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SPY4 enormous bed drew across


Betty the Spy, Part 4: Passion Slave
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Synopsis: Betty's realizes that she is being changed by the seductive
allure of the harem. She still plans on successfully completing her
secret mission although it has now lasted months instead of days.
However, her body is adjusting to constant sexual stimulation that she
is no longer able to resist. How deep is the compulsion of Betty's
training? Will she be able to escape the final violation?

Background: This story is a spin-off of the "Becoming a Winner"
series. Betty, a brilliant college co-ed with a huge submissive streak
was being transformed by Hal, a graduate psychology student, from
being a fat girl with poor complexion & rotten self-image into the
woman she (& he) always desired. Betty had a fertile imagination when
she pleasures herself. This is one of her favorites.


Boring Legal Stuff: Under the terms of the Byrne convention all works
by this author are copyrighted. Re-posting, redistribution, inclusion
in another work, or any other use of it is strictly prohibited without
the express, written permission of the copyright holder, except that
it may be posted as part of a review or posted to a free-access,
noncommercial archive sites.

DISCLAIMER: The following is a work of fiction and any resemblance
between characters in this work and actual persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental. This work contains scenes of explicit sex
between adults and is intended for the entertainment of adults only.
If you are offended by depictions of adult intercourse or if you are
less than the age of majority in your jurisdiction then LEAVE NOW!
Please do not read or download this file. Because this is a fantasy,
characters in this work may engage in unprotected sex in a universe
where AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases do not exist. In
reality sex without protection is unwise and nothing in this work
should be taken as condoning such activity, or any of the other
activities depicted herein.



I easily fell into the pleasant and pleasurable routine of harem
life. The days merged into weeks. The weeks merged into months. I
trained very hard waiting for the culmination of my apprenticeship.

I noticed several changes in my thoughts and feelings. It seemed
long ago when I had been allowed any body modesty. Once letting
anyone see my firm, young tits had embarrassed me.

Now I was constantly thinking of new ways to display my breasts.
I needed to remind everyone that they were the largest in the harem.
They had become very sensitive. My nipples were always hard,
sensitive points. A few caresses by one of my sisters could cause a
small orgasm.

I was never more proud of my body. I had studied for months to learn
how to move it sensuously, how to stand, how to touch. What my mother had taught was as nothing to what I now knew. I could incite the lust
of a man or woman simply by walking into a room.

The only thing that seemed to bother me was my virginity. I was the
only "white silk" girl in the harem. It set me apart. More and more I
dreamed of how I would lose my virginity and he to whom it would
be given. How he would subdue me with his royal spear.

I always referred to my Master as "the Sultan, all praises to his
name." I always thought of him as the Master who owned me,
body, mind and soul. It did not seem unusual that I was ready,
even eager to joyously give him the lush garden of my body in
which to plant his seed.

A tiny part of me that seemed to grow smaller day by day, still
thought of my mission. That was the only part of me I thought of
as being free. If not for it, I would have given myself wholly over
to the sensuous bondage of the harem. I continued taking the
birth-control pills as much as a symbol of my freedom as to
avoid becoming pregnant by the Sultan, all praises to his name.

I noticed several changes in my body. The sensitivity of my skin and
erogenous zones steadily increased. The touch of satin or silk on my
sex could bring a climax that might leave me weakly gasping on the
floor. This was another reason to wear the loose pantaloons, when
permitted clothes.

The steadily increasing flow from my sex leveled off after my first
month in the harem, but never ceased during the day or night. I was
constantly thirsty trying to replace the lost fluids. My kus was now
always "ready" for an invader, but only received the fingers of my
sisters who were very careful not to rupture my virgin's barrier,
except in my dreams.

My lips, cheeks, and tongue all enlarged slightly to accommodate
the new muscle tissue that developed. I began to look forward
with anticipation to the "pool of 1000 pleasures" and "unleashing
the pleasure dome demon".

I was unsure what would happen if they ceased until one day, four
months after my arrival, when I woke up with cramps and a fever.
Several girls had come down with food poisoning from bad meat.
I was restricted to bed for 24 hours.

The hour for the "pool of 1000 pleasures" passed uneventfully. As the
hour of "unleashing the pleasure dome demon" passed, pains worse
then the food poisoning shot threw my belly. I cried out for my

They came to my call and hugged me closely to ease my distress, but
did not know what else to do. I begged them to stop the pain. They
called for help and did what I asked while we waited.

They helped me remove my few wisps of clothing. We were all naked.
I rubbed my tits and kus against their bodies, but I was weakened by
the pain and could not climax. Still, this seemed to help, but only a

It was not until Sari arrived and explained what must be done that we
understood. My body now required many orgasms each day to maintain
its normal balance. My convalesce had prevented this and brought on
the pain. My kus, breasts, and body needed the touch of fingers,
hands, mouths, and tongues.

One fastened her mouth to my kus and two others suckled my breasts.
Two more provided long caresses up and down my flanks, belly, hips,
sides, and shoulders. With each climax that rocked my body the pain

Most important, Sari covered my face with her own kus. As I sucked every bit of the most delicious female cum, I now craved more then any
other food from her body, giving her the most exquisite orgasms in the

Two of my sisters stayed with me providing the stimulation I now
desperately needed spiced with generous amounts of their own cum.
I was addicted to sex!

A female climax releases endorphins and other chemicals into the
brain. I did not receive what my body expected when I did not
follow my normal daily cycle. The pain in my belly was some
type of withdrawal symptom.

Horrified, I realized I was trapped in the harem by my own body's
needs. Where else could I get the sex that my body needed? Not even
life in a whorehouse could come close to providing it. Was I caught in
this web of unending sexual bliss forever?

My fear and terror abated under the onslaught of sensation given by my
sister's hands. Orgasm followed orgasm, many times over, each sweeter
then the last. Until I could only think of the endless pleasures that
I received.

Constant sensuality, the love and companionship of sisters, orgasm
after orgasm, the intensity of my resumed training, the fear and
horror of my "addiction" gradually abatated. After a while, it
did not seem so bad.


I have yet to discuss the training I received four hours each day. It
was both comprehensive and insidious. I tried my best to learn
everything as the agency had instructed. I might have resisted some of
it if I had not been such a willing participant, or maybe I was lost
from the first. I was rapidly changed from a modern, independent,
young woman into a Passion slave existing to provide pleasure.

I was only aware of a small part of the conditioning. It had
ingrained into every fiber of my being the desperate need to
serve a man in all ways, sexually, emotionally, intellectually,
artistically, with mind, body, and soul.

The fact that I was to actually see a man perhaps two or three days a
year was not considered significant. The fact that I was effectively a
lesbian the remainder of the year, bringing dozens of my sisters to
climax each day was not considered significant.

How was this done? Gradually, unnoticeably, with so many distractions
that I was totally unaware of what was being done to me until I was a
willing and eager virgin sacrifice to the mighty Sultan, all praises
to his name. Imperceptibly, without my awareness or understanding,
he became my god, the focus of my life, my reason for living.

This happened without my knowledge or consent. The harem had perfected
its methods over thousands of years. I was unaware of the needs that
lay just beneath the surface of my consciousness.

Their revelation required only the presence of the mighty Sultan, all
praises to his name. Only then would I realize the totality of my
training, of my need to be his possession, his property, and his slave
as much as my body now needed sex. But for now, I was still unaware of
the insidious seduction of my mind and how I only needed a simple
trigger to become a Passion Slave.


My violation began in a way which seemed most innocent. They
appealed to two of a girl's favorite things, clothes and makeup.
Irresistible for someone required to be naked most of the day.

A slave is not permitted modesty. I no longer made attempts to cover
my breasts with my hands nor close my thighs close to protect my
womanhood. At the beginning, once or twice my hand had begun to move,
but quickly dropped fearing the punishment of the lash. My modesty had
been destroyed.

A succession of my sisters had a fashion show that I was invited to
attend. They modeled hundreds of combinations of clothing and make-up
over many weeks. They had me try on what I liked and what was most
sensual until it was decided what would be most attractive to the
sultan, all praises to his name. The senior women of the harem were
intimately familiar with his tastes.

I was required to improve my dancing to display more raw sexuality, to
be more wildly abandoned. I learned many new dances. Sometimes I
started fully clothed, other times naked.

Often, I would climax while dancing, but was not allowed to stop or
even falter. Sometimes, climax was forbidden before I completed a
period in front of the "mirror of instruction". It was only the fear
of the whip that allowed me to obey this command.

I was required to kneel comfortably before this "mirror, instruction"
surrounded by feathers that continually brushed my skin. It had dozens
of pictures of the Sultan standing masterfully about the edge.
Psychologically, the effects made me very vulnerable. Already very
aroused, I felt as if it were the gaze and hands of the Sultan himself
that touched and aroused me.

There was also, a small constantly spinning jewel, just above eye
level, that caused me to gradually fall into a light, self-hypnotic
trance. I was commanded to repeat certain phrases in front of the
mirror, over and over. "I love this man more then anything. He is my
master. I wish to give him pleasure. I need to give him obedience.
Obedience gives me great pleasure. I feel the yearning in my loins.
Without him I am empty. My love is a gentle breeze that drifts me into
his arms. Without him I am sad."

Insidiously, these phrases and more were also whispered in my ears
when, under the influence of my "passion dome", I became highly
suggestible. Combined with unending repetition, I came to believe
them to the core of my being.

"How pleasant are a man's kisses. Open your soul,
become the willing receptacle for the love that he would give you.
Love and Pleasure are the food for the starving spirit.
Feel the gnaw of your hunger, and dare to feast."

"When he is touching your breasts, savor it, need it.
Open the sweet petals of your womanhood for him.
Feel the craving in your loins."

"Wrap your lips around his manhood,
your pleasure means nothing.
Focus yourself totally upon his pleasure,
on his arousal, on his desires,
until he releases his passion for you to swallow."

"When he touches my kus, I cannot endure,
I become like hot, flowing wax.
I must have relief from my intense desire,
and this is a relief that only a man can provide."

"Do not fear the entry of the Sultan's mighty weapon.
The wound of this spear is tender.
It is the Supreme Mystery,
the open book;
it is the Fruit of Eden,
and the lips of your loins are burning to taste of it."

"Move, experience, enjoy, Eat of the Fruit; make it part of you.
Your passion is 100 times that given by any woman's hand.
You will come to want it, crave it, need it, beg it.
Even the 'pleasure dome' cannot compare."

The next phase was begun with a girl well aroused, as I was now.
"All harem girls are initially afraid of penetration," my instructor
explained matter-of-factly. "Therefore, the sooner you have
experienced it, the better. However, we should not want to diminish
you in the eyes of your lover, and so we shall initiate you to
womanhood's mysteries by way of your lesser gate of pleasure.
Now what we're going to do next isn't a punishment. It shall feel
very good, in fact. We have all experienced it many a time myself.
Once you feel the pleasure that a man's big cock affords you, you
shall want to lie in a living male's bed ever so much."

I was well versed in intrusion into my "lesser gate of pleasure".
Mr. Solo had seen to that, but I did not think it would be wise
to mention it. So, I pretended like this was my first time.

It took place in a little garden within the harem. I was instructed to
the grass with my ass helf high. With my own hand I was required to
spread my cheeks. This reveled the entrences to both my lesser and
greater gates of pleasure.

An oiled phallic object was placed against my anus. Slowly and with
great circumspection it was inserted. I gasped feeling the strange
intrusion of the cold metal object. It warmed quickly inside me and
I felt familiar sensations.

The dildo slid easily in. They were a little surprised at my openness
and slid it back out. The replacement was considerably wider and
longer, a little more so then Mr. Solo, but I adjusted to it quickly.

"A girl's backside may often be made to do this thing by a man," I was
instructed, "but it will also suggest for you a woman's experience
with a man. -- See, is it not nice? Imagine that I am the mighty
Sultan, all praises to his name and that he is filling you with his
rampant object of flesh." I gave a tiny murmur of discomfort. "It
would be hurtful should I move it too vigorously," my trainer said,
"but a little motion shall impart a sweet sort of pain."

Very circumspectly, the leather phallus was jogged in and out,
suggesting the thoughtful ministrations of a gentle lover. The
inanimate object was a poor substitute for flesh, she knew, but
out of its very insufficiency instill into a woman the yearning to
have more and better.

It had been several days since Mr. Solo had taken my ass. My body was
quick to respond. That which had been merely moist between my thighs
was becoming wet with erotic lubricants. My nipples too were fully
erect. Another girl reached in and began to play with my clitoris in a
whimsical, tentative manner that was calculated to madden. Under the
hands of professional pleasure-givers, I climaxed. Even the first
session with the artificial phallus brought me to multiple-orgasms.
In the weeks that followed the reaction to any stimulation of my
rear passage grew more profound and intense.

"Mouth Magic is one of the best and most humbling expressions of a
female's subjugation to a male," my instructor said, in the tone used
for introducing a new and important topic. One of the senior women had
dressed as "Master Ali" to make the training more effective. I beheld
the object before which I knelt. It was a man's cock-stand cast in
bronze, its antique surface kept shining by constant attention. A
small hole was cast into its end and below hung a small bag,
the prison for two marbles.

"Touch the marbles, lovely one, but gently, in the manner in you touch
your kus," said Master Ali. "Tickle them with your fingertips," my
trainer directed. "Place your hands about the shaft, little
butterfly," I was commanded, "and stroke its length. You know what I
am talking about. -- Yes, that's right, but squeeze firmly and then
release. -- No, not just once, repeatedly!"

Master Ali directed, "All right, pretty slave, hold the stones in
your hands and touch the sac with your tongue." I was watched
closely, then chided: "No, not with a limp tongue; stiffen it, that
allows the man to feel it more!" I kept practicing until my
technique satisfied sufficiently. Then I received the order to
"Place your tongue under a jewel and lift it. When you
have raised it about an inch, flick your tongue." I did this task

"Now, Butterfly," the male-disguised woman whispered throatily, "be a
good little slave and suck thy master's cock." I hesitated and heard,
"You must obey, Luscious Lips, or you shall be punished. That is the
unhappy reality of the harem girl's life. But then, obedience is also
her pleasure. You are beginning to appreciate that, are you not?"

I did began to feel pleasure as I applied my mouth over the bronze
organ. When I least expected it, 'Master Ali' pressed a plunger that
was part of the chair. This pumped a thick concoction up through the
bronze cock, a paste that burned like hot spice. Mr. Solo's semen had
been sweet nectar by comparison. I spit it out spontaneously, without
a thought for the consequences that were immediate. A girl-lash my
trainer had been hiding fell on me again and again as Master Ali
screamed, "Never, never, spit it out. Always swallow!" "Yes Master!
Yes Master!" I cried as I tried to protect myself.

"It is only a paste of salt, Indian pepper, and vinegar," said more
calmly after ending the beating. "It is supposed to be bad-tasting, so
that when you tastes a real man's honey, it must seem pleasant by
comparison. It won't poison you to swallow it, and indeed, you must
swallow it," she went on, "no matter how much it burns your throat."
This was practiced every day until I could do it in my sleep. Indeed
it became a regular part of my erotic dreams.

All that I have described was done to me, and indeed all girls in
preparation for the opening of their maidenhood by the mighty Sultan,
all praises to his name. However, I often saw other girls with chains
falling from their pierced nipples or labia. These girls were
undergoing "advanced bondage training" that no one would describe
for me. They seemed very passive, but would startle at anything
unexpected. I could only guess what tortures and pleasures awaited
them. Would this eventually be required of me?

Six months in the harem, an environment design to stimulate every
sense. I had been transformed into being a sensuous dream for
virtually every man (or woman) on the planet. Skilled in all the
sexual arts, dance, music, literature, conversation, far beyond what
my mother and Mr. Solo combined had taught me, it was judged that I
had been trained enough to be barely adequate to the requirement of
the mighty Sultan, all praises to his name.

My monthly cycle had been monitored and verified. I would be
presented during the three most fertile days in that cycle for the
seed to be implanted into my womb. There was a perfect record
at stake. Of course, I was preparing to ruin it.

The day before the momentous event, it was forbidden for me to touch
myself, or my sisters, or for them to touch me. In this way, my
physical need for sex would build steadily, but not to the point of
physical withdrawal.

I was allowed to sleep until the afternoon. All that followed was to
take place with minimal stimulation and certainly no orgasms. I was
given a bath. They applied fragrant powder to my bosom with a soft
patch of fleece -- an application which felt unbearably ticklish upon
my breasts and nipples.

My sisters worked quickly and with great skill, outlining my eyes with
night-black kohl, applying powder and rouge to her cheeks. My lips
were painted a soft red, and then arranged my long hair into glossy
flows. To complete the effect, my nails, both of hands and feet, were
manicured -- albeit simply due to their need for haste. At last,
these, too, were painted to match my lips. Naked, painted, collared, I
looked like a girl ready for auction on a public slave block.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Actually, it was now time for
the critical, last minute preparations for my long delayed mission.
First, I popped and extra birth-control pill for extra protection.
Next I removed a vial of orally ingested knockout-drops. I briefly
lifted my clothes to apply them to my nipples and kus. I was sure his
mouth would find one of these places, giving me the time I needed. I
grabbed the belly-button jewel, inserted it and departed before anyone
missed me.

Just as I re-entered the preparation chamber, I began to feel a
strange sensation on my nipples. As the women applied the final
touches, it spread to my kus. As walked to the private bedroom of
the Sultan, all praises to his name, the sensation became a burning.
I began to become very excited, because this was the culmination
of my harem training, or the burning sensations, or both.

One part of me knew that the mighty Sultan, all praises to his name,
was mere man. He could be easily tricked and manipulated. I would
only appear to be attracted to him, but in reality I would resist my
harem training and focus on my mission.

Yet as the moment of my audience with my Master drew closer, these
thoughts seemed to grow more vaporous, less substantial. Thoughts of
his magnificence and our coming passion replaced them. I must push
them back and remember my mission.

Voices in my head echoed what this was the greatest day of my life. I
would soon be in the presence of the greatest, most powerful, most
handsome, most virile of men. I knew this to be true, there was no
doubt in my mind. My breathing came faster, my pulse quickened in
anticipation. I was just playing a role, wasn't I? The passion was
trickery and pretense that I could discard in an instant.

I was admitted to the presence of the mighty Sultan, all praises to
his name, he could only be seen by the light of the twin fireplaces. I
fell to my stomach, my forehead touching the floor, doing proper
obeisance to this most magnificent of men now before me.

All thoughts drained from my mind save one. Here was my Lord, Master,
the center of my universe. I could feel his presence, his maleness
heating my body, my nipples hard, my kus juicing, the burning made it
hard to think. I was empty and hollow without him. Desperately, I
needed him to fill me, but like the helpless slave I was, I lay at his
feet awaiting his command to give me meaning.

"Rise slave and dance." Said his deep voice, thundering through every
part of my mind. I was fulfilled, he had acknowledged me to be his
slave and given me meaning. Joyfully, I rose to obey.

Months of training had completely altered my dancing. It was now
designed as much to heat the girl as the observer. I moved as if on a
cushion of air, rippling my silks gently against my soft thighs as my
eyes fixed on the only male in the room. My heart racing with
anticipation, I stopped to stand still for a moment. Breathing deeply,
the soft swell of my breasts rising and falling, tremors washing over
me, I let my senses focus on him. His breathing, his gaze, his stance,
his heartbeat, his maleness became the center of my universe.

My hips began swaying softly, to the blood beat pounding in my veins.
I drift towards my Master drawn like a magnet, pulled by unseen
forces, across the room ever closer Him. I stop mid-stride, eyes
widening with a look of shock and bewilderment. Surprised by my own
movement my glistening slave form trembles, but I am unable to halt,
continuing to gravitate towards he who is my Master. I bite my lip
trying to control my rapid breathing and to calm my racing heart. A
low hum rises on my rouged lips as my eyes flash with emotion.

I lower myself to the carpet to continue the dance. My body dances
desire. My hands weave intricate patterns above my head. He gestures
me to rise as I continue to dance.

My body is preparing itself to receive him without being touched. My
hands slide along my flanks to rest gently upon wanton hips that
slowly begin a lavish undulation. My bountiful breasts rock in harmony
with the call of her hips. The juices flowing in my kus heat my core.
Tilting my head back I cry out attempting to reject my growing need,
pivoting away, swirling through the room my short skirt rising and
falling over the voluptuous swell of my hips with each turn.

Hair swirling about my delicate shoulders, I spin again and again.
Shadows dance with me in the low lights of the fire. drawing my
delicate hands slowly up over the soft curves of my belly, cupping
my full breasts, the bangles dangling from my enticing costume tinkle.

My taut nipples rub painfully against the cloth covering my breasts. A
gesture from him is a command I must obey. I unhook and discard it
baring my soft white breast. Closer and closer I dance. The cloth at
my hips, gently brushing my kus is equally maddening. Another gesture
is another command. Soaked with my passion juices, It too is
discarded. Now we are only inches apart.

He was a man who exercised regularly, often by thrusting into whatever
slave girl lay helpless beneath him. My eyes drank in the sight of his
muscular arms and torso. He seemed to glow with maleness sitting on
the edge of his enormous bed. It drew me across the final distance.
Only my veil and headband remain as we touched. My skin was flame
where I pressed my body against him. I felt his tool grow harder as I
rubbed against it through the thin fabric of his garment.

My naked breasts swaying before his eyes, I lowered myself to straddle
his legs, opening my sopping cunt inches from his manhood. I leaned
back, continuing to move my torso and shake my breasts as I supported
myself against him.

His piercing eyes sent chills up my spine. He watched me in silence.
Was I sufficiently pleasing to one who had tasted so much female flesh
before me? What more could I do?

Undulating my torso back up, I whispered in my most sultry voice, "I
am yours Master. Do you find me desirable? I am a virgin. Will you be
gentle will me? Would you like to taste my large breasts? Plunge your
manhood into my hot, wet, unprotected kus? Please master I beg you to
use this unworthy slave. Plant your seed in my ripe body. My need for
you burns hot within me."

It was enough. In a single motion, He lifted me up and tossed me into
the center of the massive bed. I spread my legs wide in invitation.
Reaching down I parted the lips of my kus to reveal the treasures

Removing his garment, a huge spear of flesh was revealed. It dwarfed
Mr. Solo and the dildos used by the harem. It stood proudly straight
out from his body and slowly moved towards my hot kus. I feared the
wound of this mighty spear, although I'd been well opened from behind,
my kus had never been stretched by a man. I heard a voice in my mind.
It lessened the fear and increased my anticipation.

He moved my hands above my head. I crossed my wrists as if helplessly
bound. His burning manhood shifted to lay across my slippery kus
forcing a small orgasm from me, but I needed much more. His mouth
attacked my breasts. I a moment he would be incapacitated by the drug
I'd placed on my nipples. Memory of my mission swam briefly into my
consciousness. How had I had forgotten it, the only thing that kept me
from true slavery? Then his lips fastened on my nipple driving the
thought away once more.

Time passed, moving to the other nipple he continued his assault on my
eager body, whatever was on my nipples had no effect on him. Then the
rising storm of sensation blotted that thought out, too.

My hips began moving, rubbing my slit against his hardness. One small
orgasm followed the next, but my capacity was well beyond them, I
wanted more. I could think of nothing by my need to be filled to get
his manhood inside me. My thighs lifted and gripped his flanks to
increase the sensations. I realized the moan and cries that filled the
air were coming from my lips.

"Please Master", I begged, I need you in me. use me, fill me." He
lifted a bit to re-position himself and then sank the head of his huge
cock two inches into me. Another orgasm rocked me. Perhaps, he wished
to go slowly, because of my virginity, but I would not have it so.
Crazed with lust I heaved and impaled myself onto his spear. It was
too thick, I was too tight, I felt exquisite pain as it pushed hard
against my maidenhood. I screamed at the top of my lungs. My legs
opened wide to ease the pain, giving him greater access.

Knowing what was necessary, he braced for his own mighty thrust which
ripped through the thin tissue. "EEEEEEEEEeeeeeeiiiiiiii!" I screamed,
as my last virginity was torn from me. Everything was a red haze of

He paused a moment, giving my kus time to adjust. My maidenhood was
gone. The mighty Sultan, all praises to his name, had taken it from
me. Quickly the pain lessened. Then it was drowned out by the tide of
passion rushing in. I was again swimming in an ocean of sensual bliss.

The muscles of my kus began squeezing and massaging his spear. Another
mini-orgasm, and I began tentative thrusts to insure the pain was
gone. The intense pleasure this created drove me wild. I began shoving
my kus against his spear to drive it deeper and deeper into me, each
penetration another orgasm. He met my thrusts until we slapped
together. I had taken it all. I had never imagined such a wonderful
feeling of fullness, of completion.

He began to withdraw, my thighs pressed together to hold him within
me, muscles within grasped to prevent his escape. I felt so empty.
Then he pressed back in, completing me, giving me meaning once more.
In a few thrusts, I learned his rhythm, but the desire built too fast
again. My body was holding back; the passion burned, but I could not
climax, I needed to cum again. My hands beat at my sides in
frustration. I began bucking against him like a crazy woman. Twice my
weight, it was all he could do to hold on to the wild mare beneath

My need and desperation kept building. I was insane with sexual lust,
and the Sultan who prided himself on his endurance, found himself
about to come very quickly. He tried to hold it back, but I pounded
against him and finally it came boiling forth, he cried out in a
tremendous orgasm. He gasped, riding me for all he was worth.

I felt his holy seed enter the temple of my womb. I was very close to
the gigantic orgasm that had been building within me, the voices
whispered that this was the moment of release. As if by command the
volcano in me erupted. "Aaaaiiiiiiiiiiyyyyyyyeeeeee," I yelled with
its intensity. Multiple orgasms wracked my entire being with
indescribable pleasure.

I collapsed totally drained, as if in a trance. My eyes closed, I
savored every bit of the most intense experience of my life, greater
and more fulfilling then even my pleasure dome. I had not swooned as I
had often fantasized. There was something essential that I still must

As if by magic, my legs lifted upward, I grasped them behind my knees,
and pulled them towards my breasts. This caused my hips to lift off
the bed so that the royal seed would not spill out of me when the
magnificent pleasure giver was withdrawn from my body. I must keep
his seed within my womb for an hour, waiting for it to take root to
impregnate my ripe young body.


He pulled out of her, amazed at what he had seen. No slave had ever
behaved like this before, had ever submitted so totally, had ever
excited him like this. Her body continued to twitch with the dying
strength of her last incredible climax.

He could not recall the last time he'd climaxed so hard or so long.
Such a volume had he shot into her body that a mixture of his cum and
her blood oozed out of her slit despite her best efforts to hold it

With two fingers he scooped some of the sticky mixture up, bringing
another moan to her lips. Completing the ritual of his people, he
smeared it across her breasts and belly, a visible sign of his virgin
conquest. Last, he pressed those fingers to her mouth to help her
remember the day of her lost maidenhood. The flavor seemed to animate
her for a moment.


Greedily, I sucked his fingers clean, it had been so long since I'd
enjoyed the taste of a man's cum. I savored the flavor of my own blood
mixed with his sperm, I'd always cherish the memory of that unique

The Sultan, all praises to his name signaled two harem women to enter
and help me. It was needed, I was to exhausted to keep this position
for more then a few moments. They assisted me for the required time to
insure impregnation.

Eyes closed, I was barely aware of this. My mind was replaying every
moment of my encounter with the Sultan since I had entered his
bedchamber. Each moment was passion itself.

A new desperate desire was born within me. To be permitted to serve
him again and again. What could I do to be more pleasing? To make him
want to keep me in his bed? I need not have worried. Virgins are each
given five days of bliss with their Master.

I was commanded to wait in the Royal bedchamber to serve the royal
pleasure. I was allowed two garments, both red to indicate the blood
of my lost virginity. One, a scoop neck dress that could be removed in
a moment and hid nothing from the eye of the Sultan. The other,
absorbent panties so the constant discharges from my Kus would not
stain the priceless heirlooms in the bedchamber. The strings holding
the panties on were so thin they could be ripped from my body in a
single motion.

I slept naked at the foot of the bed. He took me twice each day during
the next five days. Bracketing the three days my body was most
fertile. That I did not wish to become pregnant was irrelevant. Each
time my ripe body acted to hold his sperm within me, facilitating the
conception of yet another royal heir. The birth-control pills were my
only hope. Without them, this viral man was certain to plant his child
within my garden.

My submission was total. My body reacted in every way as the perfect
passion slave. I was both resigned and joyous when realizing this
undeniable fact. I did not know how it had happened. I only knew that
I had been conquered. I could no longer fight the heat, the passion,
and the desire. Yet a small part of "Betty the Spy" remained deep in
my mind. She still had a mission

There were periods when I was alone. It was easy for me to locate the
safe, open it and photograph all the document within. I had been told
that even though I was several months behind my original schedule, the
information would retain its importance for years.

I could finally complete my mission!



Expecting the seed had been firmly planted within my young, healthy
body, I was released back into the harem. New duties were assigned to
me to insure that excessive motion or exercise would not prevent the
royal embryo from implanting itself within the wall of my womb.

I was barred from the pool and from my pleasure dome. Two of my
sisters insured that my sexual addiction was attended so I would not
succumb to withdrawal.

I was commanded to wear the appropriate attire, a sheer blue negligee
parted down the front. This told all at a glance that I had just
received the royal seed. I was even allowed matching panties to
control my discharge. It was quite a change from the months spent
nude with my sisters. We awaited confirmation that I was with child.

The new free time in my schedule was filled with training on caring
for my body during pregnancy and early child rearing.

It was simple for me to send the signal for extraction. Would they
still come for me after so many months? I had to wait seven days.

What would become of me if extraction succeeded? I was addicted
to sexual pleasure. There was nowhere I could obtain what my body
needed outside the harem walls.

I would complete my mission before they realized I was not pregnant
and be extracted with the microfilm of the secret documents. They
Agency or perhaps my mother must know of a way to deal with my
sexual addiction. If not, I would return to the harem with a story of
forcible abduction and escape.

Eight days passed without any sign that my extraction signal had
been received. I sent out another. I must be careful because the
miniaturized transmitter I'd been given was only reliable to transmit
three extraction signals. Otherwise I would have sent out one each

Eight more days passed I sent out the third and last extraction
signal. If this failed then I must try my own escape attempt.

I watched the calendar carefully. On the 15 day after the Sultan first
took me, my period was officially late. But, I had been late before
and I was under a lot of stress. Besides, I couldn't be pregnant. I
had taken the birth control pills religiously. They would protect me.

Three days after I sent the third and last signal, I awoke nauseous.
Running to the bathroom I threw up into the sink. It was morning
sickness. I knew then I carried within me the child of the Sultan, all
praises to his name.

Gravid, knocked-up, expecting, in a family way, it was impossible! How
had the birth-control pills failed? I couldn't understand, refused to
believe it. I hid my condition, hoping against hope I was wrong.

I denied the many ways that my body was changing. My hips
and my breasts becoming more full in preparation for the new
life that had been implanted within my womb.

There were still a few days left during which my extraction signal
might be answered. I imagined I could still complete my mission, go
home and beg my mother's forgiveness. She'd help me have an abortion,
and cure my addiction. I was in complete denial as time passed.

Six days later, my hope of extraction had almost vanished. My breasts tender, my belly visibly rounded, I was caught throwing up. The
obvious changes to my body could not be hidden. The word of my
pregnancy quickly spread.

Bound and naked, I was brought into a pink room. I heard the first
wife enter behind me and command that we be left alone. The door
closed, I barely managed the courage to turn to face the one who held
my fate in her hands. She gestured indicating that I should abase
myself. My courage failed me, in fear, I dropped to my knees and
lowered my forehead to touch the floor. I begged, "Forgive this
unworthy one, Mistress. Do not have me lashed." Then I fell silent,
unmoving, awaiting her words.

"Rise and sit next to me." she commanded. I did this with difficulty.
She made no move to assist me. It took me ten minutes of struggle to
obey her command. Bathed in sweat I listened for her judgement. "It is
time for truth between us," she stated, "You must understand your new
obligations and responsibilities." I relaxed somewhat realizing I
would not be whipped, it would endanger the life growing within me.

She explained how I had been manipulated from the day I had entered
the harem. I'd been subjected to more concentrated sexual stimulation
than any normal candidate. As intended, I'd quickly developed an
unbreakable sexual addiction.

Hasim had reported in full to palace security on my birth control
pills and spy equipment. The days my travel bag had been
"missing" were no accident.

The birth control pills had been replaced with useless placebos.
My body had been unprotected. Ripe and fertile it had been ready
to receive the seed of the mighty Sultan, all praises to his name.

The incapacitating solution had been replaced with a pepper solution,
guaranteed to irritate and stimulate any skin to which it was applied.
My extraction transmitter and other equipment had been disabled,
but made to appear functional.

I was exposed there was no question of my guilt. I softly admitted to
being a spy and humbly begged forgiveness. This was accepted, but
my humiliation was not complete.

She showed me videotape of myself masturbating naked in my room at
Hasim's and more taken since my arrival in the harem, in training, in
the pool, in the pleasure dome.

I was apparently quite the pornographic star in the outside world.
Such things represented income for the harem.

In response to subtle inquiries, the scandalized Agency had long
ago disavowed any knowledge of me. The only time I was not
subject to videotaping was when I was with the mighty Sultan,
all praises to his name.

Perhaps the greatest surprise was caused by my mother. This was the
"remote desert kingdom where she'd taken on the entire palace guard
leaving them too weak to defend the palace."

The old order had been replaced by the present ruling family. If not
for this fact, this debt owed to my mother, I would have been put to
death as soon as my treachery had been uncovered.

Still another shock followed immediately. My mother had soon
afterwards become pregnant, but had no way to know who was the
father. She disappeared from the country shortly after giving birth.

The first wife was the child of that pregnancy, my half-sister!
She released me from my bindings. In tears, we fell into each
other's arms.

She promised to watch over me and my children to come.
Officially, she would treat me fairly and strictly, the same as all
the other girls. However, she'd try to assist me whenever she could.
This was by no means a small thing and came to be of great
importance in times to come.

Briefly, I toyed with the idea of escape, but was forced to give it
up. Now that I carried the royal child in my womb, I'd be watched
more closely then ever. Escape was impossible.

Before I was dismissed the 1st wife reminded me that the child must
come first in all my thoughts. My status would increase with my
pregnancy, and would rise and fall with the status of my child. If
anything suspicious happened to terminate my pregnancy prematurely,
those responsible (including me) would be summarily put to death.

I was treated as a broad mare, a baby factory. All my training now
centered on the new life growing within me. My diet was adjusted since
I was now "eating for two." I was allowed to sleep longer to insure
the health of the developing embryo. I was going crazy, bored out of
my mind.

I was ecstatic when I was told I would resume my "normal" schedule the
next morning. Now that the fetus was firmly entrenched in me, I was
expected to perform the old services to the harem. All my sisters
greeted me warmly when I returned to the pool, the rubbed my tummy,
then they rubbed my kus, sending me into the bliss I had earnestly

Everyone was overjoyed that the demon of my pleasure dome would be
released. They had sorely missed the unique magic of my tongue, mouth,
and lips. It had become know I was unhappy with my pregnancy. My
sisters knew how to make me feel better.

As I floated within my pleasure dome on a sea of bliss, the insistent
whispers returned,

"I love being with child.
Children are a woman's fulfillment.
Children bring me joy.
I think of their welfare at all times.
The child's happiness comes before my own.
I must protect my child with my own life."

These insidious voices worked even faster then before. When I awoke,
my entire outlook had changed. Being pregnant was the best thing that
had ever happened to me. I zestfully learned all I could be taught
about children. I dreamed of the time we'd spend together.

My belly grew round and then bloated. I began walking like a duck to
the amusement of all. My breasts grew even larger as they filled with
milk. I began to "glow" with the light of impending motherhood.

I bore a fine healthy son to the Sultan, all praises to his name. I
nursed him myself. My nipples had grown long and fat, I like to pull
and pinch them until the milk began to flow, then let the little man latch on. I often climaxed while he suckled on my teats. It took great
restraint not to dislodge him. My breasts had grown to 42DDD.

I began a rigorous exercise program that rapidly drained the pregnancy
weight from my body. I took a daily supplement that kept me lactating
after I weaned my son. My sisters also liked to suckle the milk from
my teats when I was in my pleasure dome. They took turns sucking me
dry. I produced more milk then when I was nursing.

I was like a cow. If my tits weren't milked regularly then they began
to leak all over me. If I should hear a baby cry in this state then a
small stream of white fluid sprang forth.

This kept me lactating for many years. Some of my sisters had trouble
breast feeding their own children for a variety of reasons. I often
enjoyed breast-feeding their children during my free periods.

My lush figure returned, more full breasted then ever. I never
returned to my former slim shape, but I received few complaints with
my new, lush, 40DD-26-38 figure. Because of my new maternal status and
massive breasts, I was allowed a nursing bra when I was not required
to be nude.

I was thereafter often commanded to attend the Sultan, all praises to
his name. He had greatly enjoyed my wild abandon during our first
tryst. It was a great joke to him to arouse my fiery passion by
sucking the milk from my teats, making me beg for release. Then he'd
drive his spear piercing my eager cunt. Out passionate thrusts would
synchronize to the beat he always set. I'd meet him thrust for thrust,
moaning and screaming for more, until finally he came which a great
yell that touched off my own string of orgasms. As much as I loved the
touch of my sisters it never came close to matching the excitement and
fulfillment I received from my time with him.

Now that his virility was re-established, he often enjoyed taking me
in the ass. He brought me much more pleasure then Mr. Solo ever had.
Or perhaps, it was because I was now such a helpless slave.

When he taking my ass and feeling playful, he would reach up and
squeeze the milk from my breasts into little saucers. He would rub it
on my body, have me drink it, or perform a variety of other "humorous"
things with it. He would make me "moo" like a cow. I might not per
permitted human speech. At first I was humiliated by these
degradations. Later, I got into it and played the role to the hilt,
usually breaking up into uncontrollable laughter. This tickled his
sense of humor. We'd roll around the bed giggling until he would
suddenly grab me and plunge into one of my orifices to finish.

It was well known why I was rendered helpless by anyone who would
touch my clitoris or pleasure dome. When I next gave birth to a girl,
it was commanded that she undergo the same operation I had as an
infant. In fact, the Sultan, all praises to his name, was so impressed
with me that he decreed that all female newborns in the kingdom
undergo the same procedure.

I supported my firstborn son in all ways. Through the tangled politics
of the kingdom, my help, and his own burning drives, he rose to
replace the Sultan, all praises to his name, when he died an old, but
very happy man. I became first in the harem, higher even then my
half-sister, the first wife, but I never tired of visiting the pool of
1000 pleasures and my own pleasure dome.

** The End **


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Betty the Spy, Part 4: Passion Slave
Betty the Spy, Part 5: Motherhood
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