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‘We have to find out who is behind all this. She has to tell.’ And then as a kind of afterthought while the vision of cream-white breasts came back to him ‘but do not destroy her. No raping. No scars.’ After attending a few celebrations for Emirates Day, pardoning some prisoners and seeing his boys and other children beam at the garden party that had otherwise have ended in death and destruction, the Sheikh retreated to his palace on the coast just out of town. He delivered his boys to their mother, his only wife and queen, and went to the roof to rest and think about today’s event. The air was nice and cooling and the sounds of the surf was heard in the dark. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes for a moment. Then one of his guards announced Mahmoud had arrived. ‘Look my Lord,’ said Mahmoud and switched on a laptop. ‘This is the passport of the woman and her mugshots.’ Well those copper curls were a mess now and her eyes looked at the lens like that of a deer in headlights.. But again, it was not enough for Patricia. She tugged my hair again, ordering: "Ask me, Katelyn!" "Please, stop teasing me and rub my clit!" I begged, moaning. "I'll do even better," she declared, she dug a pair of handcuffs from her purse beside the bed. She quickly fastened my hands to the bedrail above my head. I shivered in pleasure. She spread my legs and knelt between them. From her purse she dug some whip cream. I chuckled, "You came prepared." And was rewarded by another hard hair tug. Patricia shook the whip cream, and sprayed some on my breasts and nipples, and in a swirling trail to my mound. She leaned over me, and started on my breasts, flicking and sucking on my nipples. She worked her way down my stomach, sliding her tongue over my very sensitive skin. I moaned softly when her head finally disappeared between my legs. I tried to see what she was doing, but the way I was handcuffed to the bed made that impossible, so I closed my eyes. I felt her.
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