She felt a man’s head there, whiskers on her thighs and all. The fantasy was complete, she thought, her mind delirious with ecstasy. Her fingers clawed at the man’s hair, pulled him down, hard against her cunt. His tongue never ceased its maddening flickering until she grew too sensitive to take it anymore. ‘Ah! Kevin,’ she groaned, her head jamming against the back of the chair. ‘No more, please! No more!’ The lips disappeared, her fantasy ended with her orgasm, and suddenly, she realized there really was a man crouched between her legs. ‘AH!’ she gasped, propelling the wheeled chair back with her legs. ‘WHO ARE YOU?!?’ she cried, her nerves burning with fear and embarrassment. She closed her legs quickly, covered herself, eyes rolling wildly to the closed door on the other side of the room, then back to the man, still on his knees, under the desk. ‘Mr. Giuliani?’ she asked at last, squinting at the man. She vaguely recognized the man from the party the night before. But then again,. "What is your master's name?" Jafar is my master."No hesitation."What are you?" I am my master's harem slave."It was very, very easy to let things fall into place, to trust Jasmineand accept the truths that came so readily to her lips. Alana still didnot understand what she was happening, but unassailable instinct knewthings that understanding could not. Jafar was her master. It became alifeline, an anchor to amidst the confusion.Jafar was her master. He was slimy, crooked, untrustworthy. He was hermaster. They had quarreled, and somehow he had stolen Jasmine away. Hewas her master. Alana was pretty sure he'd tried to have her killed,the one behind those rogue guards who made an attempt on her life.Didn't matter, he was her master.How could she be feeling these strange, womanly sensations? Why did thethought of him stir her newly formed loins so deeply? How could shepossibly desire another man's touch?Not just any man. He was her master, and it was only natural for apretty slave girl.
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