Chapter 2

(Author’s note: There’s no element of bondage in this chapter. If that’s your kink, feel free to consider Chapter One as a stand-alone story.)

“I cannot leave you, Sir,” Fatima said as I lit the candle lanterns on the table. “The Master has decreed that I am to be your slave for tonight. My instructions are to entertain you and amuse you, until the sun rises. And this I shall try to do. If I do not please you, you may do with me as you will.” With that, she slowly stripped off her naquib and abaya, displaying by degrees what she was wearing underneath.

I saw a tan-skinned, slim figure, with narrow hips and long thin legs. Her caramel skin shone with oil. Her bosom was concealed by a red silk brassiere, sheer enough that I could plainly see her small but perfectly formed breasts, capped with two dark and very stiff nipples that protruded through holes in the fabric. Her panties, similarly sheer and of a beautiful violet color, showed a crotch with a bush that matched the darkness of her hair. Already marked with a wet stain, the panties were cut with a center seam, to prominently display the cleft of her vulva. Both garments were trimmed with finger-length gold fringe that matched the gold of her slippers. And around her narrow waist and flat belly was a long, pink sash of silk that covered her navel. Her beauty, her barely concealed nudity, and her dazzling smile were all it took to get my cock stirring again.

She reached into her bag, fished out an iPad, and pressed the screen a few times. I heard the strains of the same music that the dancers had danced to earlier. “Please allow me to take off your clothes, my Master.” With that, she undressed me slowly, kissing each stretch of skin as it was revealed. As my trousers came down, she took my cock into her mouth and sucked, swirling her tongue around the cap until I was half hard. She’s still tasting some of Zahara’s pussy on it, I thought.

“Lie there on your bed,” she said, “and I shall dance for you.” As I lay naked on the bed, she began to dance, an erotic dance that had my cock once again swelling to full hardness.

She was an excellent dancer, a picture of grace and sensuality as she moved her arms and legs in sinuous patterns in perfect time to the sensuous beat, all the while maintaining eye contact with me. Her long black hair swayed with the movements of her head and body, alternately hiding and revealing her brassiere-covered breasts and naked belly.

I was spell-bound. I’d seen videos of snake charmers holding snakes in thrall with their music and the swaying of their flutes. I felt like that snake then, my eyes following every step, every move, every ripple of her belly, every bounce of her breasts, and every gesture of her hands. Those hands would sometimes travel to her breasts, lifting and squeezing them and tugging on the engorged nipples, and sometimes to her crotch, where she would trace the outline of her slit and even slip her hand into her panties to finger her labia as she danced. I noticed that her armpits were unshaven, with small tufts that matched the rest of her hair perfectly. I thought I’d always preferred a shaved armpit and cunt, but on her the hairiness only served to emphasize her animality, her wildness, her passion.

And then, to my delight, she began to strip naked. Her bra was the first to go. Reaching behind her, she released a clasp, and the straps of the bra slipped off her slim shoulders. The garment fell to the floor of the tent, revealing a pair of bared breasts that shone in the light of the lantern in the tent. Her dark nipples, the size of grapes, were fully erect as she caressed them between thumb and forefinger. She pushed her hair behind her shoulders, so that her breasts could be on full display. Her body movements changed to accentuate the freedom of her tits; she shimmied to set them rippling, and bent over to let them hang down from her chest, swinging side to side. By that time, my hard cock was twitching, lusting for a body as it had never lusted before.

A few minutes later, she slipped off her panties and sandals and stood before me totally naked, except for the pink sash. Her crotch was indeed thick with hair, although it was trimmed so that the cleft of her pussy was clearly visible. Splaying her legs and thrusting her hips forward, she pulled her labia apart to display her very pink hole, into which she plunged a long, slim finger. As she finger-fucked herself to the tempo of the music, she cradled and squeezed her left breast with her free hand. Her dark eyes made contact with mine, and her mouth was open, her lips forming an “O” that begged a cock to suck ... a cock that was now throbbing and twitching to the beat of my heart, with pre-cum once again welling from its tip.

And then she untied the sash and drew it across her breasts, her legs, and her belly. I watched it glide across her flesh, accentuating every swell of her form. She would lift her breasts with the sash, and then let them fall and bounce. She would hold the sash tightly against them, so that the nipples would push against it; it was sheer enough that I could plainly make out the areolas.

Then she passed the sash between her legs and drew it across her pussy, pulling it back and forth. She would she would slip it between her inner and outer labia on each side, now displaying their perfect rose-colored folds, and glide the sash along the crease. Then she’d center it on her cunt, drawing it directly over her hole and clit. As the tempo of the music quickened, so did the action of the sash on her pussy. She was masturbating openly, wantonly, and wetly; the sash was now stained with her juices. As she whipped the sash back and forth on her crotch, she moved her head from side to side, her hair swaying in waves.

She was obviously heading for an orgasm, and I could only watch in awe as it swept over her body. Her belly flushed pink, and a sheen of sweat blossomed on her breasts, beading on the oiled skin. And, just at that point, she dropped the sash, danced over to me, straddled me on the bed, and lowered her pussy onto my pulsating cock.

It went in an inch, and then out again. Then two inches, and out. Then three inches. She kept it at that depth for a while, stimulating only the last three inches of my shaft as she lifted and lowered her hips. Her breasts dangled and swung, casting a spell of lust as I watched them. I picked up the scent of musk, now amplified by her sweat and the aroma of her pussy. I reached up and cradled her breasts in my hand. I pinched the turgid nipples, and she reacted by suddenly impaling herself fully on my cock, right down to the base, as a second orgasm swept over her. Then she began moving up and down, twisting her hips, bending my cock as it had never been bent by a lover before, letting its cap press against every part of her vagina, front, back, and sides.

When she pushed my cock against the front of her vagina with more force than usual, I realized that she was obviously working on stimulating her G-spot. I took a chance and pinched her pink clit, now protruding from the top of her cleft. The effect was electric. The double stimulation launched her into yet another orgasm. Her body arched backward, and her vagina clenched my shaft with incredible force.

That was all I could take. Suddenly, scarcely before I realized it, I was beyond the tipping point. I found my body lunging upward, lifting her off the bed, trying to get every last millimeter of my erection into her. And then I came. And came. And came. She must have felt the pulses of my ejaculation, because she gave a low wail and her own vaginal walls clenched my cock as it emptied into her. My own climax was so strong that it was a wonder I didn’t pass out.

As our passion ebbed, I noticed it was beginning to get chilly. As she lowered her body onto mine and ground her stiff nipples into my pecs, I reached for the blanket at the side of the bed and spread it out to cover us. We kissed, passionately, and I could taste the remains of Zahara’s pussy juice on her lips. I thanked her profusely for what was the best fuck I ever had. When I told her that, she laughed.

“I thought you’d fucked hundreds of women, from the way you write! I can’t have been as good as all of them!” Her voice was no longer that of an Arabian slave, but a self-assured American girl, a girl with my cock now softening inside her.

“You are!” I replied. “But how did you know I was a writer?”

“Zahara told me. You’re Jehoram! We were talking about erotica one day, and she mentioned you. So I joined the site and downloaded all your stories. In fact, I have them right here.” She got up from the bed, releasing my limp cock from her vagina, and fetched her tablet from the table. “See, here they are. All of them.” She turned off the music, and brought up another folder.

As she dived back under the covers and snuggled against me, I scrolled down the list, and there they were! I felt honored, but I couldn’t help but feel that I’d disappointed her. “Look, Fatima. I’m not the great lover that my characters are. It’s fantasy. I haven’t had hundreds of women. In fact, I’ve only had maybe a dozen. I’m just an average guy with a very dirty imagination. I mean, I don’t think I lasted two minutes just now! As for your orgasms, you did almost all of the work with your lovely sash! I didn’t do much.”

“You did just fine, Jehoram! I didn’t expect you to last long, especially after all the stimulation you’ve had tonight. When you pinched my clit, you won’t believe how hard I came! But even if I hadn’t cum at all, I still would have been happy!”

“But why?”

“Because I owed you an orgasm! I owed you dozens! For all the orgasms I’ve had while masturbating to your stories! Didn’t you ever suspect that?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted my readers to get off. That’s part of the reason I write them! But you don’t owe me anything for that. But tell me, whose idea was it for you to sleep with me?”

“Sleep with you? You mean fuck you? C’mon, let’s not be coy!” By now, the illusion of “Fatima the obedient slave” was completely gone, replaced by the person she was every day, the intelligent, sexually liberated modern girl, and not the slightest bit less sexy for it. “I decided to seduce you ever since Zahara and Ali told me that you were coming to the Gathering of the Tribes. We planned tonight, the three of us, every bit of it, to make you as welcome and horny as possible. That bondage stuff, they’d do that anyway; they do it all the time. But she wanted to give some special people a special treat, and let them participate in the action.”

“Were those guys writers, too?”

“Hell if I know! I’ve never met them before. But Zahara told me they were all clean. She won’t fuck anybody with diseases. I was able to suck and clean all those cocks, because I trusted her. That was the first time I ever sucked the cocks of guys I didn’t know, and it really turned me on! It really made me feel like a dirty little slave whore!” She giggled.

“I wonder how she knew about my interest in bondage? I never told her.”

“The same way I did! I clicked on your name on one of the posts in the forum, and then on ‘Find all posts by Jehoram’ and all those links to pictures came up. I saw some pretty kinky stuff there!”

“I guess you know a lot more about me than I know about you!”

“Yeah! I know all about your turn-ons ... small boobs, hairy pussies, nipples, tit-sucking, Asians, nudity, even women getting beaten. And I could go to your ‘Favorite Stories’ page and see what arouses you. That’s not the worst way to get introduced to somebody, you know. You don’t need to hide anything from me -- I already know! And I don’t care! In fact, it’s kind of a relief to know how many of your boxes I already check!”

She may have been right about that, I thought. I’d never realized before how much we forum members are open books to each other, at least the ones whose names we know. It was startling to consider that, in many ways, my forum members knew me better than many of the friends I see every day.