A friend tweeted for advice a while back about dyeing her hair. The popular consensus was that she looks quite gorgeous blonde, and so should stick with that rather than her natural colouring.
And what, I wondered, of a girl in a harem, recently purchased from the slave market and being prepared for an evening with the sultan? The staff would prepare her according to his tastes…
“He likes them blonde, especially when they’re this pretty”… and so they’d dye her hair.
“But she won’t match, when he strips her and looks down below”… and so one of the would hold her by the wrists, whilst another carefully but forcibly shaved her.
“In any case, he likes them nice and smooth”… and they’d run their fingers over her freshly-bared parts, as she tried to avoid their touch.
“That said, he won’t be looking at her from the front.”
“No?”
“Didn’t you hear? He wants her tied over a table. I’m told he quite likes the idea of using her arse first, to introduce her to life as one of his girls. The rest of her can wait a few days…”
“We’d better fetch oils, then; lubricate her well.”
“Certainly not! He likes it to hurt. And he’ll doubtless whip her afterwards – to teach her a lesson in obedience….”
Did I really think that in response to an innocent tweet? Did I really write it down and post it? I might just have done!
You made me laugh – and very, very wet. I’m happy I dyed my hair blonde, it does look really beautiful. And I like inspiring lovely blog posts like this one!
Thank you, Abel
xx
Glad you liked it 😉
In your tale the girl is shaved in the harem, but in fact a wily slave trader will often make these decisions before inventory is offered up in the marketplace in order to maximize his profit.
Julia, a 28-year-old English banking executive with a very high opinion of herself, was as proud of her long and lustrous red hair as she was of her expensive estate, her sports cars, and her other ostentatious wealth. But it was the bright red fleece between her legs that brought the most attention from the throngs of buyers eager to examine her, each of whom wanted to see whether she was as responsive as the flaming red patch between her legs suggested. Ultimately her flaming red hair led to a purchase by a Sultan who enjoyed racing the red hair beauty around his private track, with a bit between her teeth and his whip tickling her bottom.
Katherine, a spoiled young heiress who had never done a day of work in her life, was not a natural blonde. But knowing that it would increase her value the clever slave trader dyed the hair between her legs ever-so-carefully so his ruse would not be discovered. Upon uncovering the deception her new owner sold Katherine to a local brothel, where the lazy debutante now works 18 hours a day to earn her keep.
Jennifer, a petite and flat chested spitfire was something of a terror at the local girl’s school where she taught. She was not a natural blonde, but in her case the trader solved the dilemma by shaving her below. Little “Jenny” was sold to a master who delights in dressing his English schoolgirl in the uniform of the academy where she used to teach, and making her report to his “study” for strict and uncompromising discipline.