The Captive Flesh (14 page)

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 headcloth 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 failure to teach her humility, Leyla 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 and 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 herself. In this place, not only her body had been stripped bare.

Kasim strode down the corridor. The soles of his knee-high boots struck the tiles with a hard staccato sound and 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 bounce. Don't fall behind or I shall be forced to stop and spank you again! Do you understand?'

‘Y … yes. Ohh.'

Her answer was muffled by a 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, but for now 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.

He thought that Marietta must almost hate him, but the knowledge did not distress him; Leyla had once thought that way.

They were almost at his rooms. He slowed a little, savouring the last few moments of the journey. He allowed his mind to wander back a little. Marietta had looked so desirable spread out on the divan for the massage. He had meant only to watch her being prepared, but the sight of her lying naked and relaxed had prompted him to lay hands on her. He smiled as he thought of her outrage when she discovered that it had been he who had oiled her body, spread her bottom-cheeks, and plunged his thumbs into her tight little anus.

How she had turned on him when he revealed himself. Her anger was delightful to him. The prospect of chastising her had him hard immediately. And when he slapped those creamy thighs and felt the firm flesh grow hot under his hand, the sweet ache in his cock-stem
had seemed almost unbearable. Her little gasps of pain were music to his ears. That lovely face, all anguished and tear-stained, aroused him further.

Ah, how she twisted and writhed, yet her knees had remained far apart, displaying the delicate pink folds surrounded by that fleece – never had he seen such pale pubic hair. Though she longed to, she had not drawn her knees together. That pleased him. She had begun already to learn obedience.

He had felt an almost uncontrollable urge to mouth her pretty sex and then to plunge his cock deep inside her; ride her, until she cried out for mercy. But it was too soon. Penetration – that most intimate contact – would be her final reward – his too. He trembled at the thought of what would come to pass. It was only a matter of time. One day she would be willing to open her body and mind to him, to abase herself completely, then …

But for now, such a rebellious slave must be treated harshly. Tenderness must wait. And, though she did not realise it, the waiting would be an equal ordeal for him. He had kept his face impassive in the hammam while his cock-tip had stirred against his belly, weeping salty moisture into the dark hair that grew thickly around it.

He was pleased with himself for thinking to bring her back to his apartments. He had shown admirable restraint up until now. It was time to enjoy himself a little.

Now, leading Marietta behind him, he made his way across a courtyard and entered another corridor. He was erect still, the swollen cock-tip rubbing maddeningly against the thick leather belt at his waist. It was sweet torture to contemplate the many delights to come.

For what could compare to the delight of seeing her flesh awake under his expert touch? How she fought him, even when she knew that there was no hope of escape. He respected her spirit. What a soldier she would have made! And what a prisoner of her own flesh she was.

He had sensed early on that she set restrictions for herself, but this seemed to be a thing she was unaware of. It was as if she was two people. For, certainly, her body knew things that her mind did not. When his thumbs explored between her buttocks – so tight and hot was the tiny hole – he had felt the reluctant pulsing of her flesh, the trembling of those parted cheeks. She had been shamed by her responses, hiding her face in her hands as if she could deny her pleasure, her moans held in by the fingers pressed to her mouth.

How different Marietta was from Claudine. He smiled as he remembered the other French woman rolling and grinding in complete abandon against the slave woman's hands. There was no need to hold back with that one. He would take his pleasure with her soon. There was no need to prepare her further, or to punish her. An opportunity missed, sadly. For Claudine was a creature born for pleasure. He anticipated how it would feel to have her luscious body writhing under him. He felt eager to try her. But somehow he did not burn for her as he did for Marietta.

Ah, they were here. He stopped at the entrance to his apartments. Behind him Marietta came to an abrupt halt. He heard her breathing falter. His cock jerked. Little tremors of sensations ran up his engorged stem and gathered in the swollen tip. With a small smile playing about his hard mouth he stepped into the room.

Marietta lifted her knees and stepped out smartly across the enormous room. The stiff leather collar kept her chin high and her head pointing forward, so that her vision was filled by Kasim's broad velvet-clad shoulders.

The room smelt of incense and orange blossom. She felt the softness of thick carpets under her feet. As Kasim led her to the far end of the room she glanced to one side and took in details of her surroundings. This was his private place. Though she was afraid, she was intrigued. The walls were panelled with screens of carved painted wood, gilded and set with precious stones. Many candles gave the room a soft glow and deepened the colours of carpets and tiles. It was a beautiful room, but she felt threatened by its cold richness. It seemed to her that it reflected Kasim's personality to perfection.

Kasim led her over to an alcove where marble pillars framed a platform which was draped and covered with cushions. Stained glass spilled patterns of colour on to the rich silks and satins. Kasim stopped. Gripping her shoulders, he positioned her so that she faced the centre of the room. In front of her, a few choice pieces of furniture were arranged around a large carpeted area. They seemed to have been placed so that guests could watch entertainments.

Leyla came to stand beside Marietta. She tried to catch her eye, but Marietta avoided looking at her. She kept her eyes downcast, and was red-faced with humiliation as Kasim secured the lead to one of the slim pillars.

‘Lift your arms,' he ordered.

Marietta did so although she fought the urge to struggle. It would only be worse if she angered him further. He secured her wrists to a hook so that she
was pressed face-forwards against the pillar. She felt the cold marble against her breasts and belly and leaned against the pillar as if it might offer comfort.

‘Leyla, come,' Kasim said.

Marietta pressed her burning face to the marble. She looked around fearfully as Leyla walked across to the platform but Kasim seemed to have forgotten her for the moment. She knew him well enough already to know that her respite would be brief.

Leyla's face was flushed, her full dark lips were slightly parted. She looked eager, excited. She still wore the flimsy bath robe. Her damp hair was wrapped in a gauze cloth although one strand of her night-black hair had come loose. The heavy coil of it hung over one shoulder, reaching down past her waist.

In contrast, Kasim was dressed all in black. His tunic was velvet and the loose trousers, tucked into his boots, were made of softest leather. Kasim drew one long finger around Leyla's jawline, then cupped her chin. He put out his tongue and licked her full underlip. Leyla drew his tongue into her mouth, suckling greedily.

Kasim drew the bath robe from her shoulders and let it fall at her feet. The headcloth slipped off as she let her head fall back. Her hair cascaded down to her hips. She stood facing Kasim, arms at her sides. Waiting. Grasping her heavy breasts, Kasim squeezed them, teasing the rouged nipples until they stood out as hard as small stones.

Leyla gasped as he mouthed her breasts, biting at her nipples, slapping the up-swell gently so that the breasts quivered. For a few moments he toyed with her, licking the deep cleavage, pressing the globes together so that he could suck both nipples at once. Then he pressed down on Leyla's shoulders, so that she sank to her knees.

She dipped her chin and arranged herself into the submissive posture, linking her hands behind her back, straightening her shoulders so that her breasts jutted forward. Then she arched her back, and parted her knees widely, displaying the naked sex-lips and moist inner flesh.

‘Are you watching, Marietta?' Kasim said softly. ‘I want you to take notice. Whenever I order it, you will assume this posture. Wherever you are, whoever is present. Understand?'