Sweet Home Oromia

With its president back in her mansion, life in Afroasia returns to normal. Arab, Berber, and Somali factions go back to fighting each other, and expecting the Jewish president to condemn both of them, for thinking that violence is ever the answer. But as long as they don't attack Hebrews or Jews, Ophir can't really become a drama queen about it.

She would prefer never to become a drama queen at all. But then, when you're president, and the people expect you to weep, what are your better options?

This is Oromia, the capital region of Afroasia. The Oromo people live high on the warthog, in the Abyssinian Highlands...higher than even the Arabs, perhaps... But then, they tend to get more rain than Arabia, or even the rest of Afroasia, except Malta. They're not even in the big leagues of the oil trade. The biomass race, maybe; but not the oil trade.

This is the presidential mansion. It's in the Highlands. Here and there, an Abyssinian wolf howls. As much as Ophir adores those creatures, she must stay true to her religion, and give the dog, the fox, the honey badger, and the striped polecat a wide berth.

Sadly, that IS the limit to how diverse the caniforms get, in Africa. But then, it's no wonder why they're considered degenerate in Muslim and Jewish culture, in contrast to the feliforms...as nasty as some hyenas can be.

Nearby, some walia ibex graze on the mountainsides. They're always welcome on the president's land. They have to be. They're endangered.

Tonight, Ophir lies topless, on her master bed. It's a bit big for her...but then, it'd be smaller, if she were married.

Still as tiny as ever, Elias rests on her nipple. It's the one that's over her heart. Up here, her heartbeat makes tremors. And the view from up here is SO much better than even Ras Dashen, the highest point in the Abyssinian Highlands.

On either side of her ass, Ophir squeezes the bedding, with her hands. She's de-polished them, since coming to bed. Elias understands. He'd love his domina if she never painted her nails at all. And that, he understands even more. He's a guy; he's never done that for himself.

But of course, his domina is a president. He understands why sometimes she has to do that...as much as some of the Muslim conservatives often wish she wouldn't...or otherwise wear extra-long sleeves over them...

Ophir smiles, lifts her index finger, and bops Elias on his ass, from behind. She giggles, as he reacts.

"So," she moans happily, "was I everything you expected, when I was with Grant II?"

He sighs. "I enjoyed every second of it. I only wish it could've lasted longer."

"Of course." She bops his ass again. "But of course, with sexual desire, there's never such thing as 'enough."

"Nein. But of course, at some point, we had to come clean with him. We could've done so in worse circumstances, but..."

"We always SAY we can come clean in better circumstances." She bops his ass again. "But of all of the forces of humanity, sex is the most impossible to control. That's probably why the Muslim conservatives hate it so much."

"They're hypocrites, of course. I believe it was the passions of such men," he yelps, when his domina bops his ass with her huge finger, "who created the onion domes and horseshoe arches of medieval Arabian architecture."

She yawns. "Perhaps. Anyway, I'm sure it'll be a while, before I can take you through that again. Grant II's successor might not have a crush on me."

"I won't push you to. Even so, I have faith that there'll always be another man, a much stronger and powerful man, who I can watch you hit on, as you've hit on Grant II of the NAU."

"Your faith is shared," she bops him again, "by your domina...albeit with less passion."

"I understand. It was my request, after all."

"You know, when it comes to whores, you're not all that hideous." She bops him again. "I know you're German, but... A lot of my fans are worried that I'm still single, and if they could see you live with me, then..."

"I like what we have, domina. I'm not ready to matter...and I doubt I ever will be."

She smiles. "I accept your stance." With her huge fingers, she pinches his ass, lifts him, levitates him over to the canyon between her boobs, and releases him. He lands at the bottom...with his head wedged between his own thighs.

Ophir giggles. "Good night, my slave." She claps her hands, and turns off the lights. She turns over on her side, and sandwiches her whore between her boobs.

In here, in the dark and warmth, Elias slumbers happily. He hardens, as he drifts off to sleep in the best bed in Afroasia...one that he couldn't possibly bargain for, he doesn't doubt, back in North Rhine-Westphalia...