Page List


Font:  

“Why come here alone and risk discovery and his wrath?” Fajer asked.

“He would never suspect me. And the men I hired to carry her and deposit us here are long gone, but were paid well. No one will ever be the wiser,” Yasmeen said, nodding smugly.

“You have thought of everything,” Fajer said.

Yasmeen nodded and looked down at him sprawled on the pillows.

“Yes,” she replied.

“What about an outsider telling Lord Mohammed about his beloved’s presence?” Fajer asked thoughtfully, as if the thought had just come to him.

“Who would do such a thing?” Yasmeen asked arrogantly.

“Or keeping quiet in exchange for something else?” he added.

“What are you saying?” Yasmeen asked, but then she realized Fajer’s plan. The fat fuck would turn me in, she thought. Of course! She had been so blind to think everything would have been easy. He would turn on her. He would get more money from Mohammed to return the little bitch to him, and she would be exiled or worse.

“I have no need of your gold or wealth. I have all I could require and more,” Fajer spoke lowly to her. Yasmeen remained silent. “But to have the high and mighty bitch princess Yasmeen take my stiff fat cock up her cunt, now that is something worth trading.”

Yasmeen looked shocked and appalled. He didn’t want her money, but he did want her. It was disgusting! He was disgusting! She would never do it. Never!

“I’ll take my time with you, Yasmeen. And when I have had my fill, and my big black Moors have had their fill, you and I and the little foreign girl will all go back to the sheik. I’ll be a hero and you? You will most likely be exiled,” he said, chuckling to himself.

Yasmeen was ready to run away when he clapped his hands twice.

His two large muscled Moors appeared suddenly. They immediately held her arms as she struggled and cursed his name. The Moors were large African Muslim men who had been in the service of Fajer many years. They had participated in his group sex acts before and, like Fajer, they enjoyed the squirming and cries of the women they conquered.

“You disgusting shit!!!” she yelled. Yasmeen began kicking the Moors and tried to spit on them.

“Cover her mouth. I have no need of that soft orifice yet,” Fajer said. The Moors covered her mouth as they had been instructed with a piece of cloth.

Fajer eyed her body and clapped once. The two large Moors stripped her body naked, displaying her honey-colored body to their eyes. She cursed them in Arabic as they appraised the naked, squirming woman. One large dark Moor held her arm securely in his grasp while the other held her equally tight. They looked exotic in their robes of red and blue, holding between them the haughty, honey-colored naked woman.

Fajer came slowly to his feet. His body was large, and he was not agile as in his younger days.

“Oh yes,” he purred as he examined her naked body closely. She was the color of honey, with her breasts dangling but not too saggy from suckling her two girl children. She had a slim waist, spread hips, and long legs, with a snatch that held but a sprinkling of hair. Fajer ran his hands over her body as if assessing a prize mare. He cupped her breasts, roamed down her belly, and dipped his fingers into her tight snatch.

Yasmeen cried out into the gag, but Fajer only laughed.

“You still have a tight pussy,” he observed, referring to her two pregnancies that he knew of from servant’s gossip.

Yasmeen struggled between the two black men, but they held her tightly at their master’s bidding.

Fajer picked up a small jar at his right and dipped his fingers into it. A white creamy liquid covered his fingers. He smiled and advanced upon Yasmeen. She tried to kick and squirm but she was no match for the large black Moors.

Fajer nodded once and suddenly Yasmeen was thrown upon the blankets and pillows face down. The sleeping foreign beauty was but a few feet away as each Moor held Yasmeen’s arm to the bed so that she could only move her legs and lower body. One black man stuffed a pillow underneath her hips as Fajer advanced upon her. He settled himself between her legs and smothered the cream into her ass cheeks and tight asshole.

“Ah, I see the sheik has never initiated you into the finer art of anal sex. I will be your first, Princess Yasmeen,” he said, smiling as she shook her head and cried aloud. The pillow and gag smothered her words.

“The more you struggle, the more pain you will cause yourself,” he told h

er.

Fajer stripped himself naked. His large body was filled with rolls of fat, sagging flesh, and too much hair. The two Moors looked on and enjoyed the sight of the beautiful woman at this fat man’s beck and call. She would surrender, because she had no choice.

“Either way, my cock will have its taste of you,” he told her. His hard cock was thrust forward; its purple bulbous head looked angry and mean.

Yasmeen’s ass wiggled in the air as she struggled, but it was no use.


Tags: Nicola Italia Historical