The Exotic Belly Dance

Alliah, a young English blonde born to English parents whilst living in Dubai, raised in the sunshine enclave as her parents worked there. Schooled and brought up in her early years within the sights and sounds of Middle Eastern culture until she and her family returned home to the UK as she turned 9 years old. Having been accustomed to the heady delights of Middle Eastern culture Alliah has always been drawn to the exotic, taking up belly dancing as a hobby in her teenage years and enjoying the attention and thrill it brings to her life. Bestowed with a fiery spirit and an infectious laugh, this quite tall, firm bosomed young lady has quite the figure, slender at the waist with hips that flare, often causing admiring glances as she walks around her home city of Birmingham...............

Alliah, walked briskly down the residential streets of Birmingham, her eyes sparkling like the sapphires she'd always dreamt of owning. Her blonde hair danced in the breeze and she felt the late morning sun kiss her skin as it shone through the narrow gaps between the tall combination of modern and ancient buildings.

She had always been drawn to the vibrant, sometimes chaotic, energy of the city she called home, but today she had a mission that required a quieter, more focused environment.

The small, unassuming terraced house stood out from the rest, not because of its grandeur, but rather its simplicity. Above the door, a small well worn, wooden sign read "Exotic Elegant Embellishments," the letters painted in faint and aged gold, hinting at the exotic treasures that lay within.

With a mix of excitement and trepidation, Alliah knocked on the door and waited patiently for it to be answered. The scent of incense filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of spices that reminded her of her favourite take away.

The door creaked open, revealing a small, slender, older Muslim gentleman with a white beard and piercing dark eyes. Smiling as he greeted her Alliah considered him to be in his early sixties, his face weatherworn but seemingly kind, he wore a stained ethnic gown that had clearly seen better days. Despite the less than luxurious setting, there was a warmth to his smile that put her at ease. He beckoned her inside, his gnarled hand a stark contrast against the rich fabrics that adorned the walls of the small, cluttered entrance hall to the house before asking her what she wanted?

"I have been sent to get a new belly dance costume, I hope you have been expecting me, Zaid sent me?"

Alliah replied with a hint of shyness, her eyes darting around the small corridor to avoid his gaze.

The air was thick with the scent of exotic fabrics and threads, the floor littered with sequins that sparkled like a miniature galaxy. The walls were lined with racks of vibrant outfits, each more intricate than the last. She felt a thrill of anticipation, knowing she must be in the right place.

The man nodded, his expression serious.

"Ah, yes, I have been expecting you, Alliah isn't it?"

Alliah nodded, a shyness seeming to envelop her.

"I am Ahmed, please, come in and let us get you measured."

He led her into his workshop and gestured to a stool in the centre of the room. As she approached, she noticed a handful of other men, all of them with dark hair and beards, sitting on cushions along the walls, watching her intently. Their eyes seemed to bore into her, making her feel both uncomfortable and strangely thrilled. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself.

Ahmed began by draping a velvet cloth over the stool, the fabric whispering softly as it settled into place.

"Don't concern yourself with my visitors, they are here as my guests. Please, remove your clothing," he said in a low, gruff, almost matter of fact voice.

His gaze never left her as she objected, her heart pounding in her chest.

The room grew hot, the anticipation building as she looked at him with a look of shock across her face and her cheeks flushing as she blushed. Ahmed's guests remained silent, their eyes never leaving her as she fidgeted with the hem of her blouse. The air was thick with tension, the only sound the occasional rustle of fabric as they shifted on their cushions. Alliah's hands trembled as she stood firm and refused to do as he asked.

Ahmed's smile never wavered, his eyes twinkling with firmness.

"Do not worry, my dear," he said, his voice a gentle purr.

"You are in good hands."

He stepped closer, his fingers lightly tracing the outline of her blouse, his gaze traveling from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

"But, I need to see your titties, to measure them and know how they hang and move as you dance and how best to make them look."

Alliah felt a strange tremor run through her as he spoke, his words a strange mix of command and reassurance. She swallowed hard before beginning to stutteringly unbutton her blouse, the fabric slipping open to reveal her lace cupped bra, the skin unblemished and pale. The soft lace of her bra plunging into her cleavage as each cup supported her full, firm bosom. Every little step felt like a dance in itself, a dance of submission and excitement.

Ahmed's gaze was like a warm caress as he walked around her, his eyes lingering on the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, and the softness of her belly. He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful as if he were mentally crafting the perfect outfit to enhance every inch of her body. The other men in the room leaned in closer, their eyes seeming to be hungry for the sight of her bare skin.

"Now, the bra," he said, his voice a velvety command.

Alliah's heart fluttered like a trapped bird as she reached hesitantly behind her back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra. The room seemed to hold its breath as she slid the straps down her arms, the lace falling away to expose her breasts to the cool air. Her nipples tightened to sensitive points, the coolness making them stand at attention' her areola peppering with goosebumps as they stiffened. She felt a strange mix of vulnerability and power as the men's eyes devoured her, their gazes as tangible as a physical touch before she hurriedly covered her bust with her arms.

Ahmed chuckled, a warm, rich sound that seemed to resonate through the room.

"No, no," he said, his English heavily accented but his meaning clear.

"You must dance for me, show me how your titties move."

He clapped his hands together once, a sharp sound that echoed through the room. The crowd of men seemed to shift in their seats, eager to see what she would do. Alliah's face burned with embarrassment, but something about his tone, the way he spoke about her body with such authority and confidence, made her want to comply.

She took a deep breath and slowly raised her arms, her breasts lifting with the motion. The room grew even quieter as she began to sway her hips, the muscles in her stomach rippling with the effort. She had always enjoyed dancing, but this was different - a dance not for joy or entertainment, but for the scrutiny of these men.

Her eyes remained cast down, watching her own feet tap out an uneven rhythm on the wooden floor. The room was stifling, the air thick with the scent of incense and male anticipation. As she danced, she could feel their eyes on her, tracing every curve and dip of her body. The fabric of her knee length skirt whispered against her skin as she spun, her hair flying out in a golden arc around her. Despite herself, she began to feel a thrill of excitement, a warmth building between her legs that she always seemed to enjoy when she danced.

Ahmed clapped his hands together sharply, bringing her movement to an abrupt halt. She froze, her heart racing, as he stepped closer to her. Without asking permission, his firm hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs and forefingers pinching her sensitive pink nipples until she gasped. He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine, and began to squeeze and knead them, his touch both painful and arousing.

"Good," he murmured, his breath hot on her neck.

"But let's see how these beauties really move."

He gave her a gentle push, urging her to continue dancing. Alliah's eyes widened with shock and arousal as she felt his fingers tugging at her nipples, rolling them between his fingertips as she moved. Each pinch sent a bolt of sensation straight to her core, making her wet with a hidden desire.

With a click of his thumb and finger, Ahmed held his hand out for a pair of golden jaw clamps, passed to him without comment or hesitation by one of the men watching, which he deftly placed on her now erect nipples. The clamps twitched and jingled with every movement, the added weight making her breasts feel even more sensitive.

"Now, dance," he instructed, his voice thick with anticipation.

Alliah took a shaky breath, her eyes glazed with a mix of fear and arousal. She began to move again, the clamps pulling and tugging with each sway of her hips. The pain was quite intense, but it mingled with a strange pleasure that made her feel alive, like a wild animal caught in a trap of desire. She danced, her body moving almost of its own accord, the clamps seeming to squeeze tighter with each sway of her hips and roll of her belly. Ahmed watched her with a critical eye, nodding approvingly. Then, with an abrupt snap of his fingers, he gestured for her to stop once more.

"Good," he murmured, his thumb tracing the outline of her trembling lip. "But I need to see the rest, to make sure the costume fits perfectly." He gestured to her skirt and the rest of her clothing. "Now, your cunny, let me see it." He demanded.

Alliah caught her breath with a gasp, eyes opening wide with a startle of surprise, her cheeks flaming as she slowly reached for the clasp and zipper and began to remove her skirt. Hesitating a few moments, before sighing to the inevitable and peeling her lace panties down to her feet and stepping out of them, her face glowing with flushed embarrassment.

The men's eyes were like fire on her skin, burning away any last shreds of modesty she might have had. When she was fully naked, Ahmed stepped back, his gaze sweeping over her like a sculptor assessing a block of marble.

"Very good," he nodded, his voice a low rumble of approval. Ahmed's friends and relatives leaned in, almost leering, their eyes feasting on the sight of her bare flesh. The jingle of the gold clamps on her nipples seemed to grow louder in the tense silence. The older man's gaze lingered on her breasts, their tips a rosy hue from the constant pressure of the clamps. He nodded to himself, a knowing smile playing on his lips, before lowering himself onto the stool in front of her.

"Spread your legs, Alliah," he instructed, his voice firm yet gentle. "I must see how your sweet pussy moves when you dance."

The men's eyes darted from her face to her sex, their expressions a blend of excitement and expectation. She felt their gazes as if they were hands caressing her most intimate parts, making her quiver with a mix of embarrassment and desire.

Her knees trembled as she complied, her legs parting slightly. Ahmed's eyes narrowed, his smile growing more predatory as he took in the sight of her trimmed blonde pubic triangle and the glistening wetness that coated her labia.

"Wider," he said, his voice a low command that resonated in the pit of her stomach.

With a deep breath, she widened her stance, causing her hips to roll forwards towards him, the musky scent of her own arousal filling the air. He took her hand and placed it between her legs, guiding her to cup herself.

"Now, dance for me," he repeated, his eyes never leaving her. Alliah began to shimmy and sway once more, her hips rolling in a hypnotic rhythm. The jingle of the clamps on her nipples became a siren's song, driving her movements, urging her to be more brazen.

She felt the brush of fabric of the stool against the backs of her thighs, the coolness of it a stark contrast to the heat that was building inside her. As she danced, Ahmed's friends locked in on the juncture of her legs. The air grew thicker, the room a pressure cooker of lust and anticipation.

Each time her hips circled, her palm pressed against her clit, the gold clamps swayed in time, a glint of sunlight seeping through the chink at the top of the curtain reflecting off the metal. The sensation was exquisite, the pain and pleasure blending together in a symphony of sensation that had her on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall into an abyss of desire.

Ahmed's voice grew gruff almost as if with lust. "Turn and bend, let me see your ass," he instructed, his eyes glistening.

The men's murmurs grew to a low crescendo of approval. With a deep breath, Alliah spun around, her breasts jiggling as she bent at the waist, her hand cupped firmly against her pussy. Her heart pounding in her chest as she presented her naked form to the men. The jingle of the clamps on her nipples grew quieter as they swayed with her movements. The cool air of the room kissed the cheeks of her backside, making her shiver with both anticipation and apprehension. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she bent, her back arching, quite gracefully.

Ahmed's rough, calloused hands pushed gently against her cheeks, spreading them apart. The action was so sudden, so intimate, that she gasped, the sound echoing through the small room. His gaze grew intense as he studied her most private area, his eyes lingering on the dark pink, puckered entrance to her body.

The men leaned, watching, their breaths quickening with excitement. Without warning, he drew his finger to his lips and licked the tip before he poked a single digit against her rim, the sensation foreign and electric. Alliah's eyes widened, and she felt a jolt of pleasure run up her spine, making her tremble. He just barely breached the entrance, the tip of his finger tracing the sensitive edge of her canal as he swirled around the inner curve.

"Nice and tight," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. Ahmed's finger slid away from her anus, leaving a slick trail of saliva on her skin. As Ahmed's finger withdrew, he leaned back to admire her.

"Now, turn, let me see your cunny," he said, his tone still that of a master assessing his creation. The word was crude, but it sent a thrill through her. The way he talked about her body made her feel like a piece of art, something to be appreciated and displayed. Her legs wobbled slightly as she turned, but she managed to keep her balance.

The men's eyes were on her, drinking in the sight of her exposed sex as she withdrew her cupped hand, their gazes like physical touches that made her squirm with a mixture of embarrassment and desire. He licked his lips, his eyes darkening with hunger as he took in the view of her pussy.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that made the air vibrate with tension. "Spread your legs again," he ordered "Wider," his eyes never leaving her pussy.

Alliah complied, her legs shaking with the effort. She felt a strange mix of embarrassment and arousal as the men leaned in closer, their eyes drinking in the sight of her swollen labia.

Ahmed's hand reached out, his index and middle fingers pressing firmly against her sex, softly rubbing at first as if just checking for imperfections. Fighting back a muffled moan, she gasped as he pushed inside, the feeling of fullness making her toes curl and her hands ball into tight fists, Ahmed's gaze was intense as he examined her most intimate area.

His fingers slid in easily, her wetness coating them as he began to explore her depths. Alliah bit her lip to stifle a deeper groan, the sensation of being so thoroughly invaded both thrilling and overwhelming. The gold clamps on her nipples jingled with every shallow twisting thrust of his fingers, the pain a constant reminder of the power dynamics at play. His thumb found her clit, circling it with a gentle yet firm pressure that had her hips bucking.

"Yes," he murmured, his eyes locked on hers, "very wet, very welcoming."

The men around the room nodded in agreement, their expressions quite carnal as they took in the sight of her body responding to his touch.

"You will take cock very well," he said with a knowing smile, his voice thick with appreciation.

Rising to his feet, he told her to stay put, the command in his tone leaving no room for argument. Alliah felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment as his fingers slid out of her, the emptiness making her ache for more.

Ahmed disappeared behind a velvet curtain, his gown rustling as he rummaged through racks of fabric. The tension in the room was palpable, the only sounds the jingle of the clamps on her nipples whenever she moved and the muffled noises of his searching as the small crowd of men lining the room continued to stare.

When he re-emerged, his arms were laden with a rainbow of silk and satin, the fabrics whispering sweet nothings as they draped across his forearms. He laid them out on a nearby table, the colours so vibrant they seemed to pulse with life. Each piece was more tantalizing than the last - a pair of tiny, bejewelled panties, a bra with cups that barely contained her breasts, and a belt that promised to accentuate the curve of her waist.

Ahmed reached for a bra top, the fabric so thin it was almost see-through. He passed it to her with a knowing smile.

"Here, try this on," he instructed, his eyes never leaving her face. The cups of the garment were so small, they left little to the imagination, designed to hoist and present her breasts like a pair of ripe fruits waiting to be picked. With trembling hands, Alliah took the bra and slipped it over her head, the material gliding over her skin like a lover's caress, before reaching back and clasping the bra in place.

The clamps on her nipples tugged and yanked with every movement, the pain now a part of the rhythm of her arousal. She glanced across in the mirror beside the door as the fabric cupped her breasts, pushing them up and together, her areolas peeking out like summer flowers.

Ahmed nodded for a moment, his gaze lingering on the way the fabric hugged her curves, before shaking his head.

"No," he murmured, "titties like yours need to be enjoyed."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of gold beads, threaded onto a delicate chain with hanging threads of matching golden beads that made the necklace look like a cleavage collar.

"Hold still," he instructed, his voice a firm command.

He deftly unhooked the clamps from her nipples, the sudden relief making her gasp. The beads felt ice cold as they kissed her skin, the cool metal sending a fresh wave of sensation through her body. Alliah inhaled deeply as he carefully looped the chain around her neck, the beads resting like dangling strings just above her breasts. The weight of them was surprisingly comforting, a gentle reminder of the dance she was about to perform.

"Better," he said, his voice a purr of satisfaction. "Now, take off the bra and we shall try another!"

Ahmed then took a gold bra from the table, the intricate weaving of the threads glinting in the dim light. He stepped behind her, his breath warm on her neck as he reached around to fasten the delicate contraption.

The fabric was so sheer that it was like wearing nothing at all, the metal strands of the bra woven together to create a spiders web that would hold her breasts in place. Alliah's heart pounded as she felt his strong hands on her, his touch firm yet gentle as he worked and adjusted the cups and strands to ensure a perfect fit.

The bra was unlike anything she had ever seen before, almost a piece of jewellery in itself. The gold strands of the bra hugged her breasts tightly, lifting and framing them like precious porcelain carvings. When he was done, she looked down to see her nipples poking out, the little nubs a rosy pink from the earlier clamping.