The Harem by Paul Preston Page B

whether I trust his judgment. Really. Are the lunatics running the asylum here? I planned on having a serious discussion with Billingsley at a later date.
    When Phyllis saw me, she threw herself into my arms, the contract in one hand, the nearly empty glass in the other. I embraced her, taking the glass out of her hand and handing it to Alfred. I got a closer look; Phyllis appeared to be under twenty years old, which instantly ruled her out. Suddenly, she turned a shade of green and we just barely made it to the bathroom where she vomited into the toilet. I held her hair back, washed her face and hands and called a cab to take her home. I waited with her for twenty minutes in the library and held her hand as she wept. About what, she didn’t say. When the cab arrived, I walked her out, gave the driver her address, prepaid him for the fare with a generous tip and gave instructions to make sure she was escorted to her parent’s front door. Goodbye, Phyllis. I watched her through the window of the cab, staring straight ahead, tears dripping down her cheeks.
    I told Billingsley to tell anyone else who shows up that the club was closed for the night. I walked back to the living room and only Cynthia remained. She said that first Sapphire and then Evelyn had left. I sat down beside her for a moment and explained what had just happened with Phyllis. As I spoke, Cynthia slid off the couch to my feet and opened the sash of my robe. Never breaking eye contact with me, she cupped the underside of my root in her left palm, while holding my shaft in her right. My penis almost instantly became engorged with blood and grew in her warm soft hands. When I finished my Harem update, I petted the silky shoulder length auburn hair of my slave girl, asking her if she would like to kiss her Master’s erection. She nodded yes. I asked her to remove all her clothing, except for her pink thong. The slave girl kneeled obediently on a pillow in front of me, her breasts suspended over my lap, the tips of her extended nipples lightly brushing the skin of my thighs. She took my shaft into her mouth, swallowing it from the tip to the base and lovingly suckled upon it. She licked up the sides of my shaft and down to the sensitive, thin skin of my testicles. Holding the shaft to one angle, she sucked each side of my root into her eager mouth, kissing and licking reverently upon them for an extended period of time. I told the slave I was pleased with her and that she would earn a good price for me at the auction this upcoming week. She cried, her mascara making black streaks down her cheeks. She told me that she was falling in love with me and that she didn’t want to be sold to another Master who would use the whip on her tender flesh. After she calmed down and dried her tears, I offered my penis to suck upon and she greedily swallowed it whole once again. Sucking on me seemed to soothe her. She tried her best to make me come in her mouth. It took all my will power not to release my issue into her lovely mouth, but I had another desire for this slave. I had forgotten the slave’s name and she reminded me it was slave girl Cynthia.
    “Slave Cynthia, pick up your little black bag and follow me to my bedchamber where you will keep me company for the night, always walking a few paces behind your Master. Leave your stockings, shoes and camisole here. Follow me, Harem girl.”
    I stood up severely, tying the sash of my robe tightly around my waist. I left the room quickly, turned the corner and waited a few feet away. As soon as Cynthia came out of the living room, I pounced on her, grabbing her around the waist, picking her up and spinning her in a circle in the hallway. I grabbed her breasts and squeezed them, backing her up against the wall. I kissed her at first roughly, then tenderly, grinding my erection into her torso.
    “Are you having fun, Cynthia?”
    “I’m having so much fun with you, Master Jeremy. When I’m playing your slave girl, it’s