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Old 01-26-2009, 07:23 PM
hotman hotman is offline
Join Date: Nov 2006
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Default Sultan seduces attractive housewife - eXBii

The Harem

"It's the same female," the Sultan murmured. "I'd recognise her
anywhere. I wonder if the pretty woman lives in Dubai?"

"Why not ask Kumar? Since he invited her, he might have a special
connection in her."

"Do you know him?" the Sultan, heir to empire of great fortune, rich in
his own right, said, casting his attendant a glance.

"Not personally, but my cousin does. I'll have Suraj introduce us. But
she does seem to be accompanied," his attendant pointed out.

A faint cynicism raised the Sultan's dark brows. "Everything's for sale,
you know that."

A few moments hour later they were ushered them into Kumar's private
room. Kumar immediately came to meet them as they entered and
recognizing the Sultan. Ever conscious of his position, Kumar
cultivated friendships in the aristocracy.

The Sultan hardly took notice of their host for his gaze was fixed on
Kumar's home decoration. "Very nice, Mr Kumar," he said with a faint
nod in his direction, before going straight to the point. "The lady's
beauty is particularly fine. She lives in Dubai?"

"Yes. Actually, if you would follow me I could introduce you if you
like," Kumar said, eager to help. Kumar ushered them to move to the
other room. "Deevika, allow me to introduce you to the Sultan" Kumar
said when they came in sight of her.

"Hello Deevika. What do you do in life?" the Sultan softly said. "Hello.
I'm a journalist," she said. "May I ask for what newspaper you work?"
the Sultan inquired, speaking to her with a quiet intensity, as though
they were alone in the room.

"Would you men like to stay for drinks? Deevika, her husband Raj and
myself were just about to sit down for a champagne." Kumar said with a
small depreciating smile. A bottle of champagne was already on the
table and if Deevika might have wished to refuse, Kumar had made it
impossible. The Sultan was more than willing. Like so many men of his
class, had considerable leisure time.

"Meeting you this afternoon almost makes me believe in fate," the Sultan
softly said. "I came here to discover the identity of the exquisite
woman I saw earlier in the year and here you are."

" I don't believe in fate at all for I came here today with privacy in
mind and here you all are," Deevika said.

The Sultan smiled. "And you'd rather us all leave?"

"No... of course not," Deevika replied.

He had never been offered his leave by a woman before. "Maybe if you
allow me the time, you would come to know me better," he added in a low

"I hope you'll forgive me for being so bold, but I..." Deevika began.

"Boldness is a trait I find very attractive in a woman, Deevika," the
Sultan said, his eyes gleaming.

Delighted, and rather surprised, Deevika laughed. It was the first time
she'd ever heard that! "Well, thank you." She turned more professional
as she broached the matter of an interview.

"Anyway, Mr the Sultan, I..."

"Yes..." he asked smoothly.

"Mr the Sultan," she repeated, again surprised. She hadn't expected the
most reclusive man in the city to be so warm and engaging. Nor had she
realized, from seeing pictures of him, that he had such magnetic
appeal. She couldn't help but smile radiantly. "I know that you're
hesitant to give interviews..."

"Well, you can understand, a man in my position, I wouldn't want to be
misinterpreted. I have had one or two bad experiences with the media,"
he said wryly.

Deevika gave a throaty chuckle. "But I promise it won't be with me!" she
said persuasively.

A spark ignited in his eyes. "So why don't we make it..." He leaned
closer as he murmured near her ear, "... dinner tomorrow."

Deevika was glad that he couldn't see the triumphant gleam she knew must
be visible in her eyes. She was sure she would have no problems turning
dinner into an interview! The exclusive personal interview with the
Sultan would be a real feather in the cap of a starting journalist!

"Mind if I cut in?" Raj asked politely.

Deevika looked in fury at Raj, then quickly recovered her gracious
smile. "Mr The Sultan, this is Raj. Raj is my husband," she said, not
sounding anywhere near as sweet as she had hoped to. Inwardly she was
cursing him for interrupting.

"A pleasure," The Sultan said coolly as he shook Raj's hand, in a voice
that was impeccably polite but had no feeling in it. He turned back to
Deevika, his eyes intense. "Thank you," he murmured to her, and then he
strode off.

She followed him with her eyes, still smiling, unaware of Raj pulling
her arms. As soon as the Sultan had vanished she swatted him angrily.
"Raj, you idiot!" she fumed, still looking over his shoulder in hopes
of another glimpse of the Sultan.

"What?" he asked with a smile.

She made a disgusted sound deep in her throat and pushed him back. "You
realise you may have squandered my only chance to have an interview
with him," she said, hoping to put him back in his place.

The following morning as they sat over breakfast, Raj suggested to
Deevika that they go out for dinner after work.

"Okay, dinner," she said quickly before reality came crashing through.
"Oh, wait a second, what am I talking about, I can't, I have plans

The hopes that had lifted Raj's heart dropped, and his smile vanished.
"The Sultan?" he asked with a trace of bitterness and a hint of a
challenge in his voice.

"Yeah," she replied casually, but she knew there were undercurrents here
that she needed to escape from. Raj followed her out into kitchen,
losing control of his emotions. He remembered the way she had been with
the Sultan, and was afraid that her interest in the man was beyond that
of a journalist hoping for an interview.

"Tell me something," he asked confrontationally, "how far are you
willing to go to get this interview?" He knew it was a dangerous
implication to make, but the words were out before he could think, and
there was no taking them back.

"I told you before, this is business." She coated her voice in iciness
to hide her hurt and anger. How could she have thought that Raj was any
different from others? Just because she couldn't have dinner with him
because she had an interview to do, he turned around and implied that
she would do anything to get the story? She tried to make a dignified

"I hope you don't mind me looking around. You have a beautiful home, Mr
the Sultan, "Deevika said as she entered the Sultan's house.

"Have you seen the view from here?" the Sultan asked, and he escorted
her to the terrace. "The tallest building in Dubai," he said grandly.
"I must confess that I love the fact that everyone in this city has to
look up in order to see me!" His face was exultant for a moment as he
revelled in his station. "Let's get back to the table. I think you'll
find my company will... interest you." He stood aside and gallantly
escorted Deevika past him.

The fire burned merrily near the table set for two. The china was
impeccable, the crystal was delicate, the candles were a very intimate
touch, and the silverware was embossed with the Sultan's initials on
the handles. Deevika picked slowly through her delicious dinner. On the
one hand she was enjoying the romantic undercurrents of the evening,
but on the other hand she wasn't here for personal reasons.

"Your mother and father both died when you were fourteen, correct?" she
asked in a professional tone.

The Sultan looked steadily at the beautiful young woman for a moment.
"Why don't I just have my office send you a biography?" He gestured
with one hand for the hovering servant to refill their champagne

"Well, because I don't want the standard line," she explained earnestly.
"I mean, I want to know the real Sultan. What makes you tick, what you
strive for? What do you want?"

"Pleasure," he said simply. "The pursuit of pleasure."

Deevika hadn't expected that. "Hmm," she murmured as she jotted that
down in the notebook alongside the fine china.

"Does that surprise you?"

"I would've guessed you'd say power."

"Power is a means, not an end."

"You took over your first big company when you were twenty-one." She met
his gaze steadily.

"Is the food not to your liking?" he inquired politely, cutting her off.

"It is delicious," she assured him, glancing at her plate, which was
still half full. "It's just that when I work, I..."

"All work and no play... Is that your credo, Deevika?" He looked at her
in interest and slid his ch*** a little closer.

Deevika felt wary. "I don't think that we should --"

"Why don't we just enjoy the evening," he began smoothly as he handed
her champagne, "enjoy each other, let down your h***, loosen the tie."
He touched his fluted glass to hers gently.

"I'm not wearing a tie," she pointed out wryly, smiling in spite of her
determination to keep this a business dinner. He was a very charismatic

"But you're so tense. Why don't you just let your defences down," he
suggested in a gentle voice, stroking her hand seductively.

His touch set off alarms in her head, and she withdrew automatically. "I
think you've gotten the wrong idea about this dinner, Mr the Sultan."

His smile faded and his face grew serious. "Look, I hope you don't think
that we're here merely because you're a beautiful young woman. It
wouldn't speak very well for either of us. You want an interview,
right? A scoop?"

He lifted her notebook and flipped it closed, leaning closer to her
intensely. "I understand that. Let me tell you what I want. My talent
in life is not making money, it is not juggling companies, it's
character assessment, and I sense things about you. Possibilities,
potentials... you have the intelligence, the spirit, and the vision to
transcend the mundane." He took her hand then, and his voice softened.
"And, just so there are no misunderstandings, you are beautiful."

Flattered and flustered, Deevika lowered her head for a moment, a bit
taken aback by his sudden fervour. This man, who could have any woman
he wanted, saw all of that magic in her? But what potentials? What
possibilities? She wasn't quite sure if he wanted to hire her or date
her! She was stunned by the idea that such a rich and powerful man
could desire her, and yet she was uncomfortable with that thought. As
always, she took refuge in her work.

"Mr the Sultan, I have a story to write... tonight. I should get going."

"No dessert?" he asked

"Um, no, I never have dessert," she lied, putting her notebook away in
her purse.

"Really? You don't know what you're missing!" the Sultan said with a
gleam in his eyes.

The Sultan's driver drove the Rolls Royce to Deevika's apartment. When
they pulled up in front of her building, the Sultan and Deevika climbed
out and stood on the sidewalk, facing each other.

The Sultan didn't make any attempt to come into Deevika's apartment, nor
did she invite him in. He stopped in the hallway outside her apartment

He's going to kiss me, she thought, as he slowly leaned towards her. She
had been wondering if he would, and was staring into his eyes as his
head came nearer. She closed her eyes and felt his lips softly touch
hers. She wanted to feel something special, but it was just a kiss,
gentle and undemanding, sparking no fires within her.

"Good night," The Sultan said softly, and he turned and walked away,
supremely confident. She watched him leave; then made a strangled noise
in her throat. She had spent the evening alone with the Sultan, in a
perfect position to learn some unknown aspects of his past and get the
personal interview that no one in the newsroom thought she could get,
and she'd blown it, letting him talk about her! She should have been
grilling him, pressing him, firing questions at him point-blank and
sneaking them past him unexpectedly!

She opened the door to her apartment and slammed it shut behind her
furiously. She flung her purse and her keys down on the sofa, violently
yanked off her coat and threw it forcefully down on her purse, and
stood there with her arms stiffly braced on the back of the sofa. She
sighed. Raj came out of the kitchen. "Well?" he asked.

"Oh, I blew it! I didn't get the interview!" She felt furious with
herself. She had failed to keep the evening purely professional, and
she had missed her chance.

Raj came up behind Deevika. He rested his hands on her tense shoulders,
massaging them. Deevika felt bad having to face her boss the next day
and explain how it was that she didn't have a single thing to write
about. Yet there was something else that bothered her. She had allowed
herself to be kissed by someone other than her husband, by the Sultan,
the world's most eligible bachelor!

Deevika woke up on a silk bed in a small wooden chamber. The walls were
ornate hardwood, and she could hear muffled voices outside the door. A
heavy, exotic smell hung in the ***, as if someone were burning

She swung her feet to the floor and stood. Even the act of standing
seemed new and unusual. She opened the door and looked out of her room.
It was a hallway, with other doors like hers, and it ended a few doors
down to her right. To the left, past another series of doors, was a
large open atrium. She saw other women sitting and walking around.

As she left the hallway, she saw now that it lead to a large bathing
area. A shallow pool, filling with giggling, frolicking women, occupied
the centre of the room. Around the pool, other women laughed and played
together on dozens of overstuffed silk cushions. Perhaps thirty women,
all unbelievably beautiful, filled the room.

Ornate mosaics covered the walls and floor. Beyond the pool, she now saw
a large covered balcony, where a few other women sat. The balcony
overlooked an exotic city, where the sun was only now setting. She
could see rough stone buildings and tall, thin towers, backlit by the

One of the women in the atrium, a pretty girl, rose and approached her.
"Hello. You must be the new girl. What's your name?" "My name is--" Now
the answer rose in her mind. "Deevika. My name is Deevika." The feel of
the word on her tongue was strange, yet something insisted that it was
her name. "Have you just awoken?" "Yes. Where am I?" "In the Sultan's
harem. You don't know?" "No. How did I get here?" "You were brought
there last night." "I don't remember." "It's not unusual. Most of us
arrived as you did. Perhaps your memory will return in time." The woman
took her hand. "Come, let me show you around."

Three hallways led away from the bathing area, all filled with sleeping
rooms like the one in which she had awoken. Outside on the balcony, she
could see the city more clearly. The palace stood high on a hill in the
centre. Below the balcony, she saw a carefully manicured garden,
enclosed by high walls. The city streets beyond were narrow, the stone
and white plaster buildings bunched in dense, chaotic clusters. Further
away from the palace, the streets led down to a large harbour, and
beyond that, a glittering sapphire-blue sea, where the sun was fast
falling. She could smell smoke from hundreds of cooking fires, and
realized she was hungry.

"Where do we eat?" she asked.

"This way."

The woman led her down to the far end of the balcony, which opened into
another ornate room. Here she found more women in a sitting area, with
more sleeping rooms radiating outward from it. There was no bathing
pool here, only tables set with silver and gold trays, the trays being
covered with hundreds of different edible snacks.

'Take what you like. The servants bring more when we need it."

"How many of us live her?"

"About fifty, all together. Sometimes women leave, and then a new one
will come, as you did."

"Where do they go?"

"I don't know. What does it matter? We are the Sultan's property, after
all, are we not?"

For a brief instant, the idea shocked her, but before the shock could
take form, something else insisted that it was perfectly reasonable.
Why else would she be here if not as a harem woman?

"Yes. That's true."

"You look confused. It will pass. We all went through this when we first
came here."

"I suppose."

"Have you met the Sultan yet?"

"Yes... "

"He is very handsome. When I see him, I just melt. "

"How long have you been here?"

"I think a month. It's so hard to keep track of time here. I bet he'll
want to do it with you. He usually comes to do it with the new girls
when they show up."


She was a harem woman reserved for the Sultan. How could that be
possible? It must be some dream she was thinking of. Where is Raj?
Deevika tried to think, and again, her thoughts dissolved before she
could get a grip on them. It was as if some force were preventing her
from wondering too hard about her predicament. Predicament? This wasn't
a predicament; it was an honour. She belonged to the Sultan, and had no
concerns beyond pleasing him. Pleasure, that's what he is after.

At the far end of his dressing chamber was the elevator down to the
harem rooms. A short while later, the Sultan emerged into the palace.
He could hear the girls now, hear their laughter and conversation. He
pushed open the door, and the noise rapidly subsided as the girls
realized he had arrived. Excited whispering spread through the rooms.

He looked over the thirty or forty women before him, all of them
watching him eagerly, waiting to see what he wanted.

"Where is Deevika?" he said.

Excited titters greeted this question, and a moment later, two girls
lead Deevika to the Sultan's room.

The Sultan took Deevika's hand in his, kissing it softly as is befitting
a noble knight. He kissed her from hand to arm to her shoulder

"You are a surpassingly f*** Deevika. Even the noblest of men should
consider him very lucky to have you as his lover. Your beauty has
rendered me helpless. Your loveliness enchants me in ways that can only
be quenched from a kiss born of your lips." The Sultan said, praising

Deevika's heart skipped its steady beat as she readied herself to taste
his lips as he lowered his mouth to her. She felt his love pouring from
him and warming her body from head to foot as he kissed her

Their kiss broke and Deevika leaned her head against the Sultan's
shoulder, breathing deeply. She whispered. "Why me? Why did you choose

" Because you have passion dripping from your fingertips. And I chose
you because you wanted to be chosen."

Deevika closed her eyes.

With his fingertips the Sultan stroked her shoulders, her neck and her
arms....Deevika moaned softly and began to breath hard. She was so
unsure of what to do next. It was like she was fifteen again. The
Sultan murmured to her, "Unbutton my shirt, and undress me."

Deevika first slowly worked the buttons of his shirt open she could not
take her gaze from his. She pushed the shirt from the Sultan's
shoulders. His chest was well defined, but not too muscular, and nearly
h***less. She kissed his chest, ran her fingers over it delicately, as
if he might break. Deevika licked his nipples, felt him respond and
sucked them between her full lips while her hands played over his toned
stomach, then lower. She cupped his bulge; then pulled her hands away
as if it burned. The Sultan took her hand and placed it back against
him. "Go ahead, Deevika, touch me. I want you to explore me freely."

The Sultan was not yet fully aroused, but his cock was very large.
Deevika held her breath and touched it. The cock grew in her hands.
When the Sultan's lips came against hers they were hungrier, more

Finally The Sultan stepped back and walked around Deevika, moving close
behind her. He sucked her neck and nibbled her ears. He ran his hands
down her sides, caught the hem of her dress, then lifted it high enough
for his fingertips to play over her panties. He traced the lines of
Deevika's panties.

Deevika turned to find the Sultan going to sit on the couch. He beckoned
and she stepped closer, standing between his legs. The Sultan leaned
forward and caressed back of Deevika's calf. Deevika's knees became
unsteady. His fingers seemed to float across her flesh. The Sultan
traced a continuous circle over the wet spot at the front of her
panties, the pressure slowly increasing. She closed her eyes tight and
put a hand on the Sultan's shoulder for support. "Oh God," Deevika

He lifted her leg, kissing her ankle, sucking on her calf, sucking
behind her knee. He kissed up her inner thigh, then skipped up to her
navel before kissing his way back down her other leg. Deevika purred at
the attention the Sultan lavished on her.

The Sultan kissed her navel deeply, while rolling down her panties. The
Sultan then sat her on the couch and slipped down between her thighs.
His lips pulled the soft folds of her skin... she was paralysed by
shock as his tongue began to probe in the crevices, and then as he
parted her lips with his fingers, to thrust deep inside her...

Finally his relentless tongue found a sensitive place, so small she had
not known it existed, so sensitive that his touch was almost painful at
first. She forgot her shock as she was overwhelmed by the most piercing
experience she had ever known. Unable to restrain herself, she moved
her hips up and down, faster and faster, rubbing her slippery flesh
over his mouth, his chin, his nose, totally absorbed in her own
pleasure. It built and built, feeding on itself, until she felt utterly
possessed by joy and opened her mouth to scream, at which point she
pressed her face over the pillow. But she screamed with all her throat
as the climax went on and on, ending with something that felt like an
explosion and left her so drained that she thought she would never,
never be able to get up.

Her mind seemed to go blank for a while; she seemed to know only vaguely
that he still lay between her legs, his cheek against the soft inside
of her thigh, his lips moving gently, affectionately. Eventually she
sighed, "I did not realize it could be like that. It was so lovely".

"Deevika," he whispered in her ears. But Deevika did not want to open
her eyes. Not yet. She wanted to enjoy it some more. "Deevika", she
heard the voice. This time she recognised it. It was Raj. He kissed her
on the ears.
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