Chapter 37: Casting Couch Audition
The red recording light on Manny’s phone blinked steadily, a cyclops eye unblinking in the dim room. It captured Ahmed kneeling rigidly on the worn prayer rug, the abaya a dark puddle around him, the hijab slightly askew, revealing damp strands of dark hair clinging to his temple. Dried tears and dirt smeared his cheeks, a stark contrast to the traditional modesty of the garments. The stench of stale tequila, sweat, sex, and souring pizza from the box near the desk hung heavy, oppressive. Manny leaned back in the rickety desk chair he’d dragged to face Ahmed, the tripod positioned slightly to the side to capture his roommate’s full humiliation. He spread his legs wide, the crotch of his grey sweatpants tented obscenely. His hand rested possessively over the bulge, fingers kneading slowly.
"Alright, sand princess," Manny growled, his voice rough, a grin playing on his lips that didn't reach his eyes. "Let's do this right. Got the camera rolling. Gotta document the audition properly." He paused, letting the silence stretch, thick with Ahmed’s ragged breathing. "First question –" His hand moved, rubbing deliberately over his hardening cock through the thin cotton. "How badly do you want this role? How fucking desperate are you to be Daddy’s little desert whore?"
Ahmed flinched, his gaze fixed on the peeling veneer of the desk leg just past Manny’s chair. His lips trembled, sticky with drying spit. The memory of the vibrator buzzing against his taint, the forced swallowing, the suffocating weight of the cum-soaked robe, pressed down on him. "I... I want it, Daddy," he whispered, the title tasting like bile.
"Louder, bitch," Manny snapped, slamming his palm down on the armrest, making the chair screech. "Let the camera hear how much you crave this Filipino dick! How badly you need me to ruin your holy robes!"
"I want it!" Ahmed gasped, louder, his voice cracking. "I want the role, Daddy! Please!"
Manny chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "Please, what? Be specific, Ahmed. What are you begging for? Tell the nice camera." He squeezed his cock through the sweats, the outline of his thick shaft unmistakable. "Tell it what you want shoved down your throat, up your ass. Tell it how much you love being called a sand nigger while you take it."
Ahmed squeezed his eyes shut, humiliation burning his face beneath the hijab. The words choked him. He forced them out, raw and broken. "I... I want your cock, Daddy. I want you to fuck me. Use me. Call me... call me your sand nigger." A tear escaped, tracing a path through the grime.
"Good girl," Manny purred, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming in the screen’s reflected light. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers. "Now, show me how much." He yanked them down to his thighs in one swift motion. His cock sprang free, thick, flushed, and already glistening with pre-cum at the tip, a stark, intimidating presence against his skin. "Get that pretty Saudi mouth over here. Show me what you learned."
Ahmed shuffled forward on his knees, the abaya dragging across the rough fibers of the rug. The proximity to Manny’s nakedness, the musky scent of him, the sheer visual assault of his erection, made Ahmed’s stomach clench. He leaned in, his breath hitching as he neared the swollen head. He opened his mouth, tentative, his tongue darting out to flick tentatively at the salty bead of pre-cum.
Manny hissed, his hand shooting out to grip the back of Ahmed’s head through the hijab. "None of that timid princess shit! Open wide and suck it, you fucking Arab cocksleeve!"
Ahmed jerked forward, engulfing the head. The hot, heavy weight filled his mouth, the taste of salt and skin flooding his senses. Manny’s grip tightened, pushing him down further. Ahmed gagged as the thick shaft pressed against the back of his throat. "That’s it," Manny groaned, his hips lifting slightly off the chair. "Take it deep, you filthy sand bitch. Choke on it." He pushed Ahmed’s head down ruthlessly, forcing more of his cock into the tight channel of Ahmed’s throat.
Ahmed’s eyes watered, his throat convulsing around the invading flesh. His hands scrabbled weakly at Manny’s thighs for purchase. Manny held him there for a long, agonizing moment, savoring the gagging vibrations around his cock, watching Ahmed’s tears spill onto his own thighs. "Look at you," he snarled. "All wrapped up like a fucking present, choking on jungle dick. Perfect." He pulled Ahmed’s head back roughly, letting him gasp for air, strands of saliva connecting his lips to the slick, reddened cockhead. "Now, answer question two," Manny continued, his voice thick with arousal. "What makes you qualified to be my personal Arab fucktoy? Besides that desperate gag reflex?"
Ahmed panted, trying to catch his breath, drool slicking his chin. "I... I obey, Daddy," he rasped. "I take... whatever you give me."
"Whatever I give you?" Manny repeated, a cruel smile twisting his lips. He guided Ahmed’s mouth back onto his cock, not shoving this time, letting Ahmed slowly take him in. "Prove it." He started rocking his hips, fucking Ahmed’s mouth in shallow, relentless thrusts. "Suck it like you mean it, princess. Show me how well you worship this brown cock."
Ahmed hollowed his cheeks, trying to build suction, his tongue working desperately along the veined underside. The taste, the texture, the sheer subjugation was overwhelming, but a traitorous heat bloomed low in his belly, fueled by the degradation. He bobbed his head, letting Manny control the rhythm, spit dripping freely. Manny groaned, his hand tightening in Ahmed’s hair. "Yeah... that’s it. Use that slutty mouth. Tell me why you deserve this dick."
"Because... because I’m your sand bitch," Ahmed managed around the cock filling his mouth, the words muffled, vibrating against flesh. "Made for... Filipino dick." He sucked harder, swirling his tongue.
"Fuck yes!" Manny thrust deeper, hitting Ahmed’s throat again. "Say it again! Louder for the camera!"
"I’m your sand bitch!" Ahmed cried out as Manny pulled back slightly. "Made for your jungle dick, Daddy! Made to swallow it!" The words, screamed in desperation, ignited something feral in him. He dove back onto Manny’s cock, taking him deep, gagging violently but pushing through it, sucking with frantic need.
Manny threw his head back with a guttural roar. "Yesss! Swallow it! Take it all, you fucking Arab whore! Swallow every drop!" His hips pistoned erratically, fucking Ahmed’s face with brutal force. He slammed in deep, held, and erupted, thick pulses of hot cum flooding Ahmed’s throat. Ahmed choked, his body jerking, but Manny held him fast, grinding his cockhead against the convulsing palate, forcing him to swallow gulp after gulp of the bitter load.
Finally, Manny pulled out with a wet, sucking sound. Ahmed collapsed back onto his heels, coughing, cum and spit dripping from his chin onto the black abaya. He gasped for air, trembling violently, the hijab half-slipping off.
Manny looked down at him, breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat on his chest. He reached out, not gently, and roughly adjusted the hijab back into place, his fingers lingering on the damp fabric. He glanced at the blinking red light of the phone, then back at Ahmed’s wrecked, veiled face. A dark satisfaction settled over him, deeper than the orgasm. He patted Ahmed’s cheek, a mockery of affection. "Not bad, sand princess. Not bad at all." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper thick with menace and promise. "But the audition’s not over. Daddy’s just getting started. Get ready to show me what that holy little ass can really do." His gaze drifted pointedly towards the small bottle of lube glinting on the edge of the desk.