Hi Everyone
As I write this I have nothing to add to this Wednesday post, but if between Sunday night, when I am writing, to Wednesday, should anything trickle past me I will add.
However it really needs nothing more when we have the last part of Skinnies incredible story The Night Sissy.
XXX
Andy
And here we are, I totally forgot this from Skinnie, I love Miley, this is so hot.
Part one is here.
The Night Sissy
By
Skinnie Latex
5. Harem Boy
“Yeah, just there,” said Princess Jamilah. The cold cream felt good and soothing. “A lil’ more please, Ayesha. An’ you may go a lil’ higha’.”
“Please your Highness, spread your legs a leettle bit more.” Jamilah put more of her weight on the back of the divan and let her maid’s fingers roam deeper inside. “There bit blood,” said Ayesha showing a raised finger. Jamilah craned her neck to look.
‘The bastard,’ thought Jamilah. ‘That’s the second time in three days. Why does ‘e only do it me and not any of them ’arem Girls? Surely it should be the other way. I know what ‘e does with them ’arem Boys but he’s got limited options there: down their throats or up their bums. Simple.’ Either which way the Boys always seemed happy but they didn’t have alternatives. They could either be happy and stay in the Harem, or complain and be sold to the next customer who might be much more demanding. She’d never developed a taste for it, despite her husband’s desires. What hurt Jamilah more was that all the Harem Girls knew. Why did he fuck them properly and not her? Godammit, she was his wife! Her servants knew. The Harem Boys knew. Given staff gossip, she suspected that most of the Palace knew too.
Why did he only go that route with her? It wasn’t as if he was gay. The Harem Girls could attest to that. Ok, he liked Harem Boys for sure, but what man wouldn't? As attractive as any girl, every one with the figure and looks of a catwalk model, and with the cutest little cocklets. It wasn’t gay to like boys like that. They were like girls, except always eager and eager to please: always tight, always giggling, always ready, always wanting more. They were such fun to fuck. Perfect relaxation for his courtiers and the Palace ladies too. So much more fun than the eunuchs who always looked bored.
Maybe it was the Prince’s way of getting back at her. He knew she didn't approve of what he did, but was happy to enjoy the life of luxury it provided. She was prepared to stay quiet for that. Maybe it was because she’d not been able to provide him with a son and heir. Still childless after five years, she suspected he was firing blanks but he was unprepared to take the test. She knew it wasn’t her; she’d been checked out thoroughly at a Harley Street clinic during one of their visits to London.
When they weren’t stuck in a sandy middle of nowhere living the nomadic life of his forefathers (if his forefather had ridden 4WD Land Cruisers and Mercedes rather than camels), they were always on a visit. Diplomatic ‘business’, he called it. It was certainly business though she doubted there was much diplomacy, except of muscle diplomacy. He always travelled with plenty of muscle. It was all about buying and selling. Mostly selling. Only the very select became Harems Boys or Harem Girls. That was the lure. He seemed to find an inexhaustible supply: some willing, most unwilling. Boys and Girls from all over the world. The vast majority were traded. Traded to both exclusive buyers and the less exclusive. She really didn't want to know, except she did. She’d seen the paperwork on his desk. She’d seen the messages on his phone when he went to the bathroom and left it unlocked.
Maybe it was his way of asserting control and proving a point. In the last year he’d given up trying. If she couldn't provide him with an heir the proper way, he might as well use the tighter channel. Maybe it was her punishment for liking Harem Boys too much. But surely he used lube when he was with a Harem Boy. For her it seemed to be spit and little else. No wonder it hurt. Even keeping herself greasing in readiness didn’t seem to help.
At least no one would suspect her of impropriety with a Harem Boy, well not that kind of impropriety. They were all as useless as the eunuchs in that department. That’s what made them so adorable. Soft, limp little things or, if they did get hard, so tiny that they’d scarcely trouble a squirrel. Such sweet things that she loved having them around her when they weren’t being called away to service her husband, the Wazir or a member of his entourage.
There was a tap on the tent post. “Your Highness, the new boy has been delivered.” Jamilah looked quizzical as Ayesha removed a finger from her anus. “The boy from London. The boy you treated to a Bergman and Knightley makeover.”
Jamilah straightened as she lowered her burqa: “Ah, yes, vat boy. Please bring ’im fru’.” The maid scurried from the room. She was back a few moments later. Again the rap on the tent post. “Your Highness, this Sabrina, your new Harem Boy.” The maid pulled aside the tent flap and the prettiest creature that Jamilah had ever seen walked in. The boy was a vision in gold. Translucent gold latex. Gold harem pants and a sleeved gold latex top with a delicate, almost transparent latex yashmak to cover his mouth. His hair, pulled back tight, was secured by an ornate gold band into a plumed ponytail.
Jamilah’s mind whirred. There was the faintest hint of a cleavage. That was good: no surgery, no scars and no hormones. The boy would be randy as hell. Bangles, chains and pendant earrings. His belly button was still unpierced: Jamilah would make sure that was addressed later. She was already thinking about what piece from her jewellery collection would look good hanging from his navel. He’d need a nose ring too: probably with a delicate gold chain linked to an earring. She wondered about his nipples. And his cock. She liked her favourites pierced and marked as her personal property. There was time to decide on all of those after closer inspection.
But she was getting ahead of herself: it was the decision of an instant that she would not allow this boy to go on sale and not just because of what he had done for her in London. He was far too good for the open market. One piercing that he definitely needed was a guiche: that would prevent him getting tattooed with a catalogue number by the Shabaka. He was possibly far too good for her husband. She’d have to see about that. First she needed to get better acquainted with her new prize. “Sabrina, darlin’, come closer.” Johnnie moved a few steps forward. “Lift yer yashmak.” Johnnie raised his flimsy veil. “You are as a pretty as I remember from London. I just wanted to say fank you for all you did in the coffee bar. Yer face ’as ’ealed. You were treated well at ver clinic and at Bergman an’ Knightley?”
Johnnie was surprised. He knew that the Prince had picked up the Princess at a London nightclub during one of his visits but he hadn’t been expecting her estuary English accent. Not behind all those veils and robes. “Yes, your Highness. Thank you, your Highness.”
“I fink it’s time we became betta acquainted. Ayesha, please get me my Number Two ‘arness. We’ll start there are see what we work up to.”
6. Loitering Within Tent
Johnnie felt sore: sore navel, sore nipples, sore nose, sore perineum. He couldn't lie on his front in his camp bed. Even lying on his side was uncomfortable. A ruby jewelled pendant hung from the ring through his belly button. The rings through his nipples chafed if touched. He was still getting used to the little ring between his legs. At least the Princess hadn’t yet fastened the promised little chain to his earring. And so far his cock was untouched by the piercer’s needle. It had already been well touched by the Princess. She’d been delighted to find that he differed from the Harem Boys in a crucial area. She’d made full use of it when she wasn’t treating him to the tender mercies of one of her harnesses and its appendage. She was keen not to waste it while she had the opportunity. So far she had kept him away from husband. Sabrina was a prize she wanted to savour.
Johnnie’s bottom was sore too but in a nice way. His bed wasn’t in the Harem tent with the other boys. His little cot was at the foot of her bed in her private tent. She wanted to keep him away from prying eyes and the rest of the camp. No-one was going to select him from amongst the Harem Boys. Nevertheless, he was getting anxious. Two days had gone by. Two days stuck in the Princess’s tent. She was a lovely lady and he was getting regularly fucked by her. More surprisingly he was fucking her too. She clearly valued a Harem Boy with a well-proportioned cock. He dreaded to think what the penalty would be if they were caught. But being wrapped in cotton wool by the Princess wasn’t helping with his mission.
At least he’d garnered some intelligence during pillow talk. Titbits of information that helped fill out the picture a little: the Princess didn’t approve of what her husband did; the organisation was called the Shabaka; her husband was careless and left documents in his tent; he left his phone unlocked with details of deals and trades; his phone was a crypto wallet for the Shabaka.
He wasn’t just anxious he was bored. The Princess had been summoned to visit her husband. All Johnnie could do was try to relax and recharge. The Princess’s attendants made sure he didn’t stray from her tent when she was out. He’d tried that once and was shooed back into the tent. He’d not even been able to look round the camp. So he was surprised with the Princess away to hear a male voice outside. Voices were raised. There were sounds of a scuffle and then a short man in ornate robes pushed his way past the maids and entered the tent. Johnnie wasn’t sure whether his fortune was changing for better or worse.
“Aah! I thought I’d find something like this,” said the man. “The Harem Boys said Princess Jamila had not used them for the last two nights. Now I see why.” Johnnie hastily pulled a sheet over himself to cover his nakedness; the man had glimpsed Johnnie’s cock. “That is haram for a Harem Boy. You must come with me.”
Johnnie curled up in the sheet. “But the Princess….” he pleaded.
“The Princess is an infidel. I am Wazir of the Prince: she will do what I say. Now stand and come with me. Wrap that sheet round to hide your disgrace.”
Johnnie wrapped the sheet around himself like a toga and followed the Wazir out of the tent. The maids stood outside looking petrified. Two large security guards were holding them back and blocking the entrance. They stood aside for the Wazir, then took Johnnie’s arms and escorted him across the compound.
7. The Little Bummer Boy
Johnnie fretted. His anxiety had turned into something much worse. He had been left in a small tent with a guard posted outside. There was no chance of escape. The fabric of the tent was heavy canvas and it formed an integral membrane with the base. Without a very sharp knife there was no way of getting out. He could hear raised voices nearby.
Suddenly the tent opened and the Princess was thrust into the tent. She stumbled to the floor. Johnnie glimpsed bleeding from her mouth and that there was bruising on one of her cheeks. “Princess ….” he began to exclaim before being dragged from the tent by a guard. He was led into a large opulent tent that looked more like a suite in a luxury hotel. It was carpeted. It had a four-poster bed. It had a rosewood desk and tables and soft furnishings. It was air-conditioned. Despite his terror, Johnnie was impressed: an air-conditioned suite in the middle of the desert. It had style. Kitsch style perhaps but style nevertheless.
A man in a sleek grey suit was sat on a sofa smoking a cigar. The Wazir stood beside him. A Harem Boy stood behind the sofa fanning his brow, a second stood beside him holding an iced drink, a third was on his knees before him. Johnnie’s eyes couldn't help being drawn to the open fly of the man’s trousers and the large, circumcised cock that flopped limply against his leg. The third boy was clearly there for a purpose. There were traces of blood on the cock. “So you are the new Boy that my wife has taken from me.”
Johnnie stood in silence. “Answer boy,” barked the Wazir.
“Yes, your Highness,” said Johnnie.
“The Wazir says you have a cock.”
“All boys have cocks,” replied Johnnie.
“You know what I mean. Open your robe.” Johnnie peeled back the lower folds of his toga. The three Harem Boys first giggled then went into awestruck silence. “A big cock for a Harem Boy,” remarked the Prince drawing on his cigar.
“It is unacceptable,” interjected the Wazir.
“You are fucking my wife,” stated the Prince emphatically. It wasn’t a question.
Johnnie knew that lying would be pointless. “Yes, your Highness,” Johnnie confessed.
To Johnnie’s surprise, the Prince chuckled. “Good,” he laughed. “Maybe you will have success. I understand that I should thank you for saving my wife when she was in London last month. Let me inspect you fully. Take off your robe.” Johnnie unwrapped his toga and let it fall to the floor. The Harem Boys gasped. “Very pretty,” said the Prince admiring his slim figure and nipple rings. “I can see why the Princess is attracted. Bend over.” Johnnie bent forward. “No, to the rear. Turn around.” Johnnie pivoted . The Prince spotted his guiche. “She thinks she can claim you hers. With a cock like yours, she cannot. I see she has been using you well.” Johnnie realised that his anus was probably still puckered and red from the Princess’s last loving attentions.
“Yes, your Highness,” Johnnie admitted.
“I will let you decide who uses it better,” said the Prince. “What is your name, boy?”
“Sabrina, your Highness.”
“And your real name?”
“Johanna, your Highness.” Johnnie knew everything had to be consistent with the Bergman and Knightley documentation.
“Leave us!” The Prince gesticulated to the Wazir and the guards. The Wazir frowned but complied. He ushered the guards with him. “You boys stay and get me ready. Get Sabrina ready too.”
Johnnie watched as two of the boys undressed the Prince while the third started to suck on the Prince’s rapidly stiffening cock. When the Prince was naked, the pair turned their attentions to Johnnie. One started to grease and probe his anus while the other began to suck Johnnie too. Johnnie couldn’t help himself from getting hard; he was already getting excited by the sight of the engorging bulbous head of Prince’s curved cock without the Harem Boy’s licking of his own member.
The Prince clapped his hands. “Leave us!” he ordered again.
8. The Spy Who Came in from the Heat
Johnnie was perspiring heavily by the time the Prince had finished. Finished then restarted. Finished then restarted. Only when he’d cum inside Johnnie, in his mouth and on his face did the Prince seem to think the task complete. “You good boy,” he grunted as his cum splattered on to Johnnie’s cheeks and forehead. ‘He has to be using Viagra,’ thought Johnnie. “I see why Jamila like you. You cum when I fuck you. No Harem Boy can do that.” Johnnie looked shamefaced. He hadn't been able to help himself. He’d only done that before with a special boyfriend and with Geoffrey. With his boyfriend it had been for love; with Geoffrey it had been because Geoffrey knew how to use his big black cock. The Prince knew how to use his cock too. “You cum with my wife?” the Prince asked.
Johnnie shook his head. He’d not managed it with the Princess despite her many efforts. The Prince laughed. The Prince had made him cum. Johnnie could see why people worked for him: the Prince exuded charisma and power.
“I take you. You mine now. I no sell you. You better than Harem Boy. You stay in my tent. I may let Wazir have you too.”
For Johnnie, it was a simple transfer between one tent to another. The only difference was that he now could roam about the camp. He had higher status than a Harem Boy: he was the Prince’s Boy. He found Jamila was still in the little holding tent and hadn’t been allowed back to her quarters. She was a prisoner. He wondered how long he would last if this was how the Prince treated his wife. “We need to get away,” she said to him. “He will get bored. He always does.” Johnnie was the one feeling bored but for other reasons. The Prince was relentless when he got going. The Wazir too. Johnnie confirmed the Prince took Viagra and far exceeded the recommended dose. He was popping other pills and snorting powders. He clearly liked to sample the wares Shabaka was selling.
During one of his exercise breaks, Johnnie identified a gap in the perimeter wire and waited. He had to get away and to get to the rendezvous point but he still lacked crucial information. The whole exercise would be pointless if he escaped but without accomplishing his mission. In the Prince’s tent he watched carefully when the Prince unlocked his phone. He didn’t use fingerprint or face recognition; he still relied on an old tech PIN number. Johnnie memorised the keystrokes.
The seventh night approached. There was going to be a new moon. He asked one of the Princess’s maids whether she had any sleeping tablets for her mistress. He said that the Princess couldn't sleep confined in the little tent. He secreted a kitchen knife beneath the rug below the four-poster bed.
He waited for midnight. The Prince had mounted him once like a doggy and ridden him hard while he sucked the Wazir. Johnnie had squirted on the bedclothes. While he found a towel to clean up the messy cum, he offered the Prince and Wazir more Viagra and glasses of single malt whisky to wash it down. When both were soundly asleep and he’d finished ‘tidying’, he put on the hijab of a serving woman. He cut a slit in the back of the Princess’s little tent. He put a finger to his lips and said, “Come with me if you want to live.” He handed her a robe and they were quickly similarly attired. They crept slowly towards the perimeter desperate to avoid drawing attention to themselves.
Fortunately the compound was poorly patrolled. Why did it need to be? It was a modern day Bedouin encampment. There were no floodlights. It did not need to draw attention to itself. Under the light of the new moon and the stars bright in the desert sky, they negotiated the gap in the wire. Johnnie was relieved when low dunes took them out of sight of the camp. The air was chill and they were glad of their thick black servant robes. Their bare feet were soon cold and sore from the sand. What had been baking hot during the day was now only a few degrees above freezing.
Johnnie navigated by the Pole Star. He had to concentrate on the route Rebecca had shown him on the map while encouraging and supporting the Princess. Jamila’s desperation to get away helped maintain her resolve. A small rill indicated that they were on the right path. The followed its snaking line until the oasis appeared before them. They’d only been walking for three miles but it felt like forever. A car was parked near a solitary palm tree.
“Who’s she?” asked a sturdy black man looking at the woman leaning on Johnnie’s shoulder.
“The Princess,” answered Johnnie. “Hello, good to see you, is the normal greeting,” he teased, reaching up and giving Geoffrey a big kiss.
“Wa’er,” gasped the Princess.
“Here your Highness,” said Geoffrey, passing her a canister.
“You can forget that yer ’ighness nonsense,” said Jamila. “It’s Millie from Clapham from now on. I ain’t going back.”
A door of the Land Cruiser opened. “Won’t you get in, both of you,” said a voice. “We’re wasting time.”
Mille and Johnnie made out a lady sat in darkness in the middle of the back seat. She shuffled to one side as they got in. “Hello, Sabrina. Hello, Millie. Well Sabrina, do you have anything for me?”
Johnnie handed her a phone. “60746955,”he said.
“Fantastic!” Angela said, unlocking the phone. “Well done.” She scrolled through different screens. “This is gold dust. Better than gold dust.” She gave Johnnie a hug. “Let’s get out of here, Geoffrey, but quietly.” The hybrid began to glide softly forward. “It’s an hour to the border, then another to the airbase. I’m afraid it’s going to be a bumpy ride as we’ll be staying off the roads,” she advised the couple who had cuddled together for warmth. “And let’s have some heating on at the back, please Geoffrey. You may have to wait for sleep until we’re on the plane to Crete for your debrief. In the meantime, I think a transfer to the MI6 account is in order before anyone starts getting silly ideas,” she said getting out a laptop and starting the satellite uplink. “Oh the wonders of Starlink. Oh, the wonders of crypto.” Her masters in the Foreign Office and her friends in Interpol were going to be delighted.
“When’s the Prince going to wake up?” asked Angela.
“About the same time as the Wazir,” said Johnnie.
“And when’s that?” she asked.
“Like never,” said Johnnie. “They’ve both fucked their last Harem Boys. And, in the morning, their staff are going to find creamy finishes inside both of them. They’ll think they’ve been fucking each other and weren’t able to bear the shame. It’ll be a while before they realise that me and the Princess have gone.”
“Blimey! That’ll teach the bugger!” exclaimed Millie
“You’ve never felt shame, have you Sabrina?” asked Angela.
“No. Not that I recall,” said Johnnie.
Both Angela, Millie and Geoffrey laughed. Why should such a pretty thing feel shame? He was doing what he was born to do. And he was very good at it.
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