Disclaimer:
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. It is intended for mature audiences only. Any similarities to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All players are over the age of eighteen unless otherwise stated. If you have a problem with any of the following: non-consensual bondage, female on female sexual encounters, or powerful men seducing women, please read no further! This story was inspired by my own fetish of belly dancing and domination. For my regular readers and any new fans, I hope you enjoy it and get nice and hot in the process!
-BBD
Chapter One
I am going to tell you a story of how I found myself, my sexuality, and my passion. I will tell you how I became known as Zahara.
I was studying at university abroad shortly after my twentieth birthday. My birth name was Taylor McIntyre. I was studying international journalism. I was quite lonely, as I was shy and not good at making friends. On my way back from class one night, I was passing one of the dance studios. That was when I saw...her.
She was an Indian girl, with beautiful skin the color of ground cinnamon. She had large, beautiful brown eyes framed by thick lashes. Her jet black hair was pulled into a top knot, so I had no idea how long her hair actually was, but guessing from the height, it was pretty long. Full breasts strained against the beautiful embroidered red half top she wore. Below the top, her abs were flat and defined. A beautiful silver jewel dangled from her navel. She wore gold waist chains with beautiful shiny charms dangling from them. A long flowing red skirt descended from just below the chains to her ankles. She was belly dancing! I have always been fascinated by women who belly dance.
I'm not gay or anything, but I felt mesmerized by the way she moved her hips and belly. She wore gold and red bangles on each wrist that rattled when she moved her arms in a wave like motion. She stood in the mirror and placed her hands on her hips. I saw her pull her belly in just below her top, then push it down and out. She kept repeating the movement over and over, and then she did the opposite, pulled her belly in from the bottom, then pushed it up and out.
My panties creamed watching her do these intricate movements. When she turned, I ducked behind the doorway,. I stood plastered to the wall. When I looked again, she was back in the mirror, doing the intricate belly exercise.
I ran all the way back to my dormitory. I couldn't get my clothes off and into the bed fast enough. I teased my breasts and clit and pussy, thinking of the mysterious Indian beauty I saw in the dance studio. I imagined her lying me down on a bed of pillows and teasing me with her mouth and hands. My orgasm was hard and explosive. I slept soundly that night.
The next night, I watched her again. This time, she danced with a transparent veil. I watched her night after night for two weeks. She had amazing props. She danced with an Arabic sword, finger cymbals, a silver tray of candles, veils, and beautiful costume wings that attached to her arms. My favorite move was always watching her do the belly rolls. Sometimes she stood in the mirror. Sometimes she sat cross legged on the floor. Once she knelt and lay back on her arms and rolled that beautiful belly towards the ceiling.
Why was I so drawn to this woman? I knew nothing about her, except that she was gorgeous and liked to belly dance? It made no sense. This particular night, I was watching her and trying not to come all over myself. She wore a veil that hid all but her eyes.
"Why must you only watch from the back?" she said.
I was so startled that I dropped my books.
"Don't be embarrassed," she said in a beautifully, slightly accented lilting voice. She came over to where I was awkwardly trying to pick up my books. "I know you have been watching me."
"I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."
She removed her veil.
"You aren't. I don't mind an audience." She knelt and helped me pick up my books. As she did, our hands touched. I noticed that her nails were blood red. She had a ring on each finger.
"I'm Amiah," she said. "You are a student here?"
"I...um, yes. I'm Taylor."
"You are an American?"
"Yes."
She smiled.
"Do you belly dance, Taylor?"
"No, I um...I always wanted to learn, but I was too afraid of what others might think."
I stood up with Amiah.
"Belly dancing is a good way for a woman to get in touch with her inner goddess and her own sexuality."
The way she spoke, goosebumps arose on my flesh. It felt good.
"Stand in the mirror. Let me see you."
I put my books down. Amiah looked at me carefully.
"You have a nice hourglass figure. Your hips are perfect for belly dancing. They would fill out a skirt and pants in such a way to drive men crazy. Could you roll your shirt up for me?"
"Err...what for?"
"I need to see your belly."
"Oh, right."
I rolled up my T-shirt to just under my breasts.
"May I touch you?" she asked.
"Uh...sure, I guess."
Amiah came from behind me and put her beautiful hands across my middle.
"Perfect. You have a beautiful belly here, not too skinny or fat. You have lovely curves."
"Thank you. I would love to do what you do, the belly rolls."
"That will come with time. First, we must teach you how to breathe like a belly dancer. Come sit beside me."
I sat on the floor of the studio, with my legs crossed.
"Put your hands on your belly," she said. "Close your eyes. Just breathe in and out, nice and slowly. Feel the muscles as they push your lungs to inflate and deflate. These are some of your strongest muscles. When you are dancing, you must learn to control these muscles. These are the key to all the intricate belly moves you will learn. Continue to breathe for me, slowly, in and out."
We did that exercise a few minutes longer before she had me get onto my hands and knees.
"Arch your back. Pull your belly in as you do, and hold it. Keep breathing."
I did the back arch. It was harder to breathe while pulling my stomach in.
"Now release. Let everything sag in the middle. Give me a nice big exhale as you do."
"Ahhhhh...." I let the air out of my lungs.
"You will find," she picked up her zills and gave them a gentle "ping", "that as you dance, your movements will entice and mesmerize both men and women." She pinged her zills again. My skin came alive with goosebumps. "Do not worry about being shy, Taylor." Ping. "As you become more comfortable with showing your body, you will lose your inhibitions." Ping. "You might find now that you feel very relaxed. Ping.
"Yes," I said in a voice that sounded like I had been drugged.
"In fact, I know that you were quite turned on watching me. It's not about being a lesbian, but a human woman with sexual desires. Do you understand, Taylor?"
"I understand," I said in that same voice. Goosebumps were running all over me! Amiah whispered,
"Do your cat exercises. You will find that as you do them, you are very open and flexible to my suggestions."
"Yes."
I began to arch my back, pull my belly in, then release it and let it sag. I did this over and over.
"Stand for me, Taylor."
I stood up slowly.
"Spread your legs. Bend your knees. Hold your arms out to the sides. Begin to roll your hips as if you are drawing a circle on the floor. Push your butt way out as you bend forward, and your pelvis out as you bend back. Remember to breathe."
"Yes."
I did as she told me.
"Very good. You have power in your hips. They enable us to bear our children. The belly is respected as the cup of life. You will learn to move yours to please others as well as yourself."
Amiah came up behind me and took my hands. She stood behind me. We did the large circles together. Slowly, she moved her hands closer to my torso. Her beautiful hands traced my bare skin.
"This will be your token to understanding who you are as a woman, Taylor. This is powerful. This is beautiful."
"Yes," I breathed.
"I love the way you move, Taylor." Amiah stood in front of me. "Stop for a moment." I did. She knelt. Softly, she kissed my navel. She swirled her tongue in it. Then she looked up at me.
"This beautiful belly," she kissed it again, "I have so many plans for it. For now," she stood up, "our lesson has ended."
She snapped her fingers. The sleepy, relaxed feeling left.
"How do you feel?" she asked.