Passing the Baton

Ch3

 

The guests and their entourages had all arrived by 10:30. Security at the gate was strict. Only  invited guests and their slaves were allowed in. There were no female guests invited. Political correctness did not even receive lip service in Brunei.

 

Each guest bore the following invitation engraved in gold embossed vellum:

 

 

Dear X

 

Paul Collins requests the pleasure of your company next October 15^th at the palace of Sheik Al-Hussaim, in Brunei.

 

Brunch will be served at 10:30 in the garden. Lunch and dinner will also be provided at appropriate times.

 

Entertainment will start at noon. Prior to the commencement of the show, my first slave Sarah will be available for use by our distinguished guests.

 

At noon, she will be slowly impaled, and will suffer for our entertainment until 22:00, when she will be finally snuffed.

 

Only invitees and up to four slaves will be permitted to attend this exclusive engagement.

 

You must bring this invitation to be let in the grounds.

 

RSVP to:

Sheik Al-Hussaim,

Ministry of the Interior,

Brunei

 

 

As each guest and entourage arrived, they were escorted to the garden by two attractive slaves dressed in flowing pantaloons and chemise of sheer silk organdy, in striped green and violet, the colors of the Sheik. In the garden, a semicircle of couches had been set up around a central platform, to provide excellent viewing to all the guests. Each couch was identified with the name of the guest. The couches were framed by two low tables; on one of them, a wide selection of viands was arrayed. The food was also prepared according to the guest’s religious persuasion, Halal, Kosher and regular. The second table contained an assortment of crops, small whips, satin ties and cuffs, to better encourage the slaves in their ministrations. Beverages were not kept at the tables, so as not to offend practicing Muslims, and also because there was no need. A slew of gorgeous slave girls stood at the ready to deliver any beverage a master desired.

 

As each guest arrived at the garden, Paul and the Sheik welcomed them, escorted them to their assigned couches and introduced them to Sarah who, clad in a sheer white sundress stood at their side. Many of the guests had already met her, of course.

 

When Al-Mansour arrived last, he was accompanied by only two slaves.

 

Paul welcomed him “Salaam Aleichem Al-Mansour, old friend” he said,bowing slightly. Sarah, holding on to her master’s arm noticed the tension in his arm, belying the warm welcome.

 

“Aleichem Salaam old friend” He responded “I see the years have been kind on you”

 

“You know of course my slave Sarah” Paul continued gesturing at her.

 

“I know you well my beauty, from better times” Sarah responded with a curtsy.

 

“I hope you will serve me today, before you are impaled” He said cruelly as he sat on the couch.

 

“She can serve you right now. All the guests have arrived already” Paul gently pushed Sarah towards the obese man in the couch.

 

She knelt by the obese old man, her old nemesis, as Paul and the Sheik moved away to socialize with the other guests.

 

“I remember those times well” Al-Mansour continued, as Sarah made her way through his robes. It was apparent that he hadn’t bathed in a while. “I am retired now, and no longer have the income to afford those luxuries as much.” He smiled and continued “I only have the pleasure of snuffing my own slaves two or three times a year now.” By now Sarah had reached his limp penis, and was trying to coax it into action while doing her best not to gag at the smell. It had been many years since she had to do this to any one other than her scrupulously clean master. After the Brunei episode, he had never again loaned her to anyone else.

 

The brunch went on, as the men cavorted with their slave girls, and enjoyed the sounds of music that a band, hidden behind a bamboo screen, provided.

 

After Sarah had received and swallowed Al-Mansour’s come, she excused herself to go serve other guests. Most of the guests wanted Sarah to serve them in some fashion or other. Many used her ass, “To get her ready for the spike” they said. Sarah tried to show them a good time, and to be a sport about this. Only from time to time she glanced at the spike that stood up, just in front of the stage flanked by two wooden supports that extended the stage around it. Once or twice she shuddered at the thought of what was to happen to her.

 

Paul meanwhile loitered near his couch, flanked by his two slaves, Lila and Juggy. Fatima, Irene and Sulayla hovered nearby. Fatima held a jug of beer for him, and Irene and Sulayla kept it full. After a while, he lied back in the couch and rested, his eyes straying to the large spike on occasion, while Irene busied herself at his crotch. An image of male contentment.

 

Or so it seemed to the casual observer. Lila made sure he ate as much of the delectable viands as she could force down on him, and Juggy made sure he drank as much of the beer as she could get him to. Juggy’s job was the easier one, even though it also entailed disposing of the used beer, when it was time for that. Fatima and Sulayla also helped dispose of the used beer, and their efficiency showed that they were used to this service.

 

Shortly before noon, Sarah excused herself from the guests, and went to prepare herself. Juggy accompanied her, while Lila remained in charge of their master and the three borrowed slave girls. All middle easterners love a story, and love even more a love story. Sarah and Juggy had told an edited version of the “Tale of Sarah” to the three girls, and they were besotted with Sarah and her love for her master. They were now willing accomplices and committed to keeping their temporary master from embarrassing himself. This might be difficult since he was getting drunk, and began calling for stronger liquor than beer.