Zuleika and the Barbarian

by Bertrice Small

  "How can you be certain it is not a skillful trap hatched by this princess and her cousin, Haroun?" Sabola asked, suspicious.

  "It isn't. The princess hates her cousin. She realizes that it is he who was responsible for her brothers' deaths. Having finally understood his true character, she is determined he not follow her father as sultan of Dariyabar. By marrying her I gain a legitimacy as the sultan's heir. Zuleika is the key to Dariyabar for us as long as she is my wife. The vizier's daughter binds us ever closer if you wed her."

  Sabola nodded. "If she is as skilled as your princess, my friend, I shall not be unhappy. I don't suppose we might share our women now and again?"

  "Of course we will share them," the khan replied. "After we have had their virginities of them, we shall spend a night of pleasure and passion together with our wives. Have we not always shared out women? Zuleika will obey, and her friend as well."

  "I suppose we must bathe if we are to marry today," Sabola considered. "We will wed them today, won't we?"

  The khan nodded. "I think it best we do, if we are to thwart Prince Haroun. I will send a messenger with a flag of truce and a message for the sultan that I wish to meet with him. I shall say nothing of what I want, lest Prince Haroun read the message first and realize what we are about." He looked to a servant. "Fetch my scribe," he instructed him.

  The scribe came. The message was dictated. The messenger was dispatched to the palace of Dariyabar beneath a flag of truce. He returned to say that the sultan would receive Amir Khan in the late afternoon.

  Sabola nodded. "The die is cast," he said.

  Amir Khan nodded. "Soon, Dariyabar will be ours," he said.

  Chapter Two

  Zuleika awoke after only three hours of sleep, but she felt as refreshed as if she had slumbered the entire night away. She listened to the birds singing out in her garden, a sense of great peace upon her. She had been kissed, but more important she had begun to put into practice all she had been taught about being a woman. She could not wait to share this with Bahira. She had found kneeling before Amir Khan, his wonderfully large manhood at her mercy, quite stimulating. The memory of it sent a flash of raw desire racing through her veins. His hands as he had lightly fondled her breasts had been exciting too. She realized that she could barely wait to have him atop her, his love lance eager to sheathe itself deep within her. She had been so tempted last night, but she had managed to push her own lustful thoughts from her mind for there was other business to conclude. "Rafa," she called to her servant.

  "Yes, my princess?" the servant said, instantly appearing by her bedside.

  "Fetch me my morning meal, and see what gossip you can gather while you go about your duties," Zuleika instructed the woman.

  Rafa smiled a sly smile. "So, whatever you wanted to do you have now accomplished. Will you tell me?"

  "Not yet," Zuleika replied, "but I believe I have saved us all. Send a slave girl for Bahira. She is to say the princess desires her companionship today."

  Rafa bowed, and then hurried off while Zuleika's mind wandered back to her barbarian lord. He was so very big. When she had laid her head upon his hairless chest, a clean male scent had assailed her nostrils. His skin was so beautiful, taut over his muscular arms and legs, but smooth and soft beneath her lips. Yet so very masculine. He reeked of brute strength, and power. It had frankly thrilled her. She could barely wait to find herself in his arms once again. Her longing was almost palpable, an suddenly restless, she arose from her bed. She shed the flimsy garment she had slept in, and walking through her bedchamber entered her private bathing room. Pouring a thin stream of a creamy liquid soap into a large sea sponge, she stepped into the shell-shaped indentation in the marble floor, and gave herself a quick wash. Her breasts tingled as she touched them, her nipples puckering. She laughed to herself, realizing that she had again been thinking of Amir Khan, and the big warm hand that had so gently cupped her breasts, each in its turn. Zuleika rinsed herself off beneath a stream of water pouring from the mouth of a goldfish spout. Then coming from the shell basin she stepped down into the warm, scented pool. She floated about, relaxed, her long black hair streaming behind her like dark seaweed.

  Would he come today? she wondered. He was a barbarian, yet she believed he was intelligent enough to understand everything she had told him. Would he ask for the princess of Dariyabar for his wife, and not accept her as his concubine? She knew her visit to his encampment had surprised him, even as her direct speech had. He had been more than interested by the magic she possessed through the genie, Kansbar. Her upper teeth worried her lower lip. She wanted him to come today!

  Zuleika heard Rafa returning from her errand with the meal, and, it was to be hoped, some useful gossip. She came forth from the perfumed pool, twisted the water from her heavy dark hair, and dried herself on a fine heavy drying cloth made of cotton imported from a land to the southwest. Wrapping the cloth about herself, and another about her head, she reentered her bedchamber saying as she came, "What news?"

  "It is said that the barbarian comes into the city this afternoon beneath a flag of truce, my princess," Rafa replied, her eyes bright with her curiosity. "Did you have something to do with this?"

  Zuleika smiled, but said nothing on the subject. Instead, she sat down and began eating the melon Rafa had placed upon the table. It was pale green in color, and exceedingly sweet. It almost melted in her mouth, caressing her throat as it slid down. She remembered the head of his manhood pressing against the back of her throat before she had relaxed her throat muscles, easing him deeper. She shuddered at the memory, wondering if all men's lances were as fleshy and as long as his had been. That was the difficulty with being both a princess and a virgin. So much more was expected of you than just an ordinary girl. Still Amir Khan would, she suspected, prove an excellent lover. He could not be otherwise. Finishing the melon, she reached for a small flaky crescent of bread that had been fried crisp, dipped in warm butter and honey, and then dusted with cinnamon. Wolfing it down she took another, and sipped from her goblet of pomegranate juice thoughtfully.

  "What will you wear today?" Rafa demanded to know.

  "Royal purple, or course," Zuleika said, "but I will not dress yet. When the barbarian is entering the city."

  "The sultan has sent no word that he wishes you to be at this particular interview," Rafa answered her mistress.

  "Nevertheless, I will be there. Do you think I want Haroun whispering in my father's ancient ear and ruining all my plans? Oh no! The princess of Dariyabar will be in the audience chamber when the barbarian enters it. My cousin may gnash his teeth, but my father will allow me to remain. He loves me in his own way, for I remind him of my dead mother. If Haroun attempts to thwart me, I need only bring up the memory of Jamila, and my father melts."

  "You are a very wicked girl!" Rafa scolded her. "I do not know if your mother would approve of you at all."

  "Perhaps she would not," Zuleika responded, "but Jamila is not here, and I am. I must do everything in my power to protect both Dariyabar, and myself."

  "And the old sultan," Rafa said softly.

  "My father is Dariyabar," Zuleika said. She arose from the table, and at that moment Bahira entered the princess's chamber.

  "Good morning, Zuleika! I have come for all the gossip!" She plunked herself down upon a silk-covered sofa, eyes twinkling. "I had the most amazing sleep last night," she remarked innocently.

  "Humph," Rafa remarked, and then she muttered, "Probably filled with lustful dreams too, Lady Bahira." She gathered up the dishes from the table, and placing them on a tray went off, saying as she shut the door to her mistress's apartments, "I will see what else I can learn."

  "You slept well because Kansbar cast a spell over everyone but Amir Khan and me," Zuleika began. "I went to his encampment, for I had a proposal to offer him. He is coming into the city today beneath a flag of truce, but he will not accept me as his concubine. He will ask for me as his wife, Bahira! And you are to be married to his ge
neral, Sabola! If he is as gorgeous as Amir Khan you will never want to leave your bed. I am Amir Khan's key to Dariyabar. Together we will vanquish Haroun, and my father may continue to live out his final years in peace and prosperity. When he is gone, Amir Khan will be sultan here."

  Bahira's blue eyes were thoughtful. "It seems a foolproof plan," she said slowly, "but what if Haroun objects? He is greedy and ruthless, and as we know, both cunning and resourceful. He might be willing to let me go to a barbarian as wife, but not you, I think."

  "He will have no choice," Zuleika said smugly. "The barbarian lord does my father honor by offering to wed me, and not just accept me into his harem. Sultan Ibrahim is old, and he is forgetful, but his pride is still intact. I shall be in the audience chamber this afternoon, and you must be with me. I shall dress us both in the finest robes that I have, Bahira. We will impress the barbarians, for they have surely never seen our like."

  "What is he like? Amir Khan," Bahira asked.

  "He is a beautiful man, if indeed such a word can be used to describe a man. His body is magnificent, and when his lust for me became obvious I took his manhood in my mouth, and soothed it. It was much, much better than those dildoes we have practiced on all our lives."

  "What were his juices like?" Bahira leaned closer to her friend, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  "Hot, creamy and salty," Zuleika replied.

  "And he caressed you?" Bahira's breath quickened.

  "His hands were all over my breasts," Zuleika responded. "I cannot wait until we lay together, and really make love!"

  "Tell me about his body," Bahira begged.

  "He is taller than any man I have ever seen. His chest is broad, and hairless. His waist tapers into his hips, which are narrow. When he turned I could see his buttocks were tight, and deliciously rounded. The nipples on his chest are perfect circles with deep rose-colored peaks. His skin is the palest gold in color, and while the flesh is firm, it is soft. His arms and his legs are muscled, and big, yet nicely formed. I thought his feet and hands graceful despite their size. The curls around his shaft are as black as the horsetail of hair that leaps from his shaven skull. I already desire him greatly."

  "Is his face a handsome one?" Bahira wondered.

  "Yes, but not like Haroun. Haroun is almost pretty, but Amir Khan's face is strong and masculine. His eyes are dark, and his nose very straight, and his mouth big like the rest of him. When he speaks, his voice is both deep and rough. I find him exciting."

  "Did you see his general, Sabola?" Bahira queried.

  "Nay, I did not, but I have yet to see an ugly barbarian," Zuleika noted. "As I walked to and from the city I saw their guards sleeping, and their features were very pleasing to my eye."

  Rafa returned with more information regarding the impending visit of Amir Khan. The barbarian would arrive with his general. Here Zuleika and Bahira exchanged a look that Rafa did not miss, but she continued on. They would come with but a dozen of their men. The gates to the city, however, were to remain open while the khan was within its walls.

  "And my father agreed?" Zuleika was surprised.

  "Prince Haroun convinced the sultan that the khan may be the enemy, but he is, like the sultan, a man of honor," Rafa said.

  "And where, I wonder, did he get that idea?" Zuleika remarked. "What hour is he to arrive?"

  "Three hours past the noon hour, my princess," Rafa responded.

  "Good," Zuleika said. "Then there is time for us to prepare ourselves, for Bahira is coming with me, Rafa. She will wear the emerald green robes, for the color flatters her. I shall have the robes that match my eyes. Royal purple brings out the softness in my skin tones." She unwound the toweling from her hair, and a slave girl hurried up to brush the princess's tresses dry.

  "Such foolish vanity!" Rafa snorted, but she began to fetch all that would be required so she might dress her princess and the vizier's lovely daughter. The two gowns were carefully laid out, along with matching slippers, jewelry, and headdresses. The two girls lay down to rest upon a wide sofa, cuddling companionably in each other's arms. When they awoke, slave women brought them fresh apricots, green grapes, and purple plums to eat. When they had finished, silver basins of warm scented water were brought so they might refresh their hands, faces and mouths.

  Their hair was dressed by the slave women. Zuleika instructed them to weave her long black hair with tiny strands of pearls. Bahira's auburn tresses were pulled into a single horse's tail with slim braids on either side of her face. Their hair done, the two girls were dressed. Their gowns were simple in design, but extremely elegant. They wore nothing beneath. Each had a low open neckline. Zuleika's was a teardrop, and Bahira's was square. The gowns fit snugly beneath their breasts, and were designed with bejeweled bands set into the rich cloth beneath their bosoms. The broad sleeves had cuffs to match. Bahira sparkled with emeralds, diamonds, and pearls. Zuleika glittered with amethysts, diamonds, and pearls. Their nubile bodies were visible beneath the sheer fine silk of the garments.

  A slave girl entered the princess's apartments, and hurrying up to Rafa whispered something in her ear. Rafa nodded, then she turned to Zuleika. "The barbarian is entering the city with his escort," she told her mistress.

  Zuleika nodded, and said to Bahira, "We must hurry to the audience chamber so that if Haroun objects there is time to convince my father that our presence is necessary," she said.

  Bahira bobbed her head in agreement. "I can't wait to see the look on Haroun's face," she giggled.

  Together the two girls hurried through the sultan's palace, finally arriving at the great audience chamber. It was a large room with a domed ceiling decorated in sheets of beaten gold, as were the walls. The marble pillars in the chamber were smooth dark crimson. A floor of the same material was flecked with gold. It was the audience chamber of a powerful man. Ibrahim Sultan was already seated upon his throne, a high-backed bench of pure gold studded with multi-colored jewels and a striped satin cushion beneath him. It was set upon a black marble dais with two steps. Next to it on the right was a three-legged silver stool topped with a white velvet cushion fringed with gold.

  The elderly sultan was garbed all in white and gold, an aigrette with a large diamond sprouting forth from his cloth-of-gold turban. To his left stood Prince Haroun, garbed all in black, but for a cloth-of-silver turban decorated with a pigeon's-blood ruby. Zuleika quickly seated herself upon the stool, and a slave set a red silk cushion down for Bahira next to the stool, and slightly behind it.

  "You should not be here!" Haroun said sharply.

  "Why not?" Zuleika demanded to know. "You would give me to this barbarian as his concubine. Should he not at least see what you offer him before he decides whether to accept, or reject it?"

  "Why is Bahira here?" was Haroun's next question, his eyes openly admiring the vizier's daughter.

  "Do you expect me, the princess of Dariyabar, to sit in the royal audience chamber unattended?"

  "Would not a slave girl do?" Haroun asked.

  "Bahira is my friend, and as curious as I am about these barbarians, and no, a slave girl would not suit me! How dare you even suggest such a thing! I am the princess of Dariyabar, and the vizier's daughter should attend me. Is that not right, father?" Zuleika turned her face up to her father's and smiled.

  The sultan's eyes twinkled. He stroked his silvery beard thoughtfully, and then he said, "Yes, my daughter, you are absolutely correct. I permit you and Bahira to remain."

  "Thank you, father," Zuleika said in a soft voice, but her eyes mocked her cousin, Haroun.

  "Thank you, my lord," Bahira added, her eyes modestly lowered.

  Haroun smiled, pleased by Bahira's response. Then he licked his lips, anticipating the pleasure the vizier's daughter would give him when he took the beautiful girl to wife.

  The trumpets sounded outside the great doors to the sultan's audience chamber. The portals were flung wide to admit Amir Khan and General Sabola, along with their escort. They marched directly t
o the foot of the sultan's throne, and then the khan saluted the elderly ruler, his right arm, fist clenched, striking his broad chest in respectful salutation.

  "Greetings, Sultan Ibrahim. I am Amir Khan, and he who accompanies me is my general, Sabola. We thank you for your invitation. Perhaps we can now settle this matter between us peacefully."

  "There can be no peace between us as long as you continue to besiege our city," Prince Haroun said quickly, rudely usurping both the sultan and his grand vizier, Abd al Hakim, before either might speak. "You will never take Dariyabar, Amir Khan! No one has ever captured this city in a siege. We are at an impasse. But we respect you, Amir Khan, and so that you may withdraw without shame, we offer you our own princess Zuleika as your concubine. She is, as you can see, a beautiful young woman, and she is a virgin, though well trained in the amatory arts as are all the young women of Dariyabar." Haroun's dark eyes swept the barbarian lord. A handsome, if rough-looking fellow he thought. His cousin could certainly not complain.

  Zuleika waited eagerly for what was to come. Amir Khan looked impressive in his tight black leather breeches. He wore a wide jeweled belt about his supple waist. The buckle was fashioned of engraved ivory banded in silver. His massive chest was oiled but bare.

  "He's magnificent," Bahira murmured so that only Zuleika heard.

  "So is his companion," the princess breathed softly, her violet eyes inspecting Sabola as discreetly as she dared. "His polished metal breastplate adds a nice military touch, don't you think?"

  "He is built like a bull," Bahira whispered.

  "I will accept the sultan's gift, but only on one condition," Amir Khan replied to Prince Haroun.

  "A condition? You would dare to make conditions with Dariyabar?" Haroun said indignantly. "Are you a peddler then, to attempt to bargain with us, Amir Khan?"

  The khan ignored Haroun's insult, instead saying in a quiet voice that was somehow heard by all in the great hall of audience, "My general, who has mounted and maintained this campaign we have fought against you, must also be compensated lest he be dishonored. Give me the princess's companion, she who wears green silk and sits now by her mistress's side. She is, I believe, Bahira, daughter of the sultan's grand vizier, Abd al Hakim, a worthy prize for General Sabola. We will take these two women back with us to Khanistan."