Princess Zhaleh's Eyes - F/m, enslaved, bond, oral, femdom

[uncannymoebius]

Thank you for taking the time to read this story. It is the first time I've ever written erotic fiction. I would love feed back - critiques, what you liked, ideas for chapter 2 and beyond, etc. Really, anything would be be much appreciated. I am trying to be accurate historically and within the world of the piece, so if you noticed inconsistencies in the story or with history, please let me know!

Thank you for reading my work and I really do hope you enjoy it!

-uncannymoebius

P.S. I hope someone figures out my inspiration!

1

A ship’s horn roared twice, in rapid succession, awakening Edgar Balthazar from a deep sleep. He opened his eyes but nothing seemingly changed. Everything was black and silent.

Edgar blinked and the horn roared twice again. Edgar’s eyes darted, disoriented and searching for light. Again, everything went silent. He tried to move but quickly found he was immobile. He could move his elbows just enough to discover walls with his hands. What a strange texture, he thought.

For a third time the horn roared. But instead of silence, a loud creak followed. It echoed and Edgar was pitched to his right, sliding along while pinned inside a box. Luckily the apparent box didn’t slide for long and slowed to a rest. Edgar found himself more disoriented but unharmed. Still, it was pitch black and, still, Edgar did not know where he was. He moved his hands along the walls again, feeling their odd and interesting texture. He noted that it was a bit damp but not enough to feel wet. He tried to push against these walls. But nothing happened. They were stiff and unrelenting.

He sat confused and pinned tightly inside a mysterious and likely wooden box. His memory was foggy and his mouth felt dry. He finally noticed the salty smell in the air with the light tinge of algae musk. His head was sore as if he was wearing a hat slightly too tight. I wish I could rub my forehead, he thought.

Edgar slumped. He tried to concentrate on how he got inside this strange box. He felt a bit of uneasy when he remembered Timbuktu.

Timbuktu, he thought. That sounds so familiar…

“Timbu-,” he yelled and suddenly stopped.

He instinctively moved his trapped hands up but could not move them more than 6 inches. He braced his hands against the walls of his box as if to show he was wincing. Edgar’s ears rang a little and he wondered what was sitting on his head. Whatever it was it rang like metal. He noted to not say anything too loudly.

Timbuktu is where this box is headed! Well, he thought matter-of-factly, it is actually a trunk. Edgar slowly remembered the events that led him to his dark confinement. Edgar was to inherit the fortune of his now-former Mistress, Madame Adelaide Bonfamille. Edgar thought his life as a servant was over. And while he did not hate his life (truth be told, he rather enjoyed waiting on Mme. Adelaide), it was a welcome change to the stale monotony of helping an elderly woman.

Edgar himself was not young, but he certainly was not old. In his early 40s, he was a slender and tall man with dark, lightly graying hair. Half bald, his pinkish face accented the dark brown eyebrows that rested neatly on his brow. Though not the fittest man his age, he was in rather good shape given his age thanks in large part to his duties around Mme. Adelaide’s manor. Carrying for her horse and the general upkeep of the property kept him active.

Here was a man with remarkable vigor and an undiscovered future. He had dreams and hopes. He once had aspirations! And he was alone. While Edgar was not the most handsome of men he certainly thought of himself as kind. He felt a bit trapped as the butler and worried about his future if his mistress passed away.

And when he heard that Monsieur Hautecourt was to pay his mistress a visit, he knew it was about her will. Suddenly, Edgar could see possible futures of ease and intrigue. He could become a society man; more importantly, he would be waited on!

Suddenly, his trunk shifted and slide. Edgar was still very disoriented but he reasoned that he must be on a ship, deeply inside its cargo hold. Undoubtedly his trunk was en route to Timbuktu.

How long have I been trapped inside this trunk? It couldn’t have been too long, he thought. He tried to shift his body and found it still pinned. He finally registered the dull pain his body was in, stiff and restless. Oddly, his predicament was a bit exciting. After all, he wanted change of some kind. And here he was forcibly trapped on his way to a strange land. His inability to control the next step was oddly satisfying to Edgar. Perhaps all his years as a servant taught him to let go of his ambitions. Perhaps all his years as a servant taught him to let go of something even more basic, his want for control, over even his own body. Edgar was eased a bit by these thoughts. The perverse sense of security Edgar received from his locked trunk was strangely soothing. Deprived of sensory stimulus, Edgar’s mind started to wander.

Too quickly his mind returned to the will and too quickly he remembered that he lost the inheritance. All the money, her vast fortune, went to those cats that she loved too much! Edgar should’ve known that an elderly lady would be tempted to squander her fortune. Perhaps it would have been better if I never found out, Edgar thought as he sighed heavily.

This trunk, and this journey, was meant for those cats, he thought. Instead I face a new land all alone. He sighed heavily and could feel his breath. My face must be enclosed by something, Edgar thought drowsily. He yawned and felt at ease once again. He relaxed in his damp, wooden box and his mind wandered again.

He thought of the new possibilities that faced him in Timbuktu. He heard stories of the spice trade and the fabulous wealth that came with the caravans along the desert trade routes. The bazaars full of merchants and tourists and professionals seeking the right product at the right price. Oh, I would have to learn to haggle, he considered slowly.

Edgar’s mind suddenly started to grow excited. He wondered about the women and if the stories of their exotic beauty were true. Edgar grew more excited and hoped he’d have the opportunity to be a servant again but this time to a woman much younger than Mme. Adelaide.

Edgar didn’t notice, but he grew hard as he thought about the tall, dark, and beautiful women of this new, desert land. His mind wandered deeper into a trance as the ship rolled slightly, creaking easily, and sliding Edgar slowly across the bay floor. He was momentarily content and oblivious of things to come.

* * *

Edgar slumped inside a box with labored breath. It was dark except for two slits of light, parallel to one another, shining on Edgar’s chest. His arms were pinned tightly behind him. He could feel his hands and tried to move his arms but he couldn’t move them. He discovered they were pinned to the top of this box. His mouth was filled with a leather ball strapped to his mouth. Edgar’s mouth ached and droll trickled out of his mouth and dripping off his lips. Edgar heard murmurs outside, at least two voices. And he remembered he was naked. He was always naked.

It had been almost two weeks since Edgar started his journey to Timbuktu. Once the ship reached port, he was moved off ship and into a truck. He tried to scream but the trunk was thickly padded and near sound proof. Because his head was encased in metal, his screams were mostly yelps and in the bustle of the dock no one seemingly took notice. He languished on the dock and was thirsty for what seemed like days but was only hours. Luckily it was the fall in Africa so he survived the heat. Eventually, he was moved onto a truck and then to a train and taken inland. Edgar was disoriented and weak and lost track of time. The journey took nearly five days. From the station, Edgar was driven inside the trunk of a car. Edgar was barely conscious and heard the rumbles of a city. At times he could feel the bumps and thought about how unpleasant they were. But mostly he sat unconscious in the box.

Finally, he thought, it is opening. The top of the trunk creaked open and for the first time in weeks Edgar saw light. He moaned and soon felt hands grab his arms and pull him to his feet. Delirious and weak from sitting in one position, Edgar stumbled forward and the hands caught him. A female sweetly laughed. But Edgar sensed a nefarious quality to it. While dragged away from the trunk, he was gently lowered to the ground and onto his hands and knees.

She grabbed the bucket on his head and eased it off. He could make out a silhouette of a woman in the blinding light. She was looking down at him and gently touched his head and brushed her soft hand on his cheek. As he began to see the shape of a smile on her face, she snapped her fingers and Edgar felt the prick of a needle on his right arm and collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

When he next awoke he felt cold steel tightly around his wrists and ankles. A metal ring was strapped to his mouth, holding his mouth wide open. With mostly confused and slightly fearful eyes, he tried to look around this dark room. But he couldn’t move his head – it was strapped down to a table by a metal band with a thin layer of padding around where it touched his forehead. He was now more afraid but the sensations and the stress made Edgar hard.

That sweet laughter echoed. Instinctively, Edgar tried to move his head. He looked out of the corners of his eyes. Edgar saw nothing. He heard the clicking of heels as she approached the table. Slowly, they clacked on the tile floor with each step she took. He felt her soft hands once again, this time on his forehead. They felt along the metal band and traced his lips. He relaxed a bit but his cock was still hard. She walked to his side and felt along his left arm and noticed Edgar was surprisingly muscular. She came upon his hard cock and was truly impressed. She traced his head and then followed his throbbing vein down to his testicles. Incredible, she thought, they were impressively trimmed.

Edgar’s mind could not comprehend it. He was scared for his life but he was also the most aroused he’d ever been in his life. His ankles and wrist and mouth slightly ached but he felt sate and he was so happy that he was no longer thirsty. And now the softest hands he thought he ever felt caressed his cock. As the hand slowly moved down his cock, he relaxed further and closed his eyes.

She grabbed his balls harshly and Edgar’s eyes instantly bulged. She was right there looking at him with a wry smile. He finally made out her face and thought she was most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Her light, hazel face had a gorgeous sharpness to it. High cheek bones led to a long and well defined jaw. Her wispy lips were boldly red and shiny from some kind of oil spread over them, undoubtedly to protect their delicate nature. In the middle of her face was a rather large nose but it accented the delicate nature of her wispy mouth. Her nose was like a column built to carry the weighty nature of her eyes.

She tightened her grip on his balls and Edgar eyes bulged again. Those steely grey eyes pierced into his mind. Those beautiful and cold pools held his gaze. He never felt more afraid in his life. But he could not stop; those eyes were intoxicating. They were almond shaped jewels framed by gentle and finely groomed eyebrows. It was as if she was born to carry those eyes on display, proudly and without shame.

“Edgar, it is so good to meet you,” she said bent over his restrained body and staring into his eyes with a wry smile.

“You must have so many questions for me. You don’t even know my name.” She reached for his left nipple and rubbed her fingers on it. She was a tall woman, but Edgar could not yet tell that she was really quite tall at six foot. She was taller than Edgar. And she knew the effect she was having on him.

“Don’t be scared, dear. After all, we Persians pride ourselves in treating our guests very well. I won’t hurt you.” She pinched and twisted his nipple and Edgar moaned out of the ring gagging his face.

“Oh Edgar, you know that didn’t hurt you. Dear, you grew harder. Watc- oh, I guess you can’t.” She twisted again, this time much harder. And Edgar squealed through his metal gag. And she sweetly laughed again.

“You see my dear I’ve been waiting a week for your arrive. I’m not a woman that waits for things she desires. You must have so many questions and I really do want to answer them. But, you see, my people merchants and I, too, am a merchant. We barter or, as the Romans used to say, we deal quid pro quo. I’ll give you answers if you give me something.”

Edgar was confused and scared. His mouth gained the bitter taste of fear. What does she mean? Edgar quickly wondered.

Her heels clicked as she took steps toward his head. Suddenly she threw her left leg over Edgar’s body and she was sitting on his chest with her legs dangling over his shoulders. Her silken skirt hung over his shoulders and lay on his neck. She wore above her skirt a lavender tunic, silken and quilted. Normally she would wear loose, linen pants to protect her from the desert heat and dryness. Instead, she wore nothing. Her long, hazel-brown legs were well defined with the muscles of an athlete. They were smooth and radiated a bronzed glow.

“I will answer one question for each one thing you do for me,” she said with a harsher tone. “As soon as you stop doing as I ask, I will stop answering questions for the night. Do you understand?”

Edgar tried to nod but his strapped head only let a moan out in acknowledgement.

“Good,” she said. She slid off his chest and stood with his head between her legs. Those beautiful eyes are looking at me, Edgar thought. Her steely eyes held his gaze so strongly that he didn’t notice her beautiful, pink and hazel pussy. She smiled because she knew he couldn’t stop looking into her eyes.

She lowered her exquisitely smooth pussy to his mouth she only said, “Make me cum.”

Edgar, after all, was no virgin. But he was certainly out of practice. He stuck his tongue out to greet the arrival of her wet and warm vagina. She smelled as sweetly as she laughed, he thought. He slowly probed inside her cavity. He moved his tongue along her periphery, gently curling his tongue in a sort of dance on the way.

She never felt something quite this wonderful before. She hadn’t even a man for a couple years. Her excitement and pleasure rose and she knew she was close to having an orgasm. But, she also knew that she could not let this be too easy for Edgar. He needed to be trained, like they all were.

Suddenly, she rose and stood over him and looked down at him once again. He looked more confused than anything.

“I will answer three questions for free, Edgar. I am Princess Zhaleh; you will call me Domina. You are now my slave. And you will never be free again.”

Her heels clicked as she walked out of the room, turning off the bright incandescent light, and closing the door behind her. Edgar was left in darkness for the night.