Here's a fantasy I've been toying with lately, it's still taking shape, but if I start posting chapters and people like it, I'll enjoy finding out what dark places it takes me to
For the Pleasure of Prince Uday
“SLAVEGIRL EUL 101! REPORT TO THE MISTRESS’S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY!”
I shiver at this surprise call over the PAS at the end of day parade, I was in the Punishment Gym only five nights ago, I can’t have notched up that many points since?
“Yes, Mistress, slavegirl 101 ready to serve!”
Mistress eyes me as I stand before her in her impeccably clean, austere study, she looks my grubby, sweaty body up and down with her usual sneering contempt, I grip my knickers behind my bum, keep my eyes lowered, legs wide, lips parted... what’s it going to be?
“Slavegirl, you are aware that we owe it to the extraordinary charity and generosity of Sheikh Salaam Masrur that our Academy for kāfirah girls exists here in Masrurabad?”
Yeah, yeah, I thought, so-called Academy, it’s a boot-camp for training us girls so we’ll fetch top prices in Liaquat Brothers’ prestige slave-market. Still, getting a scholarship here means I’ll probably get bought by a private customer, not put up on the public stall for auction...
“Indeed Mistress, may all blessings fall upon him.”
“But we have to show our gratitude by observing certain conditions.”
I take a deep breath, I’ve a feeling I’m going to be the one who has to show her gratitude...
“In particular, we are required to supply girls on request to His Excellency, and any male members of his family.”
Uh-huh, thought so. But which one of the vile brood? And why me?
“We have received a request in the past half-hour from the office of Prince Uday Masrur...’
I stifle a gasp, a tight spasm grips my stomach. Uday, the Sheikh’s appalling son and heir, the rumours we girls have heard about him have us waking screaming with nightmares...
“He has asked specifically for you..”
My heart skips a beat.
“Th-thankyou Mistress, it’s an honour...”
Why me? I’ve learnt in my three years here to be inconspicuous, try not to be noticed, just get on with being a slavegirl and pray they’ll leave you in peace...
There was an icier edge to her voice even more than usual, she was looking at me with piercing dislike in her pale blue eyes.
“He has apparently been watching videos of our girls being punished in the Gymnasium, and has been impressed by your response to the Whip.”
Of course! This place is festooned with cameras, even our bathrooms, we girls know we’re being watched all the time, day and night.
“You are to report immediately to the Whipping Post in Shahidi Square, opposite the Masrur Hotel, you know where that is?”
Oh yes, I know. Prince Uday’s Whipping Post is already one of the leading tourist attractions in Masrurabad! I’ve not been there, we kāffireh aren’t welcome in those posh parts of the city, we don’t look good in front of expensive dress shops. But I’ve seen it many times on the public education screens on the streets and here in the Academy, I know how to get there.
“Yes, Mistress - er, should this slavegirl have a shower, and change into clean clothes?”
“No time or need for that. He wants you in your underwear – bra and briefs – that’s all. So run!”
He wants me in my bra and briefs. Filthy slavegirl in filthy undies. What’s all this about? He’s as twisted as a neurotic’s knickers. Ah well, soon gonna find out...
For the Pleasure of Prince Uday
“SLAVEGIRL EUL 101! REPORT TO THE MISTRESS’S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY!”
I shiver at this surprise call over the PAS at the end of day parade, I was in the Punishment Gym only five nights ago, I can’t have notched up that many points since?
“Yes, Mistress, slavegirl 101 ready to serve!”
Mistress eyes me as I stand before her in her impeccably clean, austere study, she looks my grubby, sweaty body up and down with her usual sneering contempt, I grip my knickers behind my bum, keep my eyes lowered, legs wide, lips parted... what’s it going to be?
“Slavegirl, you are aware that we owe it to the extraordinary charity and generosity of Sheikh Salaam Masrur that our Academy for kāfirah girls exists here in Masrurabad?”
Yeah, yeah, I thought, so-called Academy, it’s a boot-camp for training us girls so we’ll fetch top prices in Liaquat Brothers’ prestige slave-market. Still, getting a scholarship here means I’ll probably get bought by a private customer, not put up on the public stall for auction...
“Indeed Mistress, may all blessings fall upon him.”
“But we have to show our gratitude by observing certain conditions.”
I take a deep breath, I’ve a feeling I’m going to be the one who has to show her gratitude...
“In particular, we are required to supply girls on request to His Excellency, and any male members of his family.”
Uh-huh, thought so. But which one of the vile brood? And why me?
“We have received a request in the past half-hour from the office of Prince Uday Masrur...’
I stifle a gasp, a tight spasm grips my stomach. Uday, the Sheikh’s appalling son and heir, the rumours we girls have heard about him have us waking screaming with nightmares...
“He has asked specifically for you..”
My heart skips a beat.
“Th-thankyou Mistress, it’s an honour...”
Why me? I’ve learnt in my three years here to be inconspicuous, try not to be noticed, just get on with being a slavegirl and pray they’ll leave you in peace...
There was an icier edge to her voice even more than usual, she was looking at me with piercing dislike in her pale blue eyes.
“He has apparently been watching videos of our girls being punished in the Gymnasium, and has been impressed by your response to the Whip.”
Of course! This place is festooned with cameras, even our bathrooms, we girls know we’re being watched all the time, day and night.
“You are to report immediately to the Whipping Post in Shahidi Square, opposite the Masrur Hotel, you know where that is?”
Oh yes, I know. Prince Uday’s Whipping Post is already one of the leading tourist attractions in Masrurabad! I’ve not been there, we kāffireh aren’t welcome in those posh parts of the city, we don’t look good in front of expensive dress shops. But I’ve seen it many times on the public education screens on the streets and here in the Academy, I know how to get there.
“Yes, Mistress - er, should this slavegirl have a shower, and change into clean clothes?”
“No time or need for that. He wants you in your underwear – bra and briefs – that’s all. So run!”
He wants me in my bra and briefs. Filthy slavegirl in filthy undies. What’s all this about? He’s as twisted as a neurotic’s knickers. Ah well, soon gonna find out...