet. On Marahwah, the dominance of femininity was absolute, and males transported there knew obedience in perpetuity, or were reduced to broken playthings ... if they were fortunate enough to avoid execution at the pleasure of a mistress.

Doleman’s eyes drifted to the two feminine figures who’d accompany him to the place as yet unknown by him, though shrouded in black, their femininity was evident in the way their hips swayed the material, each step taken with elegant poise as they proudly headed the entourage which transported yet another male slave to his destiny, that task patently obvious to many women they passed, their smug eyes inspecting the box with sneering smiles, on wondering upon the delights the contents would provide a suitably stern woman. He erected hard as he thought on just how much control the two women had over him, even from this remote distance, and the fact that he’d not so much as kissed their feet ... but knew he’d be made to worship them in many ways, later on his journey to enslavement.

His fantasising over the women was disrupted by the collective warbling of femininity, Malika’s maids rejoicing at the arrival of a package their Mistress was longing to see, and would gladly have accompanied with dominant pride all the way to the hands of its purchaser on Marahwah ... but she couldn’t leave her station for that time, so busy and lucrative was her business in arranging the transportation of male slaves. Doleman could taste the erotic atmosphere as the box was hauled from the cart and opened, his lust to submit to womanhood more than apparent from his poking erection as Malika prodded and swiped his white flesh with her stiff horsewhip, her cunt tingling with a spitefully erotic satisfaction of her own, on seeing how each sadistic swipe had the flap of her whip leave almost instantaneous red impressions on his pale body.

“Oh! Praise be! ... can he not be held here for just one night? ... I’d see you both more than well compensated.” His cock stood high in submissive awe of the big woman, her hijab and full length black dress only seeming to emphasise the possible magnificence of what lay beneath those garments, her globular breasts with their nipples poking with excitement, silhouetted in the ebony material as she turned to plea with the two smiling women. Beaten and in total acceptance of absolute submission to any woman, following his breaking by Jalbala and the sadistic Qadira, he longed to know the flesh behind the concealing garments, and be thrashed and dominated by this supreme example of womanhood. The smirking pair of women, so in control of Doleman, but as yet not having had him so much as sniff at their cunts in obedience, took smug pleasure in denying them both what had obviously smitten them.

“0h ... if it were only down to us ... but Fatima awaits his delivery, and Fatima sent us directly...” The other hijab wearing woman interjected.

“ ... she knows exactly how long it takes ... any delay for no good reason, would likely see us sold back into slavery ... and having gained the whip hand over masculinity, we’re not going to risk that.” The two women’s eyes diverted from hers to the white male whose cock stood high, Malika knowing they could make a myriad excuses for being a day late ... but it was obvious their cunts were sorely in need of the services of his tongue in submissive adoration in the comfort of a ships cabin. Having both been the enslaved property of western males before Fatima had taken the heads of those slavers, the delight of having one of their kind in subservience had their clitorises rising with spiteful sexual desire. The denial only made Malika’s yearning all the greater, as she stroked the flanks of the kneeling Doleman, the want in his eyes making her cunt all the moister.

“Oh how could Jalbala part with such a treasure ... I so wish she’d offered him to me.” The first of the women laughed.

“Jalbala’s pleasure is in breaking males, having them yearn for her, then getting the thrill of telling them they’re worthless to her...” She gave the kneeling male a cruel smile, seeing he had an instant attraction to the dominant Malika.

“ ... and how he knows that now, pissed on by her ... and besides, she can’t parade him in public on a leash, the way Fatima will take much pleasure in doing on Marahwah.” The other woman smirked as Malika reluctantly nodded to a burka wearing maid who carried the feminising outfit that would add special shame to the new slave’s departure from a place he was unlikely to ever see again.

“ ... and of course, there’s the money ... where would Jalbala or any of us be, if we let sentiment get in the way of business...” She looked down at his stare at Malika, a curt sneer on her face.

“ ... he’s just another worthless cur who’s going to get just what he deserves, after all.” Malika had other sentiments though, Doleman gasping, and the two women smirking even more, as the big woman lifted her dress high, and showed him the delicious curves of her huge bare thighs and broad hips, the puffy lips of her aroused sex framed wonderfully by the abundance of soft flesh. Doleman’s cock boned rigid as she edged her cunt toward his face, the shape of her lower body putting him in mind of a fertility doll he’d furtively purchased from natives on one of his first voyages ... and masturbated over, long and hard. His he wanted to masturbate now, as Malika had him sample the whiff of her lusty arousal.

“Sniff at that my slave ... Smell just how I long to own you ... how I’d so love to see you leashed as mine, cowering in submissive pleasure under the authority of my whip...” She allowed him to wet the tip of his nose as he gratefully inhaled the spicy scent of her superiority then let her dress drop as she reluctantly edged away.

“ ... you keep my scent in your mind forever, and know how I’d dearly love to have you sniff it again.” Even Malika’s longest serving maids were astounded by the softness in her usually pompous tones, confirming she had a genuinely deep desire to own this male. She’d have one of the younger maids sate the cunt he’d sniffed soon enough, but for the moment, she’d at least have the pleasure of furthering her arousal at his expense. Doleman’s erection stood higher than ever as Malika wrested the garment from her maid’s hands ... and he realised he was to know the shame of being dressed as a woman. Malika’s cunt perked with a different sexual thrill at seeing his face on knowing he was to be feminised.

“This is a nice long dress, we can’t have people seeing your feet, that just wouldn’t do...” She grinned, an air of spite returning to her face as two of the black clad maids looped a cord about his stiff cock, pulling it up against his body as they tied the cord behind his waist.

“That would be a giveaway too, but not anymore ... and I know just how erect the humiliation of being displayed in women’s clothes makes every submissive male...”

She poked his gag as his eyes looked at her in anticipation, longing to know humiliation at her hands.

“ ... it’s a good job you’re gagged in silence, that’ll dim any sound you make ... I’ve known male slaves come spontaneously, on making that final walk in shame on this land, dressed as a woman and bound for eternal slavery to one dressed just so...” She grinned as more maids from Jalbala’s house joined them, and stood leering with pleasure as his wrists were tied behind his back and the dress was slipped over him, before they departed for vantage points along the quay. Malika saw that he’d noted their excitement, and that they’d gone in the direction of where he could see shipping, between the white domed buildings.

“Oh yes my pet, news of the departure of a male slave will have spread rapidly between those in the know ... they wouldn’t miss your shaming for the world, and you’ll find the ridicule in their eyes exquisite...” She enjoyed feeling him quiver as the gauze fronted burka was slipped over his head, Malika’s own maids breaking into a warbling song with delight, at seeing a male, reduced in status to the level that pompous masculinity itself had decreed over womanhood thereabouts. Doleman’s cock pulsed with a deliciously humiliated lust in its bound confinement, the cord around his cock adding a sweet symbolism to his defeat ... and with the delighted chorus of just Malika’s maids, the pleasure in their scathing spite so evident, he knew that Malika’s taunt about slaves shooting their mess in shame was perfectly true.

The big woman gave him a very desirous look through the gauze of his burka, indicating the strong feelings for him she’d been assailed with so instantaneously, the look telling him that the lust to own him herself had not wained, despite her eagerness in ensuring his departure to Marahwah was endured with the utmost humiliation. Her cunt tingled in dominant arousal on viewing his belittlement as she looped a further cord about his neck, noticing the two owning women were out of earshot ... close to the alley leading to the quay, impatient to have their cunts licked when aboard ship.

“I’m determined to have you back here one day ... my property ... and how I’ll make you suffer for leaving me without so much as an hour under my whip.” She sighed with sexual lust as long cords were tied to the loop about the obscured slaves neck, front and back, and two hijab wearing maids took up the slack. The two were chosen as their bare faces would show their pleasure in leading a captive male to enslavement, the cord leaving no-one seeing the procession in any doubt as to the status of the shrouded figure - even those not in the know, that a western male whipped to submission by femininity resided within the obscurity of the burka, couldn’t fail to be aroused by the sight of a woman going to a life of absolute service - and those in the know, would be thrilled with an earnest spite at seeing the feminised male walk in shame to his enslavement at the hands of a feminine despot.

Doleman felt a submissive arousal as acute as any he’d known, his tethered cock pulsing, the looped cord nursing his bell, as Malika’s whip saw to it that his walk of shame began. Bound, gagged, and shrouded beneath the burka, the feel of the generous lengths of black material against his naked body had him longing to spoil the dress with his semen immediately, and he yearned for Malika’s promise to come true, as the magnificently plump woman walked about him and the two smiling maids, ensuring that either her sumptuous bulges or her wicked smile were never out of his sight. With an accompanying entourage of black-clad maids, warbling with enjoyment and attracting the utmost attention, his thorough shaming was ensured.

Emerging from the alley between the houses, onto the harbour frontage, and much to the chagrin of the two owning women at the forefront - now lustily aroused and anxious to have that arousal sated by their prize aboard the dhow, so close by - Malika had the pace of the procession slow to a funeral-like progression, wanting her enjoyment of the possession of the slave she lusted for to last as long as possible, and to have him enjoy every step as the leering eyes of the multitude at the harbour focused upon what they thought was a woman going to the cock and whip of a master.