Chapter 24: Given To The Emir

Back at his home, Ramzy El-Najjar wandered into the harem and saw Zeinab sitting quietly sewing.

"Tell me, my granddaughter, how good is your English now?"

"Sufficient to understand that question and to make this reply," she said.

"Good enough," her grandfather nodded, "I have plans for you."

Ramzy El-Najjar was a patient man and still he waited for the appropriate moment with the girl's command of English and French improving by the day. Eventually he decided that the time was ripe and the day propitious and the Emir's mood mellow.

"Master," he said, but then fell silent.

"Speak," said the Emir, "Tell me you want to retire. Tell me you have been trying to say this to me for weeks now. Tell me how you plan to soften the blow?"

"My Master knows everything," Ramzy El-Najjar sighed, "And doubtless knows of the gift I wish to offer."

"No," said the Emir, "It was obvious that you wanted to retire, but I know nothing of a gift. What is it? A new Master of Quarry perhaps?"

"Regrettably, Master, there is no one I could suggest for that post," he sighed, "But I would wish to honour my Master with a gift, one which would be more personal than the hunt quarry I usually provide."

The Emir nodded and murmured, "Then I will accept your gift with pleasure."

Some days later, and in total ignorance of this conversation, Zeinab was bundled up in an abaya and taken in a closed van for a journey of some twenty minutes. Then she was rushed along corridors and into a long narrow room with doors at both ends, but no windows. It was lit by a glass roof and Zeinab correctly surmised that it was part of her new Master's harem. There were several eunuchs present and her father; there was also the man she assumed would be her new Master, who was sitting on a small throne on a dais. She went forwards and made deep obeisance.

Her father spoke about her, over her head in Kobekistani, saying the formal words of presentation to the man on the throne, Your Magnificence, may you live for ever, the worthless virgin granddaughter of your humble Master of Quarry who kneels before you would be honoured if you would deflower her. She would be even more honoured if you were to allow her to remain here in the harem of the Golden Palace.~

Her heart swelled with pride and pleasure, though she gave no sign of her excitement. He had called the new Master 'Your Magnificence'. She was being given as a concubine to His Magnificence, the Emir Mahmoud Abdullah himself, may he live for ever.

~May he live for ever, ~ she whispered under her abaya.

The Emir's reply pleased her immensely. Although due formality was observed, it was a clear acceptance of a welcomed gift from a trusted friend, I am pleased to accept this valuable gift, and will lose no time in enjoying her.~

Now she felt slightly nervous. All her training had been for this moment; she was about to be deflowered, here and now! A full formal defloration before her grandfather and by His Magnificence, the Emir Mahmoud Abdullah himself, may he live for ever. A eunuch helped her rise and removed her abaya, leaving the girl standing almost naked, and very nervous before the eyes of her new Master. He was the first whole man she had seen, other than her grandfather, since she had last seen her father several years earlier. She was dressed in the slippers and multiple jewelled trinkets which constituted the sum total of the uniform of Ramzy El-Najjar's harem. Of itself, this did not make her nervous, as she had worn nothing else for years. If anything the abaya made her more uneasy than nakedness.

Lighter skinned than most Arabs but with glossy dark brown hair worn long, Zeinab was supple, tall and slim by Kobekistani standards, though her breasts were by no stretch of the imagination boyish and her rump projected pertly enough. A small area of pubic hair had been left on the body, carefully shaped to form a hand pointing downwards to the clitoris and the entrance to the tunnel of love.

~May I see her dressed in the accoutrements of my harem? I do like the hand shape as a pubic adornment; do all your harem have that?~ asked the Emir.

~She was allowed to grow her body hair specially for Your Magnificence's amusement, and of course you may dress her as you wish, Master, ~ replied Ramzy, She will be yours, if you accept her.~

Quickly she was stripped of the jewellery and a bolero jacket was put on her shoulders, which did not meet at the front thus allowing eyes, and hands, free access to her excellent breasts. Split trousers of some light gauzy material clad each leg with a film of pink pastel, while allowing a clear view of the mound and, when she turned, of the arse cleft. She lifted her hands above her head like a ballerina and slowly pirouetted to show off her body to its best advantage. When she faced the Emir again she opened her legs until her feet were about eighteen inches apart and bent backwards until she was in a full gymnast's bridge, offering a gaping cunt in the direction of her new Master. The lewdness of this pose by Western standards had its inevitable effect on the Emir. He marvelled again at the willingness of these cloistered females to display their most intimate treasures in a totally uninhibited fashion to a man who was, he had no doubt, the only complete man other than her father and grandfather she had seen since the onset of puberty.

Zeinab was very excited by the culmination of her ambitions, which had been carefully nurtured for years. If she pleased this man enough, she could soon be Head Wife to the Emir. She was to be given to him to become an official concubine. This was it; she would be taken by him and deflowered in a few moments! Her wild idealistic ideas of love were not involved, gleaned as they had been mostly from reading French women's magazines before she was ten years old. She had no illusions about sex, however, and did not really connect it with love at all.

~Is my Master, may he live for ever, pleased to accept her?~ asked Ramzy El-Najjar.

The Emir was well aware of the demands of good manners, in that he had no choice but to accept her and to deflower her here in front of the watching grandfather. He also knew that protocol required him to be restrained, although truth to tell, this one did excite him; nevertheless he must not seem too eager to have her.

~She is pleasing to the eye. How has she been trained?~

~She understands all the requirements of a discerning Master such as Your Magnificence. She has been trained in the horizontal arts, though of course she remains a virgin in every orifice. She also speaks French and English as well as Kobekistani so that Your Magnificence may order her as you see fit.~

"Does she now; that's fortunate. Well, girl, what should I call you?" he asked in English.

"My Master, may he live for ever, calls me whatever he wishes. My grandfather calls me Zeinab," was her careful and exquisitely correct reply.

"And is she trained to the whip?" the Emir wondered.

"Master, I have not used her that way, but I assure you she will be pleased to be whipped if it is the Emir's pleasure," said Ramzy El-Najjar.

The Emir nodded to the Chief Eunuch and the girl was quickly pushed over the divan with her arse high in the air. A second nod and the whip flew through the air to land with a resounding WHAP on her arse.

A single sob betrayed her pain, followed by a respectful, "One Master. Thank you Master," using English as that was the last language the Master had used to address her.

The Emir was tempted to discover how good that self-control was, and just how many strokes it would take before she forgot herself and cried out or spoke in Kobekistani, but it would be very impolite to try that now. 'Tomorrow, perhaps, ' he thought.

Moving towards the woman and waving the eunuch out of the way, the Emir gently spread her labia open with one hand and pushed his three-quarters erect penis into her oiled vagina, then his progress was obstructed by a firm hymen. At a present giving ceremony such as this, anything else would have been a gross insult to him. Some fathers had been known to have their daughters half sewn up in order to make them appear more closed than they actually were. The girl followed the protocol perfectly, pushing back onto his invading penis, and he burst through her maidenhead. She was unable to suppress a scream of pain as he entered her and pumped hard for three or four strokes to ensure her complete opening. Then, still as protocol demanded, he withdrew and showed his bloodstained weapon to her grandfather before wiping it clean on the material of the trousers the girl was wearing. She would now keep those all her life as a precious souvenir of the great honour she had had in being deflowered in public by the Emir.

"She is to be prepared for me for tonight," the Emir ordered.

Everyone in the room, except the girl, knew he didn't necessarily mean it; it was just as much a part of the ritual demanded by formal protocol as the whip stroke and the defloration. Since the formalities were now over, the girl was led away into the harem where she would, presumably, spend the rest of her life, and her new and former owners went off to the throne room to enjoy some coffee, and perhaps an illicit glass of brandy. As she went she mused on the experience she had just had and wondered why the women of her grandfather's harem had enthused about sex so much. It just didn't seem much of a thing to her.

In the monotonous life of the harem the unexpected arrival of a new woman was the cause of high excitement. Zeinab was surrounded by the younger girls all asking different questions about where she had come from, and had she been deflowered, and had it hurt, and who was she, and was it the Emir himself, and did the whip hurt, and why had she screamed.

"Silence," a female voice desperately seeking to impose its authority rang out across the room.

Its owner was a tallish, fair-skinned girl with very dark brown hair. Her figure was on the plumper side, but her breasts looked firm. As with all the others, she had no body-hair at all and the cunt-lips looked plump and inviting. Her eyes were large and brown and reminded Zeinab of a Labrador Retriever her father had owned.

She came forward and said in a tone which emphasised every single capital letter, "I am the Princess Maryam, the Head Wife of the Emir and Mother of the Crown Prince. You will obey me and you will give obeisance when I enter the room."

The other women stared at the two of them and waited with bated breath to see what the new girl would say or do. Some of the younger and more timid members of the harem actually did offer this sort of sycophantic respect to Maryam, but those who remembered her from before called her 'the Kitchen Maid' behind her back. Zeinab simply stared at her in disbelief. In all her life she had never heard any member of Ramzy El-Najjar's harem speak to another woman like that, not even to a bath slave. She looked round waiting for the Chief Eunuch to intervene, but in vain.

"I am going to eat now, but you will be punished for your lack of respect later," continued Princess Maryam.

It was about two hours later and all the excitement about the new arrival had all but subsided when Princess Maryam emerged from her private suite of rooms and sought out Zeinab. The new girl still did not offer any obeisance to the Head Wife, so Princess Maryam ordered her to be prepared for a whipping. Zeinab was amazed when one of the eunuchs promptly and efficiently strapped her face down on a whipping bench.