The World Needs Order

Yusuuf placed his wife onto all fours. The tattoo of Somalia that Elizabeth had placed on her asscheeks was still as vivid as when she'd gotten it. It was haram, but it was worth it. His long cock rubbed across her pussy lips, making Elizabeth goosebump. Then the tip rubbed against her clit.

"How goes the preparations?" he asked conversationally, pushing the tip in, holding it there, teasing his wife.

"They go, husband. Some of the wives are less than enthused, however," she said, moaning loudly as he pushed half of his fuckstalk into her.

"To be expected," he said. He didn't make a sound. He was in control, as always. She was merely his vassal. "I trust you talk to the ones who are noncommittal."

"I do, husband," Elizabeth said. "But it isn't easy."

"The world needs order, Elizabeth," Yusuuf said. He pushed his cock in and out of his wife's greedy pussy, reminding her once again why she'd chosen him. "Women like you ... reformed Christians ... need an environment free of sin to blossom. Even here, even in this neighborhood. Even with all we've done, you don't hear the morning call of the adhan. You ... all of you ... need to immerse yourself entirely into Islam, into the worship of Allah. And you cannot do that optimally in a Godless land."

"I know, Yusuuf," Elizabeth responded in a small voice. He liked to have theological discussions with her as he fucked her. It cemented her own view of him as a dominant, controlled paragon of his beliefs. And it cemented in her her own perfections, and the ideals that she must continue working towards.