Cinnamon Pillows Part 2 [Non con] [Harem] [Misogyny] [Mention of Dogs] [Humiliation]

As with chapter 1, some characters in this work reflect views that are morally wrong and do not reflect my own beliefs. This chapter even more so. This story will probably go down some roads Reddit won’t allow, so if you are enjoying this see my profile for access to an alternative reading source. DM’s open to discuss.

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Jade felt lightheaded for reasons that had nothing to do with the drugs in her system. What sort of hell had she been brought to?

“There…there has to be some sort of mistake,” she said shakily, eyes darting every which way. “I don’t belong here.”

“No shit, tits,” said the smaller woman. “None of us belong here. It doesn’t – does not- take a genius to come up with that.” The woman was the shortest of the four of them. If Jade had to guess she would put her at maybe 5’3. She had lighter skin than Jade but spoke with what sounded like a Spanish accent. Her hair was dark and voluminous; it fell in waves to the middle of her back. Her face was very pretty with dark, mischievous eyes. Her chest was the smallest in the room; not exactly flat but much less impressive compared to…others. But what she lacked in bust she more than made up for with the most picturesque butt Jade had ever seen. Strong thighs gave the impression that this woman regularly used her legs. Jade found it odd that she had stopped to correct her speech.

Cinnamon Pillows (Part 1) [M/F] [Noncon]

The following is part one of a long, epic series of slavery and choices. It contains viewpoints of characters that are morally wrong and do not reflect my personal beliefs. I hope you can recognize the difference between a fictional story and real life and I do hope you enjoy.

-OOO-

**Chapter 1: Whatever Happened to Lady Jade?**

The Sultan leaned back in his ornate armchair, stroking his freshly shaven chin. The only light, save for a dim orange glow emanating from the ornate wall sconces, came from a large mounted television screen on the opposite side of his desk. He rested comfortably against the plush fabric, watching the images tick by. Every ten seconds a new image flashed by, presenting the wares of the merchants he had long ago allied himself with.

On the whole he felt that the offerings this time were poor. The woman on the screen was pretty enough, he conceded. She was, in fact, quite beautiful. The camera had captured the terror in her blue eyes quite well, so that he could make out the extra moisture behind them that gave away either the stopping or starting of tears. But as he read her profile, the Sultan was thoroughly unimpressed. *A preschool teacher? She ought to have been satisfied by the children her husband gave her. If she even bothered with a husband…*