"Come, my sweet, and sit at my side." Ibrahim Bey led Zena up the carpeted dais and eased her onto a satin cushion. Seating himself beside her, he clapped his hands, and the meal commenced. They ate leisurely, Ibrahim Bey feeding Zena morsels from each dish as they listened to the soft, quiet music played by a small group of musicians.
"One more sugarplum, my love. We must keep a fine balance of sensation," and as Zena's mouth opened, he popped in another sweetmeat laced with hashish. The heavy doses of cantharides in the wine she had drunk would last all night, while the effects of the hashish would wane after two or three hours.7 When the violently salacious effects of the wine commenced, he wanted her well lubricated both in mind and body, and hashish very effectively accomplished both.
This restful, languorous repast was interrupted by a nervous servant who bowed and scraped and stammered apologies.
"Ibrahim Bey, most illustrious lord, a thousand humble pardons, but a Russian visitor is here requesting admittance."
Now Ibrahim Bey was an astute and careful man who at the moment had not chosen sides in the continuing conflict between Russia and the Turks, preferring to straddle the sidelines for as long as possible before throwing in his support to, hopefully, the victorious side. An arch-pragmatist, he had lately been seriously reviewing the combatants and was ruefully forced to admit to himself, although it sat none too well with his ancestors' memories, that the industrial energy and endless recruits the vast Russian Empire was able to marshall could eventually overrun the many fierce, independent Turkish border tribes. Although the tottering Turkish Empire was bolstered by mighty England, a few minor frontier tribes could be conceded and compromised conciliatorily to a bellicose Russia in the interests of good public relations without affecting Britain's long-range goals in the Middle East. Ibrahim Bey chose not to spend his last hours swinging from a gibbet at the gates of some dusty, godforsaken garrison town. With these shrewd, sagacious motives in mind the guest was welcomed with full honors.
The Russian officer strode majestically into the chamber and began crossing the distance between door and dais; then he caught sight of Zena and froze in his tracks.
Ibrahim Bey had risen and advanced toward the tall rangy man.
"Ah, I see, Captain, you, too, are struck by her beauty. A veritable masterpiece of female pulchritude, don't you agree?"
Alex wrenched his eyes from the all but naked woman seated languorously on the satin cushions, her eyes distant and vague, and forced his gaze back to the Turk. He remarked in an apparently calm, composed drawl, "Certainly, a diamond of the first water."
He drew himself up to his full, magnificent height, bowed gracefully, and said, "Captain Prince Alexander Nikolaevich Kuzan, sir. Forgive me for intruding on your festivities."
"Not at all, not at all, Captain Prince. Please be so kind as to join us."
Alex's eyes slid once more toward the sight of Zena unclothed in this room of men, and with an effort he controlled his mounting rage.
A quick inclination of his head.
"I would be honored, Ibrahim Bey."
"My friends, meet Captain Prince Kuzan," and introductions went around, Alex acknowledging each man's name with a courteous greeting. "Now, Captain, please meet my precious confection just lately become a member of my household and tonight, I confess with a young man's enthusiasm, to be at last the fount of my passion. I purchased her but three days ago, and she required a certain amount of . . . should we say 'gentle persuasion.' My little pigeon, lift those beautiful, midnight blue eyes and meet our guest. Captain Prince Alexander Kuzan, meet Delilah. I have named her that for all the obvious reasons," he murmured deprecatingly.
Prince Alexander Kuzan—the words faintly pierced the veil of haze surrounding Zena. Prince Alexander Kuzan, such a familiar name. Her eyes lifted. She attempted to focus, to draw that huge, fuzzy bulk of a figure into some clarity, to force her mind to register what her eyes were very clearly seeing. Zena's pupils opened wide, and her mouth formed the stupified accents—Alex—but no sound was audible. Then her disjointed mind flitted off once again into a new channel of thought, discarding the present moment with the careless abandon of a frivolous child. The eyes became distant once again, and she dwelt on images, infinitely personal and utterly detached from the events of the evening.
"My apologies, Captain Prince. As you see, she slips off from time to time into her own world, but she can be swiftly recalled. Delilah, my love!" He snapped his fingers, before Zena's face, and she intently surveyed the fingers. "Here, love, look at me!" Dutifully the dark blue eyes followed the voice. "You see, Captain, she is most obedient. Please be seated, Prince Alexander. Delilah will dance for our pleasure."
Ibrahim Bey led Zena down to the floor directly in front of the dais, no more than six feet from where Alex sat. A handclap and the music altered, gently transmuted into a modified tempo, the soft chords and monotonous melody remaining unvaried.
The drugged wine was singing through Zena's veins, her body glowing with a kindling heat of passion. Carnal urges were surging and undulating in her loins, and the music stimulated and excited these swelling, agitated sensations.
Zena stirred to the tempo, reaching out for the vibrating, lilting sounds as she twirled and swayed to the wicked beat, each note almost tangible, something she could feel. The soft resonance enveloped her body, caressed it, soothed it, and sensitized it to deeper awareness of the torrid fever that twisted and curled down her belly into her loins.
The shapely, graceful legs glided and turned; her beautiful, soft arms rose and fell in time to the music; the full, delicious breasts held fast in their leather harness quivered and trembled as she undulated provocatively; the carmine-red nipples thrust hard and taut as passion swept through her. White drops of sweet liquid ran down her inner thighs, and her body was roused to unbridled sensuality.
"Ah, the love juices begin to flow, I see. The pretty little piece is suitably primed."
And indeed a steady stream of pearly white fluid oozed out between the pouting pink lips of the shaved vulva and ran in white rivulets down Zena's legs.
"What a copious flow, do you not agree, my prince? Perhaps I'll have her couple with all my guests this night. Surely with that profuse abundance of lubricating essence the fourteenth cock will glide in as easily as the first. Is she not a hot little jade, my captain, and, ah, such marvelous breasts."
"Prodigiously warm, it appears," the prince murmured in reply.
A sharp clap and the frenzied music stopped.
"Come here, Delilah," Ibrahim Bey commanded and Zena obeyed. She stood before him, and he reached out with his napkin and slowly wiped the drops of fluid from her thighs, moving upward and caressing the exposed shaved seat of pleasure; at his touch Zena shuddered in ecstasy.
A cry of rage caught in Alex's throat, and his nails dug into his palms. Restraint, you fool, he thought to himself. If he could retain some control over his feelings, he might get her out of here. But he was no match for thirteen men. He had left the four trackers and Ivan outside, but they were outnumbered.
"Sit between my guest and me, sweet Delilah," and Ibrahim Bey gently lowered Zena onto the cushion between the two men. He delicately arranged her legs, thighs spread wide and ankles crossed so Zena's shaved vulva was licentiously exposed, pink lips pouting and glistening wet.
"Umm," he murmured, viewing his handiwork, "the gates of paradise and so very near." Ibrahim Bey ran a finger up the juicy slit, and Zena moaned sensually. Drawing his wet finger up her belly and over her breasts, Ibrahim Bey passed it over her ruby lips and pressed it into her mouth.
"Your love juices, my sweet, soon to be flowing around my cock and balls." He slowly eased his finger out and moved down her buxom breasts, caressing each soft, white globe, squeezing the carmine nipples between his thumb and index finger.
A low wail escaped Zena's lips as tremulous, agitated, sensuous waves washed over and over her, moving down to her burning-hot cunt.
Gesturi
ng to a servant, he beckoned toward a bowl of plums, and the menial presented the bowl with a bow of obeisance. Ibrahim Bey subjected the dish of plums to close inspection, finally selecting the largest and plumpest fruit. Delicately lifting it in thin, lean fingers, he proceeded to direct it toward Zena's delightfully revealed bottom, pink and soft and denuded of hair.
Her eyes were half closed, her skin flushed a glowing rose, and her flesh was warm and blooming to the touch. She existed in a misty world of sensation and carnal urges.
"See, my dear," and Ibrahim Bey held up the dark crimson fruit before the vague gaze that floated off into space, "an embellishment to garnish the gates of paradise."
He reached down and spread Zena's distended, wet, oozing pink lips and forced the large plum into the crevice between them. The pouting tissue covered no more than half the round plum, while the remainder of the deep red sphere protruded from those moist, succulent lips. Ibrahim Bey caressed each side of the taut skin stretched over the crimson fruit, and Zena shivered in pleasure. A rush of pearly fluid ran over and around the wine-red plum and glossed the color with a white opaqueness.
A glimmer of passion flamed in Ibrahim Bey's dark eyes. "Is that not a delectable dish just crying to be nibbled at, eh, my captain?"
"Fairly crying," the prince replied dryly, but his prick stood stiff at the sight. The bulge in Alex's buckskins did not go unnoticed by Ibrahim Bey. "You like the little trollop, I see," he grinned wickedly. "Here, see how hot she is." Carefully so as not to dislodge the purple plum, Ibrahim Bey with skillful fingers stretched wide the upper portion of the pouting cunt lips to display Zena's clitoris. "Look at that distended little organ," and Ibrahim Bey flicked the engorged bit of tissue with a soft, gentle nudge. Zena jerked in response and shuddered at the feeling coursing from that turgid, vital area. "See how she craves the revelry, my prince. All is in readiness. Each organ, each tissue swollen and engorged, hungering for satiation, yearning for surcease. Soon, my love, very soon," he whispered softly.
With the courtesy of a polite host Ibrahim Bey inquired, "Would you care to examine my newest prize, Prince? As you can see, she is ripe for the taking. Aren't you, my sweet?" and the black-eyed Turk reached over and tweaked one painted nipple, sending a rapturous throb pulsating through her veins. Zena emitted a quiet groan.
"Please," he insisted hospitably, "be my guest."
Alex leaned over and slid a finger over the wet, pink lips, dislodged the plum, slipped in two long fingers, and probed the soft warmth beyond. The feverish thrill of the probing, tingling touch snapped open Zena's eyes, and she gazed for a fraction of a second into the smoldering anger in Alex's tawny eyes.
"Alex," she breathed, "Alex," but then her mind drifted away once again, and all she could feel and think of and understand was the raging passion that beat at her brain. Her body was on fire, and she craved surfeit. Her flesh tingled, quivered, and pulsated, wanting nothing more than satisfaction—gorged, replete satisfaction.
"She seems to like you, my prince," Ibrahim Bey observed tranquilly.
"It's no more than the open familiarity so common to whores, sir, but I warrant she'll like me well enough if I sheath my cock in that dripping slit of hers. Perhaps we can bargain, for I have a lech for that warm cunt. I'll offer you fifteen horses and five thousand rubles," Alex said.
"Impossible. I paid much more for her."
Alex knew better, for he had been offered two beautiful young virgins yesterday for less than that, but granted, this skin was very white.
The bey wanted her very badly himself, but avarice far outweighed sexual desire in his hierarchy of values.
"Very well," Alex went on, "twenty horses and seven thousand rubles."
"Uncle," Abdul interrupted vigorously, "if she is on the block, allow me to bid. The sight of her makes my blood run hot."
"Now, Abdul, we don't want to insult a guest."
"Uncle," Abdul snarled menacingly, "I want my turn."
Ibrahim Bey had not survived the internecine affrays so common to harem families by being dull-witted or insensitive.
"Of course, Abdul," he placatingly soothed, "enter the bidding if you wish."
The Turkish bey was not unfamiliar with the Kuzan name and knew if the prince chose, he could buy this entire section of the country, let alone one dancing girl. He could mollify Abdul and at the same time not jeopardize the prince's purchase if he truly wished to have the woman. And naturally, it went without saying, Ibrahim Bey was not adverse to advancing the price by some active bidding.
"While the bidding goes on, my friends, we must entertain our little hot, juicy sugarplum."
Ibrahim Bey produced a beautiful red leather dildo. "These are much in demand in the harem, as you can no doubt realize. I can service only so many women at a time." The device was gigantic. "A formidable machine, would you not say, gentlemen?" It was about seven inches in length and three inches in diameter; even the heart-shaped mushroom protuberance had been skillfully reproduced in red leather. At the base of the object hung two enormous red leather testicles, soft to the touch, filled with down, and in gentle contrast to the rigid, stiff, monstrous dildo.
"Abdul, would you care to provide this service for Delilah? It will suitably bring her to fever pitch for the lucky bidder. Several preliminary orgasms will stretch her sensations to a peak of enchantment, and she will be primed for a night of love."
Abdul moved to a position in front of the cross-legged woman. Her breasts were displayed swollen and bobbing above the leather harness.
Abdul reached over with a napkin, dipped it in a perfumed finger bowl, and proceeded to wash the carmine paint from Zena's nipples. Each stroke of the cloth provoked a moan from Zena's lips. Satisfied that the paint was removed, Abdul bent his head to the luscious nipples and sucked both full, delectable breasts. Zena squirmed in her seated position at the pleasure the pressure of his mouth induced. The heat of urgent desire warmed her entire body, raced up from between her legs, and filled her mind.
Abdul lifted his head and fondled the heavy, plump breasts. "Uncle, are those not the most luscious white globes? So large and firm for such a slender woman. I dream of seeing them full and heavy with milk as she nurses my child. Each ripe melon would weigh ten pounds, I'm sure. Tonight, my love," he whispered to the unhearing woman, "I plant my seed in you, but until such time you must content yourself with this machine."
Bending forward he parted the wet lips and inserted the red leather dildo slowly, easing into the willing passageway.
"What do you think, my captain, can the small, delicate female accept such a monstrous organ?"
Thinking to himself that he knew she could, Alex only shrugged his shoulders and lifted his brows. "We'll no doubt soon see."
Abdul had introduced half of the rigid leather device and bent to kiss Zena's mouth, which was so temptingly near. He forced her lips open and ran his tongue deli-ciously around her mouth. As Zena moaned with desire, he drove the last three inches up her cunt and held her steady with one arm as she swooned from the ecstasy.
"My uncle," he said, "a very pliant, dutiful cunt. It has engulfed the entire organ." Taking both of Zena's hands, he moved them down to the base of the dildo and placed the enormous testicles in her hands, exerting pressure on her fingers so that she squeezed the leather bags.
"And see, my pigeon, a gentle push upward on these marvelous bags, and you'll feel an added thrill." Abdul pressed the leather appendages toward her cunt, and Zena swayed in rapture. All her senses were concentrated in her hot, vital interior. No thoughts but yearning carnal passion, no feeling but that ravenous craving between her legs. Her body throbbed and pulsated as wave after wave of sensual urges coursed through her.
Zena played dreamily with the large leather testicles, now running wet with her love fluid. The leather felt warm and slippery and soft as she caressed the object that was holding her in thrall. Abdul turned toward her, reached out, and ground the dildo up with a fierce thrust. The world exploded i
n a screaming orgasm, and Zena panted in short gasps as the hashish maintained the climax for second after second.
"Ah, the first of many this night," Ibrahim Bey said. "Once more, Abdul, to show her what lies in store," and Abdul reached over to thrust the point home again. Zena shivered uncontrollably as another orgasm stretched through her body, lasting and lasting, curling through her pulsing vagina.
"Give her a few minutes to rest, and you, Captain, will bring her up once again. As you can see, it takes but the merest touch."
The bidding was rapid and fierce.
Abdul sullenly dropped out at fifty horses and sixty-five thousand rubles.
The object of this auction was unresisting and submissive, unaware that the very vital question of her future was at stake.
"I've only twenty horses with me at present. I can pay you the money immediately and will give you written guarantee of the other thirty horses. I'll telegraph tomorrow and have them sent down from the Kuzan stud."
Ibrahim Bey, ever prudent, said, "In what condition will I receive these horses? The Kuzan stud is thousands of miles away. It could be a bad bargain."
"Rest assured, Ibrahim Bey, they'll arrive in perfect condition. I've a railroad car that stables twenty horses. Each horse travels with his own groom. In two trips you'll have your horses. A month, no more, will complete the transfer. Now, if you'd be so kind as to supply me with a cloak for the female, I'll take my purchase and be off."
"Very good, my prince, and you will put in a gracious word for my tribe if the occasion arises."
"That I shall."
Alex wrapped the cape around the drugged woman and lifted her effortlessly into his arms, inclined his head in departure, nodded to the assembled guests, and strode out into the night. Torches burned at the entrance of the tent where his trackers had been left waiting. As he carried Zena out to the waiting horses, Ivan gasped in agitation. "Mistress Zena!"
Kuzan 02 - Lovestorm Page 19
