Arcadia Resurgence by Vague Vermillion (e books free to read txt) 📖

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.

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