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Fandoms: Thief of Bagdad (1940), كتاب ألف ليلة وليلة | Kitaab 'alf layla wa-layla | One Thousand and One Nights, Original Work
18 Jan 2016
After years of peaceful family life in Samarkand, Yassamin's desire for women bursts into flame once more. Enter Zainab, a young widow as lustful as she is beautiful; she sets out to seduce both Yassamin and Jaffar, to prove herself the greatest libertine in the land. However, Jaffar's pride cannot abide this; he is determined to prove Zainab wrong.
For weeks, now, Yassamin has dreamt of women, this old lust in her that she had thought had died now stirring, alive once more. She awakens from dreams of soft breasts, bellies, buttocks; her mouth dry after visitations of plump mounds, wet folds, the pink flowers of gleaming cunnies from which she had been drinking nectar. She lies in bed and masturbates, imagining the scent of her cunny another's, tasting her fingers and imagining she has just brought another woman to completion.
Yet she wants more, and she cannot keep on lying to herself about this, cannot keep it from her husband. Tearfully, she tells him everything, pours all of her desires over his heart, asking him if she is a bad woman, an unfaithful wife, unnatural.
"But, my child!" he hugs her close and kisses her tears. "Then we shall find you a woman."
- Part 9 of Of Roses Unfurling
Fandoms: Thief of Bagdad (1940), كتاب ألف ليلة وليلة | Kitaab 'alf layla wa-layla | One Thousand and One Nights
12 Feb 2017
Jaffar and Yassamin celebrate their eleventh anniversary, revisiting the games they'd played as newlyweds: through Jaffar's hypnosis, Yassamin can live the part of an eager virgin and he her wicked, whip-wielding master once more.
That, and Jaffar has also dusted off Sarosh...
"I would play the slave girl to you, my love: surrender myself unto you as completely as the believer's soul surrenders unto God."
Moaning, he captures her in a deep kiss. "I'd hoped you would say that," he laughs with the delight of a boy. But then, the boy is gone and his majesty, his lordship, his puissance ravishes her once more: he crushes her in his embrace, just like that first night.
As he pulls back, his eyes are heavy from desire and he is erect against her belly; just as her cunny's now tightening, aflutter between her legs. Hissing, he tugs upon her lower lip with his thumb; his eyes flash so pale his irises become as glass. Now, his voice is dark and sticky and coarse, pouring into her ears a black honey.
"Trust, wife, that I shall endeavour to master you until you lie at my feet weeping, hoarse from screaming, dripping with my seed from every orifice, begging me for mercy."
- Part 18 of Of Roses Unfurling