2 comments/ 83583 views/ 13 favorites Baraka: Slave to the Sheik By: LadyAria "You are mine now. This escape attempt is futile," Aashiq spoke as he offered out his hand. "No, kidnapping a woman does not make her yours!" she hissed recoiling like a feral cat. Any uncertainty she felt was lost behind the steel of her blue eyes. "Stay away from me!" Turning back to the vast desert, she willed her delicately sandaled feet forward. Her head throbbed under the crown of blonde curls. Her stomach reeled from the drugs that had been mixed with her wine earlier that evening. Incapacitated, she had been brought to a tent in the middle of the desert. "You were part of the barter with your uncle. You were given to me in the exchange for a lower price on the oil leases," her abductor had claimed. Her uncle may be a cunning businessman, but he was never cruel. He wouldn't trade her for all the oil in the Middle East, would he? Fighting against the idea of such a betrayal, the poison of her capturer's words slipped through her veins chilling her blood, "Don't be daft, woman," he replied growing bored with her escape attempt. She refused to look back at the devil with the seductive eyes. His white headdress made the bronze of his skin unnaturally dark by contrast. His traditional dress made him appear more a primitive beast then man. He was a villain in night. The moon sparkled across the vast ocean of glistening sand. Sarah watched as the ground came alive with scurrying motion. Tingling with fear, she struggled to ignore the creatures creeping outside the moonlight. "Leave me alone!" she shouted with more bravado then she felt. Watching the white linen gown flow from her waist and cast out over the dunes, he marveled at her beautiful determination. No woman had ever dared raise her voice to his royalty. Had she not be so appealing in her fury, he would have brought her to heel. Something deep within whispered of the dark pleasures he would enjoy breaking that spirit. His cock hardened at the thought of cracking the whip across her flawless white skin. He had time…all the time in the world. "So, we will do it your way," his voice grumbled with anticipation. His threatening tone shot through her sparking every nerve to life. Effortlessly, he closed the distance between them. Although she tried desperately to evade his grasp, he swung her over his shoulder in one quick movement. Summoning all her strength, she became a flurry of fist and feet. She pounded against his solid muscular frame as the bulge of his bicep clamped around her waist. Breathless and frantic, she saw the corner of the tent come into the line of her inverted vision. She straightened as much as possible to see a collection of guards humored by her situation. While cursing at the men in frustration, she counted a half dozen armed guards before a curtain blocked her view. Their male laughter evaporated in the silence of the tent. With a bitter cry, she dropped to the floor. Her arms flung out across luxurious silk pillows as the rich scent of frankincense rushed her nose. "You'll not get away with this! I am an America citizen." she spoke defiantly glad to be free of his arms. "Quiet or I'll cut out your tongue," he stated dismissing her remark. Sarah's eyes swept up him resting on the chiseled features of clean shaven face. It was the most handsome, and cruelest, face that she had ever seen. Instinctively, she was drawn to his gaze. Holding his fierce stare, she felt as if the thin gauze of her dress was stripped away leaving her bare. She dared not speak fearing his words were not just mere threats. "You are not hurt, are you?" he asked looking over her frame. "Like you care," she spoke softly turning away chafed under his watchful eyes. "I care about all my possession," he replied gliding to a large carved cabinet tucked in the corner of the tent. Pulling out a braided golden rope, he careless tossed it to where she sat. Looking over at the cords, her eyes blurred with revelation. She was here as an object to be traded for the wealth and pleasure of corrupt men. The clank of a decanter against glass punctuated the terror that coursed through her. If one morsel had remained in the contents of her stomach, she would have vomited. This could not be happening to her. He drank deeply from his wine glass before setting it to the side. He approached her while wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his white thobe. "Hold out your arms," he said crouching down. "No," she responded quietly. Pushing away the golden braid, she glared at it as if it would rise up to strike her. "Do not dismay, Sarah," his silky voice was rich with compassion. "I mean only to give us pleasure." Despite the collapse of her world that threatened to overwhelm her, she somehow knew the Aashiq meant what he said. The onyx pools of his eyes promised to show her indescribable experiences. But, the sting of deception was too fresh for her to feel any kind of genuine trust. She must not submit to his temptation. "Only you will derive pleasure from this…" "You will not be able to deny your body," he replied. "A slave cannot help but find heaven in the ecstasy of her Master." "I am no man's slave!" she spat out the words like venom. "Ah," his words were underscored with passion. "You force me to make you beg for the title." The air was ripe with tension. They were both silent. There was nothing left to say. She'd never felt so alone in her life. If she let go, she'd drown in her own tears. Lifting his gaze, dark emotions swirled in his eyes reeling her in, numbing her from reality. Closer, he came with parted lips. Centimeters from her mouth, he brought her under his spell. Involuntarily, her hands reached out to him. The rope twisted around her wrists before ripping her arms over her head. A metal loop in the structure of the tent served to hoist her in the air. He tied a large knot preventing anything but the tips of her toes from touching the ground. She dangled like a rag doll mesmerized. He pulled out a short jeweled dagger and cut loose the white linen gown. Underneath, she wore western style white cotton briefs and bra. Running the knife up her rib cage, he watched the light red line form on her milky skin before he sliced away the center strap of her bra. Heavy alabaster breast spilled out with the palest of pink tips. The areoles were as large as a man could stretch his mouth and the nipples stretching long with erection. He could hear her suck in her breath, but he did not look up to see the surprise. Instead, he traced the knife down the curve of her lower stomach and slipped it in the top of her panty. Pulling out gently, he released the cotton casing and let the briefs slid down to the ground. Her venus mound was exposed to him. Her labia waxed smooth. The dark mauve folds of her inner lips peeked out at him. "You have no hair?" his voice rasped with surprise. "No." Her face flushed with embarrassment and excitement. He reached out his hand to run over the silky skin of her bald pussy before kneeling to inspect her. The soft skin parted to reveal the ruby velvet of her internal heat. The humiliation of the intrusion made her clench her vaginal opening pulling down the hood over her tiny clitoris. His fingers stroked the shy nub out of its fleshy casing pinching it between his first two knuckles. Twisting it between his fingers, he watched as it grew slightly engorging with his touch. Dewiness began to collect near the palm of his hand as a moan echoed above him. Reaching up with his other hand, he slipped his index and middle finger into her channel. He pushed up against her resistance working the sensitive flesh with his persistent fingers. The thick wetness started to coat his fingers buried deep within her. Curling his fingertips insider her, he found her g-spot and began to massage the hidden pearl. He could feel her desperate need. She was moaning with pleasure and her shame forgotten along with her resistance. So close, she felt as though she were about to piss as she neared the beginning of an intense orgasm. As she bucked like some perverse hand puppet, he pulled back his hand snagging her pubic bone. "Please," she begged with raw need. "Say you are my slave," he commanded as his fingers released her bone. "No…" "I will stop then," his voice threatened as his fingers crawled back into her. Her speech hesitated, but her legs spread out wide. Without the support, the weight cut the ropes into her flesh and blood trickled down her arms. The pain intensified the sensation enveloping her lower body. She teetered on the edge of bliss. "Look at me," his words sounded far away. "Say you are my slave." "I am…" the tight ball of intensity loosened as she began her descent. "Say it" "I am your slave," she cried out sweating and trembling from his sweet torture. With her admission, he pressed back into her sweet spot releasing the fury of her orgasm. Her pussy convulsed around him as thick cum slide down into his palm and trickle over his wrist. Slipping free from her crotch, he pulled up to his full height in front of her. Her eyes were vacant and hollow. She was still lost to this world as she raveled her own. Loosing the knot in the pulley, he dropped her to her knees before tying back the rope. Then, he went to a small silk covered table locating a large pitcher of water. Grabbing it in his hand, he turned back throwing water on his slave. Snapped back to reality, the water felt like ice on her bare skin. She looked to him confused. "I christen you, Baraka. Now, I will educate you on how to please your Master." Baraka: Slave to the Sheik Ch. 02 Water slipping down her naked body, she stared at the man before her. His sun kissed face and dark eyes were so exotic. His robes were of the finest linen weave and graceful patterns danced at the trim. She imagined that the lines and dots of the trim squirmed to free themselves of his presence, but like her lacked the power to escape. "Baraka, look at me," his voice was harsh. "I am Sarah," she whispered ashamed of the admission she had uttered in her desire. "Sarah no longer exists. You are my Baraka," he stated firmly. "I will not stay here." "Americans...there is no I, anymore. There never was an I, you vain little bitch. A woman needs a man to control her evil. An unbound female leads to...shall we say ... social chaos as we see in your homeland. You are mine, now. I will not have you carrying on with these vulgar habits," he eyed her with distain. Grabbing her chin firmly, he forced back her head opening her mouth wide to inspect her teeth. He counted each white pearl while speaking softly in words she did not comprehend. Thirty two teeth and not a one flawed. He stuck his hand into his pocket producing a small sachet which he spilled into her gapping mouth. Struggling, she gagged and spit out as much as he would allow before the numbness poured out of her throat and tingled on her lips. He surveyed her expression confirming the results before releasing her. She ground her shoulder into her lower face, but could not feel the connection. Despite her greatest efforts, her screams came out as no more then a wet gurgles and a few loose moans. The effect was stunning. Fear crossed with anger as she pushed her legs straight snapping the rope painfully into her wrist. Her feet slipped on the shifting sand as she fell hard on her face. Again and again, she rose like a rabid dog tearing at her lease and spit flew from her. "Stop that. You'll bruise your pretty face," Aashiq voice chastised as he tried to grab her shifting form. However, she reared back like an untamed horse. Her eyes locked onto his hand. Within a split second, blood filled her mouth as her teeth locked into the tender valley between his thumb and index finger. She ripped at the meat feeling nothing but dull pressure as it gave way. Not even the favor touched her tongue as in numb dead of her mouth. "Ahh, you please me in your rage," his heavy voice broke her attack as she recognized the pleasure in the tone. Wild eyed, she stared as his erection rose. The size and girth expanded impossibly large as the thin cloth linen his stiffing cock. She'd never seen anything quite like it. In all her years, she had stroked, sucked, kissed and fucked many men. Their sad little members lolling small in their laps as clumsy fingers fumbled at her bra. The sweet stink of their breath mints lingering in her memory. They were always so disappointing. They always fell below expectation. Their average dicks creating less then average results. Nothing compared to the stories of her friends or the stolen glances at obscene movies. She had been an actress performing for a single audience. Not him. Her dreams had become flesh. He was the one she had been waiting for in all those ragged backseats. The gigantic tent that spread out before her promised to split her in two. The girth would tear through her tiny snatch filling her with exquisite delight. Nature had blessed this savage barbarian with the largest cock she had ever seen. She would endure any shame or humiliation. She longed to touch it...to try to wrap her lips around it. She needed to see it uncovered. She wondered if it would be bronzed like his exposed skin or paled to a light caramel from being hidden from the light. If only she could speak, she would have begged his forgiveness for just one touch. In her reverence, she had been lost to his action. His flat tongue dragged up her face forcing her eyes shut. He licked his blood from her face. Then, he knocked her back to the ground and yelled out to the guards in Arabic. Only a memory was left of his erection. The two guards entered the tent as she lay docile. She no longer had the desire to go, but only they would leave her with her Master. The alabaster naked form on the ground appeared like a fallen statue of an angel marked in blood. She moaned as her large blue eyes glistened. The milk of her ivory skin turned anger red as the ropes burned into her wrist. She shifted away from the guards approach making her full breast jiggle softly. The guards could not help but stare at the magnificent prize. She stared at the large men approaching afraid they would take her away from her discovery. She could not leave now. Though dignity percolated within, she could not deny her desire. She needed to fuck him. It was kismet that brought her to this Master. Slave or not, she longed to be ripped apart by this wild animal. At his command, the guards turned down their eyes. The fat one with a red headdress came around to her back pulling the rope tight stretching out her arms. The younger one with deep chocolate eyes backed away from the Master to the carved Mahogany chest. Shuffling around at the bottom, he returned back to the others with an archaic looking falaka and matching staff. The board was stained black and scarred with those who had come before her. Sensing his nervousness, Baraka looked at him with pity as he fastened the long boards around her ankles. Once he clasped the lock, he knelt down to one knee and stole glances as the baldness of Baraka's venus mound. Meanwhile, Master grasped the staff from the ground and positioned himself south of the trapped feet. She could not see beyond the restraints. Her pussy still tingled at the memory of the outline of his thick cock saluting her. Feeling the guard's eyes on her, she looked at the young man and considered if all the men were so endowed. Laying still in her thoughts, an explosion of pain rippled through her. Her scream of shock was muffed by the paralysis of her vocal cords. The pause between strikes allowed her to feel the tingling heat spread over the soles of her feet and down her legs. Again and again, the loud thudding sound echoed in the tent. With each strike, her body would move up and settle back shaking her hips and breast. The motion rocked her like a lover as the chocolate eyes watched her pale pink nipples harden. The humiliation of her nudity, the pain searing through her feet and those sweet eyes affected her body. She was on fire in the intensity. Her pussy flexed with each strike and her moans changed to a softer tone. Feeling hot, she opened her mouth and licked her lips making the guard flush. She could swallow his cock whole with the numbness of her throat she thought. His eyes slide down to the pool of perspiration collecting on her stomach. The young man, forgetting his place, turned back to her and whispered something in Arabic. Immediately, the lashes stopped. Master stepped back in her hazy vision as he brought the down the staff into the offending guard's skull. Hearing the crack, the fat guard jumped back releasing her hands to cower in the corner. Mercilessly, Master beat the man into unconsciousness. When the young man ceased to move, Master ripped off his robe and tossed into the coward's arms. He would be made the camp's woman for looking upon his prize. Next time, he would not be so merciful on the lad. Then, he barked the specific orders at the fat man as he pointed at the nude body of the unconscious one. The coward trembled with fear as he rose to unfasten and remove Baraka's feet. Feeling lighter, her knees dropped open to reveal the thick wetness of her swollen lips. The sweet liquid of anticipation glistened. She rolled her head to the slide to see the young man be dragged away. "Why do you provoke my men?" Baraka moaned in response as she shifted her legs to relieve the stinging of her swollen feet. Master proceed to circle her shaking his head in frustration. "Women are wicked creatures," he stated as he bent down to look into her sapphire eyes wet with tears. He brushed back the wet golden curls clinging to her face. "Do not cry. I know you do not mean these things. I will help you to try to control yourself." Her eyes where hungry on his handsome face. She moaned out a muffled plea for him, but he did not know her mind. She needed him to hurt her more, better and from the inside. Baraka: Slave to the Sheik Ch. 03 The heavy frankincense incense burned into her nostrils and afflicted her eyes as they rolled about the interior of the tent. The lush folds of gold, red and purple material hung about her creating ghostly faces in the shadows. They seemed to laugh at her humiliation as her legs sprawl open over the silk floor covers circled in pillows tossed away in the struggle. The rope hung like an umbilical cord from the steel loop on the ceiling connecting to her tiny wrist. Only, the shelter was not her life support, but the man whose presence held up the world inside the tent. "Do not dismay," he spoke soothingly as he stroked the inside of her leg. "Baraka's voice will return. I have only taken it a short while to teach my slave how to speak." Baraka looked directly into his face. The thick brows drew shadows around the lids making his onyx eyes shine like a raven's coat. The masculine nose, strong and prominent, divided his face with perfect symmetry. His full lips would have almost been feminine on a lesser man. However, the wide curve curled out to meet the jutting of a square chin only created through years of flawless breeding. Surely, he was the devil because no man could have possessed such wicked beauty. "Turn down your eyes," he quietly commanded as he spread her pussy lips looking into her hole with detached interest. "Do not look upon Master without permission." Hesitantly, she obeyed. Stillness settled in the air between them as he continued his inspection. Her stomach fluttered as a faint cry echoed in the distance. Her mind played with the idea that it was a hallucination brought on by the guilt of tempting the young guard. His kind eyes filled with pain because of her inequities. The thought grew claws and began to tear at her heart. This pain brought no pleasure unlike that given by her Master. "Baraka pleases me in her obedience. Listen to my voice and know how I feel. I expect Baraka to know my intent with only a few words. Also, never speak to me without permission. When granted permission, remember Baraka is property and use only the name I have given. You may address me as Master or Sir." Baraka nodded still feeling the heavy numbness in her throat. "Good slave. Now, I will remove the bindings. Do not run. Baraka's feet will not carry the weight and it will result only in more punishment." Baraka nodded again as his hands reached out for her wrists. The caramel hands were smooth and untouched by work. With delicate expertise, they released the knots allowing her arms to drop loose at her sides. "Now kneel before me and present.... Good...knees spread, back straight, eyes down and hands in the rear." She pulled into position with some effort. Her muscles ached from her previous struggles. The straightening of her spine proved difficult in her fatigue. Nevertheless, she thrust out her bare chest spreading out her full breast. No longer erect, the nipples disappeared into a baby pink almost indistinguishable from her fair skin. Her pussy was spread for display. The inner lips stretched wide framing her empty hole. "If Baraka does well in her training, then I will wrap her in silk and bejewel that golden mane of curls. Won't all the others be jealous of my new prize? I may need to keep you in a separate chamber. I'm not sure if I want to others looking upon my Baraka..." Lost in the rise and fall of the melody of his voice, she let her spine slack. Immediately, Master lashed out across her back with a whip. The skin stung quick as she suck up her cry. Righting herself, she did not fall and stiffened again not to invoke his wrath further. "I did not tell Baraka to ease her stance," his voice was stern. "My slave must learn to hold her presentation. I will not have less then perfection from my stable." He did not want to show his excitement too much in the gift the American had made of his niece. Her beauty was unmatched by any of the other slaves. No man he knew had a more precious jewel in his collection. The fine boning of her tiny frame contrasted by the large natural breast was breathtaking. The bald pussy accentuated the tender slit. The danger of such a treasure was not lost on him. Hopefully, he thought she would not fight her training too greatly. The smooth white skin should not be scarred damaging her value. Other leaders would want her company. She may be requested in trade. Considering his options of hiding her versus parading his prize, he paced in front of her. Eternity passed as the dull pain in her spine grew into a screaming stab. Finally, he stopped his steps and stood out from her line of vision. She prayed for his relief. "Baraka must learn control," he spoke firmly. "I will start now...hmm...Assume all fours. No! With legs spread...further. No, no, no, that isn't right. Forehead to the ground. Grab the ass and spread. Better." Her bones popped as she released the presentation. The sand shifted under her weight and her knees sunk into the ground. He barked out commands. He was displeased with each shift made until she was face down. Her arms reached back spreading her ass. The air felt odd against her private crevasses . Feeling the tingle, she grew excited at the prospect that his large cock would enter her soon. How would she not scream? Her pussy began to swell and sweat at the thought of his massive head pushing into her gap. The rounded tip forcing into her. The ridge would stretch her as never before, slightly tearing the taunt elastic flesh, before sliding in. Then, every ripple and vein twisting over his hardness would slip against the wet vice grip of her sopping tunnel. Deeper and deeper, he would bury into her touching places no other man has every reached. She would buck. She would have to move to take in all of his girth. Would he punish her for her need? The images that played through her mind tighten the grip on her cheeks spreading her wetness. He smiled at the sight of her. His slave seemed eager for his next move. How easy it would be to just drive into her and leave training for another day. However, a good Master has a responsibility to his slaves. He would not fail her in his selfish need. Walking over to the table with the empty pitcher, he looked for his roots. The largest knuckle stood out from the cluster of roots. Pulling out his jeweled dagger, he began peeling the rough skin from the selected root to reveal the white meat. He watched as she pulled harder spreading her ass cheeks almost flat. Fighting a grin, he did not fail to see her arms shake with her hunger. Baraka had submitted fully he thought as he carved out two grooves a few fingers apart. He inspected his handwork turning over the cylinder. Satisfied, he laid down his dagger to withdraw a paddle from the table. It was no ordinary paddle. The smooth wood was studded in rubies with star patterns cut outs . She felt a cool pressure against her sphincter. Stiffing, she felt the small cylinder slip into her ass. Wrapping around the tiny indention, her pink ring clutched its new toy. The smooth object began to slowly warmed inside her. "Still. Be still, my Baraka," he commanded. "Now let go and place your hands on the ground in front of you." She obeyed as the slight heat gained intensity. As the burning sensation grew, she fidgeted at the discomfort and moaned. Her master reacted with a sharp blow sprinkling her skin with red patterns of triangles and stars. Bracing for the next strike, she squeezed tightly down on the root. The result was an explosion of pain. She screamed out as her hands balled into fists. The paddle struck her repeatedly. However, she hardly felt the hit as she fought to hold onto control. Slowly, she relaxed her hands and breathed in deeply. The burning began to fade when he pushed the cylinder deeper lodging her down on the next dip on the cylinder. Again, the heat grew within her. However, she retain control and held her position. The heat subsided with time as her satisfaction grew in enduring the test with minimal punishment. After twenty minutes, his prize had not moved. He could not help, but feel himself grow with pride. Pulling out the root, he pressed his nose into her crack breathing in musky ginger. She was so slippery he could smell her need. The welted pattern rose on the curve of her ass like intricate henna paint preparing her for consummation. She had been a good slave. He would reward her with what she really desired. Pulling up his robe, he wrapped his fingers around his erection. The blood rushing to his member made it grow darker in color as the tip sprung a drop of precum. Held close to her cunt, the thick cock seemed too great to be swallowed by the tiny hole. He savored the moment by rubbing up and down her crack feeling the velvety flesh. Then, he thrust his cock deep within the resistant pussy that crushed around him with virginal tightness. Buried to the hilt, he stopped all motion to concentrate on the feeling of conquest... Baraka: Slave to the Sheik Ch. 04 Like rubber bands popping under excretion, the crushing vice of her pussy released the numbing grip on the intruding cock. Her body shook with pain as his steely rod tore into unnatural depths. The trembling rippled the muscular passage massaging the invader to brink of orgasm. The first stroke is the sweetest on a new slave. With a groan, he withdrew all thirteen inches wanting to hear Baraka beg for his cock. He knew her voice had returned from the screams she had not been able to contain. Master reached under her body grabbing the hanging breast. The hardened nipple scraped his palm before he crushed it like a grape. Baraka began to breathe heavily, but remained silent to his displeasure. With his other hand, he traced the jagged tear along her cunt with his finger. The blood filled the wrinkles in his knuckles. The contact made her wince and jerk away. Releasing her breast, he extracted the paddle from the ground to bring it down hard against her cheeks. "I know Baraka can speak, now," Master instructed Baraka. "Baraka will count out her blows and thank her Master for his instruction." "One, Master," she croaked out in a hoarse voice. "Thank you, Master." Again, he touched the broken skin excited by his destruction. She began to moan, but did not move. His cock had become so anger in its erection the area behind his glands had gone numb from denial. Release, he needed release. Inhaling the sweet smell of musky ginger, he moved his hand up from her bloody hole to the crack of her ass. Locating the tiny pink pucker, he shoved in a finger. Baraka stiffened with discomfort, but did not resist. He knew her heart though he could not see her face. She was sensitive and learning early to enjoy his pain. Slowly, he began moving it in and out as she muffled a whine into the purple satin pillow covering her burrowed face. She moved slightly to get away from the intrusion, but he grabbed her golden main of curls. "No, bitch," he spoke harshly. "Stay still. This is nothing compared to what will become of Baraka if she doesn't obey" As to punctuate the point, he pushed two fingers in to the first knuckle. Baraka cried out now for all the time the powder had kept her silent. "It hurts. Please, Baraka is afraid, Master," her tongue was clumsy and swollen. "I want to please you. Stop. Baraka will do as Master says now, Master." "Baraka will not speak without my permission," he growled. Placing his arm across her back, he pinned her onto the ground as he slowly pushed two more fingers into her sphincter. "Yes, Master," she choked out as tears caught in her throat. "Thank you for instruction, Master." He withdrew his hand and released his grip. Baraka pulled up from the ground onto all fours waiting for his next command. Master walked back to the silk covered table. Removing his thobe and coverings, his caramel colored body glowed with wet perspiration and raw masculine strength. Scars from past wars and eager lover did nothing to mar his natural allure. The massive cock curled above his navel into the curly black hairline expanding over a well muscled chest. Baraka breathed in the air of his perfection. The musky scent of his sweat overcame even the thickest incense. She could do this for her Master. She would do this for her Master. Anything to feel his love again. The sting of her injured sex ached to be ripped apart by Master. He smirked when he saw her eyes roving over his nude form. Immediately, she turned back down to hide her disobedience. He walked back over to her kneeling form. He placed his leg over the small of her back. She understood what was coming. "Baraka will not look upon her Master without permission." He brought down the studded paddle with crushing force. A satisfying blush rose to her cheeks. His cock swelled to even greater stiffness as he heard her muffled cry. "Oh, her punishment is such a divine gift," he whispered. He, then, began spanking in earnest until her ass bleed from the starry red patterns of welted love. Her voice counted and thanked him for each strike. He could not hold on long with the glory of Baraka's quivering with each blow. "Will Baraka control her evil ways?" "Yes, Master" Baraka replied weakly. "Thank you for instruction, Master." Baraka's beautiful red ass poised in the air before her Master. He kneaded her cheeks for a minute smearing the blood down into the valley. His massive cock jerked up and down in anticipation. Nudging into the wet crack, he pushed the swollen tip into the tiny ring. "Oh! My master," Baraka screamed in desperation. "Master, may I speak?" "Baraka may not speak," he replied frustrated. He pushed in farther listing to her squeak like a pierced swine. Her sobs enflamed her Master's desire as he drove into the resistant flesh. Feeling the opening split as it accepted his cock, he pushed her shoulders down hard forcing her face into the ground. Then, he stopped moving for a minute to keep himself from erupting too soon. Slowly, controlling the depth of penetration, he moved in her ass feeling her flex and release the muscle to accommodate his girth. The ridges of his cock scratched the lingering ginger. Sliding into her tight grasp, her cries of pain gave way to moans of ecstasy as she rocked to match his thrust. For a few minutes, he enjoyed watching her let go and give into the sensation. She threw her blonde mane back and pushed her tiny chin into the air. Her eyes closed to the world. Then, he could not wait any longer. Baraka's ass was the tightest, sweetest place his cock had ever been. Master reached underneath Baraka grabbing her massive heaving tits pulling her up to smack against his chest. Thrusting with all his power, he drove into her core. His balls smacked against Baraka's pussy as her orgasm drenched his sack. Her screaming submission and gushing salute drove him into a frenzy. His hands crushed her waist as he began fucking her like a feral animal. His head was spinning as his cock moved in and out. His hips thrust hard against her bloody ass. He drove against her, and everything faded away. Nothing existed, but the feeling. All he knew was he needed to explode in her beautiful white ass. Baraka screamed as he convulsed in his madness. His fingernails cut into her flesh as his hands clamped down. He drove his whole being into her ass. The feeling of his wet balls slapping against her echoed in his ear as he cock swelled with the finale. His cum shot with exhausting fury. The thick white liquid gushed from the seal around his cock as he fell back from power of the ejaculation. Released from his hold, Baraka collapsed forward dripping with sweat and his cum. Drained, they surrendered to the heavenly darkness and slept as they fell. The shadowed faces formed by the folds of the tent look down on the fallen angels and smiled at their contentment.