by Cleo Cordell
For a moment, bound by the seductive recollections, Marietta did not absorb all of Leyla's words. Then, realizing what was to happen to her and Claudine, she stiffened.
'Groomed. Examined. And then decked in finery. Does Kasim think we are horses to be added to his stable!'
'It is the custom. And expected,' Leyla said, looking worried. 'Surely you want to wear beautiful clothes and perfumes. What woman does not? And do you not want Kasim to find your body beautiful? Your beauty is a gift from Allah. You must take pride in it. You bestow honour on yourself and Allah when you display your beauty to your master.'
'He is not my master!' Marietta fumed. 'I refuse to be examined. I refuse to behave like ... a ... a meek little lamb . . .'
'Marietta, please,' Leyla said, in exasperation. 'You distress yourself needlessly. Will you not allow me to show you how good life here can be? I wish you would, for your sake.'
Marietta looked into Leyla's lovely face. Ley la's long dark eyes looked moist and gentle. The full red lips trembled slightly. Her expression was one of genuine concern.
'I will not, I cannot relinquish my freedom,' Marietta said, less stridently. Her voice, less sure, shook just a little.
'But you have no choice,' Leyla said softly. 'Did you not hear Kasim? His word is law. If you do not comply you will be punished. I too, for failing to win you to our ways. And some punishments, lovely one, are much harsher than others.'
Marietta bit her lip. She felt trapped, stifled. The fear rose in her belly, fluttering under her ribs. It was difficult to stay angry. It would be so easy to give in. Leyla was so persuasive. She wished she could trust her.
Leyla took her gently by the arm. 'Come. You shall bathe now, then change into your new clothes. The formalities will not take long. Then perhaps you would like to sleep.'
Marietta's shoulders sagged. Why was she resisting? It was plain that Leyla was trying to be kind. And what was to happen was inevitable. Of course Kasim would want to look at his new slaves. Did not all despots demand complete subjection? All stockmen examine their prize heifers?
But, try as she might to destroy the dazzling mental image she carried of Kasim, with these and other unflattering comparisons, she found that she could not do it. He remained stubbornly compelling, invading her dreams, filling her thoughts with his dark angular beauty, his vibrant presence. He was quite simply the most desirable, the most fascinating man she had ever met.
She must continue to resist him, to face what was to come with all the strength and fortitude she could muster. There was no alternative. If only she did not feel so morally fragile. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the potent enticements of Kasim's harem. Kasim was the bigger part of it. But Leyla too drew her strongly. Leyla, so gentle and kind. So compelling, in quite a different way.
She knew that she desired them both. But neither of them would ever own her. And besides the potent pull of physical attraction, there was that other deep dark -and oh so beguiling - threat. The threat of what Kasim would do to her if she angered him. She knew that he would beat and humiliate her. By all that she held holy, she hoped she could resist the delicious pull of such chastisement.
She was weary suddenly of thinking. Enough of introspection. Leyla had said that after the 'grooming' she might rest. She longed to close out everything, for a while at least, in sleep. She prayed that this time she would not dream.
'I'm ready for the curry comb. And you may plait my mane if you wish,' she said icily to Leyla.
At which point Marietta had the satisfaction of seeing sparks of humour and admiration mix in Leyla's long black eyes.
Chapter Six
In the hammam two slaves scrubbed Marietta's skin with pumice stone and then rubbed her limbs with the same creamy concoction that Leyla had used on her.
Marietta sat on the basketwork stool, surrounded by scented steam. Claudine sat nearby, her eyes closed and her head tilted back as slave women washed her thick mass of red-gold hair, massaging her scalp with a mixture that smelt of cloves. Leyla too was naked. She was also being soaped and rinsed.
The shock of being naked was not so bad as that first time, but Marietta was still strongly affected by the sight of Leyla's and Claudine's unclothed bodies. There was something so erotic about the silky smooth female skin, buffed to rosiness by the pumice. The contours and hollows of both bodies, beautiful in their separate ways, were overflowing with runnels of creamy lather.
The long wet tresses - deepest-black and honey-auburn - streamed down their backs. Marietta found herself looking from one to the other admiringly. Claudine's body was as lush and curvaceous as Leyla's. Leyla was all pale skin, smooth and hairless, the only colour being her large wine-red nipples.
Claudine had a gold tint to her skin, emphasised by the abundant freckles that covered her shoulders and arms. She looked as if she wore gold coins on her skin. Her nipples were light in colour, the pigmented area not clearly defined from the colour of her breast skin. The cluster of light-brown curls at her armpits and groin was startling next to Leyla's smoothness.
The lash marks on Leyla's belly and thighs were faintly red, but not raised. Leyla ran her hand over them, stroking them with her fingers as she massaged suds into her skin. Her full underlip was pushed out slightly as she contemplated the marks. She seemed proud of them. As if, Marietta thought, she valued them like a sort of trophy.
It was an aspect of Leyla's punishment that Marietta had not considered. She saw that there was a hidden and profound subtlety to Leyla's relationship with Kasim. Something in her responded to that knowledge. She pushed the thought aside. It was too troubling.
Claudine followed Leyla's hand movements as if mesmerised, her eyes opening wider as Leyla parted her thighs and began washing her hairless sex. Marietta looked away, alarmed by the pleasure it gave her just to look at Leyla's body. She could not help being conscious that Leyla too was watching her closely, gauging her reactions.
Claudine commented on the nakedness of Leyla's sex. Her voice was slightly rough, a little breathelss. 'It ... it is strangely compelling. Are all women here without hair at the base of their belly?'
Leyla smiled. 'It is the custom. After the bath you too shall have all your body hair removed.'
Claudine gave a little shiver. 'It makes me feel a little afraid. I shall be so - exposed.'
Marietta did not speak. Claudine sounded quite delighted at the prospect of having her body hair removed. It did not occur to her to question the practice. Well, there would be a few angry faces when it came to her own turn. The slaves spent a long time attending to the three women. The combination of being steamed, scrubbed, and massaged with scented soap left them all quite exhausted. When they were all petal-soft and sweetly fragranced, they were wrapped in large towels and led into a side room.
There were many small tables with trays of food and glasses of sherbet. Carved and decorated screens were placed around the walls. Silk draped divans and tables were arranged for the purpose of massage and beauty treatments. Slaves brought trays of perfumed oil, cosmetics, and paint.
Marietta was asked to lay face down. A slave began to massage her body with perfumed oil. Another blotted her hair and swathed it in a soft cloth. Yet another brought her a glass of pomegranate sherbet. Marietta sipped the brilliant red drink. It was sharp and refreshing and smelt of orange blossom.
Marietta relaxed on the divan. She laid her cheek on the backs of her hands and closed her eyes. The slave's strong hands began to work upwards from her feet. Her calves were squeezed gently. The backs of her knees were pinched, ever so lightly. The circular movements, the scent of the oil, the gentle sounds of her companions' breathing acted like balm on Marietta's senses. She gave herself up to the delicious sensation of being massaged.
Now the fingers stroked up the sides of her thighs, describing more small circles on the firm flesh. Marietta sighed with pleasure. Her body had become a leaden weight. There was a brief pause, while the slave rested one hand lightly on t
he under-swell of her buttock. She assumed that the slave was reaching for more of the warm oil, then the soothing rhythm was resumed with both hands.
The pressure of the hands was subtly different, firmer but still gentle, knowing. Long strokes progressed up to her waist and then on to her shoulders. Her arms were smoothed with warm oil and stroked and kneaded firmly. Her neck was circled and the slight indentations at the base of her skull were massaged with tiny circling movements. Marietta closed her eyes, feeling as if she could drift off to sleep. The hands now retraced their path, lingering on the flesh of her buttocks.
The firm flesh was kneaded, then lifted gently and rolled. The pressure was increased slightly, the slave's palms pressing outwards. This caused the under-swell of her buttocks to be forced gently upwards and her twin globes to be pulled apart. Before she had time to feel dismay, the movement was completed. Her bottom's cheeks were closed and squeezed together.
She felt less drowsy. The warm strong fingers on her buttocks were stimulating. The outward pressing movement began all over again, and though she tensed slightly just before the moment when her shadowed valley was opened to reveal its secrets, she relaxed into the rhythm. It went on and on. It was as if the slave was unwilling to move her hands further upwards. There was the squeezing and the gentle pressure, then the upward pushing and the opening. And the knowledge that the puckered brown rose of her anus was revealed momentarily, before the lush globes were allowed to fall back and close. Her oil-slick inner surfaces rubbed together, creating an exciting friction.
Marietta began to feel aroused. The tight little mouth between her bottom cheeks grew warm. The crevice grew more soft and damp. Sometimes when the thumbs were exerting their pressure to force the cheeks upwards, she felt the slightest scrape of a nail on her flesh valley. And once a nail tip trailed across the tight little brown rose.
Marietta turned her face into her hands and bit gently on her fingers. She felt ashamed that her sex had begun to swell and the tender little bud within her folds was pulsing strongly. Her face was hot. She felt a sort of delighted shame in the pleasure she felt. It was a secret pleasure, known only to her. That fact aroused her strongly.
She found that she was tensing, holding her breath for the moment when her buttocks were splayed apart - more widely it seemed as time went on - and the pressure forced the tight little bottom-mouth to give and gape just a little. Her body's openness fascinated her. She had never dreamt that this orifice could be so wanton. It seemed to be pushing itself out, clamouring for attention. For a while she was lost in contemplation of this new discovery, and while she watched herself with her conscious mind, her body seemed to soften and become languid. It was as if every muscle in her body responded to that slow stroking, squeezing, and pulling apart, then rolling together and squeezing again. Moisture gathered between the lips of her sex. Her nipples, which were pressed to the table beneath her, grew hard.
Then she felt a different sensation. More warm oil was applied to her buttocks. Quite a lot of it, so that it ran down into her valley. The earlier sensations were heightened by the slippery feel of her flesh. It took great control not to raise her hips, arch her back, and push back against those strong, expert hands.
The massage went on. Marietta feared that she would moan aloud. She prayed that the slave would travel upwards and begin to work on her waist, saving her from the building sensations of pleasure. Conversely, she wanted the massage to go on. She was having difficulty keeping her breathing even.
Then her buttocks were grasped firmly, and rolled wide apart. She felt the edges of two strong thumbs rubbing either side of her anus. Fingers held her spread while the oily thumbs probed the tight little mouth, slipping around and across it. Marietta's eyes opened wide, as suddenly, both thumbs entered her and began working in and out. The pleasure was tinged with pain as the flesh-ring was stretched and teased. She winced and writhed against the intrusion. Her first instinct was to protest, then leap from the table in shock.
As if the slave had sensed her consternation, Marietta felt another pair of gentle hands on her, holding her down.
'Do not struggle Marietta,' came Leyla's voice. 'This is part of the grooming. Your body is being assessed to see how much pleasure it will give.'
Fear crawled in Marietta's belly, but it was a hot-tipped exciting kind of emotion. They were testing her and she could not hide her responses. She sensed that someone was standing next to Leyla, beside the slave, then the slave spoke.
This one is very tight, my lady. The orifice must be trained, worked in this way often, until it will give pleasure willingly.'
Marietta made a sound, meant to be of protest, but it was more like a groan. Leyla's voice came again, thick and husky.
'It will be done. I will see to it myself. See how she fights her responses? But she cannot win. Her body is too eager for pleasure, her senses too voluptuous. Is she not entrancing to watch? If I was to touch her here . . .'
She slid her hand under Marietta's hips and between the parted legs. 'Ah, yes. As I thought. Her sex is swollen, hungry. It weeps and burns for the touch of a lover. Good. Very Good. We make progress.'
Marietta hid her burning face in her hands. It was as if a shameful secret had been laid bare. Yet they spoke about her with something like awe. Using glowing terms, they discussed her responses; the perfection of her buttocks; the texture of the skin in her secret valley; the colour and tightness of her anus.
It was as if she was some rare morsel. In an odd sort of way she felt honoured by so much attention. The feeling confused her.
She could almost feel the eyes on her bottom, as if their gaze raked her skin. And now the busy thumbs delved more deeply into her body and, aided by the oil, were distending and loosening her tight flesh-ring. The thumbs slid in and out, over and around the opening. More oil was applied, then the unwelcome intrusion continued. She squirmed with humiliation. Her buttocks trembled, as she tried desperately to clench together against the restraining fingers.
She could not hold back a moan. 'Stop. Please.'
Leyla's cool hand stroked gently, soothingly, down her backbone. 'Hush, lovely one. It will get better for you. I will show you ways to pleasure this little mouth that will give you much delight.'
Marietta could find no answer. She lay pressed to the table, her face hot and red, until the oily thumbs were slowly withdrawn and her buttocks allowed to close. Her flesh-ring throbbed and burned between her oiled bottom cheeks. She let out a sigh of relief, thinking that the examination was finished. Then her heart sank at Leyla's next words.
'Enough. Turn her onto her back.'
Marietta had the impression that one of the slaves left the room. She saw a swift movement behind one of the carved screens. The slave seemed very tall and dressed in dark robes. A suspicion formed in her mind. Her heart began to beat fast.
Then eager hands turned her over, slipping cushions under her so that she was lying comfortably with her upper body raised and her knees apart.
'Before the examination continues she must be depilated,' Leyla said. 'Bring the paste.'
Marietta brought her knees together, clenching her thighs modestly. A mulish look came over her face. This was too much. Let them bring the paste. They were going to get a surprise.
Claudine, lying face down on a table nearby, hardly noticed what was happening to her friend.
She closed her eyes and let out a long ragged sigh.
Her body felt like it was on fire. She writhed under the ministrations of the slaves. The thumbs had been removed from between her buttocks and a carved ivory phallus had been inserted carefully.
She did not trouble to hide her pleasure. Why should she? Everyone here wanted her to enjoy herself. She arched her back and rocked her hips in time with the thrusts of the oiled phallus. Ah, this was a wonderful place. Here she could indulge herself in every way possible. She had rather regretted the death of Sister Anna, thinking she had lost the source of a quite delicious illicit pleasure.
Now, here in the harem, was the promise of fleshly delights beyond her wildest dreams. It was almost too much to encompass.
One of the slaves slipped a hand between Claudine's legs and took a firm hold of the wet sex. Holding the flesh-lips closed she massaged the firm little plum in a circular motion.
Claudine's breath came fast. The slaves were well trained in coaxing pleasure from womens' bodies. She loved the fingers that were working on her. They knew exactly what to do. Wonderful sensations radiated out from her swollen vulva. The movement of her closed flesh-lips exerted a referred pressure on her swollen bud. It flicked from side to side in a subtle and maddening rhythm. The phallus, moving deeply inside her anus, pressed against the place behind her pleasure bud, separated from her flesh-tube by only a thin membrane. Warm drops of oil mixed with her musky juices and ran down her thighs, pooling on the cloth spread beneath her.
The slave holding the phallus laughed and twisted it gently. She pulled it out almost completely and rimmed the tight little mouth with the round carved head. Delicious shivers spread up Claudine's back. She gasped. The whole of her sex felt pincered by sensation.
The erect pleasure bud strained from its flesh-hood.
It pulsed and throbbed, trapped within the pinched together sex-lips, tortured by the firm circular movements of the slave's strong fingers. Two other slaves began to lightly spank her buttocks. The slaps were firm, making a crisp sound as they connected with her flesh. The sound, the pain, the heat of the sore buttocks, poured sensation on top of sensation.
Claudine lost control. She began to moan. Her fingers clutched the edge of the draped table. She thrust her buttocks high into the air, and spread her thighs wide. She did not care that the whole of her open flesh-valley was held clear of the table.
