The Abdul Solution

"Do I hafta?" You stomped your feet like a little child.

"You want to contribute to this endeavour, Junior. You need to make me happy. So yes, you need to do this," Carrie said firmly.

"Like ... just a date with Abdul? Or ... more."

"He is going to expect you to go all the way."

"But I don't wanna!" You did want to of course. But you didn't want to do it and then deal with consequences.

"C'mon Junior. What do you want? I can't fuck you. I can't suck you. But surely there is something I could do for you," she said, adopting a seductive veneer.

"Maybe ... feet," you said, barely whispering.

"What's that, sweetie?"

"Maybe ... let me rub your feet. Take care of your feet. Be your footboy."

"Hmm. I could probably swing that. But anything more would be a snip-snip, you understand?" You nodded.

***

Two hours later you were freshly scrubbed and showered, your long dark hair combed into a feminine style. You were wearing a pink jock strap and were dressed in a very androgynous fashion. You smelled faintly of lavender and vanilla. Abdul was a 6'8, muscular giant from Morocco. Just looking at him made your eyes glaze over. This guy was going to break you in two.

Dinner was served in Abdul's bedroom. Spiced lamb and rice. He grunted, looking you over.

"You are very pretty," he said. You blushed.

"Thank you, Abdul. You are very handsome. I'm glad you were able to visit me tonight." He nodded, and fell silent for a moment as he ate. After he finished, the staff removed the plates, and Abdul locked the door. He sat down on the bed, and patted his lap.

"When was the last time you were with another man?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over your lower lip. You moaned.

"It's been over 13 years, Abdul." He stripped you casually, until you were left in just your jock strap. He gestured for you to strip him. You took off his shirt, kissing his biceps, his pecs, sucking briefly at his brown nipples, and tugging his trousers down. He was in a black jockstrap. The alpha and the femboy. He pulled your jockstrap to the side, revealing your small, hard pink cock and pecan sized balls.

"Small," he observed. "Why do you still have those balls? Are you going to do anything with them?" That was the question of the day, you thought.

"I'm not sure. I'm thinking about it." You returned the favor. His cock was over ten inches long, darker than a sandy brown. And his balls ... they definitely belonged somewhere in you. You moaned, falling to your knees in supplication, kissing his feet, his thighs, and burying your nose in his thick, coarse pubic hair. He moaned, slapping his large cockhead against your small pink lips. You parted them, and he entered.

You choked on him, a steady 'gluk, gluk, gluk' as he fucked your throat. When he buried too far deep, you felt like you were about to pass out. You were getting disoriented, and just then he picked you up, tossing you onto the bed like a rag doll. You lay prostrate on the bed as he lubed up your ass, your brain repeating the tempo of 'panic' as he lined up his monster cock to fuck you. And before your small, weak frame could manage any sort of protest, he was inside you. Pounding you. Breaking you. Conquering your small, weak white body. When he was done, you could barely breathe, much less move. It felt like hours before Carrie came in with one of the servant girls.

"Get him up to his bedroom. Get him some pain relievers and something to help him sleep." She looked at your ass, leaking Abdul's thick cum and traces of blood. She hugged you tight to her. "It is okay, sweetie. We are as sisters, now. We both know how it is to please a strong Muslim man."