Saffron Avenger
Member
Hello, my name is Fatima and this is the story how of I lost a bet and became a fuckslut in a foreign land.
I have always been fond of the tropics; it’s the rains that do it for me I guess. After the pandemic slowed down, I finally said fuck it, and set out to travel. As for my destination, I chose India. Large country, Lots of people to meet, and a couple of friends I knew from online groups. Was it safe to travel after Covid? Probably? Maybe? I don’t know, Was I gonna stay at home and risk another lockdown before I got to go? Fuck no.
But I’m not here to tell you about my travels. It’s about a particular night, maybe a few nights. I had been in the city K for a couple of days by that point with a friend I had made in a Discord server. He was showing me around, telling me stories, looking me over like he wanted to strip me naked and bend me over; you know, the usual.
I was pretty excited that night. Pakistan was playing in the World Cup finals, and I was excited to cheer them on. I’m British, if I hadn’t mentioned already. Yes, tea, top-hat, bowa’o;wa’er and all that, ha ha. Timezone fuckery meant the final was late at night local time. The options were to sit at the hotel and watch, or go to this dive bar my friend knew that’d be open, but only for friends. So…I went.
It was pretty chill, not the electric atmosphere I would’ve gotten at a USA pub on a football night, but I took what I got. I got more than a few glances as the sole white girl in the bar, but I can’t say I disliked the attention. My 36D garnered attention. I knew. I reveled in it.
“I bet on Pakistan losing”, my friend said while pouring me a draft.
“No!” I protested. “Pakistan will win”. Sure enough, I was proven right with the first goal being only a few minutes in.
“Pastafuckers”, my friend swore.
“I bet on us winning”, I said beaming.
“You’re on”, he put his bottle down with a clink. He leaned in close and whispered in my ears “and when I win”, he slid his finger down my back, along my spine, “Pakistan is going to get pounded twice in one night”.
I slapped his hand away playfully, “we’ll see”.
And…I lost. By the time the penalty shootout was over, I was frustrated. Others left after a few words of consolation, only my friend sat beside me nursing a drink.
He looked up at me. “It might not have come home tonight, but you can cum home with me”, he said with a smirk.
The the best punchline I’ve heard in a long while.
“I’m impressed”, I breathed. “Maybe I’ll let you”.
The Uber ride to his place was uneventful. Mostly. He kept running his fingers along the edge of my dress, almost threatening to slip under. His eyes shone like a predator in the half-dark of the passing streetlights.
As we stumbled through the door, I felt the air change around me. He looked at me and ordered, “Strip”.
I tried to mumble some playful objection.
He stalked closer. “Strip”, he said in a voice that would brook no argument, “you little slut”.
I took a sharp breath. He knew I liked being talked to like this.
“I won’t ask again”, his hands traveled up my black hair as his face pressed on my cheek, his lips brushing my ear. “Strip, fuckmeat”.
My knees buckled. “Yes, sir” I said as I made haste to get out of my dress. I could feel his eyes blazing a path along my curves as he watched me strip for him. I stood in my underwear. I was glad the night concealed the tinge of red that had crept up on my ears.
“Mmm”, he rumbled. “Now, kneel”.
The hunger he had in his eyes for me lit something within. I kneeled, and looked up at him. I waited, little trembles traveling along my body.
He reached down his pants and brought his cock out. I could tell he relished at my reaction as her stroked it. “Time you teach you your place, slutface”, he said as he held my hair in a fist and pressed my face against his cock.
I knew what he wanted. I took my tongue out and licked his balls. His shiver told me he liked his little slut’s move.
“That’s right”, he held onto my hair to direct me better. “Under my cock, kneeling and knowing you’re just a piece of fuckmeat for me to thrust my cock in”.
As he degraded me, I felt hotter and hotter. I could feel myself grow frantic.
“White sluts have only one use”, he said while stroking his cock looking at me, “to be bred like stock. That’s the only way to fix your kind”.
“Yes sir”, I moaned between licks, “teach me”.
A laugh escaped him, “Oh, I shall, breedslut, I will”.
After a while, I felt his hands pull me away. His cock, now fully erect rested against my face. Heat rolled off it in waves.
Maybe he…I tried to wrap my lips around him. But he held me in place.
“My cock looks great on your white face, Brit”, he rasped. Then he pushed me to a nearby wall, pinning my head. With one swift motion he shoved himself in my mouth. Pinned down, I accepted him. His hand kept its hold on my hair in a fist, while the other jostled my chin to better fit him.
“Your pleasure doesn’t matter”, he told me as he thrust. “Mine does”.
“Ymf sff”, I replied with a mouthful of cock.
“You're powerless. You're nothing”, he reminded me of my place. “You're a piece of property.” he thrust quicker, “My property”.
I replied again with a full mouth that indeed, I was his property. I was getting turned on by the idea of being owned. I slid my hand down to my clit…or at least I tried to.
His hand flew swiftly to grab mine and pin them to the wall, above me.
“So little miss Pakistan thinks she can pleasure herself”, he mocked. “Can property pleasure itself?” He asked.
“Nn sff”, I replied. Fuck that’s hot.
“Can’t hear you”, he replied. “What did you say, bint?”
“NNN Sfmg” I replied louder. He’s totally enjoying this, I thought as I realized I was wet. Very wet. Me too, I guess.
“Disobedient pets need to be punished”, he said as he pulled his cock out from my mouth. Beads of saliva and precum trailed out. His hands caressed my cheek.
I..Is he…my thoughts were cut off by an openhanded slap.
I whimpered. He slapped me again, the animal, I thought.
“Will you be disobeying me again?” He asked.
“No”, I breathed out. Not like I can, you asshole. You know I get weak when you’re rough with me.
“Good”, he gestured towards his workspace. “Follow me”.
I tried to get up, but he stopped me with a look. “On all fours”, he laughed.
My face burning with humiliation and arousal, I followed him like his little fucktoy.
“You should be happy!” he declared. I cleared my desk just for you”, he said while kneeling down to my level, “aren’t you happy, cumdoll?”
“Yes”, I whispered. Before I could do anything, I was picked up and laid out on the table. I yelped a little at the cool surface, a sharp change from the tropical heat and my own.
He lay me on my back, my head hanging off the side. He ran his fingers along my neck, my chest, my tits, my stomach in a roving line that scorched my skin with its heat.
He gently cradled my head as he guided himself in mouth. He grunted as I gripped him tightly, my lips on his pelvic.
Got you, I rejoiced as I heard him gasp a little.
And then he bent down and licked me in the stomach. Dear reader, my whole body contracted around that little lick. I heard myself whimper as I declared my weakness. I might as well have invited the wolf to supper.
Off he went, thrusting into my mouth and leaving a trail of frenzied bites down my stomach and thighs. It didn’t help as he waited with his teeth brushing against my skin long enough to make me beg, wordlessly of course. Right on the edge of uncertainty he would make me wait for his fevered bite. Which is obviously a way to say I was fucking sopping wet.
His thrusts became frantic now. I could feel he was close. “Liked that, huh?” he grunted. “I will fucking breed that little pussy of yours” he added, his voice relishing in the promise of a violent coupling.
He could have taken me apart. Tore me down. Ravaged me and ravished me. I wouldn’t have stopped him.
His hand rested on my throat. “Go slow”, he commanded. I obeyed. You don’t refuse an order when you’re the fuckdoll of a brute such as he.
I heard him spit. I waited.
I felt his hand hover over my pussy. His fingers brushed against me delicately; with all the tenderness one touches a woman before ruining her.
And ruin he did.
His fingers simultaneously tortured and pleasured me. He spat filthy, degrading, mocking sentence after sentence at me. I was just a meathole to him, no better than a pocket pussy. A shameless pocket pussy that was getting off with his touch, he added with disdain. But he never stopped teasing my clit.
Rubbing.
Brushing.
Rolling.
I was pretty much a puddle by the time he put his fingers in. he slipped in so easily.
“Getting off while being abused”, He mocked. “Truly an inferior breed. You should be grateful that I’m going to breed you better”.
He continued, pushing and pulling; kneading and gliding.
Tears stained my face as he brutally took my mouth again and again. I begged him to let me breathe, but he wouldn’t. “You can breathe when my balls are drained”, he declared.
The worst of all, he wouldn’t let me cum. He’d stop again and again right at the edge of pleasure; each time making me beg like his pathetic breeding bitch. And I did. So many times.
When he finally let me cum, it was all stars and explosions and tingles that ran back down my legs to the very fingertips. I might have even seen the Queen waving at me at some point, I’m not sure. What I am sure however, is that I lay whimpering and spasming on the table, my body not in control.
Suddenly I heard his voice. “You hear that slut?”
What? “No…” I replied weakly.
He smirked at me. I knew that look, nothing good could come out of that look.
He made me get up and follow him again, this time pulling me by my hair.
“Why”, I whispered as he brought me out to the backyard, under the angry red night sky. “It’s too exposed…sir”, I added.
He slapped my ass with a loving fury. “You’ll see, cocksleeve”.
He made me stand with my legs spread towards him, my hands tied to a metal pole.
And he waited.
For what, I didn’t know.
“It’s here”, he declared.
What was? Wha… the smell hit me before anything else. Thick, cloying scent of petrichor enveloped the yard as first raindrops hit the earth.
He slapped my ass again. Then again. I forced myself to be quiet for the neighbours. This seemed to amuse him.
“You shouldn’t think too much”, he adviced. “Use that pretty head for other, more useful things” For exactly what, I couldn’t ask before he put his fingers in my mouth.
The rain picked up. Aqueous arrows hit the ground with a gentle fury. Petrichor flowed up around me, over me, inside me as he slipped himself inside me.
I felt myself give way to accommodate himself in me. I gasped as he thrust, his hands keeping me in place. With the other hand he held my throat and forced me to look up to him.
“That’s a good slut”, he encouraged me. “Make me feel good”.
Each thrust was deeper than the last, faster, more frantic. My impassioned moans were drowned by rain that poured down in sheets. I pressed myself to the only other source of heat in that chill, him.
I knew when he was going to come by his grip on me. I reciprocated by thrusting my hips, futher with each stroke as if I wanted us to meld, bone to bone; skin to skin.
When he released inside me, I felt the heat bloom and permeate me.
“Fuck”, he cursed.
I panted as I felt his cum drip down my legs, into the earth and rain.
I was happy. I was content. I was…whole.
Next morning when I woke up I saw him already awake and yawning. I arched an eyebrow at his overeager cock saluting the dawn.
He shrugged his shoulders. And then he inched up closer to me.
“Hurt me”, I whisped. “Sir”.
“You sure?” He asked.
“Yes please”.
He brought his face down to my ears again. “Pakistan was never a good team” he whispered.
“N…not that much!” I protested in mock anger.
“Ready for round two?”
I was.
My name is Fatima, and this is the story of me losing a bet and becoming a fuckslut in a foreign land and never regretting it.
I am not "Fatima", I am a guy. I wrote this story from a Muslimah's POV on her request a couple years back. Do NOT DM me thinking I am a muslimah. DMs open if any muslimahs want stories or chats.
Please leave your comments about the story
I have always been fond of the tropics; it’s the rains that do it for me I guess. After the pandemic slowed down, I finally said fuck it, and set out to travel. As for my destination, I chose India. Large country, Lots of people to meet, and a couple of friends I knew from online groups. Was it safe to travel after Covid? Probably? Maybe? I don’t know, Was I gonna stay at home and risk another lockdown before I got to go? Fuck no.
But I’m not here to tell you about my travels. It’s about a particular night, maybe a few nights. I had been in the city K for a couple of days by that point with a friend I had made in a Discord server. He was showing me around, telling me stories, looking me over like he wanted to strip me naked and bend me over; you know, the usual.
I was pretty excited that night. Pakistan was playing in the World Cup finals, and I was excited to cheer them on. I’m British, if I hadn’t mentioned already. Yes, tea, top-hat, bowa’o;wa’er and all that, ha ha. Timezone fuckery meant the final was late at night local time. The options were to sit at the hotel and watch, or go to this dive bar my friend knew that’d be open, but only for friends. So…I went.
It was pretty chill, not the electric atmosphere I would’ve gotten at a USA pub on a football night, but I took what I got. I got more than a few glances as the sole white girl in the bar, but I can’t say I disliked the attention. My 36D garnered attention. I knew. I reveled in it.
“I bet on Pakistan losing”, my friend said while pouring me a draft.
“No!” I protested. “Pakistan will win”. Sure enough, I was proven right with the first goal being only a few minutes in.
“Pastafuckers”, my friend swore.
“I bet on us winning”, I said beaming.
“You’re on”, he put his bottle down with a clink. He leaned in close and whispered in my ears “and when I win”, he slid his finger down my back, along my spine, “Pakistan is going to get pounded twice in one night”.
I slapped his hand away playfully, “we’ll see”.
And…I lost. By the time the penalty shootout was over, I was frustrated. Others left after a few words of consolation, only my friend sat beside me nursing a drink.
He looked up at me. “It might not have come home tonight, but you can cum home with me”, he said with a smirk.
The the best punchline I’ve heard in a long while.
“I’m impressed”, I breathed. “Maybe I’ll let you”.
The Uber ride to his place was uneventful. Mostly. He kept running his fingers along the edge of my dress, almost threatening to slip under. His eyes shone like a predator in the half-dark of the passing streetlights.
As we stumbled through the door, I felt the air change around me. He looked at me and ordered, “Strip”.
I tried to mumble some playful objection.
He stalked closer. “Strip”, he said in a voice that would brook no argument, “you little slut”.
I took a sharp breath. He knew I liked being talked to like this.
“I won’t ask again”, his hands traveled up my black hair as his face pressed on my cheek, his lips brushing my ear. “Strip, fuckmeat”.
My knees buckled. “Yes, sir” I said as I made haste to get out of my dress. I could feel his eyes blazing a path along my curves as he watched me strip for him. I stood in my underwear. I was glad the night concealed the tinge of red that had crept up on my ears.
“Mmm”, he rumbled. “Now, kneel”.
The hunger he had in his eyes for me lit something within. I kneeled, and looked up at him. I waited, little trembles traveling along my body.
He reached down his pants and brought his cock out. I could tell he relished at my reaction as her stroked it. “Time you teach you your place, slutface”, he said as he held my hair in a fist and pressed my face against his cock.
I knew what he wanted. I took my tongue out and licked his balls. His shiver told me he liked his little slut’s move.
“That’s right”, he held onto my hair to direct me better. “Under my cock, kneeling and knowing you’re just a piece of fuckmeat for me to thrust my cock in”.
As he degraded me, I felt hotter and hotter. I could feel myself grow frantic.
“White sluts have only one use”, he said while stroking his cock looking at me, “to be bred like stock. That’s the only way to fix your kind”.
“Yes sir”, I moaned between licks, “teach me”.
A laugh escaped him, “Oh, I shall, breedslut, I will”.
After a while, I felt his hands pull me away. His cock, now fully erect rested against my face. Heat rolled off it in waves.
Maybe he…I tried to wrap my lips around him. But he held me in place.
“My cock looks great on your white face, Brit”, he rasped. Then he pushed me to a nearby wall, pinning my head. With one swift motion he shoved himself in my mouth. Pinned down, I accepted him. His hand kept its hold on my hair in a fist, while the other jostled my chin to better fit him.
“Your pleasure doesn’t matter”, he told me as he thrust. “Mine does”.
“Ymf sff”, I replied with a mouthful of cock.
“You're powerless. You're nothing”, he reminded me of my place. “You're a piece of property.” he thrust quicker, “My property”.
I replied again with a full mouth that indeed, I was his property. I was getting turned on by the idea of being owned. I slid my hand down to my clit…or at least I tried to.
His hand flew swiftly to grab mine and pin them to the wall, above me.
“So little miss Pakistan thinks she can pleasure herself”, he mocked. “Can property pleasure itself?” He asked.
“Nn sff”, I replied. Fuck that’s hot.
“Can’t hear you”, he replied. “What did you say, bint?”
“NNN Sfmg” I replied louder. He’s totally enjoying this, I thought as I realized I was wet. Very wet. Me too, I guess.
“Disobedient pets need to be punished”, he said as he pulled his cock out from my mouth. Beads of saliva and precum trailed out. His hands caressed my cheek.
I..Is he…my thoughts were cut off by an openhanded slap.
I whimpered. He slapped me again, the animal, I thought.
“Will you be disobeying me again?” He asked.
“No”, I breathed out. Not like I can, you asshole. You know I get weak when you’re rough with me.
“Good”, he gestured towards his workspace. “Follow me”.
I tried to get up, but he stopped me with a look. “On all fours”, he laughed.
My face burning with humiliation and arousal, I followed him like his little fucktoy.
“You should be happy!” he declared. I cleared my desk just for you”, he said while kneeling down to my level, “aren’t you happy, cumdoll?”
“Yes”, I whispered. Before I could do anything, I was picked up and laid out on the table. I yelped a little at the cool surface, a sharp change from the tropical heat and my own.
He lay me on my back, my head hanging off the side. He ran his fingers along my neck, my chest, my tits, my stomach in a roving line that scorched my skin with its heat.
He gently cradled my head as he guided himself in mouth. He grunted as I gripped him tightly, my lips on his pelvic.
Got you, I rejoiced as I heard him gasp a little.
And then he bent down and licked me in the stomach. Dear reader, my whole body contracted around that little lick. I heard myself whimper as I declared my weakness. I might as well have invited the wolf to supper.
Off he went, thrusting into my mouth and leaving a trail of frenzied bites down my stomach and thighs. It didn’t help as he waited with his teeth brushing against my skin long enough to make me beg, wordlessly of course. Right on the edge of uncertainty he would make me wait for his fevered bite. Which is obviously a way to say I was fucking sopping wet.
His thrusts became frantic now. I could feel he was close. “Liked that, huh?” he grunted. “I will fucking breed that little pussy of yours” he added, his voice relishing in the promise of a violent coupling.
He could have taken me apart. Tore me down. Ravaged me and ravished me. I wouldn’t have stopped him.
His hand rested on my throat. “Go slow”, he commanded. I obeyed. You don’t refuse an order when you’re the fuckdoll of a brute such as he.
I heard him spit. I waited.
I felt his hand hover over my pussy. His fingers brushed against me delicately; with all the tenderness one touches a woman before ruining her.
And ruin he did.
His fingers simultaneously tortured and pleasured me. He spat filthy, degrading, mocking sentence after sentence at me. I was just a meathole to him, no better than a pocket pussy. A shameless pocket pussy that was getting off with his touch, he added with disdain. But he never stopped teasing my clit.
Rubbing.
Brushing.
Rolling.
I was pretty much a puddle by the time he put his fingers in. he slipped in so easily.
“Getting off while being abused”, He mocked. “Truly an inferior breed. You should be grateful that I’m going to breed you better”.
He continued, pushing and pulling; kneading and gliding.
Tears stained my face as he brutally took my mouth again and again. I begged him to let me breathe, but he wouldn’t. “You can breathe when my balls are drained”, he declared.
The worst of all, he wouldn’t let me cum. He’d stop again and again right at the edge of pleasure; each time making me beg like his pathetic breeding bitch. And I did. So many times.
When he finally let me cum, it was all stars and explosions and tingles that ran back down my legs to the very fingertips. I might have even seen the Queen waving at me at some point, I’m not sure. What I am sure however, is that I lay whimpering and spasming on the table, my body not in control.
Suddenly I heard his voice. “You hear that slut?”
What? “No…” I replied weakly.
He smirked at me. I knew that look, nothing good could come out of that look.
He made me get up and follow him again, this time pulling me by my hair.
“Why”, I whispered as he brought me out to the backyard, under the angry red night sky. “It’s too exposed…sir”, I added.
He slapped my ass with a loving fury. “You’ll see, cocksleeve”.
He made me stand with my legs spread towards him, my hands tied to a metal pole.
And he waited.
For what, I didn’t know.
“It’s here”, he declared.
What was? Wha… the smell hit me before anything else. Thick, cloying scent of petrichor enveloped the yard as first raindrops hit the earth.
He slapped my ass again. Then again. I forced myself to be quiet for the neighbours. This seemed to amuse him.
“You shouldn’t think too much”, he adviced. “Use that pretty head for other, more useful things” For exactly what, I couldn’t ask before he put his fingers in my mouth.
The rain picked up. Aqueous arrows hit the ground with a gentle fury. Petrichor flowed up around me, over me, inside me as he slipped himself inside me.
I felt myself give way to accommodate himself in me. I gasped as he thrust, his hands keeping me in place. With the other hand he held my throat and forced me to look up to him.
“That’s a good slut”, he encouraged me. “Make me feel good”.
Each thrust was deeper than the last, faster, more frantic. My impassioned moans were drowned by rain that poured down in sheets. I pressed myself to the only other source of heat in that chill, him.
I knew when he was going to come by his grip on me. I reciprocated by thrusting my hips, futher with each stroke as if I wanted us to meld, bone to bone; skin to skin.
When he released inside me, I felt the heat bloom and permeate me.
“Fuck”, he cursed.
I panted as I felt his cum drip down my legs, into the earth and rain.
I was happy. I was content. I was…whole.
Next morning when I woke up I saw him already awake and yawning. I arched an eyebrow at his overeager cock saluting the dawn.
He shrugged his shoulders. And then he inched up closer to me.
“Hurt me”, I whisped. “Sir”.
“You sure?” He asked.
“Yes please”.
He brought his face down to my ears again. “Pakistan was never a good team” he whispered.
“N…not that much!” I protested in mock anger.
“Ready for round two?”
I was.
My name is Fatima, and this is the story of me losing a bet and becoming a fuckslut in a foreign land and never regretting it.
I am not "Fatima", I am a guy. I wrote this story from a Muslimah's POV on her request a couple years back. Do NOT DM me thinking I am a muslimah. DMs open if any muslimahs want stories or chats.
Please leave your comments about the story
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