He looked like a caliph, straight out of the movies, seated on a pile of pillows and furs. He wore a black silken robe, belted with a royal purple sash that held a jeweled dagger. Close to his right hand, on a golden pillow, like a lethal snake lay a coiled, leather drover’s whip.
At his left was another man, wearing a burnoose and robe. He protectively clutched a drawstring bag that bulged bumpily and clinked when he moved it. His eyes were narrow, rat-like in his angular face. He nodded slightly, touching his fingertips to his forehead in respect.
“Noble sir, this unworthy one has many miles to travel across blazing sands. Can we not proceed with our business so I may be on my way? Bring out the slaves for me to see, so I may pay your fee and go home to my meat and wife.”
The larger man frowned at him.
“Always with you it is business, Mujin. You have no taste for the finer things in life. I told you, the slaves are being prepared for your view. Until then, we must wait. Here, have more wine,” and he passed a metal decanter. “But let it not be said that my tent is without its entertainments,” he continued.
Then he clapped his hands, and four men and a small boy silently filed into the room. The men carried musical instruments, and after they took their seats the boy tied blindfolds over their eyes. He then turned towards the big man, who smiled and nodded. The boy beamed, brought his fingers to his forehead, and backed from the room.
The ruler barked a command and the blindfolded band began to play. To the tune, a flap pulled aside. Into the room stepped a striking figure. She was tall for a woman, and the billowing white silks she wore for a costume did a poor job of concealing her well-designed curves. Her face was hidden behind a veil, leaving only her flashing blue eyes visible, and her golden hair flowed down her back in a soft ponytail.
She moved gracefully, seeming to be made of swirling fog as her white-swathed form drifted towards the men. She lowered her eyes, and knelt before the bigger man, folding her hands before her in subservience to him.
Mujin stared at her. “Great One, you’ve been holding out on me,” he gasped. “This one would bring a prince’s ransom in the market. Let me see more,” and he was reaching for her.
“No,” said the other man, grabbing his wrist. “Her sweetness is for me alone. Show him, my pet,” he purred to the woman. At his word, she raised her chin and lifted her veil, showing them the tooled leather collar she wore. Its silver ornaments twinkled in the torchlight.
The thin mans eyes widened. “Those symbols on the collar,” he gasped in awe, “their meaning -- Great One, you have dared to...”
“Let them hate me if they choose,” the man he’d called Great One replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Such is the favor she finds in my eyes that she walks above them all. She is my property, and more, my love and my lover. She deserves the honor.”
“But if the Council of the Sands sees it, they will...”
“I do not care what they will say. The choice is mine and I have made it.” Then he smiled at the woman. “Dance for us, my pet.” Lowering her veil again, the blond stood and began to move to the music. She swayed and waved to the rhythm, her silks flowing around her like smoke. Her arms reached high above her, causing the veils to slide across her breasts, accentuating their size and firmness. She turned, smoothing her hands across her backside, emphasizing the smoothness of her ass.
Then she was kneeling, her knees wide apart, writhing to the throbbing music which filled the tent around them. Rising again, her breasts heaving with her frenzied movements, she leaped and cavorted like a gazelle. She spun and pranced and then fell to the floor, her head between her master’s legs in a wildly erotic make-believe of fellatio. Just as quickly, she was on her naked feet, spinning like a dervish. Then, as the music swelled and crescendoed, she fell before her master, one leg curled beneath her and the other pointed like an arrow at him. Her head bowed, her eyes closed, the music ended and the only sound was her rapid breathing.
“She is truly a prize,” Mujin gasped. “The Gods have smiled on you, Great Sheik. “No jewel ever shone brighter than this one!”
“Blessed, indeed,” he answered. Then he snapped his fingers, and the woman immediately moved to his side, curling up by his leg like a svelte panther. She turned her head, rubbing her face against the hump of his knee. “Dohb-chi nohk,” he called, and the boy returned, leading the still-blindfolded musicians from the room.
“Now, as to the price of the slaves,” said the sheik. But he was interrupted by a voice from behind the curtained door.
“Forgive me, great Master,” came a male voice, “but Raseem sends for you. The stallion you ordered has arrived, but great Master, you must come at once!”
