Felicia by S. J. Lewis Page B

to pull her head back up. Someone brushed the hair out of her face and she could see that the men had all left their seats and were standing around her all except for the one who claimed ownership of her. She could see him, still occupying his ornate, heavy chair, smiling at her. She also saw the other blonde woman who had been brought here, keeping very still on her elbows and knees alongside one of the empty chairs. She saw everything out of the corners of her eyes, because she could not, would not, or should not look at any of the men directly, unless she was ordered to do so.
    “She seems to be in some discomfort,” laughed Abou as he looked down at Felicia.
    “This is the last part of her training to take it up her pretty round ass,” Ismail spoke up. “In a little while, I will use her that way myself for the first time. Would you believe that this slut has never done that before?”
    Felicia dug her nails into the carpet. She could hear the men talking again, and she knew that it was about her. She didn’t understand a word of any of it, and she didn’t want to. But she always knew when they were talking about her.
    “You all have been eying this female since she was brought in,” Ismail said. “I invite you all to satisfy yourselves further. She is quite sensitive and responsive, her teats especially so. Enjoy yourselves.”
    Felicia held her tongue as evil-looking men in long robes ran their hands over her body, fondling, squeezing, and pinching. This wasn’t the first time it had happened since she had been brought here, but she would never, ever become accustomed to it. She felt hands squeezing her breasts, her ass, her thighs; she heard them making comments as they felt this or that part of her. A few even tugged lightly at the rings through her nipples. After a while she couldn’t keep completely still any more. She winced or whined or moved a little bit away. She felt as if every hand was coated with filth, and each touch rubbed more of that filth off on her. And on top of everything else, there was still that damned dildo stuffed deep inside of her, growing more and more unbearable by the moment. But Selim held her leash tightly, and she feared the whip he carried, so she endured it.
    “My friends,” Ismail called out. “There is more! If you would all return to your seats, we may begin.”
    “That is a most appealing female, my friend,” Abou said to Ismail as he sat down. “I would be happy to give you my sweet little Anulka for the night in exchange for a night with…what is her name again?”
    “Felicia,” Ismail replied. “I would be happy to do so, but it would not be a fair exchange. Mine is not fully trained yet. She does not know all the ways to give men pleasure.”
    “I understand, sayyid ,” Abou nodded as his hand drifted to the blonde head of his slave. “Perhaps once she is trained?”
    “Certainly,” Ismail agreed. “Your Anulka is most appealing as well. Now, my friends, let us sit and watch.”
    Felicia heard her name mentioned once. It was yet one more bit of shame added to all the shame that she felt already. A strange and disturbing silence had fallen over the room. She felt a subtle tightening of Selim’s grip on her leash, a bit of added pressure pulling her back, keeping her firmly impaled. She glanced quickly over towards Neha, but she was looking the other way.
    The dildo started vibrating. It happened so abruptly that Felicia squealed loudly in surprise and shock. She started to try to crawl away from the post, but Selim kept her in place. The vibrating suddenly became stronger. She squealed again, dropping onto her elbows, wincing, her lips drawn back from her teeth, her eyes shut tight. The vibrating went on and on, and she heard the men laughing again.
    Then it stopped. Felicia stayed as she was, panting and gasping for breath.
    “Up, slut,” Selim ordered gruffly as he pulled on her leash. Weak, shaky, Felicia got off of her elbows and onto her hands.