The Battered Lamp Chapter Fourteen: The Lust of the Concubines - Sex Stories

The Battered Lamp Chapter Fourteen: The Lust of the Concubines

... from the ceiling and from wooden frames. There were a dozen different ways a person could be tied up, chained, bound, stretched, and restrained. Whips, flails, crops, and paddles hung from the wall and other device the Ifrit had never seen before: small clamps, small balls connected by a string, tapered cylinders. Who is this man? She walked to the wall of the flails and pulled one down, the many lashes made of red leather, and turned to face the Principal. “Is this what I'm going to whip your back with while you pleasure me?” she purred. He laughed, picking up two metal bands from a table. “I had these made just for you, Lexie,” he grinned, hungry like a desert jackal. “I was going to give them to you on Monday, but here you are.” She glanced at the bands and a certain horror filled her—they were Djinn manacles. “Sorcerer,” she hissed. “Ifrit. I recognized you the moment you walked into my office. Drop you illusion and let me see your true beauty.” She hissed, drawing on her fire, the air rippling around her, melting away her illusion and revealing her lush, dusky beauty. She gathered the heat in her hand, then hurled the ball of fire at him, screaming in fear. The ball of fire burned briefly then snuffed out. “This is my territory.” He strode towards her. “You have walked into the cage, Ifrit.” She curled her lips, shifting her weight, the flail in her hand. The room may be warded to drain any foreign powers, but she wasn't a helpless Jann. She knew how to fight. She ...

... slashed the flail at his face, the leather straps hissing through the air. Surprise widened his eyes, and he jerked his arm up, the sleeve of the black robe catching the flail. His grunt of pain was satisfying. “I am Zaritha, servant of Sultan Rashid bin al-Marid. You think to duel with me? I have walked this earth before your ancestors were even born!” She drew back the flail, slamming it down at his face. He chanted, a muttered prayer to Hecate and a disk of silver flared, deflecting her weapon. Then his hand shot forward as quick as a snake. He seized her about the throat, fingers digging into her flesh. “I do so love fight in my women,” he grinned. “Pity I have to manacle you.” She tried to transform into a pillar of fire and consume his hands. The fire burned inside her and she opened herself up to her transformation. “Hecate, trap this spirit of fire and smoke in her flesh!” he chanted. The fire died inside of her. She did not change. Steel clapped over her right hand. “No!” she howled. He was stronger than Zaritha without her fire. “I serve the Sultan! You do not want him for an enemy.” “Rashid will not care,” Burke grinned. “I'll take care of that Jann slut for him. I have been searching for her for so long. You did a thorough job in losing her, Zaritha. I really have to thank you for that storm.” How did he know about— The second bracer clanked over her left hand, binding her to the sorcerer. Tears ran down her cheeks as he let her go. She wanted to hurl herself at him and ...