The Captive Flesh

by Cleo Cordell

Her sex oozed. The slave's grasp was slick. The movements of her hand against the still-closed flesh-lips had become hot and silken. Claudine felt as if all her nerve ends were on fire. She did not care either, that her buttocks were spread wide. That her distended anus, collared by light brown curls, was pushed out lewdly and moistly for all to see as it sheathed the head of the oiled phallus.

  She moaned aloud, loving the sound as it mixed with the sounds of the slaps. Her womb contracted suddenly. Waves of pleasure spread to her belly, the warmth radiating to her buttocks and trembling thighs. The climax was heavy and deep. A sweet ache encompassed the whole area from her belly to her thighs. She collapsed on to the table, her cheek against the rumpled silk. Her body felt boneless.

  As her breath began to return to normal, the slaves patted and stroked her, congratulating her on her total abandonment.

  'Kasim Dey will be delighted with you,' they whispered, as they took away the phallus, then wiped her with clean towels and sweet oil.

  Claudine felt a new pleasure in that knowledge. Kasim promised to lead her to new heights. She looked forward eagerly to the time when he would summon her.

  The slaves, still complimenting and flattering her, asked that she turn over. They propped her up with cushions. Claudine became aware, only then, that Marietta was uttering sounds of protest as she was laid on her back. A slave brought a bowl of paste and set it down next to her friend. Then Marietta seemed to lose her head.

  'Take that stuff away!' she yelled, kicking out at the slaves, ordering them to let her be. She insisted that she would not be depilated.

  Claudine had never seen her friend so angry. Leyla was trying to calm Marietta, looking quite distressed herself. But Marietta was not to be placated.

  Claudine was tempted to intervene. She felt exasperated. What did it matter if they were denuded of their body hair? She thought it would be exciting to be naked there, like a child. She could not wait to see how she would look. She shrugged and sipped at the glass of sherbet she was offered. Marietta would come to her senses in her own time. She knew how stubborn her friend was. It was always better to let her fits of temper run their course.

  She was sorry that Marietta brought such distress on herself. She truly wished that her friend would grasp what was offered. For what could be better than the life of pleasure Kasim offered? It was free from care, free from worries. All they had to do was to reach into themselves and allow their secret natures to surface. Something Claudine was more than willing to do.

  When the slaves brought the paste to Claudine, she smiled, settling back against the cushions and parting her thighs helpfully. She stretched her arms overhead, so that they might spread the paste onto her armpits, and bit down on the sugared plum that a slave had placed in her mouth.

  'Mmm,' she said. 'I'll have another sweetmeat. And may I have a mirror to watch as I am laid bare?'

  'Marietta! Stop that noise at once!' Kasim rapped, stepping out from behind a screen.

  Marietta pulled the cushions over her body to hide her nakedness in a futile gesture of protection. She looked up at Kasim without surprise, knowing that he had already seen her naked. He had probably watched them all in the hammam. She also knew who it was who had given her the massage.

  'So. Now you show yourself,' she said coldly, fighting to keep her temper. 'Did it please you to violate my body just now? To have me held down while you . . . you . . .'

  'Yes. It did,' he said without inflection. 'It pleased me to plunder those lovely buttocks while you were unaware that I was doing so. And I felt the way your flesh awoke too, despite your efforts to hide the fact. Really. What do you expect Marietta? An apology. Ah, you still do not see, do you? I do exactly as I please. Always. And now ... I expect my orders to be carried out.'

  He drew close to the divan and looked down at her. She wrapped her arms around her knees, drawing them up to her chin, and glared up at him. A tiny smile played at the corner of his mouth.

  'So. You will not consent to be depilated? Is that golden fleece of yours so important to you? Then I must look at it more closely.'

  He made a movement to the slaves. They hurried to take the flimsy protection of the cushions from Marietta, and to press her back against the cushions. She made a sound of protest and resisted them, trying to roll into a ball at the end of the divan.

  'Do not presume too much on my good nature,' Kasim said harshly. 'Your display just now is enough to earn you a beating with the strap! Now. I wish you to show me that you know the meaning of obedience. Has Leyla not even made a beginning with you? Brace your upper body. Spread your knees and place the soles of your feet together. Do it. Now!'

  The mention of Leyla penetrated Marietta's fury. She uncurled her legs slowly and sat as he asked, resting her upper body back against the piled cushions. He watched with cold dark eyes. Her legs trembling, she parted her knees a little.

  'Open them wide,' he said.

  She flexed her knees and allowed them to fall open.

  'Wider!'

  She felt the strain at her groin as her knees relaxed to lay flat on the divan. The soles of her feet met. She gave a little shudder and, as if it were possible to shield even part of herself from him, she crossed her arms on her bare breasts and closed her eyes tight.

  Kasim gave a low chuckle. 'Such charming modesty.' He moved closer. 'Ah, and here is the centre of your lovely body. I have been watching you in the hammam, feasting my eyes on your beauty, and I have been anticipating the pleasure of doing - this.'

  He reached out to tug gently at the light growth of pale blonde curls on her mound. He drew them out with his fingertips, testing the springiness and texture of the hair.

  'Lovely,' he breathed. 'Never have I seen a prettier little sex.'

  Marietta kept her eyes closed tightly as his fingers brushed lightly across the parted sex-lips. It was her dream of last night, come true. Her body was completely open to his gaze. Half of her recoiled in horror at the knowledge that he could do as he wished with her. The other half melted into a sort of welcome submission.

  Kasim bent over and inhaled deeply. 'You have a fine woman's smell. No doubt you taste sweet too. I would sample you. But that can wait for another time. Open your eyes Marietta. I want you to see the pleasure on my face. And now, I want you to spread those adorable gold-furred lips, with your own fingers, so that I may gaze fully on your most intimate secrets.'

  Marietta's eyes flew open in horror. She had thought there could be nothing worse than being offered up to his gaze like this. But he was going to spare her nothing. He wished her to participate in her own debasement. She saw Leyla watching with a look of sympathy. It gave her the strength to do as Kasim asked.

  Her mouth was dry. A pulse beat heavily and insistently deep within her stomach. Slowly, she moved her hands downwards, then using two fingers on each hand, she spread her flesh-lips open.

  'Wider,' Kasim said. 'And pull upwards slightly. I want to see the little kernel of delight. Ah, yes. There. The tip of it slips from the flesh-hood.'

  He reached forward and took hold of the little nub between his finger and thumb. Pinching gently, he worked the little hood back and forth. Marietta shuddered. Despite her anger, her feelings of helplessness, she felt her body begin to respond. Kasim kept up the torment, until the little nub was pink and fully erect.

  'Excellent,' he said. 'You may remove your fingers. But leave your legs spread.'

  Marietta drew a shuddering breath. She had expected far worse. She had tensed ready for the inward plunge of his fingers and was almost disappointed when he drew away. Then she realised her mistake. He had only just started to humiliate her.

  Her fear and excitement mounted to a new pitch as Kasim slowly rolled back the loose cuffs of his black runic.

  'You may keep your golden fleece. The novelty of it pleases me,' he said pleasantly. 'I should like for it to be oiled and decorated. And it is to remain prominently on display at all times. Leyla. I wish Marietta to wear clothes that lea
ve bare or enhance this unique treasure of hers.'

  'As you, wish, my lord,' Leyla said.

  'It is settled then. But you are to be chastised nonetheless, Marietta. Do you know why?'

  Numbly she shook her head. She was close to tears.

  'I alone make all decisions concerning your person. You keep your fleece, because I wish it. Understand? But you will still be punished for refusing to be depilated. Now. Stay as you are. Accept your punishment.'

  Marietta remembered his words to her in the garden, 'There is never any way to avoid my will,' he had said to her.

  Now she was to have evidence of that. Using the flat of his hand, Kasim began to slap Marietta on the insides of her thighs. He flicked his hand back and forth, so that the backs and then the fronts of his fingers struck her in turn. He placed the slaps lightly at first. The sound of his hand hitting her flesh was clean and crisp. He applied the slaps with increasing strength.

  The shock of it, more than the pain, stole Marietta's breath. She had never been beaten in her life, and for it to be before an audience was doubly shaming. Leyla, Claudine, and all the slaves were watching. She bowed her head before the disgrace of it.

  Let it be over soon. She did not think she could bear it. She realised that it had been inevitable. But at least Leyla had not been punished. She flinched at each stinging double-stroke. The pain increased as her skin grew sore, but still he slapped her. Her thighs began to feel warm. The marks of Kasim's fingers were plain on the white skin.

  He paused. She thought it was over. Her inner thighs felt hot as a furnace. The soreness was fading already, leaving only a deep flush on her skin. It had not been so bad.

  This time only, your breasts will be spared. Turn onto your belly,' Kasim ordered.

  Unable to stop herself giving a sob of dismay, she obeyed. At least she could hide from all those eyes and close her legs. She felt a moment's relief as she stretched out. The skin of her inner thighs stung and tingled. She hardly had time to concentrate on the discomfort, or to catch her breath.

  Kasim began to spank her buttocks with loud, deliberate, slaps. She gave a sob of renewed distress, squirming under his hand, pressing her belly into the divan. The cool silk caressed her as she bucked and twisted unable to escape the stinging slaps.

  Her bottom grew hot, the skin glowed and smarted, and still he smacked her. Then, unbelievably, through the pain she began to feel a sort of spiked pleasure. When he spread her buttocks and began spanking the inner surfaces of the cheeks she made a convulsive movement. There seemed to be a building of pressure within her. Her erect little nub, wakened by Kasim's touch earlier, began pulsing. Kasim smacked the abused little bottom-mouth now. Her throat felt raw, with holding in her moans. She bit her lips afraid that any sound, if it escaped, would be a groan of pleasure-pain.

  It was the dream, all over again. Her flesh was being led unwillingly into further realms of passion. She hated that he knew this, that he somehow perceived how she hungered for the strokes of his hand.

  It was punishment indeed to be shown what she was.

  She began to sob aloud as he proceeded. He smacked her past soreness, past the time when she could catch her breath between slaps. A riot of warm pain suffused her from the waist down. It seemed to go on and on. Until at last he was satisfied.

  Kasim stopped, he was breathing hard. 'Get up,' he said. Slowly she did so. Her face was tear-streaked and flaming with colour. She looked up at him with brimming eyes and saw with intense satisfaction that his pale face was flushed high along his prominent cheekbones. Her abused buttocks throbbed and burned. She wanted nothing more than to run and hide. Surely now he would allow her to seek the sanctuary of her curtained divan.

  But Kasim had still not finished.

  'Leyla. Come,' he said.

  Marietta's heart sank. Oh, no. Leyla was not to escape. This was her fault. If she had consented to have the hair removed none of this would have happened. She slanted a look at Leyla, who had paled. She wanted to apologise but there was not time.

  Leyla smiled shakily back at her. She seemed to know what was required. Without a word, she raised her thin gauze bath-robe to waist level and leaned across the nearest empty divan.

  Marietta stood upright painfully. The skin of her buttocks felt stiff. Even her sex hurt, but it was a ravenous, hungry, sort of feeling. She looked at Leyla's prone figure. At the lovely rounded buttocks, the shapely thighs. Had she looked that enticing?

  Then she reeled at Kasim's next words.

  'Marietta. Come here. You are to chastise Leyla. I want you to feel the heat of her skin, the trembling, as she cries out under your hand. Then you will truly appreciate the twin pleasures of chastisement. Leyla is ready for you. Begin.'

  She took a step back. Something in her withdrew from the idea of laying hands on Leyla. It was too tempting, too close to what she wanted to do. She could not explain. The complexity of her emotions confused her.

  'I ... I cannot. Please . . . Kasim I beg you. Do not make me,' Marietta said, the tears running freely down her cheeks.

  Kasim's dark brows flew together. 'Such disobedience,' he said through clenched teeth. 'A stronger lesson is needed.'

  He reached into his tunic and approached Marietta. She stood trembling as he encircled her neck with a thick leather collar. The collar forced her to hold her chin high. There was a gold ring attached to the front of the collar. Kasim attached a lead to the ring. Jerking on the lead, he forced her to follow him.

  'Leyla. You come too. You shall watch and learn. As you seem to have let Marietta do as she likes, you must also be taught a lesson. Marietta's training will take place in my chambers. Under my supervision.'

  He strode out of the side room, without another word, leaving Marietta to stumble after him. The tiles were cool under her bare feet as she half-ran after Kasim, trotting behind him down the corridors that led to his private apartments. She was acutely aware of her bouncing breasts, her abused thighs which burned as they rubbed together, and her buttocks which jiggled as she hurried along. Her damp hair spilled in a tangle of curls over her shoulders and down her bare back, the head cloth having slipped off when Kasim dragged her from the room. Even the touch of the curling strands, brushing against her buttocks, caused her to bite her lips with pain.

  Leyla hurried after her and Kasim. Marietta thought how terrible it was that the other woman was to observe her humilation. Of course, that was Kasim's intention. It seemed that, each time she thought Kasim had done his worst, he was moved to new refinements, new ways to degrade her. Just the thought of Leyla, watching her being half-dragged, naked, and sobbing after Kasim, caused her to squirm with humiliation.

  Once, Marietta felt the touch of Leyla's cool hand on her boiling buttocks. The touch was gentle, lingering a little too long to be merely comforting. Leyla seemed to be savouring the heat in the sore flesh. Marietta winced. She knew that her bottom-cheeks must be a vibrant red. And that they bounced enticingly with every hurried step.

  Marietta was very afraid of what was to come. But Leyla's presence gave her some courage. She knew that, despite her disobedience, which intimated Leyla's fail-

  ure to teach her humility, Ley la bore her no hatred. She remained her friend. More than a friend.

  Leyla's touch also promised to coax a wealth of new sensations from her sore flesh. She trembled inwardly. The journey down the corridor seemed endless. Her nakedness and the unyielding leather collar emphasised her helplessness.

  Marietta's tears flowed freely. There was no escape. No one to aid her. Leyla would do as Kasim bade her because she must. And because she adored him. Both she and Leyla were at his mercy.

  Then, she realised for the first time, she would be at the mercy of her own senses. Kasim would not allow her to hide her pleasure from him. She had learned already that he demanded her complete submission. More than that. He would force her to acknowledge that she enjoyed what he did to her.

  That was the greatest fear. The fear of her
self. In this place not only her body had been stripped bare.

  Chapter Seven

  Kasim strode down the corridor. The soles of his knee-high boots struck the tiles with a hard staccato sound. Marietta's lead was clutched tight in his. eager fingers.

  He quickened his pace so that she had to hurry to keep up with him. She was breathing fast and making little sobs of distress.

  Kasim tugged on the lead. 'Lift your knees and keep that chin up/ he rapped. 'I want those breasts and buttocks to bound. Don't fall behind or I shall be forced to stop and spank you again! Do you understand?'

  'Ye ... yes. Ohh.'

  Her answer was muffled by a little moan as he jerked the lead again, pulling her head forward so that she lost her step and almost stumbled. Her feet scuffed at the tiles with a sound like a sigh.

  How those subtle sounds warmed him. He resisted the temptation to glance behind him. It was difficult. He longed to look at her, to drink in all that troubled beauty, but there would be time enough for that. As much time as he wished. He intended to give her a lesson she would never forget. Soon she would find pleasure in obeying him completely, even find a certain freedom in the act of submission. But not too soon. Marietta must suffer; her character demanded it. And her own release would be hard won.

  He relished the taming of her, the drawing out of her hidden responses. Ah, she was even more tempting than Leyla had been. What a treasure. Worthy indeed of his affection.

  He almost turned and smiled at her. He felt grateful - almost humbly so - for the spark she had kindled in him. It was so easy to grow bored when you had everything you wanted; when women kissed the ground you walked on. But he would resist the urge to soften towards Marietta. Her fear would heighten her responses, adding a depth to her pleasure that most women could only dream of. Such refinements must be cultivated.

  All she saw was a master who punished his slaves. She could not know how much he was enslaved by his nature, by his own need to be worshipped, and by the potent drug of inflicting pleasure-pain on those who had discovered the delights of complete submission.