Love Slave

by Terry Wakelin

  She jerked as one oily hand slipped briefly between her thighs, then relaxed as the hand was removed and the attendant turned her attention to her charge’s long legs. Meylissah smiled at her again, indicating that all was as should be and once more the English girl gave herself over to the more than pleasant sensations. Over the next thirty minutes or so the knowing fingers worked their way up her body until, at last, feeling incredibly relaxed and full of well-being, both she and Meylissah were urged off the slab and back into the pool, where the next ten minutes were spent almost as pleasantly being repeatedly soaped and sponged until all traces of the body oil had disappeared.

  Next, it was back once more to the stone slabs, where both girls’ hair was washed and rinsed repeatedly before being finally rubbed with a sweet, jasmine-like essence.

  Then, after being urged to lay back on the stone slab, Charlotte’s attendant grunted something and gently eased her charge’s legs apart. Puzzled, she looked to Meylissah for a translation.

  “She say take off hair now,” explained Meylissah, indicating the blonde bush at the juncture of the English girl’s thighs. Charlotte trembled a little in anticipation, yet made no protest as the woman bent over her. How would the task be accomplished? she wondered. Would it hurt?

  She needn’t have worried. In the event, it was all fairly simple . . . and didn’t hurt at all. The woman worked fast, using some kind of yellow paste which she smeared liberally all over Charlotte’s pubic mound. Then, pushing her arms up over her head, she attended to the English girl’s armpits in the same way. A few minutes later she removed the paste, together with the unwanted hair, by gently wiping the affected areas with a wet cloth.

  Charlotte looked down at herself and was unable to prevent a slight shiver at what she saw. The sleek ‘little girl’ look of her pubic mound made a beautifully erotic display of her cleft and she suddenly had a clear vision of what the men who held her in thrall would demand of her body in future; a vision which left her abruptly breathless and quite moist with unbidden desire.

  Yet how could this be happening to her? she asked herself. She was no uneducated slave girl. She was Lady Charlotte Brandon, English aristocrat and heir to a large fortune, used to giving orders and being obeyed. Even so her body was right at this moment betraying her just at the thought of serving men sexually, with no thought to her own desires or wishes. Why was the thought so fascinating . . . so thrilling . . . so . . . arousing?

  The answer was as elusive as the fact of her arousal was plain. Had it been Khalif who had planted this powerful emotion in her breast? She had to admit that, even in the short time she’d been his prisoner, he had truly been, in every sense of the word, her Master - both sexually and psychologically. She thought back to earlier times; to the various unsatisfactory encounters with the other young men she had known. Might these have been more pleasing to her had the men been more masterful and less concerned with her feelings? Had this powerful sexual submissiveness always been there, buried so deep inside her psyche that it had taken the trauma of true enslavement to bring it out?

  The attendant finished cleaning away the unwanted hair and, with a gruff order, signalled both girls to get back into the warm pool. There they were quickly bathed again, then rubbed down one last time with the aromatic oil. Then they were conducted to another tiny anteroom where, wrapped in huge towels, they were instructed to lie down on a pile of soft cushions. This time their hands were left free, though their neck chains were padlocked as usual to the ever-present slave rings.

  Strangely Charlotte was not at all resentful. Chains were part of her life now, to be accepted without question. Totally relaxed, warm and comfortable in the towel, it was not long before she closed her eyes and slept. She was awakened an hour later by Meylissah who was sitting at her side and holding a small jar. Charlotte looked up and smiled. “I feel splendid,” she said, marvelling at how refreshed and alive she felt. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so clean. ”

  Meylissah smiled and held up the little jar, then moved closer to pull open the English girl’s towel. “Mistress like? ” she queried, pouring a small quantity of the fragrant smelling oil onto one hand rubbing it gently into the smooth skin of her companion’s shoulders. “Massage . . . like before, maybe? ” she asked huskily.

  Charlotte looked at her in surprise. “Can we? ”

  Meylissah smiled happily. “Oh yes. We wait now until soldiers fetch. Plenty time! You like . . . ‘member? ”

  Charlotte lay back and took a deep breath as Meylissah’s knowing fingers began to work the oil into her soft flesh. She looked down at the smooth cleft at the juncture of her thighs, so naked and defenceless now. Somehow the two things only served to emphasise her new status. Now she was exactly what those who owned her wanted her to be and . . . dare she admit it . . . perhaps even what she herself wanted to be. A slave, whose only reason for existence was to please her owner! A fearful fate to be sure for some, and yet, now that Meylissah was with her, perhaps a little less fearful than it might have been. Meantime, why not enjoy some of the wonderful pleasure Meylissah could give her? “Yes,” she murmured, “I like! God help me. I like! ”

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘A Girl Dances’

  The sounds of flute and drum were loud in the chamber where

  Ali bin Hussein was studying the parchments detailing the various attributes of slaves who were to be disposed of in the coming weeks. A lover of the fleshly delights, Ali was finding it particularly difficult to concentrate on the writings, his gaze drawn almost irresistibly to the other side of the chamber, where a slave was practising her dance. She was, of course, nude. This, of course, was not in itself unusual. Most slave dances could not be properly performed when clothed. What was unusual was the girl herself. Much more generously curved than was usual, the tall, golden-haired beauty had the milky-white skin of the infidel and large, beautifully shaped breasts which swayed seductively to the primitive rhythm of the drum.

  Another slave, dark-haired and about the same age, though not so tall and with far less generous curves, watched the dancer’s efforts. Under her tutelage, the bigger girl had laboured long and hard, learning the many complicated and varied movements of this particular dance. The tutor, though clearly also a slave, was not entirely nude. As taskmistress to the dancer, she had been permitted a scrap of red silk, tied to one side and worn low on the hips to well-display the erotic curve of her belly. Her breasts, of course, were bare, as befitted any girl in the house of slaves.

  Interestingly, the dancer’s nipples, outer labia and clitoris were all pierced and set with heavy gold rings. The rings also supported small golden bells, which tinkled softly with her movements.

  Ali wiped his brow. It was hot in the chamber and the large-breasted female’s performance was doing nothing to detract from the heat. Privately, he thought the rings added greatly to her erotic image.

  Arms held wide, pelvis and hips swaying sensuously, the former Lady Charlotte Brandon moved in time to the music, her body gleaming with oil and sweat. She was tired, yet her efforts continued unabated. Meylissah . . . for it was she who was the teacher . . . had proved to be a harsh taskmistress and very definitely Charlotte did not want to feel the sting of her whip again.

  For some weeks now the girls had been undergoing training. Ali himself had overseen Charlotte’s piercings and they were now almost completely healed. The second trip to the dreaded circular room with its dreaded torture table had been as terrifying as the first. This time, however, she had not lost her senses, even when the thick, red-hot needle had been thrust ruthlessly through the tenderest of her flesh. She had screamed, though, long and hard, continuing hoarsely even after the rings had all been set in place; until Ali, tiring of the noise, had quietened her by the simple expedient of stuffing a wadded cloth into her mouth.

  Charlotte was aware of a strange excitement churning in the pit of her belly e
ven as she danced. Who would buy her? she wondered. Who would be her new Master? For weeks she had prayed that Khalif would come for her - perhaps offering gold - or maybe even coming with soldiers to claim what was his. Despite all her prayers, though, he had not come. And now, in her heart of hearts, she could no longer cling to the hope that he would. She had to face the truth. Had Khalif been pursuing her, even the slower pace of the San Cristobal would have brought him long before this. Now she must reconcile herself to the fact that, very shortly, she would belong to a stranger . . . perhaps, as Jahwar had suggested . . . to a brothel owner; or perhaps to one of the half dozen or so rich, older men to whom she had already been displayed in private showing?

  For the purpose of one such, Ali had dressed her in the European manner. The long, red, heavily brocaded dress had no doubt been looted from some Christian ship and was cut fashionably low at the front to well display the swell of her magnificent breasts. Her hair had been carefully dressed by Meylissah as it might have been for a ball. There had been no underclothes or shoes, of course. Indeed, Charlotte had not expected any. She was now a mere sexual thing, to be dressed or undressed at the whim of her Masters. Underclothes were a thing of the past.

  Ali himself had set the scene exactly. Chained standing up in large alcove lit by soft lamps, Charlotte had looked every inch the freshly-enslaved Christian lady; a haughty, arrogant infidel just waiting for a Master to teach her the true meaning of humility and obedience.

  For his visitor’s benefit, a richly dressed merchant, the steward had stripped her slowly, Charlotte, as instructed by him, writhing and twisting in her chains as might a free woman, pleading loudly and desperately not to be so displayed and humiliated.

  Then had come the intimate inspection, a process which had taken the longest time; each and every part of the captive’s nude body closely examined by the merchant; who noted carefully the involuntary sexual responses of the chained girl as his fingers probed and investigated her secret places with gentle caresses which, time after time, inflamed her almost, but not quite, to orgasm.

  It was then, and only then, that Ali and the visitor had withdrawn, leaving Charlotte trembling and very much aroused.

  Each morning she was made to insert one of the little uterine sponges and every other day, in the company of Meylissah, she visited the Hammam where both girls went through the same routine experienced on their first visit, except for the removal of pubic hair. This was done just once every eight days. Then it was back to the slave compound where, under the watchful eyes of several Negro trainers armed with canes, both girls were put through a training programme of callisthenics designed to keep them fit and show them off to prospective buyers.

  Also, both to Charlotte’s initial shame and eventual delight, there were the lessons in lovemaking. She was not alone in this. Meylissah, though already fully trained in the erotic arts, was also made to complete the programme to Ali’s satisfaction.

  Here, Charlotte’s hitherto bridled sexuality was finally given free rein. Not only were there exercises in the hundred or so different positions of love making which Ali painstakingly detailed to her, there were also very lengthy, sometimes hours-long lessons in licking and sucking, as well as the more difficult flexing of the vaginal and anal muscles up and down a penetrating shaft. This was done sometimes with the aid of various artificial phalluses of different lengths and thicknesses, and sometimes the throbbing shaft of a young black slave named Khigali who was only too willing to have his erect flesh cozened by the warm wetness of either girl.

  At one point, Ali decreed that Charlotte watch as Meylissah was forced to service three or four guards at the same time. Despite the men’s obvious disregard for the beautiful girl at their command, the brutal exhibition had excited the English girl almost to the point of orgasm as she’d watched her friend writhing so helplessly under the thrusting bodies of those who were using her. So much so that, when, shortly afterwards, she’d been ordered to practice her own lessons in the flexing of the vaginal and anal muscles with Khigali’s youthful shaft, she had been more than happy to comply.

  Once Charlotte had been judged more or less proficient in all the programmes, Ali decreed that she learn the closely guarded secrets of several of the slave dances, one of the most difficult and exciting of which was the dance she was performing now; a dance which . . . what seemed like aeons ago . . . she had first seen performed on board the San Cristobal by the Egyptian slave-girl, Leila.

  Perhaps sensing Ali’s excitement as the climax of the dance approached, Charlotte turned her body towards the steward, as if parading her sexuality just for his benefit. With a flourish, the music ceased and she fell to her knees, head to the floor, chain wrapped tight around her nudity.

  Privately, Ali thought he’d never seen the dance performed better.

  Meylissah, though, had no such opinion. “No! No! No! ” she cried in exasperation. “You did not listen! The chain must be tighter when you go to your knees. Remember, also, your eyes must be downcast and thighs well apart! Nothing must be hidden, except by the chain. ”She spoke in Arabic, raising the short, silver-handled whip she held in her right hand to shake it at the gasping Charlotte. “Again, slave . . . do the last part again! ”

  This shaking of the little whip was clearly no idle threat, to which several fresh weals on the taller girl’s buttocks and breasts clearly testified, and so, as the two hired musicians began to play again, Lady Charlotte, former English aristocrat . . . now just a naked slave under training . . . gave a muffled groan and went straight back into her routine for the final part of the dance.

  Meylissah, of course, had been quite right. This time the improvement was quite marked; so much so that, as Charlotte’s head touched the ground at the finish, even Ali could not help but give a little clap of appreciation. Flushed with effort, Charlotte lifted her head and smiled shyly.

  Even the hard-to-please Meylissah was a little more impressed. “Better, slave! Now start again at beginning! See if you remember everything I teach you! “

  Charlotte was exhausted. “Oh please, Meylissah . . . er . . . Mistress,” she pleaded. “Let me rest for a little while! ”

  Meylissah just smiled sweetly and flicked the whip at the girl’s bottom.

  Charlotte flinched and the gold rings in her nipples trembled. Ali hid a smile. The little whip, especially in the hands of someone who really knew how to use it, was a great persuader towards more effort.

  Meylissah frowned. “Be silent, slave! ” she said sternly. “Our Lord has commanded me to teach you the dances and, by Allah, teach you is what I shall do. Much practice will be needed, though, before you perform properly for Masters! Now then . . . again! ”

  Charlotte breathed deeply. Desperately she wanted to rest. Even more desperately, she wanted to avoid the bite of Meylissah’s whip. With a sigh of resignation, she placed the chain on the floor once more and knelt beside it as she had been taught. What had Meylissah said? Perform for Masters? Was this why she was being trained in the dance? Of course, to a brothel owner, a girl who could perform the slave dances would be a much more valuable acquisition than one who didn’t. Once more the musicians began to play and this time, despite her tiredness and no doubt motivated by thoughts of the pain she must bear if she didn’t get it right, her interpretation of the dance could not be faulted.

  “That was much better, slave! ” pronounced Meylissah with a triumphant smile. “You have good rhythm and your body is well suited to the slave dances. ”She cracked the little whip again and Charlotte jumped. Meylissah smiled slyly. “Now, if our Lord permits, you may serve his pleasure! ”

  Slowly Charlotte raised her head to look at the steward, who smiled and nodded casually. Her heart beat a little faster and, taking a deep breath, she moved forward on hands and knees. Ali opened his robe and, without hesitation, Charlotte bent her head to lick gently at the tip of his staff. He was already
erect, she noted with some satisfaction. So her dance had had the desired effect - even on a slaver of Hamid’s experience.

  Ali took a deep breath. “You learn quickly and well, slave! ” he said gruffly. “Now . . . you may begin! ”

  “Thank you, Master,” she breathed, just before she gathered him deep . . . deep . . . into the wet softness of her mouth.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Displayed’

  Charlotte stiffened with apprehension as Ali bin Hussein entered the little cell she shared with Meylissah. Both were ‘dressed’, if one could call it that, in scraps of scarlet silk tied loosely at one hip so that the entire length of leg and thigh might be clearly seen and admired.

  The big man held two braided leather leashes carelessly in one hand. “Come, little ones! ” he said. “It is time to put you on display. Remember, you are valuable merchandise now, to be bought and sold! No-one will hurt you so long as you obey, but our intention is to have a profit from your sale. ”He looked at them sternly for a moment. “This we will have regardless. Do you understand? ”

  “Yes, Master,” the two girls answered in unison. In the past weeks Charlotte had learned much of the language and now had little difficulty understanding the sibilant Tunisian dialect. It was strange, she thought, now that the responsibility for her actions lay with others, how much easier it was to accept these things. Now that she had no say in anything, her very helplessness seemed to fill her belly with a perverse kind of excitement. She shivered at the direction of her thoughts.

  “Turn and give me your wrists, both of you! ” ordered the slaver. Obediently both girls turned and allowed him to fasten their wrists behind their backs with the usual slave bracelets. Then he slipped the leashes over both proffered necks, Meylissah giving a little sigh as the Arab’s other hand strayed under the silk at her waist to investigate the moistness between her thighs.