The women of the harem dressed in their best silks and gauze veils in readiness for their concert in the smaller garden in the East of the large mansion. The Sheik had prepared a large musical and arts festival for all the neighboring people and a smaller concert had been arranged for the harem women. Though by Arabian standards the Harem women remained in seclusion inside their mansion rooms and wing, the Sheik always provided for them and made certain they were entertained also.
"A fine Egyptian flutist will be playing this evening," cried Gameela happily clothed in a light yellow silk pants and tight bodice shirt. Her small ballet slippers matched her outfit.
Nahweh, the West African girl with dark skin, wore a deep blue outfit that complimented her.
The women stood around in small groups discussing the upcoming concert as Katharine approached Bashasha.
"Bashasha, may I speak with you?"
"Of course little one, what is it?" Asked the older diminutive woman.
"I wanted to see if I could stay behind. Just for a little while. I never have any time to myself, and I loathe public bathing. It's very uncomfortable for me." Kat struggled with her frustration.
Bashasha had the urge to roll her eyes, but knew from gossip and talk that the English race seemed to be a restrained and cold people.
"And it's a concert. Everyone will be there. The Sheik has planned dozens of activities this evening and will have no need of me. I will certainly not be missed. Please, I beg you." She lowered her voice at this last request.
Bashasha watched as the other women made their way down to the quiet gardens and knew that no one needed this proud English girl at the moment.
"Alright little one. But only a short while. Then when you have bathed and are ready, please join us. I don't want the other women accusing me of favoritism and I certainly don't want to explain your absence should anyone ask. I will say the Sheik asked for you."
"Thank you, Bashasha." Kat watched the last of the women leave the small bath house and sighed with relief.
Mohammed had been watching the women leave for their concert from his private balcony high above. He noticed his favorites leave, the kindly old woman Bashasha leave but he failed to see the little Falcon leave. He wondered about it.
He had rested poorly the night before. Her lips beckoned him into a fitful sleep and had he not been an educated man, he would have been convinced of witchcraft. He relived their bath again and again in his mind and could not escape it. Her hair smelling of vanilla, her soft lips underneath his and urging him on no matter what she spoke. Her breasts and hips all womanly and curving into his own body. His cock – even now – hard and thrusting forward wanting to tear into her body. Wanting to feel the rippled walls of her tight pussy as she arched her back into him and lifted her legs around his waist. He would relish the feel of her nails on his back as she raked them – leaving her mark for all the world to see. And he would claim her virginity as no other man had or would and watch her grow round with his son - the next Sheik.
Kat bolted the door behind the women and began to ready herself for the bath.
Mohammed decided quickly. He would not be missed and walked quietly down the corridor and into a small hallway that twisted and turned awkwardly and led into a secret panel that would open into the bathing area of the Harem. The panel had small holes that was part of a decoration on the Harem side but was in actuality peeping holes.
His father had been a sexual man like himself but had been particularly fond of voyeurism. He had always loved to watch his Harem beauties bathing and coupling in intercourse with visiting dignitaries. He enjoyed hearing the moans and grunts of the men and women whilst in the middle of sex. He especially loved to listen as the women were rammed and filled to the brim in group acts and loved watching them being filled in the mouth with thick cock and stuffed up their cunts with hard meat. Sometimes his father had paid the dignitaries to be especially brutal and harsh but never painful.
He liked the women who would cry out and then turn into wanton bitches enjoying the hard cocks and pushing back wanting more. His father's favorite passion had been watching the women get cock up their anal holes for the first time. He had loved to hear them scream, cry, beg to stop and then beg to continue. It would always begin the same. The young girls would always cry that they had never taken it up there. Then the men would tear into the little holes trying not to hurt but unable to stop. The women would beg to stop – then as the men guided their asses lovingly – the women would become like bitches in heat. Arching their asses into the air and begging the men to continue – to pound harder and they would surrender as they laid their heads down like claimed mares and the men would spill all their cream inside the tight little virgin holes.
Mohammed the son had stumbled upon this secret viewing room himself by accident. And though he enjoyed watching the women in secret also, nothing compared to the actual sex act itself.
He watched quietly as the young white woman undressed.
Katharine sighed happily at the quiet, serene feel of the small bath house. She was alone and she reviled in it. She undressed slowly taking her pants off, her bodice off and all the other jewelry she wore.
He watched as she stood naked in the bath house. Her slim, long legs the color of ivory. Her slim hips that jutted out – womanly – and then her waist dipped in and her high breasts so proud jutted out again. Her breasts were dipped at the tips the color of roses. She was very feminine with a slim hourglass figure. Her mass of blonde hair had been secured up as small tendrils fell about her neck and face. He watched her step into the water. She sighed as the water pooled around her legs, vagina and then waist and she sunk into it. She picked up the sea sponge and massaged herself.
Mohammed watched the entire scene and felt himself growing hard and angry at her. She always kept herself so aloof and cool. She pretended to be a marble statue in his arms yet he knew she creamed for him. He knew in the bath with him she had wanted him. She would have cried no until his cock had filled her tight pussy and then she would have clung to him like a little bitch in heat.
His cock jerked with the visual of her naked beneath him and he lifted up his long robe to fill his hand with himself. His hand moved down the long length of him and then up again. He watched her in the water.
She sponged her waist, legs, feet and arms. She sponged her breasts and back. She settled back onto the lounge seat and dipped her fingers into the water. It pooled around her hand and then she slipped her hand between her legs.
"Ah." She sighed into the lonely bathhouse as her fingers encircled the vagina lips and then sank into the small opening. She was very tight. As a virgin, she had never had any man touch her where the Sheik had touched her.
In England, she had pushed the societal rules, but that's because they were always so restrictive. An unmarried young lady never went anywhere without a chaperon and she was never allowed to be alone with a man. She never wanted to become a whore in England she just wanted her freedom.
When her father had tired of her outrageous behavior – he had arranged the marriage of Lord Benton.
She had never told her father his words but Lord Benton had accosted her in the small parlor one evening, grabbed her breast in one hand and told her roughly in her ear, "I hope you aren't breeding, little whore. I won't have some bastard carrying on my name."
After that, she knew what she must do. Embarrass Benton publicly so he would call off his suit, and flee England. She knew her father and everyone else thought her a loose tramp and so be it.
Women were prisoners in the house and Kat would rather die than live such a boring, useless life. She had gotten her wish. Benton had called off the suit and her father had sent her away. Away to bondage so it was to be.
