The Captive Flesh (26 page)

Now Sita crooked her little finger and beckoned. Gabriel flushed, then lowered his eyes as her thin-lipped mouth curved in a smile. Curse Kasim! He had known what he was doing when he gave him to the female guards. They were far crueller, more insatiable, and more inventive than the male guards.

‘Too late,' Sita said. ‘You were not quick enough in responding. You four women, strip him. Press him back against that stall.'

Gabriel pressed his lips together. A hot excitement rose in him. A mixture of fear and the beginnings of the sweet helplessness he always felt when he was chastised. The fear was uppermost at this moment. He felt a strong urge to resist them. But he controlled himself, knowing that there were too many of them and that they were armed. He would not give Sita the satisfaction of seeing him struggle in his weakness.

He felt the guards' hands on him, surprisingly strong for women. Someone fetched him a slap across his bottom so that he jumped with the pain. Then he was slammed back against the hard wooden side of a stall. He grunted as the wood pressed into his sore buttocks. The previous night's weals, part of the other guards' torment, were raised and red. Someone untied the strap at his waist and dragged the leather pouch from him.
He knew he could not hide his arousal. His face grew hot with shame as they mocked him.

Sita reached out to cup his sac and tug it. Then she dragged the tips of her long scarlet nails up his cock-stem. He trembled at the feel of her hands on him.

‘See. He is already hard. Ah, Gabriel, you do not disappoint me. Kasim told me that you need firm handling. See how hungry you are for punishment!'

She slapped the leather crop she held against her high brown boot, then ran the notched tip up his body. The tip quested amongst his pubic curls and stroked up his belly. She lowered the crop and stroked it playfully back and forth across the skin-covered shaft.

‘Sita knows how to make you squirm,' she purred, leaning close so that he smelt her. She smelt of leather and herbal soap. Clean and fresh, almost a male scent. There was no trace of the rich perfumes of the harem about her. The uniform of deep-brown leather fitted her closely. Her black hair was pulled back from her face and tied at the nape. Her severity, her very plainness, reached out to him.

She pinched the skin that covered his cock-tip and rubbed it between finger and thumb. Then she passed the pad of her thumb over the tiny moist mouth. Closing her fingers around the tip she worked the skin gently back and forth until she eased it back fully, exposing the purple flesh.

Sita tapped him lightly on his mouth with the crop. She leaned close. ‘You're ready for me now, aren't you? You long to be beaten. Ask me. Say it! Beg me for my favours.' Her eyes were narrow, catlike.

Gabriel's cheeks flamed. Rebellion flared inside him. ‘I … I will not.'

Sita laughed. ‘You are wickedly disobedient! But willing. The fact is evident. Soon your groans shall
speak for you. Squirm you shall. You'll buck and writhe for my pleasure, and if you do not give a good account of yourself, then …'

Gabriel tried not to react, but that unfinished sentence held such promise – and he sensed that Sita did not make empty threats. An ache was building in his loins. There was a tightness in his belly, an eagerness for the touch of the crop that he could not deny.

‘Loop his arms over the top of the stall and hold them there. Thrust him forward.'

Gabriel found his shoulders pulled back and his chest thrust out by the new position. Someone grasped his hair and pushed his head forward. He was made to look down his body. So, he was to watch everything. The thought excited him further.

Sita kicked his legs apart. ‘You and you take his legs. Hold his ankles.'

Each leg was grasped and pulled back. The knees, slightly bent, were drawn around the sides of the stall. In this way Gabriel's hips were thrust forward. His belly was pulled flat, his erect cock sticking straight out in front. The vulnerability of his position, the way his penis and testicles were exposed, almost terrified him. Sita slapped his cock from side to side, smiling coldly when the engorged flesh jerked and twitched. The other women stroked his skin, tickling his armpits, straying between his legs to nip and pinch at his scrotum. He tried to pull back, hollowing his stomach and wincing at the little darts of pain, but they laughed and teased him more roundly.

‘Enough!'

Sita drew back. For a moment longer she ran her eyes over his body, admiring the perfect musculature, searching his face as if trying to read his expression. Then she brought the crop down in a stinging blow
across one of his spread thighs. Gabriel drew in his breath at the pain of it. Sita began laying on the strokes steadily. First one thigh only, until it glowed a deep scarlet. Gabriel wanted desperately to pull his legs together. But they were held fast, pulled apart so widely that the tendons at his groin showed pale beneath the skin. He could do nothing but suffer the beating.

The warm pain radiated out from one thigh. Each time the sting faded the pain turned to heat. His thigh seemed to blossom, to positively glow. His cock jerked and throbbed. He was afraid that Sita might whip his balls by accident and the threat of it caused his buttocks to contract and his anus to twitch. But Sita was an expert with the crop. When his thigh was a satisfying shade of red, she turned her attention to the other one.

Gabriel sweated and heaved. The muscles in his legs bulged as he writhed. The blond curls under his arms were soaked and they gave off a musky scent. One of the guards holding his arms leaned forward and buried her face in the hollow. He felt her hot tongue lapping at his sweat, while the others laughed and spurred her on.

Sita too was sweating. Her tightly fitting leather jerkin had dark stains under the armpits. Runnels of sweat ran down her neck, disappearing inside the neckline. She paused and rested the crop against her leg. Swiftly she unlaced the tunic and stripped it off. Under it she was naked. Her torso was spare and muscular; her breasts were very small and high, the nipples large and cone-shaped, deep brown in colour and erect.

Gabriel breathed raggedly. His thighs felt as if they were on fire. His shaft was swollen to bursting point.
The sight of Sita's tiny breasts inflamed him. They would have been childlike except for the prominent nipples that were pointing at him almost arrogantly. He wanted to nuzzle those rigid brown teats, to throw her on to her back and plunge himself inside her. Oh, it was sweet torture to be denied that release.

Sita smiled slowly, looking into his troubled grey eyes. She seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. Gabriel steeled himself for the next blow, but it never came. Sita drew close. She made a gesture and his head was jerked upright. He looked into her face, and felt her hands stroking his inner thighs softly as if assessing their warmth. Even that gentle touch was torture. The heat and soreness seemed to shout at him.

Sita smiled, then clawed into his spread thighs, squeezing the tormented flesh, hard, while her tongue moistened her thin lips. Gabriel gasped as a dart of pure pleasure shot down his cock. Sita leaned over him. Her face was inches from his. She put out her tongue and licked his cheek.

He turned towards her and managed to brush her cheek with his lips. ‘Please,' he whispered, not caring now if he begged.

She jerked back, a spasm of displeasure marring her face. Then she smiled. Moving down his body she rubbed her breasts across his sweat-slick torso. Gabriel felt the stiff peaks brushing his skin, nudging his own nipples, igniting and teasing them. He felt one of the other women reach for his penis. She grunted with satisfaction as she felt the clear emission from his cock-tip. She smeared the liquid around the head while he moaned and thrust into her hand.

Sita stood back for a moment. She fumbled with her belt, opening the loose trousers and pulling the legs free from her boots. She let them fall. Wearing only the
high leather boots she drew close. Her arms went around his neck and he felt the hard stubs of her nipples pressing against his chest. She made no attempt now to pleasure him. Lifting herself on to him, Sita straddled his spread thighs. In one swift movement she sheathed herself on to his cock. Gabriel cried out as he was drawn deeply into her narrow orifice.

The different sensations were maddening. Her heat surrounded him, the strong inner muscles rubbing against his shaft. He felt the coldness of her leather boots as she hooked her calves tightly around his hips. Shards of pleasure and soreness filled him as Sita worked herself up and down on his straining member, her bottom bouncing on to his reddened thighs.

It was over swiftly. Sita uttered a series of hoarse little cries as she rode him hard. All at once she arched against him, throwing her head back. He dipped his chin and drew one of her nipples into his mouth. It was like sucking on an almond. He bit down gently on its firmness. Sita groaned and drew back, almost pulling the nipple from his mouth. Her inner tremors gripped his cock just at the instant that his fluid rushed out.

He had hardly time to register the pleasure. The last pulsings were still jetting from him when Sita pulled herself free. Still breathing hard, she stood up.

‘Let him loose,' she ordered shortly.

The women obeyed. They slapped Gabriel's buttocks, blew him kisses and winked at him, then walked away. Gabriel stood there shakily. His cock was shining and still dripping semen. His thighs throbbed with warmth, but the pain, like the pleasure, had already become a memory. Sita dressed swiftly, her face expressionless. She pointed to the back of the stables where Gabriel had left his broom and bucket.

‘Get on with your work,' she said. ‘Food will be brought to you later. And you may rely on the fact that you will be punished at regular intervals. This time, you found pleasure, for you are beautiful and hard to resist. But don't expect such soft treatment every time.'

‘And no soft words ever?' Gabriel said.

Sita only stared at him in incomprehension. ‘Clean yourself up,' she said, turning on her heel. The others followed. One of them threw him a hunk of bread and an apple. Left alone Gabriel washed himself with cold water. He picked up his leather pouch and put it on. After he ate the food, he went back to his cleaning.

It was quiet in the stable. His head was again filled with images of Marietta. Apart from the times when the guards came to give him orders or to torment him, he thought of her. All he could think of was how beautiful, how desirable, she was. And how much he wanted to repeat their experience inside the carriage.

The fear that he would never see her again added a poignancy to the desire he felt for her. Perversely, that was why he had become imflamed by Sita; for she was the very antithesis of the lovely French woman. Sita was as cold and heartless as Marietta was warm and vibrant. Now that his brief flare of passion for Sita was over he felt disgust at his weakness.

He could never help becoming aroused by those who tormented him. Always he was spurred on by feelings of submission. Selim had perhaps trained him too well. Certainly he had been highly valued, even pampered at times, by the jewel merchant. Gabriel had respected his old master. There had been an odd sort of nobility in serving such a man.

Conversely, Sita treated him as if he was worth no more than a piece of meat. He suspected that she would have acted that way regardless of Kasim's orders. Sita,
the others too, took their pleasure and turned their backs on him. The thought that he might be left in this situation forever depressed him. He leaned on his broom. Suddenly he felt drained, numbed of all emotion. All, that is, except the fear. Worse than anything – worse than the fact that he might be left at the mercy of Sita – was the thought of what Marietta might be suffering.

‘Where are you?' he said aloud. ‘What are they doing to you? I pray that your God will keep you safe until I see you again.'

It was daylight. Smells of dust and dung lifted on the hot air.

Marietta tried to make herself into a ball. She longed to hide from the sea of eyes.

The marketplace was thronged by a milling crowd of people. And every one of them seemed to be looking at her, pointing, shouting, making obscene gestures. The thickset man who had whipped Gabriel climbed the punishment platform.

‘Stand up,' he ordered. ‘You must obey the public punisher. Come now. You're no spectacle at all curled up on the floor like that. I have something here that will display your charms to advantage.'

She was made to sit on a shaped wooden block. There was a backrest and two indentations in the seat, set widely apart. The crowd shouted their approval, as the public punisher pushed her back against the rest.

‘Put your feet here,' he ordered, ‘and draw up your knees. Let your thighs fall apart. The crowd wants to see what is so special about a favourite slave.'

Marietta closed her eyes, feeling the hectic colour flood her cheeks. She placed her feet in the marks and felt the metal clamps fold over her wrists and ankles.
Opening her legs wide, she drew them up and let them fall apart. She was completely visible. They could all see everything – even the pink lips of her sex and the golden curls that surrounded it. She had never felt so utterly alone, so vulnerable. The feeling was devastating.

‘Have you ever seen such a beauty?' the public punisher asked happily. ‘Such breasts, that tiny waist, the swell of her hips. See how soft her thighs are; the skin is the colour of milk mixed with honey. And look here at the garden of delight. Did you ever see yellow hair on a female mound before?'

It was worse than she'd imagined. The crowd seemed like a beast as it surged towards her. The platform shook under their onslaught. The coarse shouts and cries ran in her ears. The thickset man seemed unconcerned by the crowd's fervour. He strode around exchanging jokes and making comments to those nearest the platform.

He came back to stand before Marietta and lifted her hair, running it through his fingers so that it caught the sun. He turned her face this way and that. Then he cupped her breasts, massaging her nipples roughly until they hardened. The eager faces craned close.