The Sheikh's Virgin Mistress 2 (Jatar Sheikh Series Book 2) Page 5

  The anger rose quickly in my throat and I snapped out, “Omar, this is all fine and dandy, but I don’t like being your possession. I am not your whore; you can’t buy me that way! I said, I don’t fucking feel for that kind of thing right now.”

  His voice was stern, “You are never to swear again.” He gripped harder at my sex with his backhanded hold on me, and I squirmed. “And just so we are clear. You are all MINE!”

  “Omar, I will swear whenever I feel like it.” I tried to wiggle away from his tight hold, and I felt more anger sweep up my body. “Omar, I don’t want to right now. I don’t feel like it. I’m sore, and I—I just don’t feel like it! Okay? Fuck!” I sort of spit the last word at him.

  I am still unclear how he moved so quickly and with so much strength, but he did, and within a blink of an eye, I found myself over his lap. He pulled up my skirt, ripped down the beautiful lace panties that he’d provided, and my bare ass was exposed to the cool air of the limo. I screamed in response, and he just got stronger. His right arm pinned me to his thighs and with his left hand he began spanking me. HARD! I wailed and keened and he only paused long enough to whisper in my ear, “Little girl, take your punishment like the woman your mouth seems to think you are.”

  The spanks sounded like a volley of gunshots in the acoustical theater of the car. He was not relenting, and my bottom was burning hot. As he continued to pummel my behind, I whimpered, but I stopped fighting him. Giving in and hating myself. I would never admit this to anyone, ever, but I kind of relished in his strength and that burning heat across my soft bottom caused my body to flood with new desire.

  I was mostly mortified that he was once again correct and that I did like what he was doing.

  His warm breath at my ear again, “Little girl, I can scent your desire. What if I check you? Are you ready for me?”

  I struggled and gulped, lying to him and totally ashamed that he’d commanded me so perfectly as to bypass my bratty mood. “No!”

  He laughed and petted over my flaming behind, and then he delved one finger up the expanse of my cleft. The sound he made was all too knowing, and I withered, folding across him and going limp in embarrassment. He was anything but flaccid; I’d felt what all of that spanking had produced in his body and I’d begun to relish the feel of my right breast as it rubbed against his hardness.

  My nipples were jutting and as hard as ever. Besides all that slick need between my legs, the rest of me was as prepared for his entrance, just as his body seemed to be. His left hand rested on my bare bottom, and he slid his long middle finger down between my ass cheeks, tickling at the edge of my pussy. He rotated his finger and spread around more of my wetness, I squelched a groan of pleasure and the intense need to undulate and present more of myself to his eager hand.

  Then he tenderly stroked my neck, and leaned down, kissing my nape and then licking the back of my neck, tracing his tongue all the way to my earlobe. He nibbled on it, and god help me, but my hips rolled. He chuckled deeply and I felt it inside his body. “Anna, you are mine, and if you need to play these games, I am all too happy to accommodate.”

  “Not a game Omar!” I wailed. “I really was upset and I really didn’t feel for sex.”

  “Was?” He whispered at my ear, “Your body seems to be betraying you goddess.” His finger delved partially into my now swollen entrance. He made that sound, and his hardness jumped under my chest. In a husky, full of need voice he said to my ear, “You are my whore, and I will pleasure you as I see fit. Never forget that.”

  I was still over his lap and I struggled to move. He didn’t allow it, and again pinned me down with a big hand between my shoulder blades. He continued to rub my once milky behind that now felt as if it were on fire. He grabbed it hard, digging in his fingers and I wiggled and made a sound of protest. I felt his internal chuckle just before he began spanking me again.

  “Count,” He ordered.

  Part of me felt violated and I let that part take over. With indignation I said as loudly as I could, “No!”

  He spanked me so hard I screamed and gave getting away from him, a really good effort. It amounted to nothing more than ten more spanks, which I counted in my head, but refused to say out loud. “You. Are. A. Brat!” He said the words with each of the following four spanks. Then he leaned back to my ear, “I can discipline you all day long Anna. Do you not feel my appreciation? Now you will count!”

  I didn’t want to admit that I’d truly given in and was now past the point of return. What he was doing to me was so incredibly narcotic I had no reference whatsoever for how my body was reacting to this kind of pain. I was so aroused I could feel my pussy dripping with wet need, and I wondered if I could orgasm from just being spanked. It seemed illogical to me, but what my body was doing was irrefutable.

  Omar was enjoying my obnoxious behavior way more than he should have; his cock was flag pole erect under my sternum, and I only hoped he didn’t discover how much I was now into this game. So, I continued on with the charades, “No!”

  “You could be more original than to continue repeating that!’ He crunched his torso and his lips grazed against my bare bottom.

  Oh dear, there are those teeth. Oh god, oh god, oh god. “Omar!”

  “You are mine Anna. I will make my marks on your body. I know you are my kind, you are my ideal and my counterpart and as much as I love to give you this kind of pain,” He bit my bottom really hard before continuing on after my wails of protest, “I now know you like it. Your body has betrayed you Anna; you are enjoying this as much as I. Do not protest! I will only bite you harder. If you refuse to count or obey me, I will take delight in your continued punishment.”

  “But, but, but …”

  “You will take it little girl, and you will like it. You are spoiled and need discipline!”

  Much to my chagrin, I know he is right. No wonder I’d been uninterested in boys before. The descriptive word, boys, is reason enough. Omar is a man, and I hate it that he is right about me, but I think he is. I won’t admit it out loud though. Never admit it.

  More spanks, more wetness coats around the softest of my pink folds. I still didn’t count though, but I couldn’t help moaning as my earlier question was answered with a resounding; YES! You can orgasm from just being spanked!

  “Ahhh, Goddess, indeed you are meant for me.” He said as he pulled me up to sit across his lap. I felt my lubrication soak into his pants leg and I lowered my eyes. “I will fuck you now, here, now, and you will not protest. When I command it, you will again cum for me, and then you will thank me for dispersing your hormonal mood.”

  My chin quivered but I set my jaw, “Omar, I—I…” I wanted to protest and assert my rights. I didn’t want to surrender or submit to him, at least part of me wanted to stamp my foot and hold onto my need to be emotional.

  He lifted one eyebrow, “Do you need more spanking to remind you who your new master is?” I shook my head and pouted. He pushed a button and barked orders, and the car slowed and then turned. “I am messing you up. We are going home.” I met his eyes, “Anna, I need to enter you this instant, and I plan on leaving you useless. Today you will meet my inner sadist, and rest assured, you will please me immensely.”

  I didn’t really understand what he meant, but at the same time, his words caused my body to clench and pulse in anticipation. My clit throbbed and my entire skin flushed pink. I had a moment of realization that this kind of thing was how he and I would creatively keep our sex life fresh, and the simple thought that he would guarantee I would please him, relieved some of the weight I’d been carrying.

  When I’d been with Yasmin earlier, and away from Omar, my mind had been flooded with numerous doubts that I was right for this world. That I was going to adapt to being a queen in a foreign land, married to a dark skin male that expected total, unquestioning obedience at all times. I was also unsure how I could maintain the arousal or his interest in me now that he’d taken my virginity and taken me in almost every way im
aginable. I’d even had a thought that he would grow increasingly bored with me, and then I would be discarded.

  All of it had been juvenile thoughts, and mostly the unfounded fears of an inexperienced, little girl, as he’d so succinctly stated. His words though, his undeniable statement that he would find me pleasing, that did it. I lifted my eyes, meeting his, and I weakly nodded. My chin still quivered, and a random tear trickled down my face.

  “And?” He asked.

  I don’t know how I knew what he expected, but I did. In a very tiny voice, sounding more the disciplined little girl than I cared to admit, I mumbled, “Yes Master.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Omar pushed me onto the leather seat and slid down onto the floor, on his knees. He reached and pushed a button and every window went three shades darker, offering us more privacy. The car silently purred along, the motion now becoming something erotic.

  Omar turned back to me, still on his knees and he hastily stripped off all but his slacks. Then he set his attentions on me and what I was wearing. His grip was assured and confident as he expertly unhooked my garters. My white lace panties were soon to hit the floor, but he left my thigh highs in place, caressing first down my leg, and then back up. The shoes remained as well.

  I didn’t help him; I only sat there, watching his intent gaze and the muscles in his arms and torso as he stabilized himself in the moving vehicle. He spread my knees and the skirt slid up another notch. He made that sound when he glimpsed my shiny folds.

  He growled, “You were a good girl to shave for me. Very good girl.”

  He pushed my skirt the remainder of the way up and past my hips, jostling me in the seat in the process. He moved the hem of the dress all the way to my waist, effectively leaving me completely bare, spread eagle, and directly in his line of sight. He sank back to his shins and just stared at me. I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing.

  “As much as I’ve had you, and my hunger increases.” He muttered, almost to himself.

  He unbuckled and slid down his pants, but left them around his knees. His cock jutted and my body continued to flood with desire. The armory of veins that protected his shaft pulsed around what they loved and even my mouth watered. My legs went kind of rubbery when he spread them even farther apart, and then he leaned down and licked me, dancing his tongue over my throbbing clit just before he took it gently between his teeth. I made all kinds of sounds then, none of them at all coherent. His hands held me fast at both sides of my ass, and he bit me harder, held me harder and forced my writhing legs down and apart with his elbows.

  I don’t know how he did it, or how he was that strong, but he managed to effectively restrain me without the use of any restraints. Even my wrists ended up locked to my sides as his massive hands held me without any hint he would tire or give. Then he really bit my clit. I screamed and struggled amidst the beginnings of an enormous climax, and his entire body rumbled in response.

  He was somehow different than he’d been before, stronger, more insistent, and more dominant, if that was possible. He was definitely going to find me pleasing, that much I knew without a shadow of a doubt. His hips began rolling as he clamped his face to my pussy. He nibbled, licked and bit me over and over. I don’t remember how he managed it, but he pulled away, leaving me just as an orgasm was about to rip loose. I whined and thrust my pussy towards him, craven and lusting and mindless.

  He dragged me to the edge of the seat and in a moment of incredible strength he hefted me forward and onto his lap. He held me there, hovering over his obscenely hard cock. I felt his bulging crown as he danced it at my entrance, without really penetrating me. His hands scalded my skin, and his eyes locked on mine. We were both panting and I continued to make mewling sounds as I wrapped my legs around his waist and he incrementally lowered me over his hardness.

  He lifted and then lowered me two more times, coating himself with all of my need, and then he lifted and dropped me. I sheathed his body deeply inside mine and the air whooshed out of my lungs as everything in me began to vibrate and clench. The blood in my head thumped against my eardrums.

  “You are mine!” He roared and then he violently took my face in a passionate kiss. His hand at the swell of my hips gripped me hard, and his fingers dug in and he rolled me over him as his hips bucked up and into me.

  I stuttered, “Yes…yours.”

  He continued thrusting and pumping, grunting and hurting me with his white knuckle grip. I stopped breathing and my head lolled, “You will not cum.” He ordered.

  I laughed, but it sounded almost defiant, which wasn’t my intention. It wasn’t like I could control my climaxes, could I?

  His left hand went to my hair and he used the braid like a handle, and he dragged my head back as he went to my neck with his lips. Then he bit my neck, slowly at first, and then in a screaming moment of pain he bit me so hard I wondered if he’d broken the skin. In mortification I realized I was also orgasming from the pain of it. He of course felt it.

  “Bad girl.” He mumbled and lifted me off of his throbbing erection. He slid backwards and turned my jello infused body around so that my chest was draped over the bench seat. And then he spanked me again. Five times in rapid succession, violently punishing my behind until it felt like he’s poured hot wax on it and spread it around. I really climaxed at that point, harder than I even thought possible. The searing pain from the spanks and something about his dominant way of not only using me, but also playing my body as if he were an accomplished musician, shocked me. It shouldn’t have, he was after all a worldly and mature man; and I just a, little girl.

  His hand went back to my head and he dragged it back as he loomed over my spine. “Mine! Now tell me you are sorry for disobeying a direct command. Every orgasm you ever have again, is MINE!”

  Not only had my bones disintegrated, but all conscious thought had left my mind. I thoroughly believed he was now my master. He had to be. No other could ever command the performance from my body that he was now conducting. I whispered, “Sorry.”

  “Sorry what?”

  “Sorry Master.”

  He released some of my hair, and then he spanked me hard five more times. This time I counted for him, and I could feel his delight in my surrender. He entered me swiftly from behind, violently pounding himself in and out of my tight sheath. The sounds of our bodies colliding took on an erotic, lush, slapping sound, and I started into a whining, seizing cycle of multiple orgasms that refused to stop. I was shaking from head to toe as he pillaged my insides.

  He made agonized grunting sounds and he continued to fuck me senseless on the floor of his limousine. When he finally came, after what felt like I’d had maybe a hundred climaxes all entwined together, he released inside me and stayed there, with an arm locked around my waist and his hot breath on my neck, for long, drawn out moments. The car had stopped and apparently parked, because we weren’t moving any longer. He slid himself in and out of me and I felt some of his seed slide free of my core.

  “You are my delight Anna; never forget that, you are always pleasing to me. What you give me is beyond all fantasy.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Omar carried me to the hidden inner elevator next to where we were parked in the underground garage. I guess this time he didn’t want to make a scene of our arrival. I was a literal mess. My hair was partially in the braid, but what wasn’t, was sticking up and flying all over the place. My tears had spread mascara all over my cheeks and my stockings were ripped from his strong hands forcing himself as deeply into me as he could go.

  My dress was more than askew; it was also soaked with not only my release, but also his. My bottom really hurt and felt bruised, and the bite on my neck had its own pulse. I felt abused, but also passionately loved and as desired as the rarest of commodities. The incongruity of my emotional state was difficult for me to assimilate. I’d never really liked pain that much, so now that he’d just introduced his inner sadist to me, I was wondering if that made me a maso
chist? Was I really that perverted? Did I like the pain that much?

  Magically, there was a Jacuzzi tub already filled with hot bubbly water when we arrived back in our bedroom suite. He stood me up and I wobbled, but staid upright. He carefully undressed me and then rolled down what was left of my thigh highs. Finally he sat me on the edge of the two person tub and he took off my high heels, caressing my ankles and then kissing my toes. He removed the pins from my hair and ran his fingers through it until it draped around my face. Then he cupped my cheek and kissed me. He whispered at my lips, “Immensely pleasing.”

  I mumbled, “Do you like hurting me?”

  He didn’t lie, or even try and sugar coat it, “Yes. You are even more ideal than I could have imagined. I see you Anna, I feel you Anna, you like it as much as I. You cannot tell me differently. Are you not high? Tell me you do not feel more alive than you’ve ever felt. Tell me and I shall cease and never touch you that way again.”

  I drew my lips in a tight line, mostly ashamed that he was right. He read my expression correctly and lifted half his face in a lascivious grin. I sighed. We got into the tub together and he proceeded to wash my entire body with a sponge. The ends of my hair trailed in the water and tickled between us. I relaxed and gave into his care. Relishing in his tender strength.

  He pulled my back to his chest and palpated my breasts from behind, rolling and massaging them as he also pinched my nipples up into a tight pucker. I rolled my sore bottom against his erection, over and over rubbing against him and feeling weightless and drunk. It was an odd kind of high, unlike any I’d ever felt before, and I wallowed in it, in him, in the pornographic, obscene and somewhat perverted turn my life had just taken.

  Omar picked me up and slid inside me, resettling me on his lap. His hand expertly played with my clit until it again felt as if he were strumming a long harp string up through my abdomen. He kissed my neck and nibbled on my earlobes, all the while slowly sliding himself in and out of me. His hand migrated to my neck, and he wrapped his fingers around the most vulnerable of my parts, and then he slowly began tightening his grip.