"harem" By robblu (https://pastebin.com/u/robblu) URL: https://pastebin.com/Ggu05j0i Created on: Monday 6th of March 2017 04:49:16 PM CDT Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:23:09 AM UTC Harem “Hello, John.” I stopped in my tracks, just inside my hotel room. There on my hotel bed, illuminated only by the bedside lamp, lay my wife, dressed in, well let’s just say, not very much, but it was as sexy as hell. That wouldn’t seem so strange, but she had disappeared from this very city nearly two years ago. It was the first time I had been back, and even now I was only doing a little business while passing through. “Susie! I can’t believe it! I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!” “No, I don’t expect you did. Aren’t you happy to see me now?” “Of course I am!” I ran over and embraced her. You know, when someone disappears without trace in a foreign country, you have to assume the worst, and to be honest, I had moved on. She too seemed a little distant. “Sit down, John, and let me tell you what happened. I’m sure you’re dying to know.” “Of course.” I sat down on the small couch, and she started to tell me the story. “Do you remember the last night we were together? We came down to the car after the party. You told me to wait, because you needed to see someone before we returned to the hotel.” “Yes, the car was gone when I got back, I assumed you had gone on to the hotel. I came in another car,” I replied. “Well,” she continued, “I waited in the car for you, until the driver told me we needed to move as we were blocking the driveway. He drove around the corner. Then the door opened, and I don’t remember anything more. “When I woke up, I was strapped, naked, to an examination table. My legs were held up and wide in stirrups. Straps ran over my thighs, belly and chest, holding me down. My arms were strapped to the sides of the table. “I started yelling for help. Straight away, a beautiful girl came to me. She told me her name was Sameera, and not to worry, that everybody was a little frightened at that stage.” “Where were you?” I asked. She told me just to listen while she told her story. “I asked Sameera where I was and what was happening to me. She just told me that she was to prepare me. That this was what I wanted, what I had agreed to. There was no backing out now. I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about. It didn’t make any difference. As I continued to struggle, she continued to caress and comfort me. It was obvious that she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, let me go. “I asked her what she was going to do. All she would say was that I would be made pure, like her. That soon everything would all be alright. And she just kept the gentle caresses. I’ll have to say she was good. Somehow it soon didn’t seem to matter that I was strapped to a table in a strange place. I should have been desperately frightened, but I was not. “Then another girl came in. Sameera introduced her as Layla. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but then I started to feel her putting something sticky on my leg. I asked what she was doing. Layla didn’t speak English, but Sameera told me she was cleaning me, and at that point I felt hair ripped from my leg. She said that instead of hot wax, she was using a paste made from sugar and lemon juice, common in the Middle East, and supposedly a little less painful. She put a small amount in my mouth; it actually tasted rather nice. “Layla was careful to make sure that I remained properly restrained, even when she lifted a strap to remove the hair underneath. Soon, my arms and legs were hairless, and then she moved between my legs. I felt her trimming my bush, before smearing it with paste. “I’d had my bikini line shaped before, but this was a complete removal To be fair, she was really careful around my most sensitive parts, but there’s no painless way to do it. It took a while, but when she had finished I was completely hairless down there. “Finally, she was done. I was even more naked now. Layla left, leaving me alone with Sameera. After the hair removal, I felt high. Sameera said that a good sugaring makes you feel nice; the pain of each tear is brief but the endorphins flow for much longer. She put small clips on my nipples, telling me that the pain would keep that feeling with me for longer. “And she was right. I felt like I was floating. Next, she put larger clip on my clitoris. It was on tight, and it hurt. It was attached to a cord that ran through pulleys on a post above the table. At the other end of the cord had a plastic cup, into which she dropped small weights. My clit was being pulled upward, and strapped down as tightly as I was, I couldn’t dislodge the clip. It seemed that the more the weights pulled, the tighter it gripped. Each time I felt able to take it, she added another weight. It kept me on the edge, walking the line between pleasurable and unbearable pain. Her attentions became more sexual. She rubbed my breasts, and started licking my stretched clit. I didn’t want this; it was just too strange. But it felt so good, and anyway, she just ignored me when I asked her to stop. “Sameera positioned herself between my legs, wrapping her arms around my thighs to reach up to my breasts, caressing them and flicking the clips on my nipples. She worked my tender lower regions with her mouth, wrapping her tongue around my stretched clit, along my labia and poking it into my vagina. “All this time I was feeling more and more aroused. I’ve never felt this way. She pushed buttons I just didn’t know were there, stroking my sides, along my arms, not just the obvious areas, she caressed me, massaged me, and scratched me gently with her fingernails. It was indescribable. Even though I was alone, strapped to a table in a compromising and painful position, with a complete stranger, I felt unbelievably comfortable. I wanted more and more. “Then she blindfolded me. She told me that it was better not to see what was coming, that it would make the feelings even stronger. That scared me a little, but she was right, it was better; I wasn’t distracted by my surroundings any more; my whole being was the sensations that Sameera was applying to my body. She caressed my upper body for a while, then returned to her place between my legs. Now she stepped her attentions up, and soon I was breathing hard, on the verge of orgasm. She had been constantly adding small weights to the string pulling on my clit. “She put her hand deep into my vagina, and massaged firmly. Then I felt a slight sting in my clit; with it stretched out and with all the other feelings, it didn’t seem bad. But the sting got worse. “Suddenly an orgasm tore through me, harder and longer than I ever had before. I couldn’t believe how good that was. Sorry, John, but you never came close to making me feel that way. “And in the middle of it all, my clit burned. It was more painful than anything I’ve experienced before, yet it was the best thing I’ve ever felt. I know that sounds crazy, but that pain touched me somewhere I’d never been touched before. “Then I felt a snap, and suddenly the upward pull was gone. It was replaced by pressure, but the pain was still unbearable. I realised, just as I passed out, that my clit had been sliced from my body.” I started to express my horror at what had happened to her, but she shushed me and continued. “I woke up with Sameera beside me. Part of me said I should kill her for what she did. But I couldn’t. Even if I wanted to, I was strapped to the bed, a belt around my waist, and cuffs around my wrists, ankles and knees. The restraints were comfortable, but effective. I was groggy, and I hurt all over, especially around my stomach. But most of all, Sameera was looking at me in a way that expressed a kindness and concern that I just can’t describe. And she was beautiful. I’m no lesbian, but I was attracted to her. I just couldn’t hate her enough to want to hurt her. “`What did you do to me?’ I asked her. She replied, `you’re pure now. No-one can ever defile you again.’ I didn’t know what she meant, just that I hurt, and that I’d been violated in a way that I had never thought possible. She didn’t tell me anything, just soothed me and helped me sleep. I had no idea that someones voice and touch could have so much influence over me. “This continued over a long time. I was kept strapped to the bed, and the lights were kept low. I don’t know how long. Sameera seemed to be there all the time that I was awake. She fed me and cleaned me, all the time showing me a kindness that seemed at odds with my situation. I’d been catheterised, and she looked after that and the I.V. drip that I still had in me. I’m sure there was a sedative in the drip, as I just felt like sleeping most of the time. Others came in and out, but they seemed faceless to me, while Sameera was my constant companion. “I felt steadily better, until finally Sameera loosened the strap securing the cuff around my right wrist. Keeping the strap in her left hand, she guided my loose hand under the blankets. I could feel the catheter. “But it was what I couldn’t feel that shocked me to the core. My crotch, all the way down to my anus, was completely smooth. There was just a line of scarring, still a little sensitive. The line divided around my pee hole and re-joined, finishing above where my clit once was. I was both fascinated and horrified as I ran my finger along that line again, verifying that my first impression was correct; my clit had gone, and so had my vagina. “‘What have you done to me?’ I shouted at her. And again, that soothing voice, that calm look. It seemed that nothing could upset this girl. And, it seemed, nothing could upset anyone with whom she was with. “She pulled my hand away from between my legs, and lifting her skirt, placed it on her own crotch. It was the same, just a smooth continuation of her torso, interrupted only by her urethra. I started to question her, but she just shushed me gently, and brought my hand up to my breast. “It was, mercifully, intact. I reached one nipple, and circled it with my finger, then reached for the other. They were still there; I feared that they might have gone the way of my sensitive lower parts. “But there was something wrong. I flicked the nipple, then pinched it. I felt nothing. Oh, I felt it move under my finger, but there was no sensation. Even that had been taken away from me. She eased my hand back to the side of the bed, pulling the strap tight again as she did so. She confirmed what I had already guessed. My ovaries, uterus and vagina had all been removed, along with my clit, clit hood and labia, and the skin closed up around them. The nerves to my nipples and much of my breast had been severed. In short, I had been completely de-sexed. “I finally got over my shock, and asked Sameera, why? What had I done to deserve this? To have all possibility of sexual pleasure, not to mention my dream of starting a family taken away from me? “She told me, in a matter of fact way, that the Emir did not want his servants to be impure. There were to be no royal bastards in his house, and there were to be no temptations. I would not be led astray by his family members, or even other servants; and since I had no pussy, they would not be tempted by me. Oh, they would be attracted, and they would enjoy my attentions once I was properly trained, and I may even enjoy theirs, but they could not have me sexually. The integrity of the royal household would be secure, and my integrity, what was left of it, would be protected too. As neither male nor female, I could pass through the men’s and women’s quarters without fear for my safety or of embarrassing their occupants. “This was the first time I had any real idea what was going on. `Am I a slave?’ I asked. “`You’re a servant of the Emir,’ she replied flatly. `This is what you agreed to when you came here. You get a good comfortable life, and the work is easy, much better than where you came from.’ “`I never agreed to any such thing!’ I shouted. `I’m a married woman, my husband is a successful businessman and I have a good home! Why would I agree to this?’ “Sameera looked shocked. It was the first time I’d seen her rattled. `But, how can that be? No-one is forced to come here!’ she protested. “I told her the last things I remembered before waking up on the table. I told her who my husband was, where I lived, everything. It took a while, but I finally convinced her that I was not there by my own choice. At one stage she even tried to tell me, or perhaps herself, that I was a decadent Western submissive, whose fantasy of permanent slavery had become a whole lot less attractive once the reality set in. But finally, she accepted my story, and promised to find out what had happened. “I cried myself to sleep when she left. “Nothing more was said about it for nearly a week, but somehow Sameera seemed just a little more tender towards me, if that was possible. The I.V. and the catheter were taken out and I was able to get up and walk around, or read or watch TV. Whatever I wanted in the way of books, magazines and videos was available. And I talked with Sameera; she was smart and funny, as well as empathetic. “Sameera told me that the servants, predominantly women but occasionally men as well, were picked for their beauty and intelligence from situations where both were wasted or abused. In many cases, they were girls who had been forced into prostitution, often in situations where attempting to leave would be dangerous. In the Emir’s household, they would be permanently protected; their families too would be provided for, but knowing that they could never see their daughter, son or sibling again. “I had been moved into the servants’ quarters when the Emir personally came to apologise for the situation I found myself in. His procurer, the man who had brought me to the palace with a fabricated story about wanting to escape the unhappy Western rat-race, had been punished. From the sound of it, his demise was painful and protracted. That gave me some solace, but I was shocked at the answer I got when I asked when I could leave. “`You can’t,’ he told me. `I can offer retribution, but I can not undo what has been done. And if you leave, you will tell your story, maybe not immediately, but eventually. I can not risk that. While the servants of my house come here willingly and with their eyes wide open, there are many people, both in the country but especially outside who would not understand. If the Western press got your story, it would be very damaging.’ “I said I would escape. He replied that I could try, but inside me, in the space where my uterus used to be, is a device that will incapacitate me and raise alarms if I ever tried to leave the compound unsupervised. All the servants had such a thing. `An insurance policy,’ he said. `And anyway, you are no longer a woman. Do you think you can just fit in like you did before? Will your husband or any man still want you?’ “Later, as Sameera comforted me, she told me, `This is your life now. Whether you choose to accept it gracefully is up to you. If you do, you can be comfortable and happy. You’ll learn things about pleasure that you never dreamed of. There is work of course but there are enough of us here that no-one has to work very hard.’ “And over time, that’s what I did. Both the Emir and Sameera were right. I have learned to give and receive delight in ways that I never imagined. The Emir’s servants are a very special family, with a deep love for each other, uncomplicated by sexual politics, even if we are prisoners in a gilded cage. I can not leave, but now I don’t want to. “So, John, that is my story. What do you think?” I didn’t know what to say. But then alarm was rising in the back of my mind. “But, you’re here,” I said, “Why, and how did you leave?” “Oh, I haven’t. I’m just here for one small task,” she said calmly, as two very large gentlemen stepped out of the shadows, one taking a position behind me while the other blocked any possible dash for the door. “Meet Ahmed and Mohamed. You see, the Emir did find out who bribed the procurer to take me. And I did accept his offer of retribution. “Goodbye, John. Enjoy your new life. I don’t think it’ll be quite as pleasant as mine. Nor as long.”