1 comments/ 70834 views/ 36 favorites Jack Grierson Chronicles Ch. 01: Leyla By: rxm76 These Chronicles continue the adventures of Jack Grierson, following from the 10 Chapters of Her Fiancé's Father. ***** Showered and changed, Jack and Isabelle were sitting on the back patio of the Grierson mansion. Isabelle had her four-month-old daughter at her breast, sucking greedily on her nipple. It was a brisk morning; Isabelle wore a wool shawl around her shoulders and the baby was swaddled in thick blankets. Jack watched them indulgently. "Between you and your daughter, you suck me dry," said Isabelle, giggling. "My breasts are rarely heavy - I don't have to worry about sagging." "You have the tits of a goddess, my love," said Jack. "Just the right size and shape, firm without a hint of sag. When we ran our 5 miler around the estate perimeter this morning, I almost tripped over myself a dozen times staring at your jog bra. You have just enough jounce when you walk or run that every man within eyeshot can't help ogling you. And when men stare at you, it makes me want to do this - " He reached into her shawl and gave her free breast a quick squeeze, running his fingernail over her engorged nipple. She gasped and then giggled again. "That's what I like about you, Jack. You glory in other men staring at me. When we are together, I feel like a prize. Martin hates it - he gets all embarrassed and angry when other men stare at me. Poor dear." She shifted in her seat, adjusting her baby to a more comfortable position. "I tried and tried to get him up this morning to run with us, but he just groaned and rolled over." Jack did not want to say anything negative about his son, so he did not respond. But thinking of their early morning run, he began to grow tumescent. They sprinted the last hundred yards and without making it obvious, Jack had allowed Isabelle to beat him by a yard. Even though she knew he had let her win, it still made her happy. It was a beautiful morning and they collapsed on the dewy grass. Jack's morning hard on appeared with full force and he had carried her into the summerhouse. They were both covered with sweat and dew. Jack stripped off her running tights and tongued her cunt and then sucked so hard on her clit that she squealed as she came. She was at the right time of the month and her cervical mucus was clear - he was sure she was ovulating. Tonguing a trail from her crotch up over her belly, breasts, throat and finally her lips, he rolled up her jog bra and mounted her. Then he began to fuck her hard. Thrusting his cock deep into her, the thought that he was breeding her again excited him so much that he could not restrain himself. Just as her powerful orgasmic contractions wrung his shaft, he exploded and pumped his load into her. Compared to their normal extended sex sessions, it was a quick romp, but it still made a mess of the pristine sheets on the summerhouse king bed. Staring at her feeding their daughter now, he wanted her again. "She's so like you, Jack," said Isabelle, eyeing the growing bulge in Jack's pants. "Greedy to the point of being insatiable." "Enjoy her while she's so easy to satisfy," said Jack. "All she wants now is your tit. She'll be asking for horses and sports cars soon enough." "Keep your filthy mouth away from my family," snapped Martin stepping out onto the patio through the French windows from the lower hall. He put his arms around Isabelle's shoulders and his tone abruptly changed and took on a honeyed note. "How are you, darling? Shall I ask the nurse to come and take the little terror away?" Martin's initial excitement with being a father and his early enchantment with "his" daughter had faded with the passing months. He had not wanted to have children and as the baby became less of a novelty and more of a routine, taking more of Isabelle's time, he began to resent her. The family would have been torn apart if he knew that it was Jack who had bred his wife. A classic mother's boy with a strong Oedipal complex, he was obsessed with his mother. The fact that Carmen shared Jack's bed made him hate his father and everything about him. "Come now, Martin, do sit with us," said Isabelle. "There's some tea in the pot and it's still hot under the cozy." Martin sat by Isabelle. He poured himself some tea and took a few sips. Then he leaned over and tried to kiss her. "Not now, Martin. Can't you see that I'm still feeding Alix?" "All she does is eat. Day and night, she's always there. We employ a nurse and a nanny, for Pete's sake. Can't you give her to them for a couple of hours?" "Oh Martin, she's in the nursery for hours each day when I'm working. Look how sweet she is! Everyone says she's the spitting image of you." Jack rose and came over. He put his finger out and tickled his daughter's chin, getting a light touch on Isabelle's breast and nipple in the process. Without taking her mouth off her mother's nipple, Alix reached out and caught Jack's finger in her tiny hand and squeezed. Unlike Martin, he spent as much time as he could with Alix and he was the only one other than Isabelle, her nurse and her nanny that she allowed to hold her without shrieking. "How are you, little Alix Angelique?" whispered Jack, wagging the finger that she held. She held on tenaciously, multi-tasking as she kept her mouth working on her mother's nipple. Martin felt left out and looked away into the vast backwoods of the Grierson estate, sulkily. "Why don't you leave?" he asked Jack with an edge in his voice. "Can't you see that you are intruding on us?" "Martin!" Isabelle said sharply. "What's come over you? Apologize to your father." "I'm just doing it for you," said Martin defensively. "You know you can't stand him. He always causes trouble." "Whether or not I like someone should have no bearing on your behavior. Now let's sit down and converse like civilized folk." Martin did not respond, and would not apologize to Jack. He gulped down his tea and rose saying, "I'm going to take a walk in the woods. Coming?" "I need to finish feeding Alix," said Isabelle. "And then put the nanny will take her to put her down for a nap. Can you wait for fifteen minutes?" "No, I need to get some exercise before work. I have to prep for my big interview this evening. I'm meeting with the Saudi commercial attaché at the Embassy reception." He tried to kiss Isabelle again, but she offered him her cheek. He pecked her with bad grace and left with his hands in his pockets, whistling tunelessly. "I wish he would take to Alix," said Jack. "He's got to learn to become a good father." "Little Alix Angelique already has a good father," said Isabelle mischievously. "A father who loves her and who named her." "Quiet!" said Jack, looking around. "You never know when one of the staff may be around." "To think that Martin wanted to name her Suzette!" went on Isabelle. "Can you imagine! A name for a maid! Or a cat! You named her well - Alix Angelique, a fit name for a baroness." "I thought the de la Roques are counts. Aren't they?" "Yes, but the de la Roque title passes down the male line. My mother is a countess because she is the wife of Count Charles de la Roque. My sister Cecile and I carry the de la Roque name, but neither one of us will inherit that title. Since my parents do not have a son, it will pass to one of my father's cousins." "But you said Alix is a baroness...?" "Ah, it is complicated. In addition to being the Countess de la Roque, my mother is also the Baroness de Croissy. That is an odd title. Back in the 1200s, the first baron bequeathed the barony to his eldest daughter and decreed that it be passed down the female line. My mother was an eldest daughter and inherited the Croissy title from her mother." "And you are her eldest daughter..." "Yes, if I outlive my mother, then I will become," here she sat back and raised her chin dramatically. "Isabelle Marguerite, Baroness de Croissy. And after me, it will pass to little Alix Angelique." "Well, you married the right man," replied Jack. "Through Carmen, Martin has earls and even dukes in his lineage. He's right when he calls me a knave from the gutter. That's where I came from." "I hate him when he says things like that," said Isabelle, fiercely. "It makes me want to go down and suck your big cock right in front of him. It makes me so angry when people put you down!" Alix had finished her feed and almost immediately fell asleep. Isabelle gently extricated her nipple from her mouth and activated the call function on her phone. A few moments later, the nanny emerged from the mansion and took the sleeping baby from Isabelle to put her down in the nursery for her morning nap. As soon as the nanny disappeared into the mansion Isabelle moved over, sat on Jack's lap and put her free arm around him. She pulled Jack's head down towards her breasts. Alix had sucked one breast down its normal athletic size, but the other was still a bit puffed up, with breast milk dampening the nipple. "Take my nipple, Jack," she hissed when he resisted. "Or I swear I will tear your pants off and suck your cock right here." "But..." he began. "Now!" she commanded. "I need you!" Resigned, Jack obeyed. She covered his head with her shawl and he began to suck on her. As the sweet, rich breast milk flowed into his mouth, he had to move her buttocks to accommodate his growing cock. His powerful sucking was an intensely sensual bond between them - she gave out small gasps, making his cock even harder. Five minutes later, he was leaning in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Isabelle was back in own her chair, sitting primly and adjusting her shawl around her. "Isabelle, you've got to control yourself," he said. "We're walking a delicate line here." On cue, Martin returned from the woods, appearing around the side of the summerhouse. Isabelle waved to him and he came up to them briskly. This time she allowed him to kiss her, opening her mouth to receive his tentative tongue. "After my interview, I have been invited to a very select private dinner at the home of the Saudi ambassador, darling," he said, as he straightened. "Do join me there. I'll ask mother to join us as well. The ambassador, Prince Mushtaq al Rahim al Khalifa sent a personal message asking me to bring the two of you along." It did not escape Isabelle that Martin pointedly did not ask Jack. "Jack, isn't Prince Mushtaq your friend?" asked Isabelle, ignoring the frown that immediately creased Martin's face. "I've done some business with him," he replied. "But it was years ago. We spent some time together on the golf course." And with some very expensive bra models, Jack thought. __________________ Fifteen years earlier, Jack was in his late twenties, a business development manager reporting to his father, Reginald St James then the CEO of the conglomerate. Jack had achieved some success, but nothing that his hypercritical father-in-law considered of much value. He bought a lingerie-modeling agency, and it was very profitable, but Mr. St James made him incorporate it as a separate business with Jack as CEO, to distance what he called the "distasteful business" from the mainstream operations of the conglomerate. Jack met Prince Mushtaq through a business acquaintance and together they identified a very lucrative deal that involved setting up and running a chain of luxury hotels in the Middle East. Jack quickly saw that if he could pull this deal off, the associated service contract would bring in almost fifty million dollars into the corporation's coffers. This was sure to get Mr. St James off his back and give him the Vice Presidency he had dangled before him ever since he had married Carmen. Jack regularly invited models to company social events, especially when clients and potential clients were around. He had convinced Mushtaq and his business team that the deal made good business sense. Now he just had to land the whale - to get Mushtaq to sign off on the financing contract. He knew from the grapevine that the prince was into the high life - beautiful women, fine wines, haute cuisine, expensive cars and other boy toys. So he invited him to dinner at a Michelin starred restaurant and brought along two bra models. The willowy models made a good living off their modeling contracts. But when Jack presented them with expensive diamond jewelry and ordered a couple of thousand-dollar bottles of wine, they were quite happy to spend time with the two men. They were all quite drunk by midnight and retired to Jack's suite at the Hilton. Both women were extremely exotic (in the years that followed, Jack spent a great deal of time with both of them). One was a tall, part-Asian blonde whose parentage showed in her slant eyes and high cheekbones, while the other had a wholesome all-American cheerleader look, but with dusky skin that suggested some black blood. Mushtaq and Jack started by fucking each of them separately and then they traded places. After polishing off a bottle of champagne, they resumed their carnal activities by double-teaming first one of the girls and then the other. The girls were not so keen on the double-penetrations, but Mushtaq was quite rough in bending them to his will. He seemed to take extra pleasure in their resistance. In the early hours of the morning, he demonstrated his satisfaction signing the contract with one of the bra models on her knees sucking him off. Indeed he was so happy that he insisted on reciprocating by inviting Jack to spend a night on his large yacht. After a fine dinner, washed down with some vintage wines, they went on deck to laze on chaises and watch the moonrise. Ahmed, Mushtaq's major domo came to them, leading a tall young woman covered from head to toe in a burkah as black as the night. Her face was pale, but her blue eyes were modestly downcast. Mushtaq introduced her as his favorite concubine, Leyla Aliyeva, and offered her to Jack for the night. His only stipulation was that Jack wear a condom - Leyla was only nineteen and he was in the process of breeding her himself. She's from one of the Muslim areas that used to be part of the old USSR, thought Jack. She must have a lot of Russian blood - that accounts for her height, pale skin and blue eyes. She will give him a gorgeous child. No wonder Mushtaq wants to breed her. Jack was happy to agree to the terms. If she was Mushtaq's favorite, he was sure that beneath the all-covering burkah she was gorgeous, as well as a good fuck. Mushtaq gave Jack his own opulent stateroom and left them alone. The burkah-clad girl stood passively by the massive bed. Jack let his hands roam over her the silken robes, feeling her young body through them, kneading her ass, her tits and her crotch. His adept ministrations made her catch her breath several times. He went down under the hem of the robes and tented under them, continued exploring her body with his hands. Enveloped in the semi-darkness of the swirling silk was a new experience for him and he found it intensely erotic. He traced the lines of her black Valentino shoes with his fingers, wondering why such a tall woman would wear high heels. Underneath her burkah, she wore very expensive black lingerie - stockings with garters, satin panties and a strapless demi-bra. Jack kissed her crotch, first through the panties and then drew them down and pulled them off. He set to work on her cunt, licking her vulva and spearing her vagina with his thick tongue. He heard her rapid exhalations that grew to gasps. It was a novel experience as she was shrouded from him by the voluminous swirls of the silken burkah. Once he got her moaning steadily, he began to work on her clit, kissing it, spearing it with his tongue and gently sucking on it. He stopped and delayed several times, ramping her excitement up, and then lowering her down again. He knew he was driving her wild, for her hips began to gyrate wildly and her hands grasped his head through the silken folds of the burkah and pulled him into her crotch tightly. Simultaneously, she arched her back, as though she were trying to open her innermost gate to his face. "Bozhe moy, chto ty delayesh' so mnoy?!" she cried out. (My God, what are you doing to me?!) Jack could not understand the words, but he recognized that she was crying out in Russian and guessed what she was saying from her tone. He kept teasing her for almost fifteen minutes, drawing ever more strident cries from her. "Otday yego mne!... Okh!... Sdelayte mne diplom!... Okh!!... Teper'!... Okh!!... Teper'! (Give it me!... Ooh!... Make me cum!... Ooh!!... Now!... Ooh!!... Now!) Finally, he kept his lips sealed around her engorged clit and sucked till she exploded. Her orgasm was massive and while her cries were not particularly loud, her contractions and the thrashing of her body were some of the most intense Jack had seen. He came out of the tent of the burkah and held her in his arms. As he held her, he adroitly removed his polo shirt and trousers. She trembled, whispering to him, "Nikto ne delal etogo so mnoy prezhde. Bozhe moy, vy menya na nebesakh!" (No one has ever done that to me before. My God, you put me in heaven!) He continued to fondle her and searched the silken folds for the hooks that held the robes on. It took patience to search the unfamiliar garment, but slowly and steadily he unfastened hook after hook until the smooth black silk slid off her body and pooled at her feet. She now only wore her lingerie, shoes and the black silk headscarf tied around her head, covering her hair. Jack picked her up and carried her to the huge bed. Lying together on the bed, he held her very gently, running a hand over her smooth cheeks, kissing the tip of her thin nose. She snuggled up to him, as though this gentleness was new to her. Her demi-bra only covered the under-swells of her breasts and left her nipples bare - he slid down, kissed and then sucked on them, making them hard and stiff again. She sighed with contentment. He found her cunt again with his fingers, assuring himself that she was still very wet. Mushtaq had thoughtfully provided a box of maxi condoms on the nightstand. Jack broke the seal on one with the objective of putting it on. But before he could do so, she softly held his wrist and extricated it from his hand. "Leyla, I promised Mushtaq I would use a condom," said Jack, wondering if she would understand. "I put it on you," she said, smiling. "My way. You see." She put the condom on her tongue in reverse. Glancing over his shoulder, Jack saw the condom box bore the label "vanilla-flavored" and now realized why. She went down on him and her eyes grew round with amazement at the sight of his rampant manhood. Undeterred, she opened her lips wide and dexterously worked her tongue to slide the condom over his cockhead. Then forming a tight closure with her lips behind the roll of the condom, she held Jack's hips as she pushed forward, covering his cock with the condom while at the same time she took more and more of him into her mouth. She arched her neck, but even though she tried valiantly, she could not take more then three quarters of his enormous cock into her mouth. Jack did not force her, but sat back and let her try on her own. Finally, she came up for air and sat back on her haunches with saliva running down the sides of her mouth. "Mne ochen' zhal'; chto vy slishkom bol'shoy!" she panted, gesturing with her hands to indicate his length. (I'm sorry; you are too big!) Jack took her in his arms again and kissed her. She put her arms around him and kissed him back, rubbing her beautiful young breasts on his chest. Then he pushed her on to her back and mounted her. He pushed his cockhead into her, glorying in her warm and wet tightness. She whimpered, but said faintly, "Yebat' menya, yebat' menya trudno." Then she repeated in English, "Fuck me. Fuck me hard." Jack Grierson Chronicles Ch. 01: Leyla Jack kept thrusting into her, sinking a few more inches each time. With the third thrust he sank his entire length into her and when she felt his mount smack on hers she cried out, "Bozhe moy, ty u menya v gorle!" (My God, you are in my throat!") Jack worked on her steadily, building up his tempo, giving her a chance to become accustomed to his huge dick. Her excitement rose in sync with his tempo. Her thighs threshed, her nails raked his back and she kissed him with abandon. Her tongue sparred with his and would not let him break off the kiss. She breathed into his mouth, exuding the vanilla scent of the condom together with smell of her expensive perfume. Soon she was past the limits of her experience. No man had ever fucked her this long without cumming. She wondered how Jack maintained his control, for she felt herself losing hers. "Yebat' menya!... Okh!!... , Yebat' menya gluboko!!... Ookh!!... Ne ostanavlivaysya!... Okh!!... Yebat' menya trudno!!" (Fuck me!...Ooh!!... Fuck me deep!!... Oooh!!... Don't stop!... Oooh!!... Fuck me hard!!) She came again. As was his wont, Jack did not stop fucking her, but continued through her massive contractions and the thrashing of her body, impaling her on her cock. He had her so sensitized now that she came twice again in succession, so quickly that neither of them could tell when one orgasm ended and the next began. This double whammy brought Jack over the edge and he came, pounding her and filling the sac of the condom with his jism. Afterwards, he cuddled her in her afterglow, still excited by contrast between the tightly bound black headscarf that still covered her hair and her racy lingerie. "You are amazing, Leyla Aliyeva," whispered Jack. She was still breathless, but whispered back, "I love you, Jack Grierson." Jack had assumed that Mushtaq would provide him with a high-class hooker and had been prepared to pay a fat tip out of the wad of cash he had in his wallet. But holding Leyla in his arms and looking into her big blue eyes, somehow this course of action seemed seedy. He wracked his brains for something to give her. At his wit's end, he pulled off his high school class ring. It was embossed with his school coat of arms and the year of his graduation, and it meant something to him. He gave it to her saying, "To remember me by." He expected her to show her distaste for the cheap trinket, and was surprised by the childish glee with which she took it, kissed it and held it to her breast. A few minutes later there was a discreet knock on the door. Jack rose, toweled off and pulled on his pants before saying, "Enter." Ahmed, the major domo opened the door, but did not enter. "Mr. Grierson, the guest suite is ready for you." Jack looked around at Leyla as he gathered the rest of his clothing. She was a study in extremes, with her modest black headscarf and her voluminous burkah on the floor by the bed, her near nakedness accentuated by her demi-bra, garters and stockings. She blew him a kiss. The next morning, Jack breakfasted with Mushtaq on the deck. The prince seemed preoccupied and did not bring up the previous night, so Jack politely did not mention it either. He was disappointed that Leyla was nowhere in evidence. He almost asked about her a dozen times, but each time he stopped himself. After they finished breakfast, Mushtaq escorted Jack to the gangway, followed by Ahmed. Jack's limo was on the quay with Henry behind the wheel. "Thanks for coming aboard, Jack," said Mushtaq. "I think we're even and we've sealed our deal. We'll both make millions out of it." "Yes, we will," replied Jack. When he settled into the cushions of the limo, he looked out the window at the massive yacht, running his eyes over the decks and the portholes, wondering where Leyla was. He thought that was the end of it and told himself he should forget her. But two days later, he was working late and decided to stay in his suite at the Hilton for the night. He had Henry drop him there and as he was getting his key card from the desk, the clerk said, "Mr. Grierson, there is a woman here to see you. She came yesterday and waited for you all evening. Today she has been waiting for almost three hours. She's in the lobby over by the fireplace." Jack looked over to see Leyla rise and walk toward him. She was dressed as before in a black burkah, the black headscarf tightly bound over her hair. Neither one of them spoke, but she fell into step with him as he walked towards the elevators. They entered his suite together. As usual, there was a bottle of Dom Perignon in a silver bucket waiting for him. He opened it and poured out two flutes, handing her one. They clinked and sipped the bubbly wine. "I want you," she said. "What about Mushtaq?" asked Jack. "If you stay with me, he will kill both of us." "It is the right time of the month for me - and I want your baby," she said simply. "I know how to keep him happy. He will think it is his and he will never know." So Jack fucked her that night and pumped his seed into her. He fucked her four times, making her scream with orgasm after orgasm. She was right; she was indeed ovulating. By morning he was sure he had bred her. __________________ Henry pulled up in the portico of the ambassador's residence in a long line of limousines. Jack and Carmen sat in the rear cushions with Martin and Isabelle facing them. Jack's presence had ruined the evening for Martin. He had hoped to have his mother and wife to himself, away from his father's shadow, showing off his rich and powerful connections. He sat quietly fuming while Carmen prattled on with Jack and Isabelle. "Prince Mushtaq is always in the society pages isn't he?" she said. "Always escorting some society beauty. You used to know him, didn't you Jack? When did you see him last?" "Not since we did that hotel deal together. Remember, the one that got your father to promote me to Vice President." "Oh, I remember that one! We flew to Dubai together for the opening. That was such a grand affair. That was when he rode a camel with me. I thought he was so colorful, like someone out of a movie. He certainly goes after what he wants." Mushtaq had desperately wanted to bed the young Carmen. She was flattered by his attentions - she flirted with him and they exchanged some mild innuendo. But when he took encouragement and began to make physical advances, she drew back. He grew quite insistent but the more he pushed, the more she resisted, until she grew quite sharp. Jack remembered the whole thing very well, so he did not respond. The large front double doors were open, but there were half a dozen hard faced security men with earpieces and large bulges under their armpits. Martin handed the card he had been given at the Embassy reception to one of the men, who scanned it on a bar code reader. "Mr. Martin Grierson, Mrs. Isabelle de la Roque Grierson and Mrs. Carmen St James Grierson," he read off the screen in front of him. "I only have the three of you on my list. I cannot admit anyone else." Martin smirked. Isabelle saw it and her lips compressed into a thin line. She was furious at her husband's spiteful trickery and eased her arm away from him. "That's OK," said Jack easily. "I'll leave. Henry can take me to the office, there are few things I need to catch up on." "No, no," remonstrated Carmen. "There must be some mistake. I only agreed to come this afternoon. Martin, you did give them your father's name at the same time as mine didn't you?" "Of course, mother," said Martin innocently. "Is there someone you can call?" asked Carmen. "Don't worry, dear," said Jack. "Just go on in and have a great time." Just as Jack was turning to walk away, Mushtaq's major domo Ahmed appeared. He bowed, welcoming Martin, Isabelle and Carmen. Then he called out, "Mr. Grierson, is that you?" "Yes," Jack said, turning around, his hands in his pockets. "Prince Mushtaq begs that you will join the dinner party," he said. "Please forgive the oversight in the guest list." "I do not wish to intrude," said Jack. "Mr. Grierson, the prince has authorized me to say that he will take it as a personal favor if you will attend." "That is very kind of him," said Jack, walking back in past the security men. He joined Carmen, Martin and Isabelle, pretending not to notice his son's nasty look. Given the size and splendor of the ambassador's residence, the dinner was an intimate affair. There were just about twenty of Mushtaq's closest friends there. It was served as a buffet and presided over by Mushtaq's oldest son Aziz, who was just a year younger than Martin. Martin sought out Mushtaq and made a show introducing him to Isabelle and Carmen. Jack hung back at the fringes of the gathering, eating little, but watchful. There was an Arabian sword dance with a troupe from Riyadh, who performed with real swords. At the conclusion, Mushtaq took one of their swords, threw up an apple and expertly sliced it two in mid-air, demonstrating both his skill as well as the razor sharpness of the blade. After dinner, Mushtaq's youngest wife appeared, fully covered in a black burkah. She had a small child in her arms that was introduced to all present as Mushtaq's youngest child. After making a round of the room and being introduced, she disappeared back into the interior of the residence. Then Jack's heart stopped as Leyla entered, leading a three children, a tall blond-haired, blue-eyed boy of about fourteen and two younger, darker girls. "My son Akhbar," announced Mushtaq. He did not bother to introduce his daughters. Dressed in her black burkah and headscarf, Leyla just stood there without even looking up to see who was in the room. But even as she fixedly looked at the floor, Jack's close scrutiny revealed that she had a very distinct black eye. Mushtaq went to her and put an arm around her waist. "Leyla is my dearest friend," he said. "My life would be empty without her." Leyla's cheeks went red with his words. She quickly turned and left, taking her three children with her. "She is shy," said Mushtaq. "She cannot abide any company but mine." Jack watched her disappear through the door. He was assailed by a vague feeling of disappointment that she had not acknowledged his presence. It was a lifetime ago, he thought. An impossible liaison. What I thought we had was just my imagination. He was lost in thought when he was suddenly jerked back into the present by a tap on his shoulder. It was Mushtaq. "Could we have a word? In private?" Jack followed Mushtaq out of the reception hall down a corridor and into a cozy book-lined study. Mushtaq poured out two snifters of hundred-year-old brandy and handed Jack one. They sipped in silence for a long moment. "What did you do to her, Jack?" "I don't know what you are talking about." "You know very well. I love Leyla to distraction. Giving her to you was the worst mistake. I don't know what happened between the two of you on my yacht, but that night changed our lives. Before that night she loved me as much as I love her - she lit up like a candle whenever I entered the room. After that night, it was as if a light switch was turned off. She has not loved me since." "Mushtaq, you must see how ridiculous this sounds." "I would not have believed it if I did not live it, every day. She does everything I ask. Except love me. Year after year, you remain in her thoughts. I do not understand it - I give her everything." "Including beatings." "Yes, I beat her on occasion. When she first came into my harem, I never beat her; she was the one who used her nails on me. It was exciting! Now I beat her just to get her to react to me like she used to, but she just cowers like a mongrel bitch. You took the spark out of our relationship, Jack." "Well, you've got what you wanted from her. Three beautiful children." "Yes, I wanted a blond child and she has given me Akhbar. The boy is so like me! You should see how he handles a falcon." Jack swirled his brandy in the snifter and did not respond. "She's a delicate flower," he said finally. "Cherish her, for you will not find another like her." "Bah!" said Mushtaq. He tossed back what was left of his brandy. "I'll leave you to finish your drink in peace." He left Jack in the study, shutting the door behind him with a thump that rang of finality. Jack sat on the massive oaken desk and took another sip of the fine brandy. He closed his eyes, savoring the exquisite taste. When he opened his eyes, Leyla stood before him, dressed as always in an all-enveloping black burkah and headscarf. He gawked at her, but unlike in the reception room, she looked straight into his blue-gray eyes. He saw the full reality of the black, purple and blue bruising around her eye. Impulsively, he put down his brandy snifter, covered the few steps between them and took her in his arms. He cradled her head and ran his fingers gently, ever so gently, over her bruised eye. She looked up at him and smiled. "What do you think of our son?" she whispered. Jack's look was answer enough. He kissed her and she kissed him back, desperately, frantically, as if to make up for all their years apart. She rubbed her body on his, rousing his manhood to a full erection. "We can't," gasped Jack. "Not here." "I leave for Riyadh tomorrow. Mushtaq may never let me leave Arabia again." She looked up at him again. "You must give me another child to love in that desolate harem. Akhbar belongs to Mushtaq now." Jack looked over at the study door doubtfully. "I lock it when I come in," she said, her English deteriorating as she spoke faster. "And there is secret passage out if someone comes." He still looked doubtful, but she smiled impishly. She extricated herself from his arms. "Let me show you what they taught me in the harem. I dance for you." She pulled out her smartphone and cued up some haunting Middle Eastern music at a low volume. Joining her hands above her head, she undulated her body in time to the music, moving slowly and snake-like. Covered from head to toe, she still managed to convey the shape of the sexy body underneath. She danced up to Jack and then retreated, up and back several times. Each time she advanced, she unfastened more hooks of her burkah, so that it began to slip down her body. With a final swing of her hips, she allowed the voluminous garment to slide completely down and off. She stood in a statuesque pose, with her arms above her head, raising her already firm breasts. Her tightly wound headscarf still covered her hair. Under the burkah she wore exactly the same clothing as she had at their first meeting, the demi-bra, black stockings, garters and pumps - but she had no panties on. Jack picked her up and carried her to desk. Laying her on it, he made to go down on her but she remonstrated, "No time for that. I'm all wet - I was masturbating thinking about you. Just fuck me. Put your baby in my womb." So Jack fucked her. It was artless, for they were both in a hurry. Her masturbation has sensitized her and she came very quickly. She was no longer the nineteen-year-old he had known and the orgasm almost drove her to hyperventilation. He remained deeply embedded in her, filling her with his huge cock that pulsed with his heartbeat, listening to her panting. As her breathing slowed she said, "Let me show you something else they taught me in the harem." She scissored her stocking-clad legs around his waist and arched her back. She rolled her hips, squeezing his cock with her tight vagina and whispered, "It is called the love of the belly-dancer." She rolled her hips first in one direction and then the other. The sensation of her tightness massaging his dick was so pleasurable that he groaned. When he began fucking her again, he only lasted a few quick thrusts before he climaxed, driving his seed into her womb. Slowly, his erection began to subside, but he remained in her, knowing that withdrawal would mean goodbye. "Why did Mushtaq beat you?" he asked. "Always same reason," she said, pulling on the black ribbon choker around her throat. Jack saw that his high school ring hung from it. "He want ring you gave me. Every time, he offer exchange for sapphire ring, diamond ring, but I forever say no. So he be angry, make a great fist and hit me." Unconsciously, Jack tightened his hold on her. He felt his eyes sting. "Hush," she said, wiping his eyes. He was surprised for he did not realize that there were tears in his eyes - he could not remember the last time he had shed tears. "I have only had two men in my life. One loves me and beats me. I love the other and I do not want him to cry." "Give him the damn ring," said Jack, his voice harsher than he meant it to be. "It is a worthless trinket. Let him destroy it - it is not worth all this pain." "No!" He was surprised by the stridency in her voice. "It is my memory of you. I take it with me to my grave. If he wants it, he must kill me." Jack knew that Mushtaq funded a dozen different terrorist groups and had no shortage of hardened killers at his beck and call. She was a delicate fawn surrounded by wolves. There was nothing he could do to save her. But for now he held her. There was the sound of the doorknob - someone was trying to enter. Jack pulled out and his soft cock came out of her with a plop. Using his handkerchief to clean himself he called out, "Sorry, I must have shut it by accident. Just a moment!" He pulled on his trousers and looked around just in time to see Leyla pause by a tall painting on the rear wall. She hit an unseen knob and the painting slid aside, revealing a narrow passage. She turned and he saw that she had her burkah in a black bundle in her arms. Once again, he found the juxtaposition of her black headscarf with her lingerie-accented nakedness intensely erotic. But there was a look of deep sadness in her blue eyes. She took half a step back towards him, then whirled and ran down the passage. He felt a painful lump forming in his throat. As the painting slid back into place, he knew he would never see her again. Jack picked up his brandy snifter and opened the door. Ahmed came in and looked around the study suspiciously. He stopped in the middle of the floor and sniffed. Leyla's distinctive perfume hung in the air. "Leyla was just here," said Jack. "Thank God you came and stopped me from doing something stupid. She fled as soon as she heard your knock." "Even if you had tried, it would have been a vain effort, Mr. Grierson. She knows full well that Prince Mushtaq will have her killed if she cheats on him." "Well, I guess there was no risk then." __________________ It was unnaturally silent in the limo on the way home. Jack was lost in his own thoughts and did not notice it. "Who is Leyla?" asked Carmen. She was trying to make conversation and the question sounded forced. "She's one of Prince Mushtaq's concubines," said Martin authoritatively. "He has over a dozen. She's probably the one he happened to bring out tonight. Concubines are like jackets to Arab princes like Mushtaq. He sleeps with a different one every night, just as he wears a different jacket every day - they mean nothing to him." "Well, she is very beautiful," said Carmen. "And her son is so handsome. I think he looks a bit like you, Martin." "What a silly idea!" laughed Martin, leaning forward and patting Carmen's thigh. Isabelle sat very erect, staring straight ahead. She was deaf to the conversation between mother and son and did not recognize Martin's presence. Jack glanced at her and immediately knew that she was incensed. Martin tried to hold her hand, but she jerked it away. When Henry dropped them at home, Carmen gave an elaborate yawn and said, "I'm very tired. I'm going straight to my suite." Jack Grierson Chronicles Ch. 01: Leyla Martin again tried a rapprochement with Isabelle, putting his arm around her, but she forcefully removed it from her person. She stalked off into the mansion. Jack made no comment, but went to his study and fired up his computer. He responded to some urgent emails and made some stock trades on the Far Eastern markets. A few minutes later, there was a rap on the door and Isabelle entered without waiting for a response. She came in, sat on Jack's desk and crossed her long legs. Jack knew what she wanted him to do, so he asked, "Why are you so mad at Martin?" "I used to find his baa lamb demeanor cute and have always enjoyed being a second mother to him," she said, her voice tight with anger. "But tonight I really saw I a side of him that I despise. I don't know what I am going to do." "Tell me about it," said Jack. "After you left with Mushtaq, the chatter in the room got much more raucous - a lot of rough talk, bad language and misogynistic stories involving violence towards women. I realized that Carmen and I were the only women present and moreover that the four of us Griersons were the only non-Arab guests." "I know," said Jack. "That's why I got us out of there as soon as I returned." "Yes," said Isabelle. She smiled suddenly, breaking the tense mood. "You were great, Jack, the way you calmly stood up to him when he threatened you with the sword." "I was in no danger. Mushtaq would never risk doing anything that would bring in the police. Or the intelligence services." "You are being modest. I screamed when he cut the button off your shirt." "Like I said, I was in no danger. He's good with a sword. But surely that has nothing to do with Martin?" "No, it was what happened before you returned. Mushtaq came back alone and immediately made for Carmen. He started talking to her, but within a minute, he had his arm around her and was pawing her, squeezing her breasts, putting a great meaty hand up her dress, feeling her crotch. I couldn't see, but I bet he got his fingers in her cunt. Carmen struggled and fought but as you know, he's a big beast of a man. All the other Arabs began to laugh and talk loudly in Arabic. I turned to Martin and told him to do something. He said - and you will not credit this - 'Oh, I think she may be enjoying this.' So I went up myself and tried to get Mushtaq's hands off her. We fought over her for a few moments before he released her." Jack's face went pale. "Then what happened?" "Mushtaq said to me, 'I hear you appraise art for a living. I have some pieces I would like you to appraise. Come up with me to my bedroom and I will show them to you. You will find them very exciting. In fact, I think they will give you an orgasm'. The Arabs all laughed again, very loudly and they were now crowding around Carmen and me. I looked around desperately for Martin, but he was standing by the door, looking frightened. He didn't even call emergency services! Then Mushtaq put his hand up MY dress, pushed my panties aside and stuck a finger in my ass, saying, 'You Frenchwomen like to be fucked in the ass and we Arabs liking fucking women in the ass. We are a pair!' I thought both Carmen and I were going to be gang raped right there. But then that major domo Ahmed came up and whispered in Mushtaq's ear. He released me, said something in Arabic to his friends and they drifted away from us. A minute later you appeared, rounded the three of us up and told Mushtaq we were leaving. He pulled the sword on you and you know the rest."