What She Needs (14 page)

Tonight’s fantasy would expand on what they’d accomplished yesterday. The activities would again rely on discipline—on him taking a controlling role, compelling her to obey. And it would once more be about him
using
that control to make her take what he needed her to experience—but this time he wouldn’t be the only person delivering pleasure to Jenna.

So tonight she’d have to open up
a lot
, trust him
a lot
. He wasn’t sure she’d do everything he asked, but he hoped she’d find the boldness inside her that he knew was there—she’d greatly enjoy the harem fantasy if she could just let go of her inhibitions.

Moments later, the other players in Jenna’s carefully designed fantasy came in, greeting him and one another as they took their places. Music that fit the scene wafted softly from hidden speakers, adding to the sensual setting. Wine was poured into cups, and he saw Kirsten getting in the mood by rubbing her curves playfully, provocatively against Amira, a lovely Palestinian girl who was probably the most extreme case of a rebellious facilitator he’d seen in all his years here. She’d come as a guest while attending college at NYU, and she’d soon returned as an employee.

Nearby, he noticed Sasha settling her head into Barbie’s lap, both stretching out on plush pillows. Across the room lay a sensuous redhead, Lola, and a petite but busty blonde, Candy. Candy was new yet eager, and the more-experienced Lola had been a good teacher for her in the few months since her arrival.

In total, ten women lounged around the lush room in scant chiffon outfits, looking completely fuckable and making Brent’s cock begin to harden. Only a few would engage directly with Jenna, but all were necessary to set the tone and fully acclimate her to the fantasy.

Soon, the lighting dimmed—a signal from Ryan, hidden from sight, that Jenna had reached the dressing area to read her instructions and would soon enter the room. In response, Lola and Candy began to gently touch and kiss—falling easily, he noted with amusement, into their roles. Other girls lounged about, beginning to lazily run fingertips over the shoulders or hips of a fellow female facilitator. Sasha turned to playfully lick Barbie’s belly button, which happened to be encircled with a curling scrollwork tattoo. And Kirsten took a place beside
him
, hanging casually on his shoulder, her ample breasts rubbing against his arm.

When Jenna entered the room, however, his full attention shifted her way. She wore a pale yellow chiffon bra top, the bottom edge sporting draped rows of gold coinlike beads, and a matching skirt that rode low beneath her navel and sported side slits all the way up to the thick row of gold coin beads that served as a waistband. Numerous gold bangle bracelets circled both wrists and an elaborate gold necklace lay about her throat and the expanse of skin below. From her heavily made-up eyes to the way her curves peeked so enticingly from the bits of chiffon, she looked like a true harem girl—except for the shock in her expression.

As she glanced around the room at the girls touching one another, she appeared taken aback—but no one acknowledged her presence in any way, and Brent let her use the moment to begin adjusting to the setting, hoping like hell she could handle it and wouldn’t go running away. Her safeword tonight was, like all safewords, something that would never be uttered during this fantasy for any other reason than wanting out. He prayed she wouldn’t say it tonight—and realized he felt that perhaps a little too strongly. Besides wanting her to reap pleasure and proceed toward full sexual freedom, he also wanted to
deliver
that pleasure, see her
feel
it. The very thought hardened his dick still more, making it rise to create a tautly stretched tent in his loose pants.

When finally she looked to him, her eyes brimming with trepidation, he didn’t smile. As much as he would’ve liked to put her at ease, it was time to take on his role. Tonight he owned her. And she needed to understand and accept that if they were to move forward.

Becoming the sheik in mind as well as appearance, he studied her body unabashedly, noting that she might be afraid but her nipples pointed prominently through the soft top, and that while her cunt was covered by a curtain of chiffon, he could see she’d followed the instruction not to wear anything underneath. He summoned her, his voice low but exercising great authority. “Come sit beside me, slave girl.”

Timidly, she came toward him across the plush carpet on bare feet, and he hoped the chiffon gliding against her thighs as she walked added to her unwitting arousal. She knelt on the opposite side of him from Kirsten—who still clung sensually to his shoulder, watching the scene unfold.

Brent motioned to the step rising just above the pit, to the wine and food tray. “Eat,” he told her. “Drink.” And as she began to obey, reaching to pour herself some wine, Kirsten poured some for
him
, and even lifted a strawberry to his mouth in an example of unbidden slave girl subservience. He watched Jenna observing, trying not to react, and hid his amusement while willing
her
toward such eager submission, too.

As she ate one of the small sandwiches provided, he said, “I own you now, Jenna. You are bought and paid for, and your only purpose for existence now is to do my bidding. Do you understand?”

She drew in her breath, and he realized what he’d said was harsh, but for tonight, it was entirely necessary. Tonight they took a big step forward.
Each
night would be a big step forward—he had only two weeks to undo a lifetime of negative impressions, memories, and ingrained beliefs about sex.

When she didn’t answer immediately, he went on. “You are lucky I noticed your beauty and rescued you from the life of squalor you would live as one of my regular slaves. Here, in my harem, you will have every luxury. All that’s required of you is to serve and pleasure me in whatever way I demand.”

Meeting his gaze, she said quietly, solemnly, “I’ll try.”

And damn, he wanted to go soft on her then—but he couldn’t afford to. “No,
you’ll do it
,” he snapped. “You are a sex slave now, like it or not.” Only then did he allow himself to go a
little
soft. “However, there is much pleasure in it for you, too. Tonight, in fact, I am taking mercy upon you, planning to initiate you into my harem gently.”

“That’s . . . kind of you,” she replied, still cautious, but he could see her warming to her role now, just a bit—which pleased him greatly, both as her guide and as the lusty sheik who intended to force her into pleasure with or without her consent. Given his dominant tendencies, he’d always gotten into the sheik fantasy, perhaps too much.

“This evening,” he said, his tone still imparting full power, “all that will be demanded of you is to relax and let me enjoy you, however I see fit.”

He watched her suck in her breath, then whisper, “All right.”

So far, she’d eaten only two little triangle sandwiches, and he wanted her to have energy for what lay ahead, so he now did as Kirsten had done for him—he picked up a piece of chocolate-covered fruit and held it to her lips. She bit into the chunk of banana, sighing her pleasure at the taste. After she swallowed, he fed her the rest, gently slipping his index finger between her soft lips. She met his gaze and he knew they both felt it between their legs until he extracted his fingertip.

Normally, as sheik, he wouldn’t lower himself to feeding a harem girl, but Jenna was different. As a facilitator, he’d taken many women through the harem fantasy, and for most, now would be the time to push them to their backs and take them or to instruct the other girls to pleasure her, but Jenna required just the right care: hardness tempered with a pinch of softness, authority tempered with a hint of affection. And he knew from the look in her eyes that he’d just hit the right note to make her pussy surge with moisture beneath that sexy chiffon.

In response, Jenna reached toward the fruit tray herself, plucking up a strawberry and lifting it for
him
to eat. Despite himself, he could have sworn it tasted better coming from her. After swallowing, he closed his grasp warmly on her wrist, using his other hand to take the stem from her and cast it aside. Then he drew her index finger slowly, deeply into his mouth, sucking. Their eyes stayed connected the entire time, allowing him to see her pleasure.

Finally, he released it, saying, “Good little slave girl. You please me.”

“I’m glad.”

Next, he brought her hand back to his mouth to flick his tongue through the soft, sensitive valleys between her fingers, one by one—and he loved seeing that it excited her unexpectedly. He heard her breath catch; he felt his stiff cock tighten further.

Reaching up to gently stroke her cheek, now tanned from a few days in the sun, he soon let his fingertips skim downward, his touch just grazing her neck, then passing over her heavy necklace and onto the bared skin below. His fingers swept tenderly between her breasts, the flesh there also on lovely, curving display.

Raising his attention back to her face, he found a blush staining her bronzed cheeks. Maybe she was embarrassed to be touched in front of other girls. Or maybe she was just pleasured by his caress. Most likely both.
But you have to get over the first, Jenna, to really experience the second.

So he pressed on, intent on forcing the pleasure to overpower the stigma of having strangers in the room. Intent on overcoming many
other
stigmas, too, but this was the one on his mind as he gently cupped the sides of both her breasts, raking his thumbs over those beaded nipples, a hint of their dark color visible through the layers of pale yellow. She sucked in her breath, sighed audibly. The fact that she willingly met his gaze the whole time caused a soft pride to swell inside him.

“You have perfect tits,” he said, not sure if he was being himself or the sheik. Another instance when the answer was: most likely both. Despite the staggering number of female breasts he’d seen in his life, he’d fallen in lust with hers last night. Although he’d known her bra size from her profile, they’d appeared plumper, rounder, than he’d expected, and now, it was important for
her
to know how lovely they were.

She flushed a bit more, but managed to say, “I’m . . . glad they please you.”

And he smiled darkly, gratified that she was getting into this, slowly but surely. “They’ll soon please me much more.
You’ll
please me much more.
Won’t
you, slave girl?”

“Yes,” she murmured, appearing breathless, still nervous—but that was okay. “I . . .
wish
to please you.”

“Good little sex slave,” he fawned.

Then he tweaked her nipples lightly, making her let out a pretty whimper, and glanced to his right. “Barbie, Sasha, come here.” It was time to turn things up a notch and hope she didn’t freak out.

Both girls complied, one kneeling on each side of him so that they all faced Jenna.

“Look at our new harem girl. Isn’t she lovely? Doesn’t she have beautiful tits?” His hands still framed them loosely.

Barbie answered first, casting Jenna a warm smile. “Very lovely indeed.”

“Mmm, sumptuous,” Sasha purred.

“I wish to kiss her neck,” he announced then. “Move beside her and draw her hair back from her shoulders.”

Sasha and Barbie obeyed—and Jenna’s eyes filled with uncertainty.

Yet as he placed one palm at the curve of her waist and leaned in to lower a gentle kiss to her neck, he felt her relax. In reaction to the second kiss, she even sighed. Inwardly, he smiled, sizzling with anticipation now—and despite her shyness, he began to feel more assured she would let his will be done.

As he skimmed his touch over her shoulder, her arm, he delivered more kisses—and she leaned her head back to accept them, letting out more pretty sighs in response. Did she notice when
more
light caresses came on her shoulders as his own descended, grazing over her breasts to the soft skin below? Did it dawn on her that he couldn’t touch her in that many places with only two hands?

Her eyes had closed, but he didn’t reprimand her, not yet—because she was doing surprisingly well, his Little Miss Sunshine.

When he relinquished kissing her neck and shoulders, he said, “Sasha, Barbie—last night, our new slave girl indulged in activities that might have left her back aching, so I want you both to massage her.”

Jenna didn’t even appear dismayed when the girls did as instructed, Barbie beginning to knead her neck and shoulders as Sasha’s palms molded to lower areas of her back. But she did open her eyes, meet his gaze, appearing languid and acceptant.

“Relax and enjoy, slave girl. Let this soothe your tensions,” he said. Then he turned to Kirsten, who sat waiting behind him. “Pour Jenna more wine.”

A moment later, Jenna accepted the ceramic cup willingly, taking a sip.

Good
, he thought. This was going
extremely
well. It should, of course—he had years of experience at this. But given that Jenna was such an unusual case, he hadn’t been as confident of the outcome as he normally would.

When Jenna finished her wine, he motioned for Kirsten to pour still more. Sasha and Barbie continued rubbing her back, deeply, occasionally causing a small moan to erupt from Jenna’s throat. And elsewhere in the room, his other harem girls persisted in entertaining one another as well.

Finally, he took the cup from her hand and said, “Go lounge amid those pillows,” pointing toward a stack of cushions a few yards away. Sasha and Barbie withdrew their touches, allowing Jenna to lie back among the cushions, a sensual vision in yellow. Her eyes said she was ready for more, and if it was possible, his dick got stiffer. “Very nice, slave girl,” he told her when their gazes met again—as he, too, reclined, leaning back against a large red bolster, propping himself up on his elbow.

That’s when she realized. “You’re not coming? Over here?”

He gently shook his head. “There’s more than one way for me to enjoy you, and right now, I wish to do it with my eyes.”