% The First Voyage of Sinbad --- Act I
% by Mogrem
*Concerning the immoral and nihilistic adventures of Sindibādu 'Sin' al-Bahriyy and his crew of lost women and girls.*
*N.B. Aforementioned immorality notwithstanding, all characters are over the age of consent.*
Our story is set in Berkshire, England, some time around about now.
In the prologue, titled Sinbad in the Sultan's Palace, we were acquainted with Sin, the new CEO of the business empire founded by his mentor, whom Sin referred to as the 'old man'.
It was an empire built on avarice, ruthlessness, and an unapologetic taste for life's basest pleasures. But now, having reached the top, and had to stop, Sin realises what's been bothering him. It's all been just too easy of late...
*Act I Chapter I. Melancholia; wherein Sinbad laments his easy life and questions the purpose of pleasure. Introducing the secretary.*
It was a Wednesday afternoon, coming on for the end of the working day, the week after last Friday's annual summer party in the Chairman's mansion. Things had got back to normal.
"What's it all for?" Sin asked himself, sitting in his office.
Well, actually he asked the girl under his desk blowing him.
He had lowered his seat but sometimes her head bounced on the underside of the glass and made his mobile skitter around. It was recording a video straight down through the glass. Sin had never tried that before and never heard anyone else try it, and had wondered why.
"You know, sex, Sandy." Sandy wasn't her name, it was his pet name for her because of her incredible long golden hair, which right now flowed over his lap and her back, almost touching the ground.
"All this sex. Its everywhere. But why? What's it for? Absolutely anything I want I can have, but to what end?
"I like it. The old man couldn't get enough of it, in his day. My girlfriend likes it. My girl*friends* like it. You seem to like it---"
She gave a noncommittal and muffled gurgle.
"---but one day still follows the other, doesn't it? Regardless. One day. After another. After another." He sighed deeply.
"I need to go back to basics, Sandy," he said, reaching under the desk to take control, pressing his hand on the back of her neck until his dick popped down her throat and she gave a choked off, "Ghk!"
"I said this to myself after the party," he continued, building up the pace.
"I need to go back to basics. Back to where I started, where I was when the old man found me, before he gave me all this," he said, gesturing around the office with his free hand, taking in his mentor's gifts; the plush furniture, the window overlooking a huge lush green quad in the middle of the palatial company HQ, the kneeling form of the pretty secretary.
He got to the edge of his climax and stopped the pace and held her there, down to the root, until he felt her struggling get weak. Then he let himself come directly down her throat and released her. She fell to all fours between his legs, coughing.
"Fuck knows how though," he muttered, staring out at the quad, as Sandy recovered enough to start licking his cock clean.
--------
*Act I Chapter II. Jealousy; wherein Sinbad sets his heart on adventure. Introducing the girlfriend, the maid, the dance instructor and the dance instructor's husband.*
That evening Sin was at home. In the week since the party his girlfriend had been more keen than usual. She was always like this after the annual bash, because although she needed to keep up the pretence of ignorance, she knew what went on at those things.
She might be pretty attached to the easy life and prepared to turn a blind eye to a lot to keep it, but that didn't stop her getting jealous. And whenever she got jealous she got amorous. Or maybe she feigned amorousness, presumably to recapture his attention.
As such this evening he had her stripped, blindfolded and handcuffed to the bed and was having his way. It had been her idea, because she thought that was the sort of thing he liked.
It was. It was fine. She was fine.
He felt distracted.
As he was thrusting away his phone on the night stand buzzed and flashed with a Telegram VOIP call, which hung up almost immediately, followed by a message, followed by a second and a third and a fourth. Without thinking or stopping he reached over, picked the phone up, leant it against his girlfriend's ribcage and tapped in the pin.
"Hey," she said, weakly. He ignored her and kept the slow pace of screwing as he found the Telegram thread.
It was from a dance instructor he had had a fling with a few months ago. She was touching forty, a short attractive brunette who kept her body well and had never had kids. It was, however, unspectacular and common kind of attractive.
He had met her at a charity fund raiser for a community centre that she ran lessons at and Sin's firm was sponsoring. For the look of it, you see. Important to give back.
It hadn't been anything special for him so he had let it tail off pretty quickly. But she had a filthy imagination and the morals of a cat, ironically for someone tutoring troubled girls at a charity run community centre. So that had kept him entertained, for a short while at least.
Evidently it had been a bit more special to her though, as she never stopped texting. There had been zero romance, or he thought there had been zero. But she was severely under-sexed at home and he'd given her a taste of what satiation felt like, just for a few weeks.
Usually he ignored her messages, or he responded by asking after her husband, just to play petty games. That hadn't stopped her. A week would pass and she would message again.
She hadn't called before though. And clearly she had thought twice about it this time, losing her nerve and hanging up.
The messages were the usual, albeit that little bit more needy. She was obviously at least a little drunk.
*Missed call*
»Hey, sorry, didnt meanto call you. how are you tho?«
»I'm so bored. Hes watching TV, I.m in bed. where are you?«
»Wish you could climb in the window and while he's watching TV and I'd be waiting for you on my back«
»I can hear his stupid TV show. So he'd hear you fucking his wife thru the wall«
As he was reading another message came through. It was a picture. A grainy picture taken with flash in a dark room, looking down her taught, well proportion naked body, with her hand between her legs.
Another picture came through. This time it was a selfie, set against a pillow. She was sucking her middle finger. A message followed it that said, »I know how much you liked to make me taste myself wish I was sucking my juices off your fingers instead.«
Sin hovered over the keyboard for a second before closing the phone. He pulled out of his girlfriend and stood up.
"Honey?" she said, "Where are you going?"
"Toilet, love. Won't be long."
"Don't make me wait, lover. I was so close," she purred, lying. He wished she wouldn't; he knew when she was close.
Sin threw on a black terrycloth robe and went downstairs, taking his phone with him. He was about to duck into his study when he remembered the maid was working late this evening. She would be in the kitchen.
He found her and asked how she wanted to make an extra two hundred quid. She looked up from cleaning and just stared at him, in his gown, leaning in the kitchen doorway.
"Well?"
Their maid was Spanish, early twenties. She was stocky, black hair (of course) which was tied up in a bun. Her best feature was her dark eyes. This evening though he needed her lips.
"OK," she said, finally smiling, not breaking his gaze. She started to undo her blouse.
"Ah ah," he said, shaking his finger.
"No?" she said.
"No. I need to tag you in upstairs." She looked confused. "I have something to take care of all of a sudden. So I, in turn, need someone to take care of the missus up there."
