given.
Akmal
The crack of the whip and thoughts of the pink American pussy that was laying upstairs in one of my suites had me fit to be tied. It wasn’t me who was tied up though—it was my slave. She lived for moments like this—she lived for me.
I made my way over to her picking up her wearied head by a fistful of hair. It was now laid on her chest due to the fatigue of the whipping that she had received; the whipping that had caused her eyes to become glazed over with lust. “There is nothing more that I would love to do right now than fuck that sweet little blonde who is in my bed.” I leaned in and hissed, “My cock is rock hard and you are going to take care of that aren’t you slave?”
“Yes, Master.”
Akmal reached up and carefully removed his slave from the device that she was strapped to. He gently laid her down on her stomach and pulled her hips up and back towards him. He closed his eyes and thought of the American while he fucked his slave.
He had ridiculed Khalil for his obsession with American women—but Akmal dealt with his own demons and if the truth were known , he was intrigued with American blondes. They were so different with their pink nipples and lips. Thoughts of wrapping his fist in the long straight hair of the American girl and burying deep into her spurred him on to climaxing. He turned and left the room nude. He would have one of the servants to take care of the girl and provide after care. He couldn’t do it, not tonight—his heart wasn’t in it.
I made my way into my Master suite and got into the shower. My cock was still half hardened even after release. Knowing that girl was asleep in my bed was gnawing at my thoughts and I still wasn’t quite sure how I was going to deal with this situation. I needed a good night’s sleep and then I would worry about how to deal with the inconvenience of my unwanted guest.
Lady
I screamed as I felt rough hands tearing at my flesh. I wasn’t prepared when the door erupted in splinters and the suited man that I had viewed earlier pulled another man off of me. He threw him across the room as if he were a rag doll. I huddled in the safety of the sheets as I watched in horror. Just when I was sure that he would beat the man to death a women came in screaming and begging him not to kill her husband. She grabbed the beaten man and helped to usher him from the room as servants hurried in and cleaned up the mess that had been made due to the fight.
I timidly looked up at the man who had saved me. The man standing before me didn’t look like he did when he was dressed for business . He was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans that had been left unbuttoned at the top. His long shoulder length hair was loose and hung around his face. I followed the trail of hair that made its way from his lower abdomen down into the jeans that fit him perfectly. His voice cut through my thoughts and I was horrified that he had caught me checking him out.
“You’re looking at me like you want me to fuck you. Is that what you want my little prisoner?”
I gasped, horrified shaking my head no.
“Liar,” he whispered through his full sensual lips.
What am I supposed to say to that?
He made his way over to me and snarled, “You should be very careful what you wish for—you may just get it.”
“No, I, I,”
“Shh, you’re lying. You don’t have to worry about me forcing myself on you. I have a harem at my disposal. If and when I fuck you, I can assure you that you will not only consent —you’ll beg me to take you.”
The audacity of this guy, who did he think that he was? “Do you know who I am? I can assure you that I have never had to beg anyone to fuck me! You ’re an arrogant ass.”
D arkness washed over his expression as he spoke. “Your name is Deborah Miller and you are an American pop star. You were born to Kathy and John Miller. Your Mother and Father
Akmal
The crack of the whip and thoughts of the pink American pussy that was laying upstairs in one of my suites had me fit to be tied. It wasn’t me who was tied up though—it was my slave. She lived for moments like this—she lived for me.
I made my way over to her picking up her wearied head by a fistful of hair. It was now laid on her chest due to the fatigue of the whipping that she had received; the whipping that had caused her eyes to become glazed over with lust. “There is nothing more that I would love to do right now than fuck that sweet little blonde who is in my bed.” I leaned in and hissed, “My cock is rock hard and you are going to take care of that aren’t you slave?”
“Yes, Master.”
Akmal reached up and carefully removed his slave from the device that she was strapped to. He gently laid her down on her stomach and pulled her hips up and back towards him. He closed his eyes and thought of the American while he fucked his slave.
He had ridiculed Khalil for his obsession with American women—but Akmal dealt with his own demons and if the truth were known , he was intrigued with American blondes. They were so different with their pink nipples and lips. Thoughts of wrapping his fist in the long straight hair of the American girl and burying deep into her spurred him on to climaxing. He turned and left the room nude. He would have one of the servants to take care of the girl and provide after care. He couldn’t do it, not tonight—his heart wasn’t in it.
I made my way into my Master suite and got into the shower. My cock was still half hardened even after release. Knowing that girl was asleep in my bed was gnawing at my thoughts and I still wasn’t quite sure how I was going to deal with this situation. I needed a good night’s sleep and then I would worry about how to deal with the inconvenience of my unwanted guest.
Lady
I screamed as I felt rough hands tearing at my flesh. I wasn’t prepared when the door erupted in splinters and the suited man that I had viewed earlier pulled another man off of me. He threw him across the room as if he were a rag doll. I huddled in the safety of the sheets as I watched in horror. Just when I was sure that he would beat the man to death a women came in screaming and begging him not to kill her husband. She grabbed the beaten man and helped to usher him from the room as servants hurried in and cleaned up the mess that had been made due to the fight.
I timidly looked up at the man who had saved me. The man standing before me didn’t look like he did when he was dressed for business . He was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans that had been left unbuttoned at the top. His long shoulder length hair was loose and hung around his face. I followed the trail of hair that made its way from his lower abdomen down into the jeans that fit him perfectly. His voice cut through my thoughts and I was horrified that he had caught me checking him out.
“You’re looking at me like you want me to fuck you. Is that what you want my little prisoner?”
I gasped, horrified shaking my head no.
“Liar,” he whispered through his full sensual lips.
What am I supposed to say to that?
He made his way over to me and snarled, “You should be very careful what you wish for—you may just get it.”
“No, I, I,”
“Shh, you’re lying. You don’t have to worry about me forcing myself on you. I have a harem at my disposal. If and when I fuck you, I can assure you that you will not only consent —you’ll beg me to take you.”
The audacity of this guy, who did he think that he was? “Do you know who I am? I can assure you that I have never had to beg anyone to fuck me! You ’re an arrogant ass.”
D arkness washed over his expression as he spoke. “Your name is Deborah Miller and you are an American pop star. You were born to Kathy and John Miller. Your Mother and Father
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