Before you read: This work is purely fictional.
Any references to historical events or people, cultures, nations and religions are only for story effect and in no way is it meant to be an
insinuation or stereotype of any existing person or group. Khassia is a fictional ethnic group and nation that I made up.It is not based
on or inspired by any existing ethnic group or nation. I do NOT endorse slavery at any form.
My Khassian Girl pt 1
'So have you considered what you're going to do for sex?' said my friend Omar. 'I'm running out of options man, all of the
girls I meet just aren't in to what I want'. Omar gave me that quiet smirk that always get's under my skin. I said
'I'm American and your Arab!', Omar corrected. 'Yea? Well you know my dilemma, unlike you it's not normal for me
to have 16 girls in my oil-money mansion because i'm Muslim and that's the law'. 'In the US we actually respect women's rights'
I had a feeling I was going to lose this argument. 'You've respected women alright, just not their rights, feelings, dignity,
or sexual tastes'. See. Omar continued 'In my culture the man provides for the woman and the woman serves him. Sex is simply
what the man wants'. 'Besides, you're just as rich as me, why don't you just keep hiring Apart from the whole
Muslim thing I kind of envied Omar. His wives were stunning, mostly western women and they served his every wim. Not once did
I see any kind of reluctance on their part, it was like getting a maid and a supermodel for the price of one. Where is a
life swapping reality show when you need one. 'I don't know how you do it Omar, ever since college you just keep on winning'.
Omar stewed in his lounger for a moment and asked the question that would change my life forever.
'Have you ever heard of Khassian slave girls?'
'No' I said. 'Where, what or who is Khassian'. Omar leaped forward in surprise 'Are kidding me!? You have never heard of /> He looked at me like I was a moron. 'No, why should I have?'. 'Do you know Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, almost all
Ottoman sultans? They all at some point bedded Khassian concubines. They're the most gorgeous women in the world!'. 'And they still
have slavery?' I asked. 'Oh do they!, when a Khassian family have daughters they always raise one of them to eventually be sold
as a slave. It's why no one has invaded or even attacked their civilization for 2500 years'. It sounded disturbing to my ears at first.
'That's awful! Girls being raised into slavery!'. Omar interjected before I could follow that train of thought. 'You don't
understand. In the ancient and medieval ages the Khassians would send some of their daughters into slavery as a form of tribute to
hostile nations. It's hard to fight back against a barbarian horde when you are technologically inept and pacifists to boot.
They sent one girl to Stalin and he gave the Khassians independence!. Khassian girls consider it an honor and duty to serve their
masters'. Omar always knew how to argue a case. And he won because the next thing I knew I was already imagining what Khassian lips
tasted like. I shifted uncomfortably in my lounger for a moment. 'So what are these Khassians 'I'm going to Khassia
tonight, why don't you come and find out for />
On the flight in Omar's jet I found out more about Khassia using my Tablet. Khassia is one of these Caspian, northern Asia nation's that
was forgotten by the west and during the second world war was granted independence from the USSR around 1941. It also survived several
invasions by the Tatars, Mongols, Ottomans, Persians, Arabs, Greeks and even Jihadists! Those girls must have good tongue technique.
As soon as we landed I had to ask 'So Omar, why haven't you gotten a Khassian wife after all this time?'. 'Well Adrian, it has taken
me a while to procure the exact amount' I got nervous. 'Yeah 5 million US$ is the asking price. Didn't I tell you that?'
'Fuck no! you think I'm paying 5 mil for one chick, you must be dumber then that peach fuzz you think is a beard!'. Omar put up his
hands. Which was a practical move considering what I wanted to do to him. 'Alright don't say anything you won't regret and also
don't chicken out until you see what you could be buying'. I was about to SEAL team 6 his nose when I saw her.
She was tall, 6 ft but not supermodel anorexic. She had that slightly curvy figure you see in Sports Illustrated photo shoots. Her long
perfectly shaped legs led up to her pert bottom and her pinup-girl hips, she had an athletic washboard stomach of a swimsuit model
or professional dancer. She had well formed DD breasts accentuating beneath her wide expressive shoulders. But that was nothing
compared to her face. A strong yet feminine jaw and cheeks framing her full gorgeous lips, above that her cute nose and her wide,
deep and impossibly green eyes lying beneath her strong thin brow. Her hair was done in a very distinguished style. It was pulled back
tightly into a wide knot at the back with a ponytail of beautiful black hair flowing down to her waist. Coating her goddess like
hourglass figure was a flawless complexion of light caramel brown skin. She walked with effortless grace, while wearing black heels
and a short, tight fitting blue silk dress with sections removed that showed a flowing pattern of silk and skin.
She was being escorted by an older and younger man about a foot shorter than the girl. 'What is it?' asked Omar. 'That's the most
beautiful woman I've seen ever in my life'. 'Are there any slaves like that at the Tribute Bazaar?'. When I arrived in the capital
city of Bisi I was surprised. The city was well maintained, the buildings were old but built out of marble and turquoise, the people
were similar looking to Ukrainians and Arabians but considering the reputation of Khassia they were conservatively dressed. Omar spoke
'If you like her I've got good news, she's a member of the slave class. The more attractive and skilled a girl is the more skin they
are allowed to show'. It was a cold winter day. 'So if you are done being cheap I suggest that you make her father an offer before I buy
her and ruin her on the flight home'. 'Why wouldn't you buy her? She's gorgeous!' I asked. This got her and her families attention.
Omar replied 'I'm getting a blonde'.
'You are American yes?' the father asked me. 'Yea' I said eloquently. 'This is Siriya' the father gestured. The woman smiled and
bowed politely. 'She is 19 years old, speaks English and has completed ceremony of essence'. I looked her up and down. I was aware
of every motion of her shapely body and overcome with lust. When I look at women like that they usually walk away or call on their
boyfriends. Not this one, it was like she knew what I was thinking and seemed to take pleasure in my leering gaze. 'He'll take her' Omar
interjected when it became apparent I had lost focus.
After that we went to the father's home and did some paperwork, swapped account numbers, transferred some permanent assets from
my company, you know, the standard business you go through when purchasing a love goddess. Omar went to the
tribute bazaar and found his blonde. He booked into a hotel room with her for 2 hours and they took his jet back to Egypt. My flight
back to America was delayed until tomorrow morning. So I had some time to kill. According to tradition, Khassian women couldn't
talk to their masters until they had lain with them. I decided to bed Siriya quickly, you know, so we can communicate as a couple.
The fair thing to do. I led her into the hotel lobby, all eyes were upon her. Masters were required to buy their slaves clothing
when they got to their respective countries, so she was still wearing that little silk dress. She was so attractive she had prospective
buyers long before she was supposed to reach the tribute bazaar (Where tax money is deducted from the sale price) one including an
African dictator. But screw him. She was mine now to do with as I please. Speaking of which, we came to the door and she went through.
I turned on the light and she was already standing in front of the bed. She looked so sweet and hot I couldn't control myself. I
grabbed her, threw her on the bed and landed on her like an animal. I forced her down and tore her dress apart, I leaned in and sucked
on her left breast and unbuttoned my pants, then I put my finger into her clitoris. It was wet already, while she put her hands through under
my shirt to feel my chest I took my manhood and put it in one clean thrust. She gave a little feminine gasp. It sounded like angels singing
and I kept thrusting in and out while I kissed into her neck. She matched my thrusts and we developed a perfect rhythm. Her body was
so firm and so sensual, like she was built only to please me and nothing else. Her skin was softer than the sheets she was writhing on.
After what seemed like endless bliss she thrusted against me harder and harder which I returned in kind. Our moans and gasps
synchronized together until I felt the release and cummed. I exploded into her and dropped in exhaustion. I laid down, onto her
firm breasts and drifted off into sleep while she stroked my hair.
story by: KERO94
Author: KERO94
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