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Huntington Beach Erotic Story
Large harems were common in the wealthy households in Arab countries through the early decades of the 20th century. These harems were often home to seductive practices.
The haremIn pre-Islamic Assyria, Persia, and Egypt, most of the royal courts included a harem, consisting of the ruler's wives and concubines and their female attendants. Large harems were also common in the wealthy households in Arab countries through the early decades of the 20th century. In the wealthier houses, each wife had her own set of rooms and servants. By the second half of the 20th century, the full harem system existed only among the more conservative elements of Arab society.
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"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 murmur.
"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 tonight."
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 retreat.
"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 glasses.
"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 chair 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 hair, 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 man.
"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 door.
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 air, as if someone were burning incense.
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 sunset.
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."
"Oh."
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 fair 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.
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 passionately.
Their kiss broke and Deevika leaned her head against the Sultan's shoulder, breathing deeply. She whispered. "Why me? Why did you choose me?"
" 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 hairless. 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 insistent.
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 groaned.
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.
To be continued..
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