A young accountant is seconded to work with the British Embassy in Kobekistan and soon learns to appreciate the values of a feudal society. He encounters a number of young ladies from various backgrounds, all of whom (except Molly) he incorporates in his harem from time to time. Of course, most of them need to be punished for one thing or another ... Helen he imports from England, but sells her ... and then there is Samantha. He saves her from a fate worse than death in England, and then gives her to the Emir as a virgin gift.
EXTRACT
It was mid-December when Helen was told that she had been
assigned to work directly for a Senior Partner, in fact the founder’s
son, Bob Hunt, for a couple of weeks. He was doing a proposal for a
firm of wholesale and manufacturing stationers some two hundred miles
north, and she would have to travel up on the Monday morning and back
on Friday for both of the weeks she would be there. Naturally the
company provided hotel accommodation and it was no surprise that it
was a good hotel, because she would, of course, be staying in the same
hotel as the Senior Partner.
It never occurred to Derek that Bob had an ulterior motive for
this assignment, but Helen thought her career prospects would come to
no harm by working with a Senior Partner. She didn’t think about it
too closely, but she knew she was willing to work hard and to make
herself very pleasant to this boss if it helped towards promotion.
Helen had caught Bob’s eye on the induction course, and he had
been instrumental in having her selected for hiring when she had been
comfortably down in the bottom quarter of the intake on evaluation.
Her intelligence was not in doubt; no one below genius level was on
the course in the first place. It was her lack of initiative which
had counted heavily against her, as had her tendency to blush a lot.
Bob, on the other hand, thought these charming traits. He liked his
women shy, submissively yielding and, if possible, somewhat over-awed
by him.
They travelled north together by train, and a hire car was
waiting for them at Preston station. From there they drove the last
few miles to the sleepy market town where the potential customer plied
his trade. They spent the late afternoon and early evening discussing
the bid they were to make and Bob outlined exactly what he wanted
Helen to do by way of information gathering during the next few days.
“Then we’ll go back to Bristol and spend the week-end putting
some ideas together. I hope you won’t mind working through the
week-end, but it’s always like that when we do a bid,” he explained,
“That will throw up a lot of questions and the following week we get
the answers to those. Then we write the bid and submit it. Now we
can have dinner.”
After a very ordinary meal in the hotel restaurant, Bob simply
said, “Come on,” and Helen followed him meekly up to his hotel room.
Locking the door behind her, he took off his jacket and tie.
When he saw that Helen had not moved, he simply said, “Strip.”
“What?” she asked, bewildered rather than angry.
“Why do you think you are here, instead of anyone else?” Bob
asked, “I wanted some company for a couple of weeks as well as an
assistant. Now strip, or get out and go back to Bristol.”
Helen stared at him.
“There’s a perfectly good job agency in the next building to
ours in Bristol,” he said pointedly.
Helen murmured, “Yes, sir,” and started to unbutton her blouse
slowly.
“Speed it up,” said Bob, sensing that he was right about her
essentially submissive nature, “when I want a slow striptease I’ll
tell you.”
Helen undressed as fast as she could, while Bob was getting some
things out of his case.
When she was naked he said, “Turn round slowly, and keep on
turning. Let me see you.”
After she had turned right round several times he said, “Very
nice, but very pale. Lie face down on the bed.”
Helen did as she was told, and she co-operated by lifting her
hips as he pushed all the pillows under her belly, leaving her arse
sticking up high in the air. Then he took her arms and laid them out
towards the corners of the bed; her legs received the same
treatment.
“Very nice” he breathed.
Picking up the padded handcuffs he had taken from his case, he
clipped her wrists to the brass uprights of the bed head, and her
ankles to the foot. Then she watched as he finished undressing
slowly, folding his clothes carefully and putting them to one side.
He also picked her clothes up and folded them.
“You are a naughty girl, aren’t you?” he asked, “Not only
undressing in my bedroom, but leaving your clothes all over the
floor.”
He picked up a scarf from his bag and used it to hold a rubber
ball in place in her mouth.
“We don’t want you waking the neighbours, do we?” he asked
rhetorically, “and naughty girls must be punished, mustn’t they?”
He waited and Helen lay there staring at him. What she couldn’t
understand was why being handcuffed properly was so much more exciting
than the make-believe bondage games she had played with Derek. Her
vagina was held clear of the bedcovers by the pillows and she could
feel her excitement seeping out.
“I asked you a question,” said Bob, “Should naughty girls be
punished?”
Helen nodded her head.
SLAP!
The blow fell before she had really realised that he had raised
his hand. Helen had never been spanked, even as a child, and the pain
in her left arse cheek was a rude surprise. She and Derek had played
at ‘naughty little girl’ but he had never hit her hard enough to cause
genuine pain. This was a deliberate attempt to hurt her.
SLAP!
SLAP!
He was using both hands now, one on each arse cheek and Helen
wished, truly wished, she had gone to Bristol when she had the chance.
Also being handcuffed meant that she could not escape, and the gag
prevented her telling Bob that she didn’t want this.
SLAP!
SLAP!
On and on went the punishment and her entire arse was one mass
of angry pain, burning as though it had been scalded.
SLAP!
SLAP!
Helen lost count of the blows, and just lay crying her eyes out
as the savage spanking continued.
SLAP!
SLAP!
Pause, as he lifted his hands again.
SLAP!
SLAP!
Then … nothing.
Just as she started to wonder whether he would release her, he
started again.
SLAP!
SLAP!
Pause.
SLAP!
SLAP!
Bob’s hands were hurting now and her entire arse was flaming
dark red. Bruises were beginning to show. As she lay sobbing
uncontrollably, she sensed him moving behind her. Then he was on top
of her and his cock was thrust deep into her sopping wet vagina, with
his belly landing painfully on her flaming skin. Then he was out of
her again, and his drenched prick pressed against her darker entrance.
Dimly sensing that he was trying to hurt her with his prick, she
opened herself as far as she could. She felt it enter her rectum and
he started to pump. Within seconds she was in the throes of an
unexpected orgasm, and Bob was not far behind her, pumping his semen
deep into her bowels.
After a few moments he rose from the bed, unclipped her hands
and feet, removed the gag and said, “On your knees. Clean my prick
with your tongue.”
And so the week started.
