Kuzan 02 - Lovestorm

by Susan Johnson

  His low, deep, murmuring voice sang in her ears while those expert fingers practiced their sensitive sorcery. Zena began to glow to the pulsing in her breasts as they warmed to Abdul's deft touch. A tingle crept to the crest of her nipples as little droplets formed on the rosy tips. The minutest flow of milky fluid oozed gently forth, and Abdul bent his dark head to suck the moist gift. The feel of his lips sent unwanted waves of sensual pleasure throbbing through her body like a tide. My God, was she wanton? What was happening to her? How could this dangerous, cruel stranger force her to feel this way?

  Unhampered by similar moral scruples, Abdul was quite content. He suckled each breast with gentle lips, delighting in the roused, taut nipples. He licked the hardened crests until an answering spasm tingled through Zena's breast, and several drops of fluid fell from the budding pink nipple into Abdul's mouth. Thusly he moved from one pulsating, plump mound to another until his prick throbbed violently with a craving hunger.

  Laying Zena on her side he lifted the hem of her gown. She felt the silk being raised, felt her legs exposed to the air, felt him staring at her. With one hand he caressed her legs softly, slowly, feeling the smooth passage as he slid his hand between her thighs. Softly touching the cleft of pleasure with delicate, lightly teasing fingers, he found the opening wet and unfolded like a sweet rose.

  "Ah, little mother, you've been a widow too long. Let me help you ease your frustration." He began to undo the belt around his waist.

  Zena lay helpless on the bed, her wrists tied so tightly any movement pained her, powerless before this dark, swarthy Turk who intended to carry her back to his harem.

  After he untied the belt, Abdul's black silk tunic fell open, and the evidence of his lust rose stiffly arched against his stomach, the head dark and red. He stood very tall and lithe, his muscles and nerves like those of a panther ready to spring. Zena's eyes widened in alarm as she saw the enormity of his manhood.

  Abdul's jet gaze was blazing with predatory hunger as he reached down to untie the gag around Zena's head.

  Zena attempted ineffectually to move away from the touch of his hands.

  "I suggest, my lovely," Abdul murmured softly, as his impersonal finger traced the curve of her cheek from ear to chin, "I suggest you welcome my advances, for if you insist on being recalcitrant, my luscious, I shall become annoyed. I may decide to leave that young boy in the next room behind when I take you away. Do you understand?" he asked coolly and pitilessly as his fiery eyes held Zena's captive for a lingering moment.

  Zena realized wretchedly she could do nothing against his force and will. He was the ruler. He demanded submission with his ominous threat. She was defeated. Zena's tense muscles yielded and relaxed beneath his fingers.

  "There now, you do understand." He smiled.

  The instant the handkerchief was released, he caught fistfuls of her hair and pulled her face to his. She became his slave. Abdul smothered her full mouth with kisses. He forced her lips apart and savagely searched her mouth with his warm tongue, holding her face firmly between his hands. His hands savored every area of her body, leaving nothing untouched, bending her to suit his will, his mouth, his tongue.

  A shaky tremor helplessly rose in Zena as his roving, urgent mouth plundered hers. His hands stroked her slim neck and naked shoulders, caressed the pulse in her throat as his fingers slipped into the valley between her breasts, and swept upward to lift both heavy mounds to his hungry, insatiable mouth. A sudden, unbidden surge of warmth scorched through her. It had been months since she lay with Sasha, and this dark Turk had caressed and suckled until every sensitive nerve was receptive to his touch. Every tingling sensation seemed to travel down her belly to the very core of fire that waited now to be exploded.

  Stimulated, sensitized, painfully susceptible after all these months, vividly aware of a throbbing, sybaritic yearning, Zena sighed softly in erotic lethargy, no longer able to deny or resist her body's craving. Abdul could feel the sudden compliant capitulation. Responding to her surrender, he gently slipped his fingers down Zena's back and released the silken cords binding her wrists.

  Zena shuddered at his touch, at her release, at the urgency of her need; every hot-blooded animalistic urge cried for that quenching repletion. Her hands stole up to embrace this dark stranger who intended to plunder her body. Abdul's lean, brown fingers skimmed lightly over her breasts and hips, fondling tenderly, sliding over her white thighs. Lazily one finger sought her damp cleft and slowly opened her rosy, full, distended vulva, stroking with catlike softness back and forth. Then his dark fingers entered. How delicately he touched, she thought, and she felt a languid dissolving feeling as the secret liquid was brought from hidden recesses to show shining wet between her legs. Zena was sinking into a bliss of sensation, divorced from sanity, immune to all coherent thought save the single driving need to reach the peak of exquisite gratification.

  Taking her docile hand, Abdul guided it to his rigid, arched penis and as her fingers closed around the pulsing shaft, Zena felt him catch his breath. A low, anguished groan escaped him, and he knew he could wait no longer.

  Swiftly rolling Zena over so that her back was to him, his hands captured her hips. He slipped his erect penis between her legs, and she felt the first swelling pressure of his probing entrance. His penis touched her lightly over and over again at the most vulnerable tip of her pulsing desire. Then he entered her for the first time, pushing vety delicately, advancing only half an inch at a time, resting, then slipping in another inch or so. This gave Zena plenty of time to feel the stirring presence, to feel the tight fit between soft walls of flesh. His gradual entrance ignited invisible currents inside her that warned of the coming explosion. Restless nerves lay waiting as her flesh yielded more and more until he filled her completely, touching the very depths of her womb.

  Both hands gripped her softly rounded hips firmly, and he pushed deeper. Zena wanted to scream in pure, sensual bliss. Sweet honey was pouring from her as he swung in and out, moving slowly, teasing her to the edge of excruciating pleasure. But as soon as her breathing hastened he drew himself out, all hard and glistening. Zena trembled at the unexpected loss.

  "A lesson, sweet Delilah," Abdul breathed and caressed her cheek lightly as she quivered in unfulfilled yearning. "My pleasure comes first. Remember, I am master."

  He withheld himself, completely disregarding the lower half of her body, which shuddered and writhed. Instead, he languidly filled his hands with her breasts, fondling the two heavy globes, swinging them lightly back and forth, caressing and stroking with a silken touch. He lazily toyed with his magnificent baubles, noting with roguish eyes the sensual tremors that seized Zena as the convulsive pulsing built in her soft, sweet canal.

  Pleasantly roused by her enchanting sexuality, Abdul fancied a different stimulation. Releasing the soft, pliant flesh of her breasts, he swung himself up into a sitting position.

  With an easy, lithe motion, Abdul moved in front of Zena. He rubbed his swollen love shaft, wet with Zena's honeyed juice, over her cheeks and mouth. Zena turned her head to escape it, raised her hands to resist the assault, but the brown-skinned Turk quietly said, "Remember the young boy; it's my whim that decides whether he goes or stays." Zena's tossing head stilled, and her repudiating hands fell back.

  Abdul handled his enormous penis naturally, easily, like an indulged plaything, massaging it over Zena's now unresisting face. He slid it down her neck to sink it in the deep valley between her breasts, rested it there as his hands squeezed her breasts against it, then ran it over the twin ivory mounds, leisurely enjoying the tantalizing feel. As it wandered back up to her mouth, he held the shiny red tip near her lips and ordered in a very low voice, "Hold me and tell me you want to kiss this big, hard organ that offers so much joy to that dripping cunt of yours."

  Zena's eyes opened in dismay. "No!" she cried.

  "Now, sweet one, remember the boy," Abdul reminded persuasively. After the merest hesitation Zena's small hands rose to clasp
the noble erection. Abdul shifted forward an inch until the swelling end touched Zena's tightly closed lips.

  "Tell me you want to kiss it. Say 'Let me kiss my pleasure shaft, master'." Zena resisted, remained silent, un-moving. Abdul chuckled indulgently. "What a little, stubborn jade. Come, if you learn your lessons well, I can be a very generous master. Your hot little cunt will be stretched again by my lance, and then the boy will not stay behind. You can't shirk your duties to me. You must obey. It's not so difficult. Gratify me with a pretty submission. Say it for me."

  Deeply humiliated, wretchedly aware he was only toying with her, Zena's lips parted as she began the faltering sentence. With each word her full mouth brushed the swollen head of Abdul's penis, her lips whispered the words softly against the sensitive, responsive organ. "Let me . . . kiss . . . my pleasure shaft . . . master."

  "Very, very good, my charming little student," Abdul commended as he drew in a deep breath. "Open your delectable lips," he whispered huskily.

  As Zena obeyed reluctantly, Abdul slowly slid in his long, rigid penis, and her lips closed over the hardness.

  "Let your fingers and tongue caress me, petite slave," Abdul murmured as he stroked her pale cheek.

  Zena yielded; her fingers brushed the base of his penis, moving downward to feel and touch the heavy testicles that hung pendulously near her neck, while her tongue and teeth licked and nibbled obediently on the mushroom-shaped tip. Abdul's eyes shut as the erotic tide inundated his senses.

  "Ah, what a seductive little bitch," he sighed as he held Zena's head between his hands and slid slowly back and forth. After several minutes a few drops of salty fluid oozed from the pulsing tip and slid down Zena's throat; Abdul reluctantly withdrew.

  "What a delightful houri you are. I can make you do anything for me. But I must save myself to pleasure that wet cunt of yours."

  His hands glided down to lift Zena's ripe breasts. "These engorged, heavy udders of yours, Delilah." Abdul weighed them lightly in both his hands. "Whose property are they now? Who will they nourish in a few short weeks?" His fingers pinched the pulsing nipples, and several drops of opaque liquid flowed out and glistened on the velvet nipples. Abdul's attentive eyes moved from admiration of the fertile spectacle to calm contemplation of Zena's flushed face. "Answer, my sweet, Whose property are you?"

  Zena's eyes dropped before his intent gaze. "Yours," she whispered.

  "Yours, what?" he prompted softly as his fingers roved between her thighs to the full, pouting lips. Delicately stroking the slippery, rosy vulva, open and welcoming like flower petals, he slid three fingers past the entrance, forcing open the quivering interior while he waited for his answer. As he shoved those hard fingers deep within, stretching the passage, he repeated, "Yours, what?"

  Zena caught her breath, trembling on the brink of ecstasy as Abdul's long, thick fingers sank in up to his palm. Her eyes blurred in a sensual haze, and in a small voice she breathed, "Yours, master."

  Abdul smiled faintly.

  "A very apt pupil, dear Delilah. You'll serve me well."

  Feeling satisfied that the woman had been adequately subdued and tutored in the lesson ruler and slave, he swung behind her again and pressed his thoroughly roused penis into the sweet, receptive gates of paradise. Holding the head just within the warm entrance for a blissful moment, he felt the swollen lips of her vulva close around him in rapturous welcome, and then he felt the faintest hint of movement as she searched, reached for more.

  "Delilah, my sweet," he whispered into the damp curls near her ear, "the long wait is over. Your reward for obedience."

  With one violent push he sank to the bottom of her flaming hot cunt. Zena gasped as a shocking burst of unutterable pleasure shook her. Abdul plunged deeper, thrusting with all the powerful strength of his lower body, bracing his feet so he surged forward to touch her very quick, touching and forcing open the soft, fleshy walls again and again. His breath came heavily as his fever rose; he gored her furiously, deliciously until the feverish intensity rent their bodies like lightening in a wild, screaming torrent of carnal hysteria as his penis quivered, then exploded into her palpitating womb. Zena fell away suddenly, fainting from the violent, convulsive orgasm.

  Her ravished body lay limp as Abdul rolled away from her. He was smiling, panting faintly. There was a throbbing ache between her legs, and only dimly Zena heard Abdul whisper tenderly, "I shall make you my first wife, lush flower. No one shall come before you." Her clouded brain refused to absorb the horrifying statement, and she sank deeper into unconsciousness.

  Alistair made a habit of walking in the evening, and invariably he found himself passing Zena's apartment. He would chastise himself moderately for behaving like a foolish, lovesick boy, but the habit persisted despite his valid and logical admonitions. Tonight he and his man Ridgely, who often accompanied him, lifted silent eyebrows of inquiring comment at each other as they observed the black-robed Turk standing guard outside the entrance to Zena's building. Strolling by without remark, Alistair tersely whispered, "I don't like the look of that Mussilman. Let's check the back."

  Moving stealthily through the small, walled gardens behind the buildings, they were alarmed to discover the back door was also posted with a black-robed figure. A worried frown appeared on the earl's fine brow. "I think we should look into this, Ridgely," he said with growing apprehension. "Do you have your knife with you?"

  In a swift flash of motion Ridgely produced the double-edged Persian dagger he kept in his boot. "Aye, yer honor. At yer service." He grinned momentarily, disturbing briefly the dour, staid lines of his craggy Scot's face.

  Alistair's eyes searched the roof with a rapid, fleeting glance. Then his mouth quirked in an answering grin. "Best up and over it seems, Ridgely, if we're to avoid the Turks."

  "Like in Marrakech, eh, yer honor? Up it is." The pale, gray eyes of the earl's man glinted with a rare and animated excitement. Ridgely had been with the Earl of Glenagle since Alistair had been the young heir sent down to Cambridge. He had continued serving as valet after his marriage, had followed him with Kitchner in Africa and after the earl's wife died two years ago accompanied his master on a year's trek across Turkey, Persia, and Bashan to China. This past year after their return from the East had been too tame to suit Ridgely, and he smiled warmly in anticipation of some stimulating sport.

  The earl, as was typical of gentlemen of his class, was a sportsman of note. His leisured life was regularized only by the calendar of sporting seasons: salmon fishing in the summer, grouse and partridge shooting in fall and early winter, fox hunting until the spring rains made the ground too muddy and treacherous, then skiing and mountain climbing in Switzerland. During the brief lull in late spring when other people enjoyed London's season, he usually went abroad. All in all the outdoor life had developed and honed the earl to a peak of faultless, physical excellence.

  Executing a furtive, chary detour around the bodyguard at the back, Alistair and Ridgely entered a building two doors north of Zena's pension and took the several flights of stairs three at a time to the roof. Letting themselves out onto the small walkway flanked by the surrounding expanse of red tile, they carefully made their way across the slick surface, lowered themselves the few feet to the roof next door, and then repeated the slow, cautious procedure until they dropped quietly onto the roof of Zena's building. Ridgely pried open one of the dormer windows of the attic, and both men passed through, gaining access to the barren fourth floor of the pension. Alistair unobtrusively lifted the trapdoor to the attic and peered into the third-floor hallway. Seeing nothing in the hushed, darkened hall, he dropped lightly to his feet onto the landing below. Ridgely followed like a silent shadow.

  Hugging the wall, they stole down the carpeted stairs to the second floor. Motioning Ridgely to halt, Alistair eased his head around the corner of the stair landing and searched the dimly lit hallway that passed Zena's door.

  Another black-robed Turk was stationed before Zena's door! The earl's bloo
d pounded to his temples as mad rage leaped into his normally rational mind. Zena was in danger! His first wild impulse was to sink Ridgely's dagger in the bloody dog's back, but sensible considerations overcame his disordered fury.

  Softi was lounging against the wall with his back to Alistair. Using sign language, Alistair issued his instructions to Ridgely, and with an expertise acquired over many months from the North African Bedouins, the earl and his man crept silently to within striking distance of the unapprehending guard. With stunning, snakelike speed Ridgely clamped his left hand over Softi's mouth at the same time his right hand held the double-edged dagger against the jugular of the astonished Turk.

  Alistair quickly secured Softi's hands with his leather belt and efficiently gagged him with his neck scarf, while Ridgely bound the guard's ankles with the silk cord of his own burnoose. In less than a minute the trussed Turk was carried down the hall and deposited inside a supply closet.

  When they returned to Zena's door, Alistair hesitated. If they broke down the door, and someone was inside, Zena might be seriously harmed. Several seconds passed as the earl considered his alternatives. He had just decided there was no choice but to break the door in when lady luck intervened. The doorknob began to turn.

  The earl and Ridgely leaped aside, flattening themselves against the wall on opposite sides of the door that was slowly opening.

  From inside the darkened apartment Abdul stepped out to engage Softi's help in carrying the unconscious Delilah and the young boy. Alistair's temper rose irrationally, and black outrage gripped him as he saw the tall Turk emerge from Zena's apartment. Wanting to lash out and destroy this alien, he didn't wait for Ridgely to move with his dagger. The earl clasped his hands tightly together into a fist, swung his arms back to shoulder level, and drove from the height of that sweeping movement with all the force of his body, smashing his clenched fists into Abdul's Adam's apple.