by Lynn, KT
I nodded, blushing furiously.
“That is good. You will fetch a higher price that way. But no woman of this house is allowed to be sold without mastering certain techniques. Fortunately, we have many methods of practice.”
Fatima silently fetched a small wooden chest, and set it before me. Curiously, I worked the clasp and undid the lid. I started and blushed as I saw the selection of items within. Silk scarves, clearly used for blindfolding or tying one’s hands; stiff rods, mimicking the shape of a man’s penis, some with straps which would fix them in place; several little jars of lubricants and unguents; yet more rods, some ribbed, some curved, all larger and thicker than I could have imagined was possible.
“We’ll take it one step at a time. First, close your eyes.” I did so, and felt one of the two women tying a silken blindfold over my eyes. “Just feel the sensations. Don’t think about the reality, just embrace the fantasy,” Emine encouraged.
“There is hardly a man alive who is not weak to oral pleasure,” Fatima added. “Master this skill, and we’ll know you’re ready for more.”
“Don’t panic,” Emine said. “I’m going to bind your hands. You need to focus entirely on the task before you, on using your tongue. We’ll guide you as you go. Ready?”
“Wait! I don’t know if I-”
“Just imagine that there’s nobody in the room but you and a handsome, gentle man, whom you desperately want to please.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. I flexed my hands; they were held fast behind my back. The only sensation left to me was touch, and when I felt something warm and firm pressed between my lips, I parted them, taking the end gently into my mouth.
“Just explore,” Fatima whispered. I obeyed, peeking out my tongue to lick at the tip. Then, I whirled my tongue around the entire circumference, before taking it more firmly into my mouth.
“Good. Now suck gently, moving your head forwards. Take as much as possible,” encouraged Emine.
It was a strange sensation, working my mouth around this thick piece of mock-flesh, taking as much as possible until it almost reached the back of my throat. I pulled back, repressing the urge to gag.
“Try not to breathe too much. Take it in as far as you can.”
I redoubled my efforts, sucking gently and bobbing my head, letting the tip touch the back of my throat, all the while imagining the kind eyes of the young sultan from the city.
Eventually, the girls were satisfied with my progress. My mouth was aching and dry, my tongue was sore, but the smiles of my companions told me I had done well.
“Now you’ve learnt something of what pleases a man, it’s time for a reward. We’ll teach you a little on the art of pleasing ourselves. It’s fine,” Emine laughed, “most men love to watch, so it’s something you need to know about: what makes your body sing.”
The three of us settled onto a pile of cushions, the wooden box snugly in the centre.
“You’ve used your fingers before?” Fatima asked. Blushing, I nodded.
“What do you like?”
I blinked, unsure.
“Fatima likes it kinky,” Emine whispered conspiratorially. The hooks are her favourite. And spanking. She likes giving and taking that.”
“Emine has a thing for oral sex,” Fatima added. “Not a lot of men give it, so she sometimes calls in favours with us girls.”
“Well?” Emine asked, unabashed at this revelation. “What about you?”
“I- I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I’ve just used my fingers.”
“Not to worry,” Emine shrugged. “How about we use our old friend here? I’m sure the three of us can make some progress.”
She held out the rod I had been using to practice my oral skills on. I took it numbly.
“Start teasing yourself,” instructed Fatima. She and Emine were sitting close together, and Emine began stroking Fatima’s bare thigh. Fatima smiled, and reached her hand down to start stroking her clitoris, while Emine palmed her own breast. It was an arousing sight, and I moved my own hand down between my soft folds, feeling the slightly moist warmth which signalled I was already a little turned on. My hairless skin felt soft and pleasant, and I pushed one finger inside myself, hooking it slightly and feeling the first sparks of pleasure.
“Add another finger,” Fatima instructed. I looked up to see that both of them were touching themselves too, enjoying the show I was giving them. I pushed in another finger and began a slow rhythm, pushing the digits in just to the second knuckle, hooking them to reach the spot which was beginning to make my blood pump faster and my skin heat up.
“Now use the toy,” Emine said, arching her neck as Fatima kissed it teasingly.
I took the rod and placed it at my entrance, which was now wet and ready. Pushing in just the head, I gasped at the sensation of being stretched and filled.
“Rotate it a little – move it about and see what feels good,” Fatima advised, breaking her ministrations on Emine to stroke one hand over my waist encouragingly. Emine came over to my other side, squeezing my thigh. I moved the rod, pushing it a little farther, probing further into me, and I gasped and threw my head back as I hit a spot inside of me which made me see stars.
“Good,” Emine encouraged. “Now build a rhythm.”
Both girls poured their attention on me, stroking and caressing as I built a gentle, pleasurable rhythm, hitting the spots inside me which made me bite my lips to stop myself making a noise.
“Don’t be afraid to be loud,” Fatima said. I moaned, letting myself go. With one hand pushing the rod in and out of my hole, I let the other hand find my clitoris, pinching and rubbing until the pleasure was built so high that I had to either stop or explode. At that moment one of the girls bit down on my earlobe, sucking it into her mouth, and I came violently, the waves of warm pleasure pulsing through me uncontrollably. I felt two pairs of arms around me, stroking gently as I recovered from the intensity of my orgasm.
“That was some show,” a voice said. My eyes shot open, and I was shocked to see Madame Nar in the doorway, relaxed and slightly amused, watching the three of us. “You’ll do very well with us, I think.”
I could only assume that was a good thing.
-
Each day went by for weeks in a haze of pleasure and practice. I learnt more about the arts of pleasing men than I ever thought was possible, and finally, I was deemed ready.
“There is only so far we can take you,” Fatima smiled, “before you need to practice on the real thing. We have a new client coming in today. He has requested a young and pure woman, and is interested in making her his personal concubine. We’ve decided that you are an excellent choice for the Sultan. He’s waiting now, and we’ll send him into your chamber. Use any means he desires to entertain him. If he chooses to buy you – we will know that you are ready, and you can start training specifically for the task of pleasing him, and only him.”
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Sultan Hasan.”
My heart was thudding in my chest. Even with everything I had learnt, I had yet to test my knowledge on a real man. What if he was unattractive? What if he smelt, or was old, or cruel? I had been assured that clients for the house were picked with as much discernment as the girls, but still!
I had my back to the door when I heard the faint click which told me the man had entered. Quelling my nerves and softening my face into a seductive smile, I turned. And almost fainted.
It was the handsome young sultan I used to watch in the city. The very one, when I had first entered this house, who I had imagined pleasuring. The one I used to imagine pleasuring me. This was my chance. I had to make him want me.
“Welcome,” I said in a low, calm voice. “I’m Manula.”
“Hello, Manula. I am Hasan,” he said with a smile. His voice was deep and warm, and it made me tingle all over. “I’m told you’re quite the most charming girl in the house.”
“Kind words,” I smiled deprecatingly, “but it is a repu
tation I would rather earn.”
“Well from what I see, your charms haven’t been exaggerated.”
“You don’t see very much,” I smiled, gesturing at the sweeps and folds of azure silk which enfolded my body, artfully hiding my skin from view whilst hinting at what lay beneath. I looked him in the eyes, giving him that secret, mysterious smile that I had spent so many hours perfecting in the glass with Fatima. He returned my smile, and I knew my unspoken question was answered. Slowly reaching my hand up to take a piece of silk, I let the first piece of my cleverly designed outfit unravel, revealing with each gentle ripple of falling silk another layer, another hint of bare skin. I pulled another artfully tied ribbon, and a second piece of material joining the first to pool at my feet, exposing that above my waist I was clad in nothing but a small band covering my breasts.
“Exaggerated?” I asked innocently, meeting the lustful look in Hasan’s eyes. He shook his head. I tugged one last piece of silk, and in an elegant flutter, my long skirt floated to the ground to reveal my long, smooth legs and another small band of material concealing that mysterious triangle of flesh that causes men so much agony and desire.
I moved towards Hasan like a dancer, light on my feet and swaying my hips alluringly. I pressed myself up against him, fully dressed, but in soft clothing which let me feel that hardness against my stomach. From the feel of it, he was very large. I tilted my face up so that I was looking into his dark hazel eyes.
“This,” I whispered, pressing my breasts against his broad, solid chest, “could all belong to you. You need only ask for it. I can give you pleasure you have only ever dreamed of. You can tie me to the headboard and take me until I am raw and dawn is clawing her way into your bedchamber. I know ways of making the pleasure last,” I ghosted a kiss on his earlobe, “and last,” I ghosted a kiss to his cheek, “until finally,” I kissed him lingeringly on his lips, “it’s spent. Until the next time.”
“Your charms certainly haven’t been exaggerated,” Hasan said, his voice a little hoarse with arousal. “But, my sweet Manula, I want to have my share of seeing you cry out in pleasure too. I want to see those pretty lips crying my name, parted in bliss.”
My mouth went dry as his arms went around my body, unfastening the band of material around my breasts. Bringing it to his lips briefly, he met my eyes with his intentions clear. I couldn’t move. Hasan, in one powerful, fluid movement, caught me in his arms and carried me over to my bed, scattered with cushions and with four carved wooden posts, one at either corner. He laid me down with gentle care, and took in the sight of me, lying panting and naked. Swiftly, before I could catch my breath, he leaned down and took my lips in a bruising, exhilarating kiss. This was nothing like what I had practiced with the girls. This was raw and powerful, his lips dominating mine and moulding them to his will. I fought back, biting his lower lip and drawing it into my mouth, sucking it sensually.
Hasan gave a low groan, and his warm, slightly calloused hand found its way to my hip, moving upwards in a firm stroke until he found my breast. He squeezed hard, and I gasped. It felt like my skin was on fire where he touched me. Still squeezing and stroking my left breast, Hasan moved his skilled, moistened lips from my mouth and down my neck, planting hot kisses to the pale column, sucking and laving, but not enough to leave a mark. There were rules – he could not mark me until he owned me.
I could not suppress a moan as his lips moved to my other breast, taking my nipple into his mouth and biting, very gently, tugging the hardened nub teasingly with his teeth, sending sparks of pleasure down into my abdomen. I felt warm and flushed, ready to be taken. My entire body was craving more.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” I told him. He paused briefly in his ministrations – I whined at the loss – and grinned up at me.
“I like how feisty you are,” he said approvingly. “It’s no fun if you just lie back and take it. Come; undress me.”
Although aching at the loss of his broad hands and sinful mouth, I was eager to be touching him, returning the pleasure he had been giving me. After all, I was there to please him. I worked the fastenings of his tunic, exposing with every second another few inches of tanned, hard flesh. My eyes were fixed on the line of dark hair trailing down from his chest, and without thinking, I pressed my lips to it, following its progress downwards until I met resistance in the form of cloth.
“Patience,” Hasan chuckled. Shrugging off his open tunic to reveal broad, muscular shoulders and the entirety of his powerful, toned chest, he reached down to undo his sash. Rising from the bed, he let the material drop from his waist. He was naked before me, his skin dark, his muscles hard and toned, and his cock thick, large and rigid. It made my mouth water just looking at it, and I could feel the moisture pooling between my legs. I wanted him to take me now, that thick cock pulsing in my body, filling me completely until I couldn’t take it anymore. But I had to remind myself that I needed to seduce him. I needed to make him want more. I pushed myself off the bed, my entire body alight with lust, and Hasan immediately pulled me to him in another bruising kiss, his tongue forcing entry into my all-too willing mouth and curling around my own, plundering every crevice and filling me with sweet sensation. The kiss broke after what seemed like hours, and we both panted, my breasts heaving against his strong chest. I recovered first; I had been taught to keep the pleasure burning brightly, and now it was my turn to show him what I knew. Making a trail from his collarbone, I began to kiss slowly down his chest, caressing the patch of hair below his abdomen with my hand, reaching lower as my mouth made its journey down his ribs, kissing and laving at the slightly salty, headily-scented skin. Finally I was holding his hot, pulsing cock in my hand, teasing him lightly, caressing the thick vein on the underside, stroking my thumb over the leaking slit of his head.
“Take me in your mouth,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust. I obeyed; it felt perfect, ten times more arousing than the times I had practiced, to be surrounded by the scent and smell of his sex. I knew my thighs were running with moisture, but I was focused on pleasing him; my pleasure could wait.
I took him entirely into my mouth, letting the whole length of his rock-hard cock slide over my tongue until it hit the back of my throat. He hadn’t expected it, and he moaned loudly and grabbed the back of my head with his hand, twisting my long hair to create painful, delicious sensation. The flavour of him was the best thing I had ever tasted, and I desperately wanted more. I let his cock slide almost completely out of my mouth, sucking greedily at the tip, before deep-throating him again, moving my head quickly to create a frantic pace, wanting more than I could get. The tempo of his moans rose, and I knew that he was close. I wanted the taste of his cum coating my tongue, wanted to lap up every drop as it shot into my mouth. But with a grunt he pulled my mouth from him. I looked up, confused; but his eyes were dark with lust, and immediately my excitement doubled; he had better things in store.
The two scanty silk bands which had kept my modesty were swept from the floor. With strength but surprising gentleness, Hasan raised my arms and bound them, tightly but not painfully, with the soft material. I lay back, my heart racing in my chest, as my bound hands were tied to the bedpost, above my head, leaving my body stretched out before him, vulnerable and begging for him.
“That’s better,” Hasan smiled, satisfied. “Much as I love surprises, it’s my turn to show you how to moan.”
His words coaxed that very sound from my lips, and my legs dropped eagerly apart as he ran one hand from my calf to my thigh. Although my arms were immobile above my head, I could still tell him exactly what I wanted. Kneeling before me, Hasan presented two fingers to my lips.
“I’ve seen what you can do with that tongue,” he said huskily. “Suck.”
I let the fingers gain entrance eagerly, sucking them, swirling my tongue, coating them thoroughly in saliva as he pushed them in and out, a tantalising imitation of what I wanted so badly. Finally, he removed his fingers, a trail of saliva joining them
to my lips before it broke, slightly obscene, overpoweringly arousing. Hasan lost no time in parting my willing thighs once more, stroking his fingers along my already soaked sex, teasing but not actually penetrating. Uselessly, I thrust my hips towards him. He laughed, mockingly.
“You want me? Well there’s very little you can do with your hands over your head.”
“Please,” I whimpered. Hasan’s grin broadened, and his cock twitched at the word.
“I’m sorry?” he said.
“Please,” I said urgently. “I’m begging you, please. I need you inside me.”
I let out a load, long moan as Hasan’s fingers finally sank into me, stretching my tight walls, sliding with ease into my soaked core.
“You’re so tight,” groaned Hasan. “Oh Allah save me, you’re so damned tight and hot.”
I barely heard him as his fingers caressed my walls, sending searing pleasure through every inch of me. I couldn’t hold back. I screamed as his thumb pressed on the tight bud of nerves which I knew could bring the sweetest of pleasure. It had never felt as sweet as the way Hasan played with it, pushing it and stroking it until I was almost sobbing with arousal.
“P-please,” I whimpered again. “I need more. Please.”
I knew it was what he wanted to hear, because he was too eager even to tease me. Within moments of losing his wicked fingers, my thighs were pushed roughly upwards until they met my chest, and my need was gratified, more than gratified, by Hasan’s hard, thick cock pressing to the lips of my entrance. We were both moaning as he pressed forwards, slowly, allowing my body time to accommodate his girth. He was bigger than anything I had ever experienced, stretching me to my limits, but it came with so much sweet, powerful pleasure that I barely felt the discomfort.
“Ok?” Hasan asked softly. I could only nod. It was enough.
It was more incredible than I could ever have wished. He started a rough, abandoned rhythm, thrusting hard and fast, pushing my legs up so that I was bent almost double, the harsh angle producing the most exquisite sensations of pleasure I had ever felt. It was like liquid fire burning between my legs, building with every thrust, and I knew that I was close to completion. Suddenly the rhythm changed; the bonds tautened around my wrists as Hasan sat up, bringing my legs to either side of his waist so that my body was arched clear off the bed, still impaled on Hasan’s swollen cock. Over and over he drove me onto him, each movement harder and more intense than the last. With the added burn of the ropes and the movement of my whole body with each vigorous thrust, it was all I could do to stop myself screaming. It was too good, too much, far beyond anything my training could have prepared me for.
