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He clapped twice and the oud master appeared. He began to strum his instrument as Safiya performed the sensual movements of the Eastern Dance. As her hips moved, she could feel his eyes upon her.

Mohammed swallowed slowly as his cock expanded. He watched the young girl go through her movements in a sensual haze, her hips undulating. He felt a little ill.

The incense was suffocating in the room and he suddenly couldn’t distinguish between fantasy and reality. He wanted her blonde hair falling all around them and those Arabian Sea eyes dark with passion as he took her.

He wanted to see her ripe with his son and watch her as she moved. He saw the young girl dancing and wondered where Katharine had learned the Eastern Dance. He had never seen her dance it before.

“You may leave,” he told the oud musician.

“Come here,” he beckoned Safiya to him. He lay upon the pillows, watching her dance.

As she came to him, her body honey-colored and slim, he shook his head. What was this? Who was she? Where was Katharine?

Safiya joined him on the mound of pillows, smiling and willing.

“My lord?” she asked. Her voice was small.

She moved the silk abaya up her thighs and placed his hand on her thigh.

“Safiya?” he said. He heard the question in his voice.

The blue eyes weren’t blue but brown and her hair wasn’t golden. What was this? He shook his head as the young girl played her part as she had been told to do. She moved the abaya up over her body and lay naked underneath him.

“My lord, I’m yours. Take me,” she said.

The room was spinning and his head felt fuzzy. Why did Katharine look so different, he wondered. But he missed her so. She meant everything to him.

“Katharine,” he murmured as he pressed the girl’s legs apart and mounted her. He heard her cry out as he broke her hymen. Then, he blacked out.

***

“The drug was supposed to be an aphrodisiac, not make him unconscious,” her father yelled at Khaldun.

Safiya washed the blood from her thighs as the two men bickered.

“The deed is done, though,” her uncle said. “She has been penetrated.”

“Yes, but no seed,” her father said harshly. “Without seed, she is just another harem girl. We need his seed.”

Her uncle nodded in agreement.

“It will be done,” he said.

***

That night, Safiya lay in bed. She was groggy and tired. She wondered absently how she was to get the sheik’s seed.

“Safiya,” she heard someone whisper.

“Yes, uncle?” she asked. She sat up in bed.

He had entered her room so quietly that she had not even heard him.

“You are a virgin no longer,” he said as he smiled.

“Yes. That is so, uncle. But, no seed,” she replied.

He smiled and undressed slowly as his niece inched away from him on the bed.


Tags: Nicola Italia Historical