The Slave Market free porn video

THE SLAVE MARKET by "c.c." Your wife Joan always had a Thing about the Middle East -- Arabian Nights, Sheiks and their Harems, and all that, you know. All the while you spent enjoying a career as a successful writer, she spent studying her favorite subject, reading books, learning the language, even corresponding and networking with friends from what you laughingly called The Burning Desert. Once your career really hit big, though, and you could relax and live off royalties, you consented to take her on an extended vacation in the land of her dreams. Naturally, being so well-informed about the area, Joan made all the arrangements for both of you. And at first, it seemed to work out great. Your Guide, a friend of hers from the Internet, was nothing less than a handsome, full-blooded Sheik named Omar, whose house was a small but lavish palace-in the heart of Morocco, complete with marble baths and a gaggle of obliging servant girls--some of whom were also his wives, Joan informed you! A week or so into the visit, however, You began to get bored. Joan loved this country and everything about it (Including Omar, you wondered?) but you got restless, rattling around places you never heard of, filled with people talking some language you couldn't understand. Then Omar suggested taking you to see some places off the beaten path. Place Tourists never go. Like the Slave Market! Now this was more like it! You stood in the crowd with Joan and Omar, watching as the slaves danced, flexed their muscles or otherwise showed themselves off to raise the prices offered as the bidders clamored. You and Joan made a game of it, betting with each other to see which Slaves would draw the highest prices. Surprisingly, you seemed better at this little game than Joan, despite her vaunted knowledge of Arab customs and tastes. Time and again, you correctly guessed which "merchandise" would get the better price, and laughed as she stamped her foot in petulant irritation. Just how the conversation led there, you couldn't say, but somehow you and Joan started arguing about which of you two would fetch the higher price! Joan insisted that her beauty would excite the bidders more, but you noted that even average-looking guys like you seemed to be prized for their superior intelligence and dexterity -- an observation that irked Joan even more! "My friends," Omar laughed, "there is an easy solving to this dispute: Why not simply put yourselves up for sale and see who draws the higher bidding?" "Ohhhhh!" Joan blushed at the thought of parading around topless or completely nude, like most of the slave-girls on sale, "I-we couldn't do that! I mean what if--" "Have no fears my lady," Omar smiled, "The owners of this establishment are beholden unto me and can make all arrangements for your safety and comfort. And as the two of you are under my protection, no harm shall come. What say you, then? Do you truly dare to match your market value against that of your fine husband?" You looked at Joan, mentally weighing the prospects of standing up there in your jock-strap against the oddly exciting notion of seeing your wife displayed for sale before all these clamoring strangers. The idea intrigued you.... ...which was how you ended up being guided behind the scenes of the Slave Market by your friend Omar! The building that housed the Slave Market proved to be an elaborate maze of baths, grooming places, offices and lounges where deals were made, slaves prepared for showing, and other business transacted. Joan was quickly led away by a trio of giggling female attendants, and then Omar issued instructions to another three girls, who led you to a gleaming room of ivory and marble, where, under Omar's watchful eye,- they quickly peeled off your clothing and handed it to Omar. "You will lose this wager, my lord," he said conspiratorially. "You think so?" You asked, feeling sort of awkward standing around naked in front of this resplendently macho Arab, "I noticed that males who can read and write--" "True," Omar interrupted, "but you have not our Language. You and your Wife shall thus be valued on your beauty alone, and I fear that white women always draw a higher price than white men. Your wife shall fetch the higher price, and I fear that element of unfeminine pridefulness in her shall only grow. Unless....." "Unless what?" "The purveyors of human flesh in this emporium are skilled in creating illusions of beauty. Perhaps -- if my lord is willing -- perhaps they could work their magic upon your body in ways to increase your appeal to the eyes of the crowd. Of course, such a transformation may not be to your taste, and if my lord had rather lose the wager..." "Hmmm." The thought of putting one over on Joan, who had been such a know-it-all lately, appealed to you. "You're sure I'll be completely safe? What will they do?" "Only such as will increase your appeal to the senses, my lord," Omar assured. "And you have my solemn oath to keep you under my protection." "All right." You swallowed nervously, then plunged ahead. "Tell them to get started." And did they ever! As Omar departed with your clothes, the three sexy female attendants, jabbering to each other in their native tongue, coated you with a pungent cream, when wiped it off. You looked down and discovered to your surprise they had removed absolutely all of your body hair! "What is this?" You squeaked. The girls ignored your question -- if they understood it at all -- and began coating your body with a soft, soothing oil. Now this was more like bit! You relaxed as they coaxed you onto soft cushions and began working on your hair and face. As if in a haze, you felt their hands all over you, gentle pin-pricks under chest, and in your hips, followed by a sensation, something hot rubbed over your lips, gentle piercings in your ear lobes, something snug placed over your crotch, secured with a gel that was yielding at first, then warm and strong... and tight! As the girls pulled you to your feet, you roused yourself from the dreamy torpor you'd fallen Into and looked in the mirror to see what they'd done. OMIGAWD! The sight that met your eyes was a big-breasted, round-bottomed, fat- lipped brown girl! You stared in wonder at the sight and she stared, wide-eyed and open- mouthed, back at you: Soft brown glistening skin; black kinky hair, corn-rowed and plaited with beads; wide, inviting lips, curled in a cute pout of dismay; giant brass hoop earrings; big, bouncy chocolate breasts with pert dark nipples; shapely smooth legs; a generous bottom, waving softly behind you with each swishing move; and at your crotch, a smooth soft rubber replica of a woman's lewdly-shaved vulva, glued tightly over your real male privates and colored to match the rest of you! You squawked a protest, demanded to see Omar This can't be what he meant! But the girls seemed not to understand. Come to that, you had trouble understanding you own voice as it came from between those pillow lips! You started to struggle, only to have two of the tiny but deceptively strong young girls twist your arms behind you and bend you sharply forward. The third girl, standing in front, slipped a shapely thigh over your bowed head and trapped your neck between her legs! The other two handed your painfully-twisted arms to her strong grip and she held you motionless as they began..... OOOO! You were being spanked! WHACK! SMACK! SLAP! SWACKKKK! "OOOGH! USER! OWWWW! EEEEKK!" You screamed and twisted but to no avail. Not until you sagged in near- collapse did they relent, letting you slump to the floor at their feet in tacit, sobbing submission. Afraid to resist, you stood meekly at attention as they called in a hulking, barrel-chested brute to apply your chains. Two heavy brass bracelets went on your arms, just above the elbows, with clip-on chains to link them close behind your back. Similar shackles hobbled your ankles. Smiling wickedly, the girls wrapped short lengths of chain around your insteps, and each tiny chain ended in a sharp metal barb that trailed under your foot as you minced, forcing you up on tip-toe to escape excruciating pain. For a finishing touch, the brass-smith soldered a series of rings around your neck, forcing you to stretch your neck up, up, and arch your head back till you could only stare straight up. You had to bend w-a-a-y forward just to see in front of you, and of course this silly posture, combined with the elbow-bondage and foot-chains, made you thrust your breasts shamefully out in front and wave your over-sized butt wildly behind you as you walked... ...out onto the auction block! Prompted by a whip cracked at your heels, you minced meekly out before the crowd. Laughter, cat-calls and unintelligible utterings roared in your ears as you paraded meekly before them. Someone began beating a tambourine and -- again with prompting from a touch of the whip on your bare, brown butt --you began stepping in time to the impromptu music. The crowd roared as your eyes searched desperately for Omar. There he was. In the midst of the crowd. Laughing hardest of anyone. And holding Joan close beside him! Joan herself -- still dressed in her street clothes had she ever gone on sale? -- was positively wracked with laughter, tears running down her, face as she beheld your capering nude antics. Omar took advantage of her hilarity, running his strong hands familiarly across her breasts, ass... CRACK! Another butt-kiss from the auctioneer's lash brought your mind back to your dancing. As you stepped with dainty precision in time to the beat, you tried desperately to signal for help. Did Joan and Omar even recognize you? They seemed not to. So you danced deliberately before them, winking, mouthing words, trying ever-so-hard to get them to see your face. Oh goodness, you think, What if Omar doesn't buy me? But to your vast relief, Omar at length left off laughing and began bidding. Slowly, the other bidders dropped out and -- at long, long last -- you were lifted from the block and delivered kneeling in front of Omar and your hugely grinning wife. "Ohhh," You sighed with relief, "Phffankk phffeww!" Did they understand the "Thank You"? How long till your lips returned to normal so you could talk again? And what about the rest of you? Oh, how-nice it would be to be male, white and dressed once again! Then you hear Joan say, "Isn't it a hoot when she tries to talk, Omar? I can't wait till we get her back to the Harem. She'll make a delightful Body Slave!" ### When they were both naked and sporting about in the small pool that Omar called his Bath, you hung their clothes up carefully, then trotted quickly back -- on Tip-toe as your Master commanded. You just hated the way this gait made your hips bounce and your hips swish, but the penalty for disobedience would be to have those awful chains and bracelets soldered back on! Shameful as your nakedness was, it was better than chains. Back at the Bath, you lowered- yourself into the warm, scented waters, got down on your knees, and swam/waded to your ,grinning wife and her swarthy, muscular lover; -- "Take your time, Slave," Joan handed you the soft, creamy soap, "I want to really enjoy this." You began laying the rich, bubbly foam up and down her soft, shapely legs. The contrast of her peach-pink calves with your brown limbs was striking. As you worked, Omar stepped behind and began bumping Joan's round bottom with his rigid tool. Your hands reached her moist pussy at the same time his did, and he darted a long finger inside her (she sighed with pleasure) then pulled it out and ordered you to suck it. As you put your wide lips around his digit, the mingled taste of her womanhood and the perfumed soap set your poor head spinning. You felt your frustrated male organs stiffen uselessly inside the false pussy that sealed them away, inaccessible to you, and you moaned. Joan giggled. "Shameless hussy," She squirmed around so that her back was to you, her breasts pressed to Omar's hairy chest, "Now do this part with those big lips of yours." Miserably, you spread soap over her pink bottom, then rubbed it in with your brown face. "Deeper," Joan bent forward, thrusting the shapely globes at you, "Get that saucy nose of yours into it! Mmmm, that's nice. Oooo, Omar, this is getting me s-o-o-o horny!" "Perhaps I take you now, eh?" "Soon," Joan sighed happily, "First I want to see Umma here wash you." - Umma! That was her name for you, inspired by your thick-lipped attempts at speech. She stepped away, leaving you kneeling face-to-crotch with the buff Omar. Blushing furiously beneath your brown skin-color, you began soaping his legs, working your way up to his enormous manhood. "Mmmmm," Joan giggled again, "I'm practically liquefying. I went a man so much!" She looked down at you and smiled even wider. "Too bad you were so intent on looking even more feminine than your own wife, Darling. Too bad for you, that is; now you're stuck with big breasts, brown skin, and your precious little Jewels sealed away where you can't get at them. So I guess if I want a man -- and I do - - I'll have to make love with this handsome hunk of Arabian Stud here. Isn't he huge, though? He must be several inches longer than you were -- hee-hee! -- even before you got yourself looking all feminine!" At last the shameful bath was over. You crawled docilely from the tub and presented towels to them. Watched hungrily as Omar and your wife rubbed each other down. They worked the towels vigorously into each other's privates, then tossed them to you with orders to dry yourself with their damp towels... starting with your face. Next Joan and Omar lounged on overstuffed cushions, Omar enjoying the feel of your wife's tingling body cradled between his strong legs, Joan exulting in the sensation of Omar's hands, and the sight of your breasts and bottom jiggling as you toweled yourself off. When you were dry, Joan put a big powder puff in your mouth and had you dust them all over. Your eyes and nose burned from the clouds of scented dust as you bobbed the puff gently against her, running it up her long legs, over her full, firm breasts, and into the soft juncture of her thighs and bottom. At last, when she was dried, powdered and gently perfumed, Joan allowed you to drop the powder puff and wipe your face again with the damp towels. "And so to bed," Omar rumbled, "in a manner befitting my Sultana." Omar ordered you down on all fours and put a ring, fixed with a spring- clip, in your nose. A long gold chain ran from this to a strap which he wrapped about his strong wrist. Now Joan sat regally on your back. "Feel my soft, lovely bottom, Dear?" She teased down at you, "It looks so exciting, sitting on that caramel-colored back of yours! Can you feel the moisture between my legs? Remember how you used to enjoy poking me there with your tiny dick, back when you looked more manly? Before you made that silly bet and got yourself all feminized and enslaved? Sorry to laugh so, Sweet, but every time I think of you, letting them put breasts and everything on you, and getting your male parts locked away, just to feed your male ego... and the sight you made, parading around all brown, big-breasted and butt-nude in front of everyone... hee-hee-hee!" We were at the giant bed, spread with elaborate cushions and silk sheets. Omar reclined on these as Joan crawled off my back and up to his crotch. I saw her head bob slowly back and forth over his rampant tool, heard the soft, slurping sounds. Then she gestured, and I obediently crawled up to her shapely rear and began kissing, straining my neck and tongue to reach the warm, soft, sopping, throbbing pussy, keeping her physical desire at a peak so she could better enjoy her Man. When they could wait no longer, Omar seized Joan and rolled over, pulling her beneath him, pinning her to the bed with his lance. She spread her legs to meet his charge as I quickly squirmed off the bed, my big breasts jiggling wildly as my bottom plopped! on the floor. And even then, Joan arched a foot commandingly downward and I began sucking her toes. What a fix! I, a wealthy, propertied male, deprived of my clothes, my manhood, my, wife, and my very identity, now reduced to a nude, black feminized toe-sucker, assigned to helping my own wife enjoy the attentions of her super-macho lover! And was she ever! As I sucked at her toes, Joan bucked, moaned, pounded the sheets and screamed with pleasure. Omar thrust powerfully in and out of her, riding for what seemed like forever (Much longer, I admitted, than I could ever last.) till at last they both stiffened and shrieked pleasure in simultaneous climax. Finally, Omar rolled off, and I thought the two of them would bask in the afterglow and drift off to sleep. But I hadn't figured on Omar's prowess... or Joan's wicked imagination. "Whoo!" she sighed. "Omar, you must have pumped Gallons!" she smiled down at me. "And you know how I hate to sleep in the Wet Spot, Darling." She slid upward, propping herself in a reclining position on the covers, her thighs spread above the mark on the sheets. "Be a sweetie and lick me out, Dear," she ordered. "Do a good job now, and maybe I won't have Omar make your transformation permanent." With that as a threat, I practically lunged onto the bed, my nipples mashed against the sticky sheet as I nuzzled my oversized maroon lips up to her pink nether ones and lapped eagerly at her wet love nest. It was awful! I raged inwardly at the humiliation of being forced to lap another man's seed from my own wife's pussy, while they both watched, laughing at my antics. But the terrifying alternative kept me going. And so I continued, lapping and swallowing the horrid stuff. Gradually, Joan's posture changed. She slid down, relaxed. "Ohhhh, Darling," she cooed, "you make me feel positively Lez! You naughty girl -ahhh! first you help another man pleasure himself with your own wife -uhhhhh!- then you turn her into a lesbian! What a kinky thing you arenmmmmmhhhh!" She grabbed my coarse hair, pulling me close between her thighs, and moaned with satisfaction. I'm still not sure whether she got more excitement from the feel of my oversized lips and feverish tongue, or whether it was just the thought of what she had reduced me -- her own husband -- to that stimulated her more. But whatever it was, Joan came to another delightful orgasm before pushing me from her. I pulled myself up, face wet with her juices and Omar's, breasts shiny from lying prone in her Wet Spot, thinking that now at last my shameful ordeal had to ease off a bit. But again, I hadn't reckoned on my wife's mischievous sense of humor.., nor on the delight she got from seeing me, all black, big-boobed and bare-butt nude, forced into tantalizing humiliations. "Omar," she sighed pleasurably, "you simply must feel those talented lips!" Lying on the cushion, he grinned at me, eyeing my obvious pulchritude , and undoubtedly remembering how he had helped trick me into actually asking to be put into this awful, sexy shape! "Very well, my Sultana." He smiled lazily. "Have your new houri apply her womanly arts to my manhood." My big lips fell open in dismay as I looked over at Joan in shock. Surely she wouldn't make me, her own husband... But a single imperious look told me that's just what she would do! Disconsolately, I crawled across the sheets to Omar, crouching on my knees before him, raising my butt high as I orally worshipped at his rising spire. But Joan still wasn't done with me. Squirming across the bed, she slid up behind me, rubbing her breasts over my back, darting a hand down to tweak my nipples... and then, to my utter horror, I felt something pushed between my bottom-cheeks! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz It was a slender vibrator. Joan was gentle, teasing, prodding my anus softly with the tickling, tingling stimulator, entering slowly.., withdrawing when she met resistance.., then softly, almost lovingly entering again, seducing my butt to her unwanted attentions. She knew just what she was doing. If she'd strapped on a giant phallus and slammed it into me, she'd have subjected me to painful rape. But that would have been all. This way, she was deliberately exciting me, making me want the shame, even as I tried to resist it. And it worked. I hate, I blush, to admit it, but slowly, unwillingly, I felt myself getting aroused by her ministrations. Felt my poor, trapped cock try to swell and stiffen within the confines of the false pussy- cover that held it a prisoner of my new sex. I moaned as the painful pressure on my cock and balls mingled?with the painful pleasure of humiliating sexual arousal. "Goodness," Joan teased, "What a little Tart you are, Darling; actually sighing with pleasure as you service a man in front of your own wife! This male-sex thing must really excite you: Did you know all along you had these feelings for other men, Sweet? Is that why you let big, hairy Omar turn you into a busty little black sex-toy? With a pussy over those tiny jewels of yours, and big lips and a round, brown bottom to pleasure guys with?" No! I wanted to cry out, That's NOT it! I'm not Gay, I'm NOT! I don't WANT to look like this and do these things! But I kept feverishly tonguing Omsr's rampant malehood, too terrified of the consequences to quit. And Joan kept probing, tweaking, tickling and teasing, keeping at a peak of unwilling, frustrating arousal. "Enough," Omar said suddenly, "she is a diverting little thing who will bring much pleasure to my friends. But for now, my Sultana--" He pushed me away and drew Joan to him, "I want you once again." "And I want you, my Sheik-," Joan pushed Omar gently onto his back and mounted his saddle like an avid horsewoman. And at her command, I slid down and began once again licking her toes. Later -- much later -- that night, I stood at attention by their bedside, holding an over-sized feather-fan which I wafted from time to time to cool the nude, sleeping forms intimately intertwined atop the silken sheets. I had been ordered to stand directly in front of a large window, and the soft light in the bedroom, displayed my naked, big- busted, brown-skinned, totally feminine and naked body to the giggling Harem in the courtyard below. The light also displayed, but to my eyes only, the voluptuous form of my satisfied wife, curled sensuously about the tan, muscular, hairy frame of Sheik Omar. The sight of them this way stirred me terribly, and I shifted often, trying to ease the pain of my swollen, throbbing crotch. I could do nothing for the ache in my tingling nipples but moan softly from time to time. At one point, Joan stirred, turned to me, opened an impish eye and smiled. "Jfoan" I whispered softly, trying to enunciate through my thick lips, fearful of waking Omar, "How lfong are fyou goingf to kfeep me flike thfiss? Fwhen fwill I fget back fmy clohtfes and-and fmy fmale bodyf?" "I dunno," Joan sighed sleepily, smiling at my attempts at speech, ?Depends, I guess, on whether I ever get tired of Stallion thighs here, and just where you are at the time. If I do get tired of him -- and if you've pleased him enough not to sell you before then -- I guess I might leave and maybe take you with me. We'll see. But I don't know if I'll ever get enough of this," She stroked a finger gently down the length of his massive tool. He moved, but did not wake. "Enoughff offf--" I wanted to protest, to make her see reason somehow. Surely she didn't mean to keep me in this state, day in and day out, subjecting me to sexual slavery for her pleasure... and Omar's... and his friends.... did she? Joan just smiled, stuck out a mischievous tongue and rolled over, back to sleep, displaying her delectable ass to my frustrated gaze. ### Turn, turn, step, turn, step back, step out and turn, turn... The silks swished sensuously about my limbs as I moved in time to the rhythmic bells and whining strings, trying to keep the intricate motions straight in my mind. Step up, and out, and turn, and step, and turn... Around the room, the ladies of the Harem studied me with critical amusement, counting my steps, keeping, time. Turn and kick and step back and step out and turn... The gaudy silks slipped to my gold belt swung and shimmered in the light as I kept up the dance in my delicate silk slippers. On my breasts, bells hung from clips on my nipples, sparkling and jingling as I moved. Step and turn and turn and turn and step and... "Anh-ahn! Pthn-ahn-ahn!" Suddenly the woman I knew as Fatima was upon me, seizing my arms, snapping at my calves with a short riding crop and barking out corrections in words I still could not understand. I tried terribly to concentrate on what she was saying, but the others began chiming in. The words were meaningless to me, but the tone of contemptuous dismissal was unmistakable. Hands began tearing off my skirt and slippers, pulling the bells from my nipples, forcing me to my knees. It seems the women of the Harem had given up on training me as a Dancing Girl.., for now, anyway.., and were going to try something new. I went along with it, complying meekly as they fitted my elbows with bracelets that linked together behind me, arching my back and thrusting my breasts shamefully. Bands went on my ankles, with short chains that ran to my elbows, forcing me to stay down on my knees. Fatima barked something and, unsure what to do, I began duck-walking on my knees and toes about the room. It was apparently the right move, but not enough of it. In a few moments, she had tied a thong around my hair in the back, running down to my elbow-bondage, forcing me to crane my neck back and stare straight upwards. In this state I was ordered to duck-walk about the room, still on my knees and toes, my big, brown breasts flopping and bouncing with each step, while my bare butt wiggled behind. Someone decided to accentuate this with the addition of a "tail": a short butt-plug with voluminous Ostrich Plumes fixed to the base. Once this was inserted, the plumes swayed lewdly at my back, caressing my butt and shoulders with their feathery touch. But the Harem Girls were just getting started. Someone poured something warm, sticky and bright-green over my head, letting it ooze down over my face, shoulders and the tops of my breasts. Then someone else tore open a pillow and showered me with glittering yellow feathers. Amused by the preposterousness of my appearance, the others made little "additions": My hands tied into my arm-pits so I could only flap my feathered elbows like useless wings; an oversized pair of huge, gaudy- gold sunglasses on my face, with mirrored lenses that gave me a wide- eyed look; and a shiny gold bracelet stuck in my mouth, forcing me to hold my jaws wide.. Now the girls delighted in devising little tasks for their "bird-toy" ?me! They put bits of cracker between their toes and made me pluck them gently out with my tongue (my lips were held uselessly apart by the gold bracelet) then lick the proffered foot in gratitude. They filled shallow trays with liquid and squatted over them, forcing me to crawl between their thighs or under their butts to lap up a drink. And every time I was the least bit slow in carrying out a command, Fatima was behind me with the riding crop, spelling out correction on my poor, tender bum. Finally, they forced me into a heavy brass cage, about three feet high and two-and-a-half feet around. I could barely fit inside this, and had no room to move around or stretch my legs, even if they'd felt like undoing my bondage... which clearly never occurred to them. Instead, they hooked a chain to the top and hung me so that I was at eye-level to anyone who came in the room. And of course, that's when Joan and Omar entered. "Poor thing," She cooed, "Poor horny little bird-girl. Are you reconsidering your decision to stay with the Harem?" I knew what she meant. Three weeks ago, Joan and Omar had given me the choice of either being trained in the arts of pleasing men, and offered as a plaything to Omar's business associates, or of staying with the Harem, where, among Omar's wives, I would be cut off from contact with all other men. The rub was that I was assigned to the Harem as their Plaything, and the Arabian Women, reveling at the chance to vent their pent-up spite and resentment on an American Male, spent their time thinking up new cruelties and fresh humiliations to visit upon me. Only Omar's strict order that they refrain from doing me permanent injury had saved me from severe harm?. so far. What it had not saved me from was frequent pain and constant sexual teasing. In the three weeks I had been here Omar's wives had used me as their intimate sex toy on a daily basis, employing my oversized lips and tongue for their exclusive pleasure, and delighted in my growing sexual frustration. Sex was the only thing I could think of any more, and worse yet, I was finding that the line between the pain they administered and the pleasure they promised was growing increasingly indistinct in my poor, confused mind. "Why Umma, sweet," Joan's eyes twinkled merrily at the sight of me in this awful state. She was decked Out in riding attire, and the Contrast between us -- her so manly, in boots and breeches, me ultra-feminine in no clothes at all -- was incredibly demoralizing. "How lovely you look! What a charming costume. I must compliment Fatima on her exquisite taste." Joan was standing directly in front of me now, her lips inches from my face, her breasts thrusting in the tight silk shirt she wore. She still carried her riding crop, and as she stared into my eyes, she reached through the bars with the looped end and used it to play with my nipples till I moaned with need. Her only response was to part her lips in a sexy, breathy, "Ooo," and dart the tip of the tawse between my thighs, stroking it deliberately over the cover that kept my poor male privates trapped and disguised as a woman's pussy. So now, as Joan stood before me in her riding boots, I wondered to myself whether it was her jutting breasts or her teasingly cruel riding crop that thrilled me more. Whatever the case, I pressed myself as close to the bars as I could, pleading with my eyes, trying to speak around the bracelet in my mouth. "Gleese," I managed, wondering if she'd understand please get me out of this. "Ngeh ngee owwh uh isss!" "What an interesting bird-call," She smiled, her lips oh-so-close to mine, "I wonder what it means? Oh well, I suppose you'll have plenty of time to decide; Omar's taking me on a tour of the countryside for a few weeks or so, and I'm sure Fatima and the girls will find plenty more amusements for you till we get back. Then you can decide again whether you want to stay here." Stay here? Like this? Who knew what other terrible, teasing transformations these she-devils would work on me! I tried to protest, to beg, anything! But the only sounds that came out were more unintelligible squawks. Three Weeks Later The ladies of the harem sat regally on a long cushioned bench. They wore only silk halters and scanty panties, and their lush bottoms curved sensuously over the back of the bench. Crawling docilely behind the bench, I had an excellent view of their posteriors, and the nearness of all this female flesh, combined with my long enforced abstinence, excited me terribly. The ache in my imprisoned privates was almost constant by now, as was the tingling in my stiff nipples. In obedience to Fatima's instructions, I crawled on hands and knees behind the bench, stopping to kiss each proffered bottom submissively. The women giggled as I did so, and jabbered away in language I still could not understand. But the tone of contemptuous amusement I had first detected weeks ago was still there, strong as ever and not the least bit bored with their humiliated plaything --me! By the time I reached Fatima, seated at the end of the bench, she was in rapt conversation with Yasmine, youngest of Omar's wives. Yasmine had brought over a delicate branch with a caterpillar on it and was showing it excitedly to Fatima, who looked interested. The two women watched carefully as the caterpillar crawled slowly from leaf to leaf, chewing and shuffling on, then finally stopped, hung from the twig and began coating itself with layers of silk. The two women became more animated at this point, and others joined in. I noticed they kept pointing from the caterpillar down to me, and back again, and I wondered what - - That afternoon, a Eurasian woman entered the harem. She was dressed in a smart business suit and was accompanied by three lab-smocked female assistants, who carried some kind of elaborate equipment with them. As I knelt, nude, feminine, dark-skinned and completely servile before Fatima, she began speaking to the women, gesturing down at me occasionally. The women looked interested. There were questions, comments, and finally the Eurasian nodded and barked orders to her assistants. What were they doing? As I crouched there, afraid to resist, the women began circling my body with wide, strong bands of some kind of pink rubber. They crossed my arms behind me, with my wrists at my shoulder blades, and pinned them there with this stuff; clamped my long black legs tightly together, and covered my hands with rubber pouches that made them useless. I wondered what kind of substance this was; I could feel my bare flesh breathing through it, but it seemed to tighten with the heat of my body, drawing tighter, closer around me, trapping me ever more securely in its rubber grip. Looking down at myself, I could see the wide pink bands were artistically arranged, starting at my shoulders, just above my breasts, then another one, just below them, thrusting the round, brown, bouncy globes out into even greater prominence, even as they pinioned my arms tightly into my back. Another band nipped my waist and tummy into breath-taking sliminess, causing my big, black bottom to swell out below it. Another band, at the tops of my thighs, seemed to push my twin globes out and curve them even more. My legs had been bent tightly at the knee and bound together with the feet pressed almost flat against the backs of my thighs, so that I seemed to end at the knees -- or at the Knee, rather, since my legs had been bound tightly into a single, shortened stump. I saw myself in the mirror this way, a limb-less, big-breasted, jiggled-butted black-and-pink-striped thing, staring wide-eyed and incredulous at the reflected image. Had I, a wealthy, straight, macho male, really been reduced to this? And then the Eurasian woman smiled and brought out the mask and began sealing it over my head. I just had time to glimpsed it but I could see?. It looked like a giant pussy! ### Bend... Straighten. . .Bend... Straighten... With each move across the soft, carpeted floor I felt my pouting breasts slide forward. Felt my shamefully nude bottom rise as I bent at the waist for another laborious few inches toward my goal. Whenever I straightened far enough, the lips of my super-tight rubber mask parted just enough for me to see a little bit ahead?. Toward the parted thighs of the waiting, smiling Fatima. Bend.. .Straighten. . .Bend.. .Straighten? How long had I been bound this way? Time seemed to have lost meaning. Ever since the Eurasian woman had sealed the mask over my head, transforming my features and limiting my vision so terribly, it seemed me life was nothing but a slow, steady, crawling shuffle from place to place, gradually building the dexterity to perform the mandated tricks that earned me a little food and the all-important help I depended upon to go to the bathroom. Occasionally, between girls, I got a glimpse of myself in the mirrors: A sensuous striped S-shaped thing, armless, legless, with a big pussy at one end and a big bottom at the other, passionately crouching toward the parted legs of the tittering wives, lapping like-like an insect. A caterpillar! Fatima had knowingly seated herself in a corner between two mirrored walls, so that I could see myself, reflected and re-reflected in a thousand different images as I labored across the floor. Could see the pink stripes of rubber that circled my shortened, limbless, busty, big- bottomed brown body. Could see the way my shamefully bare breasts and butt flaunted, swished and jiggled with every move. And could see the cover over my face that was shaped to completely hide my features, replacing my eyes, nose and mouth with the humiliating rubber replica of an over-sized female pussy! I was nothing but smooth skin and inviting orifices now. The hood that transformed my face also covered my head with its smooth, tight, heat- shrunk texture, rendering my whole body, from head to knee, smooth and shiny-soft, permitting me to see only when the big-soft lips of my pussy-mask parted a little. At long last I reached the smooth juncture of Fatima's thighs. Heard the tinkling giggles of the harem girls around us as she lifted me to my knee. (Odd how I no longer thought of myself as having two legs anymore; it seemed I had been bound with my legs bent together so long that I thought of them as one single stump that ended at the knee, just as my arms had been sealed up at my shoulders so long, I had grown used to doing without them. I only wished I could forget my throbbing, frustrated male organs, sealed into the smooth, false pussy at my crotch as easily, and escape the constant torment of sexual teasing and prolonged denial.) Fatima helped me sit up into a sort of short "S" shape, my pussy-face bending down to her real, moist womanhood, my lips and mouth coming just far enough out from between the parted, over- sized rubber pussy-lips to pleasure their target. How long I worked there, I don't know. But at last Fatima shuddered, sighed, moaned, then screamed her passionate climax,. Then passed me on to the next girl And I realized just how cruelly imaginative these repressed Arab women could be! Finally, the women declared themselves sated and pronounced that it was my Feeding Time. Somehow, I dreaded this as much as I needed it, for they had arranged for me to take in nourishment in the most humiliating way possible. Slowly, painfully, I crawled across the floor to the designated Spot where a shiny brass frame awaited me. I could just manage to crawl up into this thing, which supported me up on my knees, holding me from the waist down?. while the laughing women moved the dildo into place! That's right: I had to sit on an oversized vibrating, life-like rubber penis in order to eat. And that was only part of my ordeal; my food was mashed, chopped and pureed, then poured into a vat held by the brass frame in front of me. I could only reach it by bending forward (my big breasts flopping wildly) and sucking it from a tube at the bottom of the vat?. a tube that was also designed to resemble a big, big male organ! The image of me this way, smooth and hairless, featureless, armless, legless, big-breasted and bare-bottomed, see-sawing back and forth with a rubber penis entering me at each end, humping passionately just to get nourishment, was the most disorienting thing imaginable. I didn't feel male anymore, I didn't even feel human; I just felt like a big, striped, feminine thing impaled between two symbols of my former masculinity, humping away like an eager, anonymous Cunt -- which is all I was now. And that's when Joan and Omar entered. "OH! Omar! She-she's so-so uh-ho! Ubhee! Uh-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Joan's familiar, sexy, mischievous laugh penetrated my rubber mask and set my ears burning with fresh shame. But I dared not stop my shameful antics. I knew too well the penalty for doing anything without Fatima's express permission. "Indeed, my Sultana," Omar's deep voice came closer. I felt his strong hands stroke my naked flanks, caress my shapely bottom, cup my big, big breasts and tweak the stiff nipples till I was quivering all over again with unwanted sexual desire. "...found it amusing," he was saying. "That this former male wished so strongly not to provide pleasure to my male friends. Had he but known the cruel ingenuity of my wives, he should have made a wiser choice. But as it is, you may see what they have begun." "Begun?" Joan's voice was intrigued, excited. "You mean there's more to come?" "Aye, my Princess. For as the lowly silkworm is but a part in Allah's grand scheme, so is this sexual oddity but beginning the stages of her transformation. There is much to come.., much...." ### Joan walked through the perfumed garden, reveling in the feel of the grass between her toes, the caress of warm sun and cool shade on her bare skin, the wet, sexy feel of having just enjoyed a man to the fullest. Around her, blossoms burst in whispering, aromatic explosions of color and the leaves rustled conspiratorially in the gentle breeze. She rounded a corner by a sparkling waterfall and came to a warm, rippling pool with moss-covered rocks and swaying fronds. She walked around the soft edge of the water to her favorite spot: The cocoon. The long, soft-silk thing hung securely upside down from a rope slung over a branch. Just now it was in sunlight and the silk wrappings, which had been damp from the morning dew, were drying rapidly, shrinking tighter and tighter around the naked, ultra-feminine thing inside. It stirred as Joan approached, the wide, long-lashed eyes just visible through the sheer silk that encased her pretty face. Joan could feel the eyes on her, devouring her nudity hungrily, and she smiled as she adjusted the rope, gently lowering the cocoon until the silken face was just at a level with her crotch. "Good morning, Umma," She said cheerily, "And how are we today, hmmm?" The thing in the cocoon stirred again, as if trying to stretch its long, shapely legs or move its delicate arms more than the few inches the strong, slippery silk shroud would allow. The action thrust its full breasts against the sheer fabric, outlining the hard nipples clearly, and gyrated the incredibly round, bouncy bottom enticingly, but achieved little other effect. "Oooo that's right, I forgot the stuff they feed you keeps you from talking. But it's having the most marvelous effect on you, Darling: you've lost all that masculine body and facial hair permanently now, along with your old shape and muscle tone. And you know, most men who get figures like yours lose their sex drive eventually, but from what I hear, yours just keeps getting worse and worse. Is that right, Darling? Are you still so horny you can't think of anything else but Sex?" The silk-wrapped thing made a movement that might have been a sob. "Well I have a little supplement for your diet today, Sweet. Omar just shared me with some of his friends, and you wouldn't believe how enormous they are! And wait till you see how full they pumped me..." Joan positioned the creature's head gently between two moss-covered rocks, so that she could recline against it, her shapely butt covering its face, her bare back cradled by the shapely breasts as she swirled her long, soft hair playfully back across the silk-covered legs, enjoying the gentle shudders of desire that came from her human cushion as she moved her own legs so that the captured manly fluids flowed gently down on the lips beneath her ass. "Swallow it all, now," she said sweetly, "I want you all full by the time Fatima and the girls come to feed you and give you your enema. I do so enjoy watching that! Anyway, Fatima says it'll be just a few weeks till time for you to emerge from your chrysalis and I can see how you've changed. Won't that be delicious? Oh yes, Darling, I almost forgot to tell you: I made arrangements with Omar so we can stay here always. I've just got so hung up on Omar and his hunky friends I never want to leave, so he worked it out with his lawyers so he can manage our money and stocks and everything while we two just stay here always! Of course, you won't enjoy playing with Fatima and the girls as much as I do, and I know you won't like servicing the men as much.., but perhaps your poor, trapped little jewels will get a tingle just from watching me do all those things. After all, I'm going to stay naked all the time now, so you'll have plenty to see. And I know I'm going to get a kick out of watching you! I can't wait till you've emerged..... ### Joan and Fatima reclined in the shade on a bed of soft pine needles, their naked bodies entertwined lovingly, embracing each other like two passionate sisters... which they were now, in a sense. At length they broke off their long, loving kiss and turned to gaze at Umma, sporting gaily about on the lawn. It was quite a sight. Umma's flesh was white again, or rather, a delicate soft-ivory color tinged with peach-pink at the breasts and cheeks (upper and lower) with deep-shadowed, long-lashed eyes, carefully-styled curly blonde hair, and cherry-red lips and nails. Umina's lovely, delicate coloring had been carefully applied during the weeks of confinement in the silk cocoon, and was quite permanent. Her firm, bouncy breasts, shapely legs, pretty features and incredibly round bottom were also the result of shots and other sophisticated beauty treatments. The latex device at her crotch, shaped and colored to resemble a woman's shaved nether-lips was now permanently bonded in place, confining the male organs beneath in perpetual, frustrating captivity. But oddly enough, Umma's incredibly feminine sexiness is not what drew one's attention, even displayed in total nudity as it was -- the first thing one noticed about Umma was her wings! The wings were of strong, light, brilliantly-colored silk, and they ran from her wrists, down each side, to her ankles. Strong bands of flesh- colored plastic held Umma's arms permanently upraised and bent slightly back, elbows straight. Similar near-invisible bands kept her knees straight and her feet arched so she could only walk on tiptoe, a posture that thrust her breasts forward and her bottom out enticingly. The silk wings were attached to her wrists, hips and ankles with the flesh-rubber bondage, so she was forced to display them always. .. along with every inch of the rest of her. Now, as she tiptoed about the garden, the brilliant wings fluttered gaily in the breeze, a riot of dazzling color that drew even more attention to her ridiculously sexy antics. As Joan and Fatima watched, grinning lewdly, Umma bent forward at the waist to drink from one of the fountains and nibble a few bites from a hanging feeder. Her lips and tongue, grown skillful from constant practice, drew the sustaining fruit and liquid into her mouth with a sensuous motion that thrilled the watching ladies. As they watched, Ahmad -- one of Omar's visiting business associates -- strolled into the Perfumed Garden, flanked by two giggling houris. As soon as she saw them, Umma danced up to the woman and curtseyed, as if asking permission . The houris laughed and nodded, and Umma quickly bent forward and began kissing them about the loins and bottoms.... like a butterfly grazing over the petals of a flower. The houris laughed- and squirmed at her pleasuring touch and invited Ahmad to spank the peach-pink bottom that Umma waved so lewdly about as she bent to her task. WHACK! The silken flail was specially designed to impart maximum pain without marking Umma's naked flesh. The winged butterfly-woman screamed -- a soft, delicate cooing sound -- and tried to scamper away, but the knowing houri gripped her ears and pulled the former male tightly into her musky crotch, sexually excited at the humiliation she was witnessing. And it was quite a sight! As Ahmad flailed away at the pretty posterior, Umma danced wildly, hopping and skipping on her delicate toes, waving her arms (which flapped her gorgeous wings!) and shaking her tush excitingly. Meanwhile, the second houri darted about, tweaking Umma's erect nipples, stroking her frustrated crotch and caressing her soft legs till the coos of pain mixed with moans of aching desire. Watching from her soft, shaded seat, Joan laughed heartily and felt herself grow warm, moist at the picture of her own husband, totally nude and feminized, transformed into this lovely sexual plaything. She smiled at the thought of all the indignities the poor man -- after all, he was still male, underneath there -- would endure for her amusement.., and titillation. Even now, she felt herself becoming more and more aroused?. Fatima must be feeling it too; her arms snaked around Joan's lovely bare waist, drawing her close. Fatima's lips curled around one of Joan's nipples.... "Slowly, Darling," Joan sighed, "If we time this just right...." I. Their timing was perfect. When Ahmad and the houris tired of Umma and set her free, the first thing she saw was Joan -- her wife, legally -- smiling up at her from the bed of soft pine-needles, with Fatima crouched over her, administering passionate lady-love right in front of the poor, frustrated thing that had once been a proud, successful male. Umma stared down at the women for a moment, blushing all over again at the way Joan's delighted eyes ravished her sensuous nudity, the lovely breasts, pretty face and freshly-spanked bottom, positively melting with shame at her cruel laughter, and absolutely quivering with sexual need. But Umma was too well trained to hesitate long. And seconds later, she was bent low, slavishly kissing the ass of his wife's female lover. thEnd!