VelvetDarkness
Polysyllable Whore x
- Joined
- May 24, 2006
- Posts
- 6,521
This thread is closed to Marauder13.
Name: Johara
Age: unfathomable
Appearance: Petite and slender, see pic below.
http://fc04.deviantart.com/fs11/i/2006/259/8/e/Harem_Girl_by_sifu.jpg
Thousands of years ago, in ancient Egypt, Johara had been awake... alive. As the sun set on the last day of the old ways, Johara was kneeling compliantly before Mustafa, a terrifyingly ruthless warrior who had overtaken the land by force.
Her father and brothers had been killed, leaving her the sole rightful heir, though she could only confer her rank onto a husband and remain powerless herself. Mustafa intended to marry her. That he was in his forties and she just a teen did not matter to him. Johara had been given time alone in her room to prepare herself, but she had other ideas. Her maidservant had been instructed to fetch Kahil, the young serving man she loved but whom her father would never have allowed her to marry. Johara drew him to her curtained bed and kissed him passionately, arousing him and undressing them both.
"You must take me Kahil." She gasped, as frightened of sex with him as she was about marriage to Mustafa. "He will never wed me if I lie with you."
Kahil knew it was suicide to touch Johara like this but he was too enraptured to care. Her slim, dark curves were being offered to him on a platter. He lifted her hips and placed her above his swollen manhood. It would hurt a virgin like Johara no matter what he did and there was no time for foreplay. Johara braced herself for the pain and pressed her virgin sex against Kahil's thick cockhead. It did not immediately yield and he winced at the pressure. His hands went to her hips but never connected with Johara's hot, quivering flesh. The next moment she was hitting the floor and Mustafa loomed over the bed, his sword rising in a sweeping, inevitable arc. Mustafa stabbed deep into Kahil's abdomen, sneering triumphantly as the young man screamed. Blood spattered from the bed to the floor and Johara, still defiant, smeared some on her inner thighs. Mustafa rounded on her as Kahil writhed, yelled and bled. He towered over her naked, kneeling form. Mustafa's cold eyes swept over her slim, tanned curves and fixed on the blood smeared over her glistening pussy. His lip curled in disgust.
"You stupid whore. You could have joined my wives and lived in luxury. So much for your dynasty, the great Sultan's legacy." He turned from her dismissively, beckoning one of the horrified servants as Kahil stilled and ceased breathing, causing an eerie silence. "Put this worthless slave in my chamber, under guard. I may yet have a use for it."
Late into the evening Johara waited, convinced that Mustafa intended to rape her. When he arrived however, it was with a slave bearing a bowl of warm perfumed water and the light, gauzy costume of a concubine or dancer. She was instructed to wash and dress and did so quickly, watching Mustafa warily. Despite the flimsiness of the costume, it felt good to be clothed once more.
"Do not look at me." Mustafa snapped. "And fear not for I have no interest in spoiled goods. I wish to conduct and experiment and you shall be my subject. If it works, I'll try it on a more worthy candidate. Kneel." He instructed. Johara, out of options, obeyed. He thrust a small, jewelled lamp at her. "Hold this. I wish to see if I can light it by magic. I have been training in this art."
She knelt compliantly as Mustafa walked around her, intoning words in a language she did not understand. Heat flooded her hands from the lamp and she nearly dropped it, clearly his spell was working. Suddenly, she became light headed and faint, as though there was no air. Then everything went black.
"Johara."
In a blinding flash of light, she awakened and could see. Johara was kneeling on the floor as before but there was no lamp in her hands. She glanced up and saw that Mustafa was holding it.
"Perfect." He cackled. "Such a beautifully appropriate name too. Johara, I want you to dance for me."
She remained kneeling on the floor, too afraid to stand while he stood over her. She glared at him defiantly, sensing that something was supposed to be happening.
"As I expected." Mustafa said enigmatically, with satisfaction.
"What have you done to me?" She demanded.
"Bound you." Mustafa replied. "You are immortal now but bound to this lamp. Rubbing it while saying your name summons you and you cannot stray more than 6 cubits from your golden prison. Usually, owners make wishes and a limit is placed on how many wishes a person can have but you do not possess the power to bestow wealth, beauty, or power like other genies do."
Johara glared up at him as her body continued to gyrate.
"You are a slave, Johara, a worthless little slave. All the owner of this lamp gets is you. They cannot command you to do anything but I have no doubt that they will force you. I imagine you'll be entertaining for a while but then interest will wane and you'll be sold to another... again and again... forever. Your owners will get old and ugly while you remain young and desirable. They will use your barren body and have your tireless little ass slave night and day for them. I almost wish I could be there to see it."
Mustafa watched the horror sink into the little slut's expression as she continued to dance. He rubbed the lamp again and held her stricken gaze as she disappeared inside it.
The following day, he sold the lamp to a passing merchant and thought no more about defiant little Johara and the fate he had bound her to.
But nobody summoned her. Johara remained unconscious as the lamp's successive owners all failed to rub it while saying her name; Johara, the Arabic for jewel. She was trapped, oblivious to the passage of time, her virgin body still untouched. She remained 18 years old as the world turned around her.
Name: Johara
Age: unfathomable
Appearance: Petite and slender, see pic below.
http://fc04.deviantart.com/fs11/i/2006/259/8/e/Harem_Girl_by_sifu.jpg
~x~
Thousands of years ago, in ancient Egypt, Johara had been awake... alive. As the sun set on the last day of the old ways, Johara was kneeling compliantly before Mustafa, a terrifyingly ruthless warrior who had overtaken the land by force.
Her father and brothers had been killed, leaving her the sole rightful heir, though she could only confer her rank onto a husband and remain powerless herself. Mustafa intended to marry her. That he was in his forties and she just a teen did not matter to him. Johara had been given time alone in her room to prepare herself, but she had other ideas. Her maidservant had been instructed to fetch Kahil, the young serving man she loved but whom her father would never have allowed her to marry. Johara drew him to her curtained bed and kissed him passionately, arousing him and undressing them both.
"You must take me Kahil." She gasped, as frightened of sex with him as she was about marriage to Mustafa. "He will never wed me if I lie with you."
Kahil knew it was suicide to touch Johara like this but he was too enraptured to care. Her slim, dark curves were being offered to him on a platter. He lifted her hips and placed her above his swollen manhood. It would hurt a virgin like Johara no matter what he did and there was no time for foreplay. Johara braced herself for the pain and pressed her virgin sex against Kahil's thick cockhead. It did not immediately yield and he winced at the pressure. His hands went to her hips but never connected with Johara's hot, quivering flesh. The next moment she was hitting the floor and Mustafa loomed over the bed, his sword rising in a sweeping, inevitable arc. Mustafa stabbed deep into Kahil's abdomen, sneering triumphantly as the young man screamed. Blood spattered from the bed to the floor and Johara, still defiant, smeared some on her inner thighs. Mustafa rounded on her as Kahil writhed, yelled and bled. He towered over her naked, kneeling form. Mustafa's cold eyes swept over her slim, tanned curves and fixed on the blood smeared over her glistening pussy. His lip curled in disgust.
"You stupid whore. You could have joined my wives and lived in luxury. So much for your dynasty, the great Sultan's legacy." He turned from her dismissively, beckoning one of the horrified servants as Kahil stilled and ceased breathing, causing an eerie silence. "Put this worthless slave in my chamber, under guard. I may yet have a use for it."
Late into the evening Johara waited, convinced that Mustafa intended to rape her. When he arrived however, it was with a slave bearing a bowl of warm perfumed water and the light, gauzy costume of a concubine or dancer. She was instructed to wash and dress and did so quickly, watching Mustafa warily. Despite the flimsiness of the costume, it felt good to be clothed once more.
"Do not look at me." Mustafa snapped. "And fear not for I have no interest in spoiled goods. I wish to conduct and experiment and you shall be my subject. If it works, I'll try it on a more worthy candidate. Kneel." He instructed. Johara, out of options, obeyed. He thrust a small, jewelled lamp at her. "Hold this. I wish to see if I can light it by magic. I have been training in this art."
She knelt compliantly as Mustafa walked around her, intoning words in a language she did not understand. Heat flooded her hands from the lamp and she nearly dropped it, clearly his spell was working. Suddenly, she became light headed and faint, as though there was no air. Then everything went black.
"Johara."
In a blinding flash of light, she awakened and could see. Johara was kneeling on the floor as before but there was no lamp in her hands. She glanced up and saw that Mustafa was holding it.
"Perfect." He cackled. "Such a beautifully appropriate name too. Johara, I want you to dance for me."
She remained kneeling on the floor, too afraid to stand while he stood over her. She glared at him defiantly, sensing that something was supposed to be happening.
"As I expected." Mustafa said enigmatically, with satisfaction.
"What have you done to me?" She demanded.
"Bound you." Mustafa replied. "You are immortal now but bound to this lamp. Rubbing it while saying your name summons you and you cannot stray more than 6 cubits from your golden prison. Usually, owners make wishes and a limit is placed on how many wishes a person can have but you do not possess the power to bestow wealth, beauty, or power like other genies do."
Johara glared up at him as her body continued to gyrate.
"You are a slave, Johara, a worthless little slave. All the owner of this lamp gets is you. They cannot command you to do anything but I have no doubt that they will force you. I imagine you'll be entertaining for a while but then interest will wane and you'll be sold to another... again and again... forever. Your owners will get old and ugly while you remain young and desirable. They will use your barren body and have your tireless little ass slave night and day for them. I almost wish I could be there to see it."
Mustafa watched the horror sink into the little slut's expression as she continued to dance. He rubbed the lamp again and held her stricken gaze as she disappeared inside it.
The following day, he sold the lamp to a passing merchant and thought no more about defiant little Johara and the fate he had bound her to.
But nobody summoned her. Johara remained unconscious as the lamp's successive owners all failed to rub it while saying her name; Johara, the Arabic for jewel. She was trapped, oblivious to the passage of time, her virgin body still untouched. She remained 18 years old as the world turned around her.