Rating
Part Nine
In the nine months I’d known Gordon and Sally, my standard of living had improved immeasurably. I had raped their savings and investments, flogged their possessions and mortgaged their assets, helped myself to most of Gordon’s income, and put Sally out to work.
Unfortunately though, in the end even the most productive oil well starts to run dry.
“Fortunately,” as my new Arab friend observed, “you just have to keep drilling.”
I’ll call him Sheikh X. He made contact with me via Sally’s website. In late July he paid us his first visit. In early September, he returned, bearing a briefcase brimming with Ł20 notes !
It was ten thousand pounds; a ‘gesture of good faith’ he called it.
Six days later, Gordon, Sally and I flew out to one of the smaller emirates in the Middle East. The heat haze billowed above the runway tarmac in shimmering silver and yellow stripes. The temperature was over one hundred in the shade. But the paperwork eased us through immigration in double quick time. Sheikh X’s signature clearly carried weight in these parts. The stretch limo confirmed my early impressions.
“Welcome, my friend.” He said, greeting me in the lobby of an enormous palace. He smiled at, but didn’t speak to, Sally or Gordon. In London he’d been dressed in a linen suit but at home he was wearing traditional white robes. His face was heavily creased, with fleshy lips, a hooked nose and a goatee beard.
Sally was swollen with child. Her due date was 14th November 2008. She stood in front of us and undressed while the Sheikh and I sipped mint tea in an open courtyard. Around a dozen of his Arab wives and bodyguards sat or stood and watched Sally clumsily remove her English clothes.
At 34 now, with the bloom of impending motherhood, her platinum hair neatly coiffed, her bum and thighs toned by the relentless sexercise regime I’d kept her on, she actually looked better than she did when we first met.
The Sheikh loved the idea that the father of her first child was completely unknown.
“I shall continue the tradition.” He said to me when I told him. “She shall bear many children with many men. But we won’t know exactly who. Don’t worry, my friend, I will take care of them all. I love kids.”
Once Sally stood totally nude, he twiddled his finger to indicate she should turn around slowly. Sally blushed scarlet at the stares and intakes of breath from the audience. Her breasts seemed to have grown even more in the couple of days since I’d seen them. Her nipples resembled thick cranberries.
Sheikh X motioned for one of his wives to approach. The woman was heavily robed but I could tell by the part of her face that showed she was middle aged, probably in her early fifties. He spoke a stream of Arabic to her. The woman replied, not sounding too happy. He spoke again, louder, firmly.
“She is not amused.” He said out of the side of his mouth to me. “I told her she must accept Sally as another of my concubines. I suspect that poor Sally will not be treated very well inside the harem !”
The next morning, Gordon was brought to where the Sheikh and I were having a leisurely breakfast in a sun-dappled garden, under an arbour of orange blossom and bougainvillea. Two robed guards escorted him. I was shocked. Gordon was virtually unrecognisable. Like his waxed head, his entire body was hairless, down to his bald groin and shaved legs. His skin glistened with oil, sweat and a rash. He was naked apart from a steel chastity belt and body jewellery; gold hoop earings, a line of ear studs, nipple hoops. And the words “if you want to fuck my wife sally, please ask my Master” were still tattooed neatly across his waist.
“Come near.” The Sheikh summoned.
Up close, I could see that he had been eaten alive by mosquitoes and insects. There were scarlet bites all over his face and body, particularly round his flaccid, Prince Albert pierced dick. And this was no chastity belt of the type you could buy commercially on the net or even from a specialist store. It was the most severe and brutal thing even I could imagine. A thimble-sized tube of nine rings of steel teeth, each like the cocked jaws of a small animal trap, encircled the harmless shaft of Gordon’s penis, from root to tip. Although he was shrunken and limp, the teeth still grazed his skin all the way down. It was obvious that even the slightest thickening would be incredibly painful.
“Nice, yes ? Hand forged.” The Sheikh said.
I looked up at Gordon’s perspiring and dejected face. “It’s perfect.”
The Sheikh smiled. “A modern day eunuch. In the past, slaves used to have their parts removed. I think this new way is less barbaric, but more amusing, yes ?”
I nodded in agreement, sipping my dark coffee.
“I do hope you intend to keep him in permanent chastity now. In effect, castrated. It wasn’t so easy to achieve that back in London.”
“But of course.” He paused while a female maid refilled my coffee cup. “My medical staff tell me that a monthly milking can be given to drain the tubes for health reasons. Maybe bi-monthly. I am assured he will feel no orgasm, no release beyond a … how do you say … vaguely pleasant sensation from the draining of any build up of fluid.”
I stared into Gordon’s eyes. He was listening to us discuss him in silence.
“And how do you intend to make use of him otherwise ?”
He gestured all around. “You’ve seen my country. It is one big building site. We need manual labour. All labour is welcome but, of course, free labour is doubly so. He will live with a pick and shovel in his hands.”
“That should take his mind off his sexual frustration !”
The Sheikh shrugged. “I have a cousin.” His fleshy lips curled in a sneer. “He is into boys … what do you call it … gay ? I have already shown him photographs of our friend here and we have done a deal. He will provide soup and a mattress for Gordon in return for nightly use of him. He knows that Gordon’s chastity belt must stay on and he’s pleased about that. My cousin much prefers the male role to the female one.” He chuckled.
I joined him, sniggering as I imagined Gordon’s endless future.
The Sheikh raised an eyebrow at the guards who marched Gordon away.
It was the last time I ever saw him.
Sally knelt between my thighs, pumping my erection in her fingers.
I studied her expression. She was obedient but sulky, resentment visible in her eyes.
And yet ? I saw something else in them. Or I thought I did.
I was sat on the toilet. My car left in an hour to take me to the airport. She had been sent to my room to say goodbye. She was too pregnant to fuck properly and I thought it would be bad manners anyway.
She belonged to somebody else now.
I had been handsomely paid.
“Not so fast, Sal’. I’m in no rush. Just lick the head a while.”
Her lips moved obediently to my glistening helmet, sucking me into her mouth. I parted my thighs wider, leaning my head back against the lavatory cistern.
“I shall miss you.” I said, toying with her greasy hair. As predicted, the ladies of the harem weren’t being too kind to the white woman in their midst. “But this is for the best. Everybody’s so happy.”
Sally and Gordon had sent gushing letters, smiling photos, long emails to their friends, colleagues and relatives. They had ‘appointed somebody to sell up their remaining assets’ in England and they were ‘embarking on a wonderful adventure’ and ‘new life abroad’. They’d try to keep in touch but, ‘please don’t worry’, just feel happy for them.
“I could never give you the kind of slavery you needed, deep down. You know that. It never went far enough. But this will be different. Total lifetime unlimited slavery, just like the real thing.”
Her eyes glanced up at me.
“Don’t cry, Sal’. That’s not the final image your admirers want to have. I shall close down your website. The story’s entered a new phase. One that’s best left to people’s imagination, isn’t it ?”
I pinched her earlobe.
“Come on. You can do better than that. Take me right into your throat.”
Mmm. I sighed, feeling my full length sliding across her tongue.
“A final blowjob. Make it the best yet. From now on there’ll be other men. Many others I’m told. And animals too. I’m told they’re big into bestiality here. Once you’ve given birth, the Sheikh’s going to give you a few months off before breeding you again. And during that break you’ll be introduced to all sorts of crazy new things.”
I was boiling up now, starting to hump her face.
“You remember Bud ? Well he was nothing. A cute mongrel. But the Sheikh has some splendid hunting dogs. And donkeys too. Goats I’ll bet.”
A low moan escaped her lips, humming against my dick.
“Maybe I will keep your website up long enough to post a few images. The Sheikh has promised to send me some. But they’re mainly for Gordon. So that he can have a photo or two to remember his darling wife by !”
I could feel my jizz bubbling up. Throat or facial ? Which would be a better way to say farewell.
In the end I wasn’t able to tear my pulsing dick from her warm wet mouth. I grunted, my legs twitching in delicious spasms, and blew my cookie-dough into her larynx. She gulped it down without demur.
The Sheikh couldn’t complain. She had been well trained.
I clicked my fingers and pointed to the door. I needed to pack my suitcase and say goodbye to my host. Sally couldn’t help glancing back at me as she walked through the doorway.
And that was the last time I ever saw her.
Not Long Afterwards
“Put my dick into your wife’s cunt.”
The guy was an American. His wife was Irish. And they lived in Scotland. That’s fucking miles away by the way, but you can’t be too fussy in this business. I’d been posting and replying to adverts for too long to let them pass.
He leaned nearer and his trembling fingers guided my throbbing shaft into the soft folds of her 30-year old pussy. She gasped, lips apart in an excited ‘o’. Ever so slowly I pushed my hips forwards, sliding my full length inside her moist warmth. I watched the lids fluttering over her emerald eyes.
How did he feel spending Thanksgiving sharing his wife with another man ?
I’d travelled up from London for two nights to celebrate their holiday with them. I paid my airfare, they picked me up and provided all the food and booze. And, of course, the entertainment !
“Watch carefully.” I told him.
Guys like him love being told to lean in close to watch, listen and smell the action. He reminded me a little of Gordon, although I suspected he would be altogether more of a challenge.
I put my lips to hers, sucking her lower lip into my mouth.
She moaned.
In her emails, she’d written she was maybe switch, unsure whether she was domme, or sub like her husband. Fucking somebody else after 4 years of marriage excited her.
I started easing my dick to and fro, making contact with her clit. The first time is the most important; so they have no regrets. It’s crucial to hook them on the thrill of extramarital sex. The regrets can all come much later.
My mind wandered back to last Christmas, to Sally, Gordon and our first meeting. Priceless ! I thought of the jpeg photos I’d recently been sent; a tired-looking Sally breastfeeding her baby boy, an emaciated, dejected Gordon toiling on a dusty road-track. Did they really, truly regret meeting me ? Or did I actually deliver their wildest fantasy ?
I’d never know for sure. Even Gordon’s Blog has been taken down.
But now I had two more candidates, ready to share themselves with me.
Share moments. Share life.
THE END