Parisian Dolls

"But if it's haram ... why would we be doing this at all?" Emily asked, looking a little disconcerted. She was in a huge bed with Kendall, who was pretty cool, she had to admit. She was clad in green silks. Her pussy was waxed. She was freshly tanned. This was the status she wanted -- not being a damned maid. But still, her stomach and mind and pussy roiled with doubt. Kendall sighed, cuddled up with Emily, stroking her hair.

"Everyone needs an outlet, pet. Rich men, powerful men, men of consequence, need an outlet. Muslims have their code, to be sure. But Wahid has a tough life, running a multinational corporation. And Muslim women deserve respect and honor. Men he deals with in business deserve the same. He needs an outlet. Women he can treat just like they deserve. And we're Christians. We're harlots. That is our place." There was a knock on the door, and the scion entered summarily, as was his right. Both women immediately flocked to him, and soon they had him completely disrobed. His cock was nine inches, a dark brown hue to it, with heavy hanging balls. Kendall set herself on it immediately, her soft pink lips gliding up and down the pole, while Emily settled for sucking on Wahid's low hanging ballsac. He tasted ... rich, Emily thought.

After he was full staff, Kendall coaxed Emily onto all fours in the ample bed, laying at the head of it. Emily felt her new Master mount her, his thick cock parting her sex, while Kendall adjusted her head, so that she could eat Kendall's wet pussy. This was her life now, she realized, her toes curling and her pussy creaming on the cock of her owner. A plaything, a concubine, for the rest of her days.