“Ahhhhh,” he said, as if he had actually understood her explanation. “Yes, of course.”
“There is much more,” she said with a little conspiratorial smile, “but those things must remain sacred to the Love Slave, Ali Hassan.”
He nodded his agreement, but then said, “I am not some silly boy, Zaynab. I can watch you and not violate you.”
“Very well,” she answered him, not wishing to make him suspicious by too much resistance. She was amazed at how much he had actually believed. She would probably have to allow him some liberties with her body before she could escape him; or before Karim, Hasdai, and their Saqalibah found the encampment. By now they would have been alerted, however, and the trail left by Ali Hassan and his men would still be a fresh one. She drew off her caftan, slowly and with a very graceful motion. Carefully she laid it aside.
“Does my body please you, Ali Hassan?” she asked as she turned for him. “I have already had one child.”
His burning gaze feasted on her breasts, her buttocks, her shapely legs, the triangle between her thighs. He licked his lips nervously as she pinned up her golden hair and stepped into the tub. “The three days will be an eternity,” he told her. Then he sat cross-legged watching as she settled into the water and washed herself.
When she had finished, Zaynab arose and stepped from the tub. Beads of water sluiced down her lush form, and he could not take his eyes from her. “Your willpower is to be commended, Ali Hassan,” she said. “I would like to reward you if you can exercise your self-discipline a tiny bit more. Do you think you can?”
“What would you have me do?” he asked, his heart hammering.
“Would you like to lick the water from my nipples, Ali Hassan? You may not touch me except with your mouth. You do not have to, but if it would please you, you may,” Zaynab told him, as if she were bestowing some great honor upon him.
He put his hands behind his back. Leaning forward, he pushed his tongue from between his lips. A drop of liquid hung suspended from her right nipple, and he scooped it up with a quick motion. Then his tongue made several sweeps about the nipple before moving over to its mate. Finished, he raised his head up, looking at her triumphantly.
“Very good, Ali Hassan,” she purred at him.
In answer he reached into his trousers and drew forth his manhood. It was the largest she had ever seen, long and quite thick. He presented it to her, cupping it in his hand. “It is eager to delve between your thighs, Zaynab, but I will wait the three days.”
She ran her eyes down the length of him, then reaching out, caressed him with delicate fingers. “Find a woman tonight, and release its juices, Ali Hassan, for a man should never deny himself. You will be stronger with me for it. Restrain yourself altogether for three days, and you will be weakened gently. Now, put that big fellow away and send Iniga to me, Ali Hassan. I want to instruct her in her duties before I sleep.”
Ali Hassan left Zaynab and walked across the encampment to Iniga’s quarters. She was alone. “Hands and knees,” he barked at her, and when she had obeyed, he knelt behind her, entering her female passage. She winced, but her discomfort was not his concern. He pumped her vigorously, closing his eyes and imagining she was Zaynab. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips as he slammed himself into her again and again until finally his lust broke. He sighed, relieved, and stood up, yanking her to her feet.
“For the time being you will no longer be required to serve as the camp whore, Iniga,” he told her. “Today I stole the Love Slave, Zaynab, possession of Hasdai ibn Shaprut. She is now mine, and wishes a serving woman. None of the females here in the camp would know how to serve her, but you should. Her tent is the small one next to mine. Put on your caftan and go to her immediately.”
Wordless, Iniga grabbed up the dirty caftan that lay upon the floor, and pulling it over her thin frame, hurried from the tent. For weeks she had said little to anyone. Her throat still felt sore these months later from screaming when first Ali Hassan, and afterward several of his men, had raped her that day they had killed everyone.
Then Ali Hassan had decided that she should be his alone, but she had foiled him by showing no emotion at all each time he used her. He had retaliated by making her the camp whore. Now, he said she was to serve Zaynab. She remembered Zaynab, the beautiful girl who had been sent to the caliph. How had she come to this hell? Iniga entered the small tent next to Ali Hassan’s.
“Iniga!” Zaynab’s welcome was warm, but she was horrified by her friend’s appearance. She was painfully thin and her lovely blond hair was dirty and matted.
“Zaynab.” It is truly her, Iniga thought, but how could that be?
Zaynab saw the confusion in Iniga’s eyes. “The bathwater is still warm, Iniga. Get into it and wash,” she gently ordered her friend. Then she went to the opening of the tent, and handing Iniga’s ragged garment to one of the two guardsmen outside, said in a commanding tone, “Take this to Ali Hassan. Tell him I want a clean caftan for my servant. She cannot wear this filthy torn rag. It is alive with vermin.”
Returning inside, she knelt by the tub where Iniga now sat silently. Quietly she explained how she had returned to Malina and been captured by Ali Hassan. While she spoke she washed Iniga, who seemed unable to help herself. The girl’s back was scarred with small raised weals. “What happened?” she asked Iniga quietly, running a finger along one of the welts.
“They beat me,” Iniga responded dully. “There is this one man who enjoys whipping me, and afterward he uses me.”
“You will not be whipped again,” Zaynab said softly. “It is a secret, but soon Karim will come and rescue us, Iniga. Ali Hassan thinks I am going to be his Love Slave, but he will never have me.” She washed Iniga’s hair thoroughly and rinsed it.
“They said they would kill my son if I did not give myself to them,” Iniga said as her rescuer ministered to her. “Every day I see Malik, if I have been good and pleased them. The woman who cares for him holds him up across the encampment and he waves to me.”
“Malik is not here!” Zaynab cried. “He is with your in-laws in Alcazaba Malina, Iniga.”
“No,” the girl said stubbornly. “I see him every day, Zaynab.”
“Your mother gave Malik to the eunuch, Mustafa, when Ali Hassan and his men entered the harem. Mustafa hid in a cabinet with your son, Iniga. When the bandits had gone, he took Malik to Ahmed’s parents for safekeeping. He is not here!” Zaynab told her.
“I see him!” Iniga replied heatedly.
“Across the camp? But never closer?” Zaynab queried her.
Iniga nodded slowly.
“They have tricked you, Iniga, into doing their will,” Zaynab explained to the girl. “Malik is safe, my friend. You never have to serve them again as they have been forcing you to do.”
“Then I can die,” Iniga said, the relief in her voice plain.
“You do not have to die!” Zaynab told her. “Karim will soon be here to rescue us. You will go home to your little one, Iniga.”
Iniga shook her head. “No,” she said. “I am defiled, Zaynab. My husband has been killed, and I have been used as a whore by strangers. My life is over. I am not fit to raise my son. No decent man will have me to wife. My son must have a family for protection and influence. I am an outcast among outcasts. There is nothing for me but the blessed release of death.”
“Would you leave me to the mercy of Ali Hassan?” Zaynab asked her. “You must help me fend him off until your brother comes. Do not leave me, Iniga. I have told you the truth. Do you not owe me a small loyalty, at least, for old times’ sake?” Allah! She hadn’t rescued Iniga to have her commit suicide. When Karim and Hasdai came, they would make the poor girl see reason.
“Very well,” Iniga said. “I will remain with you for now, Zaynab. Had it not been for your kindness, I should still be the camp whore, unaware of the truth. To know that my child is safe is worth whatever I have had to endure at the hands of Ali Hassan.” She arose from the tub, and taking
the small damp towel Zaynab had used, mopped herself off. Her hair hung wet about her frail shoulders.
The guardsman pushed through into the tent, a fresh caftan in hand, his eyes sweeping admiringly over Iniga. “Here, wench,” he said.
“If you ever enter this tent again without my permission,” Zaynab said harshly, “I shall have Ali Hassan put your lustful eyes out with hot coals. Do you understand me?”
The guardsman recoiled, nodded, and fled.
“How do you dare speak to them like that?” Iniga asked admiringly.
“You cannot show fear with creatures like these, Iniga,” Zaynab told her patiently. “If you show your fear, they will devour you. With Ali Hassan, I play the knowledgeable, superior courtesan. I scold him for his crudity and ignorance. But if I was with him and there were other men about, I should be the most biddable modest female Allah ever created. You see, Ali Hassan wants to possess all the pleasures a Love Slave can offer him; but he cannot be embarrassed before his peers, or his inferiors. Men are really quite simple, Iniga. What kind of a girl was your sister-in-law Hatiba that she gave herself to him? He is attractive enough except for his scar, but he seems to lack intellect.”
“I do not know men except for the beasts they are,” Iniga replied sadly, ignoring Zaynab’s observations. “Ahmed was so good and gentle. All the men I knew before that day were. Now I know that those men were a rarity, that the majority of men are cruel, wicked beasts who care naught but for themselves. When … if, my brother comes to find you, Zaynab, do not leave him again. He loves you. He has always loved you. He did not love that bitch, Hatiba. I curse her name! Had it not been for her, my family would not have been murdered, nor I made into a whore!” Then Iniga began to cry as she had not cried in all the days since her capture.
Zaynab comforted her as best she could, but knew she could say little to Iniga that would ease her pain or take away her sorrow. All she could do now was to keep Iniga safe from Ali Hassan and his men. Karim and Hasdai would come in another day or two.
“Come,” she said gently to Iniga. “Let us sleep.”
In the morning they were brought food, and the tub was filled with warm water once again. Ali Hassan came to watch Zaynab lustfully as she bathed. When she stepped from the wooden tub, Iniga was there with a towel, but Ali Hassan stepped forward and took the cloth from the shrinking girl.
“Let me,” he said in his deep voice.
“Can you suppress your desires, Ali Hassan?” she asked him as she had the day before. Her look was arch, but she was quick to note his black beard had been neatly barbered and was scented with almond oil.
His black eyes glittered beneath the bushy dark brows. “I am not a greedy lad, Zaynab,” he said “You will have the proper time to prepare yourself for me, but in the meantime I wish to enjoy the anticipation of possessing your lovely body.” He mopped her back and shoulders. Then he moved the towel to her buttocks and dried each one in turn, fondling the firm flesh. Then he pushed a finger between the twin moons. “Do you know how to take a man here?” he asked her.
She felt the invading digit pressing against her rose hole. “Of course I do,” she said, her voice sounding impatient.
The finger was removed, and he dried her legs. Drawing her back against him, he dried her breasts, fondling them enthusiastically, then moved on to her torso; but when his hand strayed lower, she snatched the towel from him, stepping away.
“I will freeze in this icy tent before you are done, Ali Hassan,” she snapped at him. “Iniga, fetch my caftan.”
He laughed at her, and noted, “Your skin is the softest I have ever felt where the wind has not touched it. You did not lie to me. Just touching you arouses me. Look!” He drew his manhood from his trousers again.
Iniga winced, turning away, but Zaynab laughed suggestively. “That randy fellow has no idea of the pleasure I shall give him, Ali Hassan. You must teach him to be more patient. Every time you look at me, he leaps eagerly up, ready for battle.” Reaching out, she gave the fleshy peg a little tweak.
He roared with laughter. “Are you a woman who enjoys a wager, my beauty? I’ll wager you a hundred gold dinars that I will have you shrieking with delight the first time I fuck you.”
“Indeed?” she mocked him. “I will wager you five hundred gold dinars that I will make you howl with your pleasure the first time I make love to you, Ali Hassan.”
“I’ll take your wager, my beauty,” he said with a raffish grin. Then he left her.
Iniga, her eyes wide with her fear, asked, “What will happen if my brother does not come, Zaynab? What will happen?”
“Do not fear for me, Iniga, my friend. If Karim and Hasdai do not arrive by the third day, they will arrive the day after, by which time I shall be five hundred dinars richer,” Zaynab said grimly.
Chapter 17
Ali Hassan came into Zaynab’s tent on the morning of the third day. “Tonight,” he said with a wide grin, “you are mine at last!”
“I regret I am not,” Zaynab told him blandly. “My link with the moon broke last night and I am unclean.”
His face grew black with his rage. “You lie!” he snarled.
“Iniga, do I lie?” Zaynab asked her friend.
“No, my lord, she does not lie,” Iniga quavered. No matter what Zaynab told her, she could not help being afraid of Ali Hassan.
“Do you lie too?” he demanded of her menacingly, his face in hers, and Iniga grew pale.
“N-No, my lord! N-No!” she sobbed, trembling. “It is the truth.”
“Iniga, fetch me something to eat,” Zaynab told her. Iniga gratefully fled the tent. “She is too terrified of you to lie, Ali Hassan,” Zaynab told him. “Can you not see it? Every time you glance her way she practically faints, the little coward.” Zaynab laughed. “I am very sorry to disappoint you, but a woman’s nature cannot be helped, now can it?” She moved so that she was standing directly in front of him. Sliding her arms about his neck, she nibbled on his lower lip. “Do you think men are the only ones who enjoy coupling, Ali Hassan? I burn to have that tent pole of yours deep inside me.” She smiled winningly into his eyes, her full breasts pushing against his chest. “Another seven days, no more,” she promised him, loosening her hold on him and moving away. “It will be even better for your enforced abstinence.”
He groaned as if he were in pain; in truth, he was. Reaching out, he pulled her back against his body. “I am so hot for you, Zaynab,” he admitted. He drew her hand down to his member.
“Ohhhhh,” she trilled, knowing the exact response expected from her. “It’s sooo big, Ali Hassan. Bigger, I swear, than the first time I saw it.” Zaynab wrapped her fingers about him and gently squeezed.
“Seven days?” he half moaned. “No sooner?” He couldn’t believe what this woman’s touch was doing to him. The mere thought of her made him hard as a rock. Her hand on him brought him close to spilling his seed.
She sighed, sounding genuinely regretful as she released her hold on him. “No sooner, I fear, Ali Hassan,” she told him. “I am filled with regret, but what can I do?”
He released her. “I will go raiding,” he said. “I do not want to see you until the time is propitious. If I stay, I shall go mad with longing for you, my beautiful Zaynab.” Then turning abruptly on his heel, he departed the tent. Several minutes later she heard the thunder of hooves as Ali Hassan and his men rode out from the camp.
Zaynab smiled, well pleased with herself. Her female nature had indeed been most cooperative. Surely within the week Karim and Hasdai would find them. She was amazed that they had not already come. Whatever Iniga might believe, Zaynab knew that neither of the men would desert the Love Slave.
Iniga crept back into the tent with food for them. “They have gone,” she said. “There are only old men, women, and children in the camp now.” She handed Zaynab a bowl. “Why did they go?”
“Ali Hassan did not feel he could control himself for the next seven days unless he was away from me,” Zaynab
said, laughing.
“You are so brave,” Iniga said. “I wish I had been like you when they kidnapped me from Alcazaba Malina, but I was so afraid.”
“You did what you did because you thought you were protecting your little son,” Zaynab responded. “You were braver than I am, Iniga. You sacrificed yourself for your baby. I am merely playing a game with poor Ali Hassan until your brother and the Nasi come. The caliph’s Saqalibah are excellent soldiers. I cannot understand why they have been unable to find this encampment. They must have scouts looking. Surely the light of the fires should draw them at night.”
“There are no open fires,” Iniga said slowly, wondering why she had not realized it before.
“What?” Zaynab was astounded, but then she realized that she had spent practically all her time here in this little tent. She had only had a brief glimpse of the encampment when she arrived.
“Ali Hassan knows fires could bring his enemies down on him. He allows no open fires. The tents all have braziers like this one for warmth. The cooking, however, is done in a single tent. Food is cooked for the entire camp there. It is done over braziers as well. There is one fire pit which is used only at night so the smoke cannot be seen. The tents are black, and the rocks in this canyon the same hue. Our shelters are set against them. We are easily overlooked, Zaynab.”
“Then we must start a fire,” her companion replied in practical tones.
“Zaynab, they will kill you!” Iniga said, frightened.
“They will not know how the fire started if we are clever,” Zaynab said slowly, forming a plan. “It’s no good doing it before Ali Hassan gets back. We want to help the Nasi to capture that villain so he may be punished for the attack on your family. It will have to be the night he possesses the Love Slave for the very first time.
The Love Slave Page 36
