3 comments/ 26241 views/ 10 favorites Joining a Harem Ch. 01 By: MrPetersPenname It all began innocently enough. At 18 I had left my high school town in Arizona to move to where I would attend college. I went about a month early to try and find a job and ended up landing a gig as a liquor promotions girl that you might see at retail stores, bars, and events. The guy that hired me was this good lucking man in his early thirties who looked over my résumé (and required headshot) and brought me in a day later to interview. He took one look at me and I knew I was going to get the job. At 5'5" I cut an impressive figure; I was maybe 98 lbs., had the Arizona tan that comes from a lifetime of active sun exposure that guys seemed to like. My legs were supple but firm, I had the perfect ass (especially in the jeans I'd be wearing for the liquor gig): firm but rounded and I made sure to sway when ever I thought a pair of eyes might be on me. My tummy was just non-existent, taught and soft, and I had D-cup breasts that I always squeezed in to C-cups for dramatic effect. I think most guys liked my face and hair even more. I had a boyfriend that described my face as "cute and elfish." I didn't think much of that at first but he said, "No it's angular and sexy." Whatever that means! The oldest guy I ever hooked up with in high school was 32 and he said his favorite part of me was actually my hair. It was really long, down to my lower back, and naturally blonde. On my first night of promotions I wore brown cowgirl boots, these skin tight jeans that had sequin around the hips and back thighs, and just a white bandana t-shirt. No bra with the shirt but I also couldn't wear any panties with the jeans, for one thing they were so tight it would've been too much going on underneath and they were cut so low below my hips I wasn't sure I had any that wouldn't be sticking out all night. To make a longer story short, on my first night a very sexy foreign guy came up to me and started chatting me up. He looked to be in his late 30's and his skin was like milk chocolate. He was supremely confident and I didn't have any trouble talking to him. I told him my life story and he invited me to a modeling audition if I was interested. Two days later I arrived where he said and found about 20 other girls. We were mostly the same shape and size, average or maybe shorter height, petite, thin, and a mix of blonde, brunette and redhead. We went through some motions where we posed for a panel of other foreign men and afterward the guy I met at the bar came up to me to talk to me about a "special opportunity." Now I'm not naïve, I thought he'd ask me to go down on him for a job or try to recruit me in to porn. Instead he told me about a "contract position" that was mine if I wanted it. He wasted no time explaining to me that I'd be a part of the harem for the heir to a country called Qumar, in the Persian Gulf. The heir was a 60-year old man whose older brother was King but had no legitimate children, so the man I'd be working for would take over upon his death. The rules were fairly simple. For up to two years they would pay me a total of $300,000 US, all my expenses would be covered, and I'd be allowed to complete some University credits overseas, develop a fluency in Arabic, and meet many people who could help me with a career. In exchange I would be considered the property of the Kingdom and the "Crown Prince" in particular. There would be grooming, diet, and appearance requirements and training as well. I would also have to go for a blood test and other exams. If I agreed my first stop would be Istanbul, Turkey. After a few days I considered the opportunity and agreed. I suspended my college admission and at the tender age of 18 was flown to Turkey to begin my contract. Now I'm a modern girl, I keep my body in good shape and well groomed. I thought the semi-annual Brazilian wax and routine shaving was enough to stay comfortable and look sexy, but the Turkish artisans plucked every hair on my body that wasn't on my head or eyebrows. That was apparently the entire grooming requirement because after that I went through a week of "training." I didn't think it was going to be how to run payroll but I didn't quite expect what it ended up being either. We were taught to hold a perfect posture, modeled on the ancient slaves of the region we'd be serving; we were taught total obedience to the Crown Prince; and I had a humbling education in sex. I had always thought of myself as skilled in bed but I was taught to deepthroat like I didn't require oxygen and my virgin ass was taught not to take a full-grown cock but to at least accept intrusion to start and keep resistance in check. Other than that it was pretty light and, as my female instructor told me, "The Crown Prince would break me in beyond this, as is his pleasure." I was taught a few other rules of the day-to-day. I would be dressed each morning to the Crown Prince's pleasure, I would not be permitted to wear panties or a bra in his presence, when it was "my time of the month" I would be stolen away to the palace spa for rejuvenation and rest. Beyond that I was to default to swallowing the Prince's cum unless instructed otherwise, to refer to him as "Your Highness" or "My Prince," and to never leave the Palace grounds under penalty of death. After a flight from Istanbul to Qumar I was taken in an armored limousine to the Palace grounds and shown to my room. A simple chamber with vanity, desk, and bed decorated in lavish silks, gold, and Cedar wood. After a nap a team of experts flooded in to prepare me for my first "viewing" with the Prince. I was dressed in only a sheer white silk dress that was very see through in the right light, as per the rules no panties or other undergarment. The dress had almost no back, it wrapped around my neck and the next material visible covered my firm little butt and then disappeared only two inches below it. They put me in white, suede pump heels, told me to remember my training and then I was off to meet a man 42-years my senior to present myself as his personal possession. Joining a Harem Ch. 02 After I was dressed by the palace's team of experts. The oldest woman in the group applied an artistic amount of body glitter to my chest, neck, thighs, and forearms. She had me lift my dress up to add slight touches to my stomach and lower back too. During my training in Istanbul I had become very accustomed to the "staff" fussing over me. With my body prepared, my thin white dress and heels, and a reminder that I would be making six figures to travel the world and meet a variety of interesting people I walked out to the hall and was escorted by two women completely covered in black and purple silks. They led me down a few discreet corridors until we came to a staircase that lead us up to the private entrance of the Prince's main chamber. As we waited at the door a moment I could feel my pussy start to get warm, despite the cool air meeting it beneath my dress without panties on. Here I was, an 18-year old American standing outside the bedroom of a 60-year old member of the Arab royal class, about to be indoctrinated to his use. I had only had sex with three people and the last time was four months ago. I knew my tightness was going to be a problem for me and no doubt a perk for the Prince. After what seemed like an eternity the door opened and yet another woman covered in silks ushered us in. I was placed in the main entryway of a lavish suite complete with arm chairs, a mahogany desk, king bed, and other appointments. The Prince, I assumed, was standing at his desk facing away from us – talking on the phone in rapid Arabic. I had only been given a basic crash course in the language as well as useful phrases – commands really – in case the Prince reverted to his native tongue: kneel, suck, harder, faster, slower, deeper, roll over, stand, bend over, lick, swallow, strip, and louder. As the Prince finished his phone call the other servants scurried quickly out of the room and he turned to face me. I was standing alone and helpless in the entryway and got the first look of the man I'd now thought about for weeks. He was tall, maybe 6'4", certainly taller than I would ever be in any heels. His hair was a dark grey and he was dressed in a silk robe and silk pants, both deep purple. I could tell underneath the robe he had an excessive amount of grey chest hair and as he approached I saw that his hair was receding quite a bit and he was not in tremendous shape. For a man his height it must have taken quite a bit of luxury to produce the pot belly he had under his robes too. When he got closer I averted my eyes to the ground and placed my arms openly at my sides as I was trained. He wasted very little time. He took a deep breath of my scent from my shoulder up to my hair, as he got that close I realized how much larger than me he was. From my side he ran a finger over my chest, up my neck and across my chin – pulling my head up to attention. He then took his entire hand and travelled down to my breasts, which he inspected over my sheer dress. His hand glided down over the material to feel my taught stomach and then the lowest region of my abdomen and my bare, plucked pussy. He then walked behind me to inspect my back – leaving a trail down my spine with his fingers until he came to my pert little ass. He stepped closer, placing a hand on both my hips from behind, and pressed his royal manhood against my little cheeks. I could tell what he lacked in typical handsomeness he made up for in length and girth beneath the robes. He unhooked the band of material around the back of my neck and the flimsy dress fell to the floor around my heels. He ran his hands up and down my body for a time and then, with one hand around my hip, guided me over to the wall of the entryway and pressed me in to it so my hands were against the wall, I was bent slightly at the waist, and my ass was displayed for his enjoyment. I was a piece of meat before him. I thought he might savor the moment more but instead he simply pulled his member from the depths of his robes and walked up behind me. I caught a brief glimpse while looking over my shoulder and guessed that it was 9 or 10 inches, unquestionably the biggest I'd seen, and easily as thick as my forearm. I braced myself and tightened by knees, thighs, and hips for the inevitable. He placed one hand on my left hip and with the other he simply guided his cock in to my very nervous teen pussy. He encountered tremendous resistance and responded by kicking my legs apart roughly, placing his left hand around my throat firmly, and shoving in with great force once he found the slightest purchase in my narrow hole. The sensation that followed was unimaginable. His dick was stopping with only half his shaft in me as it encountered my upper walls; the rest was pressed up against the bottom of my little cheeks and I was almost sitting on the base of his member given the amount of force it was pressing up with. He moaned intently, clearly enjoying his new property. I kept my hands on the wall, came up on my toes, and attempted to provide a more agreeable angle for the assault. The grandfather behind me responded by easing off my throat and using the hand to press against my shoulder blades, driving me in to a deeper bend. Once in the position he wanted he used both hands to claw in to my hips and pull me back on to his remaining length. I did my best to muffle a shriek but he heard and replied by pulling me up by my hair, wrapping the other hand around to hold my stomach, and then finally unleasing the piston motion he'd been saving up for me. He had clearly fucked women he could use however he wanted for his whole life, he ravaged my tender little box with reckless abandon. I could see that from hip to hip the entire width of my petite body was maybe half his size and I submitted to the pounding he had for me. After what seemed like 30 minutes or more in a single position he was growing short of breath and finally pulled backward. I awaited a command; he gave one of my small, soft cheeks a hard swat before commanding in Arabic, "Kneel – swallow." I turned around and got down on my knees in front of him, the cold marble was uninviting but a welcome release from the abuse I had just received. He held the top of my head in one hand and simply massaged himself with the other. I opened my mouth and after a moment he exploded in a rage of sexual release. My face was covered in streaks of the royal seed and more than enough made it in to my waiting mouth. A great deal was in my hair and much of what landed on my face had dribbled down to my shoulders, chest, stomach, and thighs before the Prince had concluded. I swallowed what I had as commanded and then took his softening, old member in to my young mouth to pleasure him until he told me otherwise. After a few minutes he released his length from my mouth and simply said, "You'll do," in English. He turned away and immediately the servants reappeared to usher me out. I thought I would be done for the day but the head mistress informed me I was only being washed of the royal seed, rejuvenated and then taken back for the next round.