Sold To The Sheik

by Alexx Andria

  “W-what are you d-doing to me?” I gasped, barely able to make out the words. Sweat slicked my body, matching the dampness between my legs. “S-Stop!” I begged, afraid of losing complete control over my own body. But he seemed deaf to my pleas, intent on sending me over the edge. Somehow I knew if I went over that ledge, I would change — that tumbling over that precipice would stamp out the protests and denials that I was clinging to and soften me toward him — and I couldn’t let that happen. I struggled to get free, to block out the bone-melting pleasure that was slowly eating away at my resolve to hate him and anything he could do to me. “N-no,” I moaned, but I was sinking fast.

  His finger strummed a secret spot deep inside my shaking body, coaxing something free just as his tongue flicked a torturous staccato beat against my clitoris until I was totally lost to the pleasure that caused me to moan and gasp like the pampered whore he wanted me to be. At that moment I would’ve gladly taken his cock into my mouth and sucked it down my throat as readily as Belinda had; I would’ve offered my ass to him with spread cheeks — whatever he wanted, I’d give. I was past shame, past knowing my own mind. All that mattered was the encroaching pleasure that marched toward me with unerring accuracy. Omar drove two fingers, then three inside me, pushing and stretching until I was no longer aware of anything but pleasure.

  And then it happened.

  I broke into a million pieces, flying apart like brittle glass against a cool granite floor. “Ohhhhhh, Goddd,” I cried, almost unable to breathe, unable to think, only able to babble nonsensical words as the pleasure crashed down around me, drenching me in sweat and my own fluids. I slowly came back to the moment and opened my eyes. My chest still rose and fell with sharp, labored breaths as the aftershocks of what he’d done to me still rocked my body. His face, glistening from my juices, wore a self-satisfied smile but there was a feral light in his eyes that caused a deep shudder at the possessiveness I saw there. I swallowed, my mouth dry from all the moaning and crying out. Awareness returned and I wanted to hide my face from his knowing stare. His expression gentled and he gathered me in his arms as if I were a child to be comforted and not a young woman. His cock twitched beneath my bare bottom but he didn’t try to nudge himself inside me. He simply held me. I stiffened at first, but then the tears came and it was as if a dam had broken.

  It seemed several minutes before the tears stopped. He wiped my tears away and once he thought I would listen, he said, “When Belinda first came to me, she was like a feral creature. Nothing like the beautiful, serene and wise woman you see now. Cassie, a sweet fragile girl, sobbed endlessly for days but now her joyful smile can light the world. And Scarlet? She was misguided in believing she was a lesbian, but soon learned she simply yearned for the right touch. Now, she begs for my cock more ardently than the rest.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked with a soft hiccup.

  “Because I want to show you that there is no shame — only joy — in accepting your true nature.”

  “But I’m not like them,” I protested. “I have family who will be out of their mind worried about me. I have ambition and dreams and goals that never included being someone’s…whore.”

  “Sometimes fate steps in and reveals our true nature in unorthodox ways,” he countered.

  “I don’t believe that. I’ll never be happy here,” I murmured, shaking my head. “I’ll always wish to leave no matter how many times you make me cum.”

  “We shall see,” he said in a tone that said otherwise. He shifted me from his lap and rose naked to pour a glass of water. He took a long drink then passed me the glass. I drank greedily, so thirsty. I handed him the empty glass and when he’d returned it to the counter, he came back to the bed to regard me seriously. “If you were not meant for me, explain why a woman of your beauty has remained untouched?”

  “I was saving myself for marriage,” I said, blinking back hot moisture. Saying it aloud made it seem so pointless.

  “Were you promised to another?” he asked, moving to lounge on the bed, his head supported by his crooked elbow.

  “No. I thought I might meet someone while studying abroad,” I admitted, my cheeks growing hot at my romantic notion.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because American men were so…I don’t know, it seemed they were all so rude and ungallant. I wanted to meet a man who was chivalrous and kind but strong and capable. I never seemed to be able to find those qualities in the men I was dating.”

  “It is true. American men have grown soft and lazy and with that, they’ve forgotten how to treasure the gift that is a woman.”

  I startled at his comment. I peered at him warily. “How can you say that as if you believe you are different, when you keep women as pets?”

  “My women are cherished. I recognize that they are my most treasured possessions. They own me as much as I own them. They want for nothing and I care for their every need.”

  “It’s unnatural,” I said, glancing away. “It doesn’t matter how you pamper them, they are still locked in a cage. I can’t live like that. I will slowly die inside.”

  “Why?”

  I stared as if his question should be self-evident but when he continued to regard me nonplussed, I realized I might as well try to explain quantum physics in Greek to someone who only spoke Spanish. “It goes against my nature,” I finally finished with a helpless shrug.

  “You do not truly know your nature,” he disagreed.

  “Please let me go.”

  “I will not.” His sensual mouth firmed. “Your place is here with me.”

  I looked away, defeated. The tiny curl of hope that had sprung at his show of kindness slowly withered inside me at his blunt answer. He sensed my withdrawal and rose from the bed, saying, “I am never wrong about my women. It is a gift I have always possessed. I am not wrong about you. You are wrong about yourself. The sooner you come to this realization, the happier you will be.”

  “How can you say that?” I asked, frustrated. “You don’t know me.”

  “I know your soul. I see it in your eyes. I knew it the moment I saw your photo in the catalog. Why else would I spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on one person?”

  I tried not to gape at him. He’d spent how much? Once a boyfriend in high school had spent a $100 on a date for me and I’d been floored and touched by the gesture. I didn’t know how to react to the knowledge that Omar had spent more on me than most people made in a year. I didn’t want to admit it, but the knowledge caused a softening inside me, made me feel valuable in a way I’d never imagined.

  As if reading my mind, he graced me with a smile, saying, “I do not regret a penny spent. Already the anticipation of taking your virginity is nearly killing me.” He looked away, as if sharing his next admission was difficult. “I want to be gentle and kind but inside me, a beast growls and demands your flesh in a way that I’ve never experienced. I cannot promise that I will not give you pain.”

  I shuddered at the images that popped unbidden in my mind. “Set me free,” I whispered, though a small, hidden part of myself adamantly wanted him to refuse. There was a moment when I was at his mercy as he wrung my body out with pleasure, that I’d felt at home, blissfully safe and secure. It was this feeling I struggled with. How could that be? I couldn’t understand where it came from or why, so I pushed it ruthlessly away and clung to what I knew to be true.

  “You already know the answer to that,” he answered quietly. “Allah has deemed that we belong together, in this life or the next. To fight it, is pointless.”

  “I don’t share your beliefs,” I said.

  He held my stare and smiled. “You will.”

  There was something about him that made me want to give in. There was a pull toward him as if a magnet were buried in our bodies, drawing us together. He was as handsome as temptation itself, maybe he was the Devil. I wasn’t normally swayed by surface things such as looks or money, but Omar managed to make mincemeat out of my former beliefs
. The shock of seeing his naked body had worn off and I found myself allowing my gaze to drift, wandering over every muscled plane to the large member hanging between his thighs. A shiver danced across my nerve endings at the thought of him taking my virginity with that thick piece of meat. It would hurt. Everyone had always told me that losing the “Big V” as my friends had called it was painful. But I never imagined I would lose it in this manner. I remembered my best friend in high school sharing that her first time had been pressed against the door in the backseat of her boyfriend’s Ford Fiesta. She said there’d been a lot of groping, a sharp stabbing pain and then a mess…made by him. That description hadn’t exactly made me want to try it for myself. I’d wanted something more…something more memorable.

  I guess I should’ve been more specific to the Universe when I’d made that wish.

  To my great relief, he unbound my hands. I gasped a little as circulation flooded through my limbs, sending pinpricks of sensation through my hands. I flexed my fingers and rubbed at my chaffed wrists but before I could utter a word, I was on my back, Omar pressing down on me. My eyes widened and a ribbon of fear curled itself around my heart, not because Omar was on top of me, but because I liked the feel of his body against mine. He smelled of something sharp, possibly citrus, and undeniably male, and the scent of my juices. It was a strange, heady mix that only served to intensify the longing deep inside me for something I couldn’t define, wouldn’t face.

  He stared into my eyes as if drinking in my soul. I couldn’t look away. The beauty of those dark, fathomless eyes were mesmerizing until I felt the insistent nudge of his straining erection pressing against my pubic bone. I gasped and stiffened but his mouth descended on my nipple, sucking the sensitive tip into his hot wetness of need and desire and I shuddered on a sigh. His tongue swirled the nipple, similar to how he’d teased my clitoris, and within moments I was crying out, writhing beneath him, offering him more. He obliged by sucking the entire areola into his mouth and drawing hard as if he were a suckling baby. I clutched at his head, loving and hating the feel of him at my breast as if it were natural and right. My body fought with my mind, contradicting everything I thought I knew with everything that I was feeling right that moment.

  “Yield to me, my pet,” he murmured against my reddened and swollen nipple, my breasts tightening at his touch. “Your softness is mine. You were born for me and me alone. Say it, my love.”

  I wanted to say the words. They were on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t. If I uttered those words, I’d be lost forever. My life would consist of what I saw of the other girls, a mindless sex slave who lived for this man’s pleasure until I was too old to appeal to him any longer. I seamed my mouth shut and turned my head, shuddering as he moved to the other breast with ruthless determination. I could feel his muscles bunching and straining, rippling beneath the smooth silk of his skin. He was as fine a specimen for the male species as I could imagine but still, I was more than a sex slave. I refused to be only what he wanted me to be!

  “You refuse to yield,” he said, rising to stare down at me. His eyes blazed with raw lust and unrestrained need but something else lurked behind that gaze that made my breath catch. Danger lurked in that dark stare. Fear spiked my arousal and made my thighs damp.

  “I can’t,” I whispered. I won’t.

  “Damn you, Layla,” he said harshly. “You do terrible things to me. Things I cannot understand. Tell me what you want from me?”

  “My freedom.”

  “That is the one thing I will never give, no matter how many times you ask or beg,” he said sharply. “You are mine. No one will touch this body but me. Do you hear? Do you understand? No one!”

  I bit my lip, my heart hammering against my chestbone. His nostrils flared with his vehemence and I didn’t doubt his word. This was a man who would never casually offer me to someone else or shrug with indifference in regard to my person. He meant every word he said. And if I was not to be his…I might find myself drawing my last breath. Oh God. Why did I shudder and dissolve into a puddle of lust at that realization? Was I messed up in the head to secretly desire such possession?

  “Say you are mine,” he urged quietly. His low tone sliding like a razor across my nerve endings. “Say it.”

  “No!” I shouted into his face, glaring at him for sparking such a foreign and frightening feeling inside me. I wanted to go back to the person I was before I was abducted — blissfully unaware that something so dark lurked inside me. “I’ll never be yours! Never!” But there would be a cost for my recklessness and I would be made to pay with my body. Omar roared and within seconds, I was on my stomach. He grabbed my hips and pulled them up and back, forcing me on my hands and knees. “Omar! Please not like this! Oh, please! No!” I cried, trying to rear up but a sharp slap across my ass cheeks startled a cry from my lips. Another resounding slap and I shrieked and tried to get away but he was too strong and held me in place. He slapped me again and again, my cheeks bouncing and stinging with each hit of his palm. Heat gathered beneath my abused flesh and I cried out with each slap. I sobbed, unable to escape his wrath. He stopped and I shuddered, believing he’d expended his energy but I was wrong.

  “You are mine. And you will know the depth of my ownership over you, my pet,” he promised darkly. I cried softly, the flesh of my cheeks pulsing as blood rushed to the surface. I moaned as I realized with dawning horror that my hips were swaying, as if begging for more. Oh God…was I truly a mindless slut like the rest? A deep ache burned inside me, an emptiness that demanded to be filled and I feared that what I sought could only be found in the one place I refused to look. I tried to look at him, to plead for mercy, but he pushed my head down on the mattress and held me firmly in place as something warm and firm nudged at my entrance. Ohhh! He was going to…I squeezed my eyes shut and without gentleness, shoved his cock deep inside me, ripping through my hymen without ceremony. He was impossibly large and thick and I felt completely filled by him, as if I didn’t know where he started and I began.

  “Uhhhh,” his low moan reverberated through my bones and rattled in my soul. “So tight, so perfect. Mine.”

  I trembled with the force of his possession of me. He’d taken what I’d guarded so fiercely my entire life…and yet, I couldn’t deny that it felt right, that perhaps I’d saved myself for him just as he’d said.

  With my hymen gone, he began to move slowly, pumping his thick cock into me with deliberate precision, grinding against me, filling and stretching me with his girth until he could move easily and smoothly. The pain slowly receded and sooner than I imagined, tiny tendrils of pleasure began to unfurl along my nerve endings, igniting into large sparks of need and want. He thrust harder into me, as if trying to imprint my insides the head of his cock and I groaned against the rapidly pleasurable invasion. The angle he kept my body and the way the bed rubbed my nipples with each hard thrust, kickstarted a cascading sensation of building pressure deep inside. His pumping hips bounced against my flaming ass cheeks, and I could feel the soft sac of his balls slapping against me as well. This primal act — so wrong and wonderful — freed my mind and I sank further into the well of pleasure that was quickly drowning my fears and denials.

  I was going to that place again — where I would say or do anything he desired — and I was mindless as he continued to fuck me like an animal in heat. Everything I had known about myself began to shift and I pushed back against his thrusts, wanting deeper contact. Inexplicably, he slowed just as I had begun to creep toward that glorious undoing and I cried my surprise and disappointment. “Do you yield to me?” he asked, his voice a harsh rasp as if stopping had been difficult for him as well. I bit my lip. He began to withdraw as if he would leave me dangling between frustration and completion and I found myself giving in completely.

  “Yesss,” I moaned and gasped. “I yield to you! Yesss! Please, don’t stop!”

  “As you command, my beautiful pet,” he said, and sank into me once again, burying himself to the
hilt inside my willing body. “Tell me how you like what I’m doing to you. Tell me how you desire my seed in your body!”

  “Yes!” I babbled, nearly sobbing from the building pleasure robbing me of coherent thought. “I want you to fuck me! I want you to fill me up with your cum. I love what you’re doing to me. Please don’t stop. Right there! Yesss!”

  I didn’t know what I was saying, only the dirty words pushed me further down that hole of indescribable pleasure and I was lost to it. I came hard and spiraled out of consciousness for a split second as I lost all sense and reason as the pleasure cresting over me in giant, crashing waves.

  His grip tightened on my hips and he groaned deep and loud as he jetted his seed deep inside my body, bathing my insides with his fluid, filling me completely so that his cock slipped and slid along my coated walls before he withdrew and collapsed onto the bed with a heavy, guttural moan of pleasure.

  It was several moments before either of us could speak. I didn’t know if this was normal. I didn’t have anything to compare to but something told me, it wasn’t. I risked a glance at Omar, his rapidly rising and falling chest further evidence of how hard he’d came and I wondered what would happen next. “Sweet Allah, you are a gift to me,” he murmured when he could. His eyes opened and he gently caressed my jawline. “I’m sorry I was not more gentle. I should’ve been more considerate of your innocence. Can you forgive me, my pet?”

  I nodded shyly. I had liked it rough. More so than I had ever imagined I would. But Omar had known, somehow.