by Cleo Cordell
He recalled the sight of her face, soft with the afterglow of passion. With her pale hair all tangled around her shoulders and spilling on to her bare breasts she had looked so desirable. That pale skin, gleaming softly in the shadowed interior, had a quality that was heartbreaking. On her neck there was a purple mark. It had been that which had gone to Kasim's brain like a dagger. Gabriel had put his mark on her. Gabriel. The thief. He who had stolen what Kasim had denied himself.
The prize should have been his. He was not so unsophisticated as to believe that it was important for him to be Marietta's first lover or indeed to be her only lover. But he had felt disappointed - no, it went deeper than that - wounded, flayed, that Marietta had allowed Gabriel the full intimacy of her body.
Kasim had waited so long because he knew that the moment when he inserted his penis into Marietta would be deeply significant. For him there was a kind of sacredness inherent in the particular act. He allowed only his favourites the full use of his body.
Perhaps the fault was his. He had misjudged the depth of her passions. Her sensuality ran deeper than even he had imagined. He had starved her for too long. Given her too many morsels, but kept the main feast from her. How ironic, when it had been difficult beyond all measure to hold himself back. Many times he had hungered to possess her. How many nights had he lain in delightfully agonised contemplation of the delights he would discover in Marietta, when the time was right?
No wonder that his rage had blinded him for a moment. Yet, what were they after all but two disobedient slaves pleasuring each other? For his crime Gabriel was to learn discipline amongst the guards. That prospect gave Kasim no trouble. But the very second he uttered the words that secured Marietta's punishment, he wanted to retract them.
He could not, of course; that would have shown weakness.
In the alleyway he pulled the enveloping dark cloak more closely about him. His dark brooding eyes travelled restlessly over the faces in the crowd. His lip curled with contempt. None of them was worthy of watching Marietta, of seeing her spread naked and exposed for them. She was too fine for that - and he had not realised the fact until this very second.
He was deeply troubled by this enlightenment. Marietta had, from the first, prompted emotions in him that he would rather not admit. Yet perversely he was enthralled by the changes in himself. He found Marietta's sensuality, her stubbornness, her refusal to accept her own nature, compelling beyond measure. And now there was anger ... As he wrenched open that carriage door, it seemed that he had been torn apart by his blinding rage - so clean and pure it was, like ice crystals on snow.
He felt a paler shadow of that same emotion as he watched the Public Punisher going about his business. The crowd pressed close now, baying like hounds closing on their quarry. The man stopped paddling Marietta's buttocks. He reached his hand between her legs, pressing his cupped palm against her plump little sex.
Kasim felt a surge of outrage. How dare he! How dare that . . . creature touch the pink wounded heart of his Marietta! With difficulty Kasim checked his thoughts. His blood drummed in his ears. There was an unbearable pressure building inside his chest. He felt that if he did not act soon he would begin to shout, to scream for Marietta to be released. The thought so frightened him that he took a moment to gather his thoughts, to put his emotions back where they belonged. He forced himself to view the proceedings coolly, from a distance that was mental as well as actual.
Ah, better. How stupid to have let himself be drawn so strongly into the spectacle. Disobedient slaves were a common sight on the punishment block. Yes, his inner voice said, but never such a slave. Marietta was so beguiling, so possessed of the ammunition to wound him fatally.
He'd had such hopes for her. But he had not reckoned on Gabriel. He desired Gabriel so strongly himself that he had been blind to the danger. Quite simply he had wanted everything, and now it seemed that Marietta had fallen in love with the big blond slave.
Had he lost her then? Kasim trembled. Marietta might come to despise him. Unbearable. He would be the master no longer. Kasim bowed his head. He was too proud to take someone else's leavings.
Then came a flash of insight. He knew what he must do. Of course, that would settle the matter for good or ill. But one thing at a time. The sound of the paddle hitting flesh broke into his thoughts. Kasim's head snapped up.
How crude the Public Punisher was. The man's big hands were pulling Marietta's buttocks apart now. Kasim's face twisted with emotion as Marietta writhed. The lovely scarlet globes of her buttocks trembled, her shaking thighs straining to close. The crowd was silent for an instant, and in the space of silence Marietta's moan was clearly audible. She turned her head, seeming to stare straight at Kasim.
Her face was prettily flushed and imprinted with anguish, the features partly obscured by the tangle of pale curls that had fallen forward over her forehead. Kasim knew she did not see him, but he lowered his eyes, his cheeks growing hot with a reflection of her shame. How beautiful she was. It was like looking into the sun. The tumescence at his groin was painful. Like every man in the crowd he ached to part her soft thighs, nudge apart her tender flesh-lips, and slide into her body.
The image moved him greatly. It was as if a white hot sword passed right through him. It was a moment before he realised that his desire was coloured by a new tenderness. He wanted to bend her to his will, to pleasure her until she cried out for mercy, to taste her smoky juices . . . and, amazingly, he also wanted to smooth her hair back from her forehead, to rub soothing oil into her reddened flesh, kiss away the heat, cradle her in his arms.
Kasim clenched his hands into fists. Words rose into his throat. But his mouth felt dry. He doubted if he could utter more than a croak. Without stopping to consider his actions further, he took a step forward. His dark cloak billowed out around him, as his boots thudded on the wooden boards.
Marietta tossed back the tumble of curls from her forehead.
A tall cloaked figure was advancing on her. She knew him instantly. Her heart contracted. What new punishment was this?
No one spoke. The Public Punisher stood with paddle raised for another blow. Kasim wrenched it from his hand. He turned to Marietta. There was such a look of fury on his face that she shrank inwardly. He means to punish me himself, she thought, steeling herself for his blow. But he only looked at her. Two bright spots of colour burned on his cheekbones. His dark eyes glistened with emotion. And suddenly, incongruously, she thought:! have hurt him deeply.
For a moment longer Kasim held her gaze. He seemed to be coming out of a trance. Then he dropped the paddle, unfastened his cloak, and covered her with it. Turning on his heel, he rapped, That's enough. Free her.'
As the Public Punisher shrugged and began to unfasten her chains, the crowd roared in dismay and pressed forward.
'No! No! It's not finished!'
'She's only had a tickling!'
Marietta fell into Kasim's arms. He clasped her so tightly that her sore thighs and buttocks bloomed with pain, but only a sigh of pleasure came from her lips. She was oblivious of the grumbling crowd.
The Public Punisher stepped forward to address the massed townsfolk. 'Here now. It's all over. Go back to your business. There'll be another slave on the morrow. There always is.'
But the roars redoubled in volume. A shower of objects rained down on to the Public Punisher. He was hit by a rotten apple and put his hands up to protect his face. The guards ran to take control.
'Come,’ Kasim said softly, gathering the cloak into folds around Marietta. 'We are going home.'
Marietta's legs gave out. Her experiences, coupled with the lack of food over the previous day and a half, made their impression on her at last. She trembled with reaction, weak with relief. The prying eyes were no more. Kasim had come for her. Tears glistened on her cheeks.
Scooping her up, Kasim carried her swiftly from the platform and down a narrow alley. His coach was waiting. Without a word he climbed inside and placed Marietta on the
seat beside him.
She felt safe. The voice of the crowd was muffled. The smell of leather and polish enveloped her. It all seemed to have taken only seconds. Confused and exhausted; she could only lean against Kasim as the coach began to move. He put up his hand to stroke her hair as she laid her head on his shoulder. The charcoal-grey silk of his tunic was cool against her cheek. He smelt of some fern-scented perfume. She realised that she must smell of sweat, cheap grease, and stale sex and made a move to pull away. But the gentle pressure of his hand kept her close.
The carriage wheels rolled across the cobblestones. The outside world seemed far removed. Kasim was silent. He had not spoken since telling her that they were going home. Home? Had he chosen the word deliberately? He was so still that she thought he was absorbed in his anger. Had he come for her so that he might take her back and subject her to a more subtle, more beguiling, torment? Her head was spinning with questions. She opened her mouth to speak, but felt Kasim's cool fingers against her lips.
Then one arm snaked around her back, the other rested across her thighs. The heat from her paddled buttocks seemed to be absorbed somewhat by the fine wool of Kasim's cloak and the coldness of the leather seat under it. Kasim moved a hand inside the cloak to fondle one of her breasts. She leaned into him, finding the gesture comforting rather than arousing, and realised, with surprise, that he felt that too.
She sighed and sank more closely into the circle of his arms. There came the lighest brush of his lips against her temples. And now she dared not speak, not wanting to break the spell of tenderness. She had rarely seen Kasim like this. The new hint of vulnerability in his nature penetrated all her defences.
She had never wanted anyone so much. The desire raced through her veins, leaving her weak and mindless. She wanted Kasim to lay her along the seat and thrust himself inside her, she wanted to belong to him completely, but the ghost of Gabriel was between them. Later then. All thoughts of being comforted fled. Kasim's mere presence set her aflame. Her breath came fast and shallow as Kasim's slender fingers pinched her nipples into peaks.
The carriage raced through the narrow streets and out on to the metalled road that led to Kasim's house.
At the harem Kasim gave Marietta over to Leyla. Marietta felt bereft. She had expected him to explain his actions, to utter soft words. But that was not his way. She must do as he wished, take her lead from him. Sometimes it was hard to remain subservient. If only he would unbend - just a little. But she knew that he could not.
He was captive within his own flesh, as was she.
Infuriating. Must he always be so remote? But would she find him so devastatingly attractive if he was different?
'Have the women bath her,' Kasim said. The guards have been at her. She smells of the stables. Make her comfortable. Feed her, then let her rest.'
He stroked Leyla's face with one long thin finger, while she rubbed herself against him like a cat. 'Have someone bring Marietta to me this night in the small bed chamber.'
'I will see to her myself, lord,' Leyla said with meaning.
'Ah, my treasure. Your touch is ever soothing to one who is troubled. Show Marietta more of your talents. Perhaps she will not wish to leave us again.'
Marietta wanted to tell him that she regretted trying to run away already, but she was given no chance to speak. Kasim turned on his heel and strode away, as severe and cold as always. The intimacy between them in the coach had disappeared. She might have imagined it, yet the fact remained that he had come for her. She did not know what to make of him. He was still a puzzle, as enigmatic as the moment she had first set eyes on him.
She was too exhausted to think any more. In the hammam she gave herself up gladly to Leyla's attentions. After her experiences on the punishment block the luxury of the bath seemed heavenly. The hot perfumed water washed away the last traces of sticky grease from her pubic curls and cleansed the sweat from her hair. It soothed her sore buttocks and calmed her churning thoughts. The memory of her ordeal was already fading. She had at least been spared the final indignity of having her forced climax witnessed publicly.
'I have been so afraid for you. I thought Kasim would sell you. Then I would never see you again. But you are here and rny heart is light.' Leyla smiled warmly at Marietta as she dried her with fluffy towels, then massaged her limbs.
Marietta was glad to be back. This place had become her home. Strange that Kasim had referred to it that way. Leyla truly cared for her. If only Kasim were different she could even be happy here. It was the first time she had admitted the fact to herself.
'Oh, your pretty bottom is so red,' Leyla crooned, rubbing her with soothing oil. 'Was it terrible to be beaten in front of all those people?'
Marietta shuddered. 'Yes. And yet. . . you will think it strange, but there is a kind of desperate attraction to it. All those people watching as you twist and burn, unable to escape the strokes of the pleasure you feel in the pain.'
'Ah, yes. The pleasure. Always that. And how awful to have everyone witness your helplessness.' Leyla's long dark eyes glowed. 'Did you reach your peak while they all watched?'
'No, I was spared that humiliation.'
Then . . . You burn still? I shall soothe you. For I too burn, for you. But you know this. Kasim knows it too. Did he not give me leave to soothe you? He wishes you to be pleasured and made to relax. Sweet Marietta. I feel a change in you. I cannot explain it, but Kasim too ... he is different.' She shrugged delightfully. 'Kasim tells no one what he plans, but this night you will share his bedchamber. Is that not an exciting thought? Now. We shall go to a quiet place I know. There we can rest together. Would you like that?'
Marietta looked at Leyla's sweet pale face. At her black eyebrows drawn together in a little worried frown. Her full red lips were slightly parted. She looked unsure of herself, vulnerable, and very beautiful. Marietta felt a surge of the desire that had always been present, but which neither of them had explored to the full. At this moment, when she was confused and vulnerable herself, she found it impossible to resist Leyla's sweetness. The night, Kasim's bedchamber, seemed very far away. She longed to be soothed into forgetfulness, to lie in Leyla's arms and drift into blissful sleep. But first . . .
She leaned forward and placed her lips on that full red mouth. Leyla sighed, opening her lips to return the kiss. It was some time before they broke apart.
'Follow me,' Ley la said, her voice breathless and filled with a savage joy.
In the little pavilion, screened by trees, Marietta lay next to Leyla on a silken couch. Both of them wore only thin silk robes, loose and low at the neck.
Marietta moaned softly as Leyla's slim hand stroked her body, gliding over every curve and hollow. The feel of the cool silk sliding over her skin was soothing and arousing at the same time. Leyla's hands were slim and decorated with henna; the nails were long and painted. Marietta watched their progress through half-closed eyes. The soft caresses made her feel drowsy with passion.
When Leyla closed a hand on her breast she arched her back and sighed. Leyla teased the nipple until it was erect and standing up in a little peaked shape under the silk. She did the same with the other one, then slid her hands down to stroke Marietta's stomach. All the time she kissed Marietta's neck, darting out her pointed tongue to lick and nuzzle her skin. They kissed deeply, entwining their tongues, nibbling at each other's full lips.
Marietta felt herself growing liquid, melting, becoming eager for more. Her legs parted willingly as Leyla's hands moved downwards. She lifted her hips so that Leyla could gather up the almost transparent silk and bunch it on her stomach.
Between kisses Leyla used the bunched-up silk like a powder puff, blotting and stroking it all over Marietta's taut stomach and parted thighs. The silk glided over her skin in a petal-soft motion. Leyla used the pad of silk to stroke between Marietta's thighs, tickling the pubic curls, drawing the bunched folds over her pubis and down to the slightly parted sex. Marietta lay with her eyes closed, enjoying the unique
sensations. They went on for a long time.
Then Leyla dipped her hand and began stroking Marietta's sex with the tips of her fingers. Marietta moaned aloud as Leyla pinched the sex-lips together and rubbed gently in a circle.
'These pretty curls are delightful,' Leyla said, stroking them outwards from the flesh-lips with two fingers. 'There. Your centre of pleasure is revealed. It's so pink and delicately folded. Moist and fragrant as the heart of a lily.'
The slowness, the subtleness of Leyla's touch and her soft husky voice drew a strong reaction from Marietta. She reached for Leyla's body, wanting to give, as well as receive pleasure. The other woman pulled away.
'No. Not this time. Let me pleasure you. I have dreamt of doing this. Will you allow me to do as I wish, this one time?'
Marietta smiled into the glistening black eyes. 'How could I refuse?'
Leyla sat up and lifted the loose silk robe over her head. Then she drew Marietta's robe from her. She settled herself down beside Marietta, cradling Marietta's head in the crook of her arm. Reaching down to Marietta's sex, she parted the flesh-lips, stroking upwards against her bud, at the same time leaning close so that Marietta could suckle her heavy breasts.
Marietta opened her mouth with a sigh of pleasure and drew a large rouged nipple into her mouth. Feeling the fullness of the breast pressing against her rounded lips she sucked with relish. Circling the nipple with her tongue, she polished it with saliva, then drew it back inside her lips. The nipple was wonderfully big and hard and tasted sweet. She felt her sex becoming hotter and more liquid as Leyla caressed it. She suckled and tugged softly at the breast, loving the feel of the heavy globes as they lay against her cheek.
Leyla's busy fingers were stroking and rubbing softly, so softly, her touch feather-light. She stroked up the sides of the inner lips, leaving the flesh-hood alone, until Marietta almost begged her to touch her straining bud. As if she knew when Marietta could stand that particular stroking no longer, Leyla took the flesh-hood between a moist finger and thumb and slid it from side to side, then pulled the little hood up and down, squeezing gently so that the tip of the bud received a tiny brushing motion.
