1 comments/  4988 views/  0 favorites

16th

By: readcarefully



Like clockwork. You'd think a friggin' PhD in psychology would know how to remedy the situation but somehow it only heightened the intensity. He knew it. He knew it completely. 

Innocently enough this stupid thing started out as a celebration. We'd been living together for about a year when we noticed our fire had fizzled. Grad school was killing me and his hours at the gym were adding up. In love, yes. In synch, no. 

So we did what I swore I'd never do: we scheduled sex. We had to. Too many times I'd fall asleep in his arms after grading papers or he'd have no energy after teaching multiple schedules and clients because another manager was sick. 

So we scheduled sex. 

It actually worked for the first couple of months. We made time for each other and knew how important it was for our growth as a couple. What those sessions lacked in spontaneity was balanced by how prepared we were. New positions and toys found a home in those episodes. 

We soon discovered that we had more sex in general because we were less worried about not having sex at all. I knew that would happen eventually, but I was grateful that it happened as soon as it had. I also expected that at some point the stress of meeting our sexual calendar was going to cause a riff. 

And it did. 

Though we'd gotten back into our fuck groove, we left one day on our sex schedule - the 15th. No matter what was going on in our hectic lives, we'd do the deed on the 15th. Simple as that. Even that day I gave my speech at the national conference in Milwaukee, he drove up to fuck me an hour before I went on stage to discuss the obsessive compulsory in the digital age. 

Best talk I ever gave. 

Like Pavlov's Dog, the chime on my phone that announced the day as the 15th of the month, I became immediately horny. Horny as fuck. 

It didn't matter in July when we had no AC. We fucked like rabbits. That September my older sister crushed the family with news of her divorce and I still needed an orgasm. And then in October, we'd gotten a little tipsy after his promotion party. Twice. Though we'd 69'd the day before, when the alarm went off my body was still expecting dessert that day. 

Yes, I knew the streak would end eventually. The point of the schedule was to get us back in the habit and it had more than served it's purpose. But I couldn't turn off the alarm. And the alarm started the flood. And in December the waters were running high and Greg didn't bring the arc. 

He let me know two days before that the district manager asked for an unscheduled tour of the three gyms he supervised. Greg was up for another promotion and we knew moving to Chicago was a possibility. This was his big chance to impress his boss, so he worked late for a couple of nights. He'd be running around the city on the 15th, but was confident he'd be home to celebrate with me by midnight. 

With the combination of his promotion and my scheduled adventure to Dicktown, my day could not have gone any slower. His constant texts throughout the day to let me know how smoothly things were going only heightened my anticipation. My most embarrassing moment: I had to change my underwear at work because I was so fucking wet. 

The unbelievable part was that we'd had amazing sex the previous 2 nights. Well, one amazing night and then a quickie the night before his interview to calm his nerves so he could sleep. Orgasms nonetheless!

I knew he'd be home late, so I made myself a salad and tried to work on my thesis. I'd kept the music upbeat so I could focus, but then I got the text. 

"Hope Northwestern likes you. We're moving to Chicago! Home in an hour."

I screamed at the top of my lungs. I was so excited for Greg. For us. I called my mother in celebration until I heard the keys in the front door. If the phone chime was an alarm clock, those keys were the church tower.

Greg had the biggest smile on his face. I was so happy for him. Until he said, "Can we just go to sleep, babe?"

I could see that he was exhausted and my brain understandably answered, "Of course" as I turned off the lights and lead him to bed. He immediately fell asleep, snoring for the first time ever and my heart made me wrap my arms around him.

My pussy, however, was still on overdrive. Thank God Greg was too tired to notice my tossing and turning the entire night. Outvoted by my brain and heart, my pussy was going to be an unhappy loser. 

As I thought about taking the situation into my own hands, my internal struggle began to unfold. Somewhere along the night, my pussy had convinced my brain that Greg couldn't have been that tired and made my heart believe that true love would have consummated such a monumental occasion. 

Selfish, we all woke up a little testy. 

As Greg began to wake, we decided that we wanted no parts of his excitement or apology. We marched ourselves to the shower under the premise of an early class we needed to prepare for. We quickly lathered, scrubbed and rinsed because we knew Greg would be following shortly. 

We were right. 

Just as the last bubble soap left my toes, the shower curtain pulled open. 6'2" of chocolate muscle stood naked while beautiful white teeth mumbled, "Morning, boo."

In protest, we gave a quick kiss on the lips as we exited the hot water in search of a towel. We were cordial, but far from inviting. 

"Sorry I fell asleep on you," Greg apologized as he closed the shower curtain. "I was just sooooo tired."

As I dried off I could feel my nipples begin to tingle. I closed my eyes, but I could see the soap bubbling over Greg's chest and arms. I could feel the hot water bouncing between his thighs. I leaned against our bathroom counter as I wrapped my towel tighter around my chest, neglecting to cover the cuppage of my ass cheeks and the tuft of hair between my thighs. 

I'm not sure how long I was in that trance, but at some point I noticed the lack of movement in the shower. I slowly looked back to see Greg's head peeking at my glistening ass. His stare didn't match mine, as his eyes were transfixed on the parting of my thighs as I rested against the counter. 

And that's when I heard it. 

That sound of a well oiled dick being gripped by a strong and powerful fist as it works its way up and down a hardened ebony shaft. My eyes could see only Greg's head as he leaned back to see my ass pushing away from the counter. 

The mutiny had begun. While my brain and heart were attempting to hold out, my pussy had already summoned my right hand to join her in a circular rhythm that matched the 'fap' echoing from behind the shower curtain. My toes inched further away from the counter as I lifted my ass just enough to give my clit what she was impatiently waiting for all day. 

The steam in the bathroom had completely fogged up the mirrors, but I could still see Greg's eyes watching my hand as it vigorously thrashed my swollen mound. His pounding became more violent as the curtain was a little more open than before. He'd shifted the shower head toward the wall and now the curtain was open just enough for me to see his biceps and forearms as they methodically rocked up and down.

My towel had already fallen below me but was held above the floor by my leaning against the counter. I knew that if I lifted up enough to release the towel, my breasts would beg for me grab them and I would lose all control. 

Then I heard the beautiful rhythm of Greg's dick stroking start to degrade as he was undoubtedly feeling his cum develop. That signaled my pussy to act in kind as my knees began to buckle. I pushed further away from the counter top and the towel fell to the floor. My breasts needed grabbing so I rested my head against counter while my hands tended to my clit and nipples. 

"Uggghhhhhh," replaced the 'fap' as I focused on my clit. My brain, heart and pussy were surprised by my mouth as I went from a quiet hum to a violent loud scream. As my knees buckled, I screamed louder. And I screamed more. I started to shake. And scream. And shake. 

I could hear the silence from the shower. I could feel his hand on my back and his limp dick rubbing against my thigh. But I couldn't stop rubbing myself. I couldn't stop screaming. I couldn't stop shaking. 

Oh my God. I wanted to stop. The counter was cold and my thighs were weak. 

But I couldn't stop. I hated him so much because I knew he was smiling as he held me up. I couldn't stop rubbing my pussy. I started to bite his arm. I started to cry. I was fucking uncontrollable. 

And then, without warning, I collapsed in his arms. He wrapped a towel around me and took me to our bed where I laid in a fetal position as the room spun. He quickly joined me after he dried off and laid next to me. 

We laid silently for a solid ten minutes. 

As my body recovered from my condition, I jokingly questioned, "Is the 15th no longer a thing?"

Greg laughed a little as he twisted his fingers through my wet curls. "Forgive me," he added, "I think I like the 16th more."

16th Century Slave Market Pt. 01



16th Century Slave Market Pt. 01

Author's note: I have examined several sources on this vile ancient practice. The story is partly based on the attack of the Barbary Pirates upon the town of Ciutadella, where over 3,000 citizens lost their freedom to slavery. Of course, history is not the purpose of this site. I am using the dark and violent known facts with considerable literary license to concoct what I hope is a stimulating simulation, told through the experiences of one woman and one man. As one of the great poets said, it will require "the willing suspension of disbelief." Enjoy.

— Carole99

Island of Menorca, Mediterranean Sea, 1558

The attack, swift and merciless, followed a week-long siege, and seemed to come from all points of the compass. Fewer than 50 defenders quickly fell to hundreds of Barbary Pirates, who herded the inhabitants into the central square and began the day-long process of separating the desirable females and healthy males from the unfortunate remainder. They made a special effort to identify skilled craftsmen. By the second day without food or water, the dazed, subjugated captives watched helplessly as the very heart of their town, the young and the strong, marched toward the slave ships.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Senorita Carina Orellana, nineteen years old, retched on the heaving deck for the third time on the first morning at sea. She had long since lost the hunk of bread that served as breakfast. Her vomit joined the human waste and urine that now coated the deck and everyone's clothing. Upon entry to the ship, the men had made them remove their shoes and throw them overboard, and now their bare feet were slimy.

By mid-afternoon, the smell of sweat was the least obnoxious of the horrific odors that overwhelmed the senses. The crew paid little attention to the misery. Several women fainted. The few men who tried to argue quickly fell silent, facing the persuasive point of a sword. The message was clear. There would be no salvation from their grim fate.

Several crewmen passed among the women, looking for spots of blood on the deck or the feet and ankles. They knew that a quarter of these women were in their week of discharge. The women had no opportunity to bring any of the rags they customarily used. Usually, the source was obvious, but if a spot appeared on the deck, the pirate would point at it and then gesture at each bystander. In complete embarrassment, the "guilty" girl would raise her hand. The men guided these women to a separate group at the stern.

In this and many paternalistic cultures around the world, people believed menstruation represented a mysterious evil or a curse from the heavens. The men inscribed a mark on each forehead, and withdrew quickly, as though they might fall ill from the contact. Two female slaves helped the women clean up, but little could be done at sea.

As water and more bread reached hungry hands, the captives realized that the food came from their own pillaged homes. This meager sustenance would be the last contact they or any future generations would have with their beloved island. Before dark, crewmen with buckets unevenly flushed the deck with sea water. They motioned the shivering people to sit. They spent this night and the next awkwardly leaning on one another in abject misery.

On the afternoon of the third day, they spotted the gleaming white spires of their destination: Algiers. Carina recognized the city on a hill from pictures and stories from school. She thought of Algiers as a city of adventure, romance, and pirates, never dreaming of arriving here as a wet, forlorn captive. She was a young lady of fine breeding and rising status in Menorcan society!

Abducting 3,000 people at one time posed a distribution problem; Many ships headed for the larger markets of Constantinople while others set sail for Tripoli.

Upon docking, the crew prodded the men into two large wagons. She watched other men carefully count the captives and sign papers. As the wagons lurched into the city, she couldn't begin to fathom that the shackled passengers were en route to a brutal life of unrelenting drudgery.

Next, the pirates focused on the women, who were reeking and miserable from their own waste and sweat. Most still wore flowing, ankle-length dresses, now wet and stained. The men placed them in a slow-moving line along the outside perimeter of a warehouse. Several men moved among the 49 women, tying their hands in front, oddly, she thought, with bows. As the line moved closer to the entrance, Carina heard muffled screams and sobbing, but couldn't see anything until she turned into the doorway and took in a scene from Hell.

Quickly, a man grabbed her bound hands and dragged her into the large room. He pulled her hair downward and trapped her head between his thighs. Another man stepped forward with a hooked knife and began cutting her clothing straight down the back. He swiftly cut through the layers and peeled the mass around to the front and down on her wrists.

With practiced ease, the first man pulled her back up and around, where she felt the rope and then all her clothing come free. Carina had never been undressed before a man. She gave out a shocked gasp as a gag silenced what would have been a scream. Naked, she found herself lifted and thrust onto a platform beside two other bare women. The brute lifted her with a tight grip very high on her thigh, and then slapped her behind, turning back with a chuckle.

Her tears joined a cascade of cold, soapy water flowing over her from a bucket. Three women, who appeared to be slaves, busily washed the residue from the captives with rags and sea sponges right down to their sticky toes, rinsing them with more cold water. The bath ended as the woman rung out her hair by harshly twisting it from behind before directing Carina's still dripping body off the platform.

At the next station, another woman forced her to squat on a large bucket. From the smell, she knew its purpose. The woman impatiently pointed down, but Carina shook her head. Swiftly, a guard gave her a sharp swat with a thin cane. She screamed into the gag and strained to comply, producing a stream and a splash. The slave reached into a basket and handed her a large brown leaf.

Carina had a fleeting thought about the efficiency of this operation as the woman steered her forward. These monsters would probably run all the women through this gauntlet in a few hours.

The sight of the next station nearly caused her to faint. On two of the three low benches, naked women sprawled on their backs with legs held high. Just before she was pushed down on her bench, she noticed that the women were holding their own legs wide apart under the eye of a man with one of those awful switches. Not wanting to feel that sting again, she prepared to raise her knees as another man approached. He held two fingers up, then moved them into a wide "V" in an unmistakable signal.

With a great muffled groan, Carina placed her hands behind her knees and parted her legs. A blush ran down her face and over her chest. The man noticed her crimson upper body and nodded to the guard as though making a prediction.

He knelt between her knees and gently probed her private entrance. Carina's hips jumped a bit, but after a moment he withdrew, again nodding to his compatriot. They both smiled, and Carina knew they had confirmed her virginity. He indicated that she should sit up. He lightly pinched her chin in one hand and put a finger in her mouth over the thin gag, making her clean him. She tried to pull back, but he gripped her chin tighter.

She thought, as she unwillingly swirled her tongue on his finger, "Salvador! Deliver us from this depraved asylum!"

The smiling man faced Carina toward a line on the left. He placed a hand on her neck and gently caressed a trail down her back, ending with a circular motion around her cheeks and a lewd pinch, launching her down the path. She scampered away from him, acutely aware of the painful pinch and the foul taste in her mouth.

This area apparently held the maidens, two of whom were in line with fingers laced behind their necks. Both were quietly sobbing. A man faced the woman next to Carina and looked her over. He ran the back of his hand over her nipples. Kicking her legs apart, he wrapped one arm around her waist as if to dance with her, but swiftly dipped his other hand between her legs. The woman gasped and went up on her toes. He moved his arm up, bidding her to place her arms on his shoulders.

Carina thought, "He's testing her virginity again? Didn't they trust the first one?"

But the man began a practiced motion, probing her lips and making shallow, rapid plunges. She tried to pull away, but he followed her, pinching her lips between three fingers. He moved his thumb lightly over her button, causing gasps and rapid hip gyrations as she clung helplessly to his shoulders.

Abruptly, he stopped, returning her arms to the previous position. Drawing an instrument from his trousers, he wrote something on her forehead. Carina watched in disgust as he pulled the gag down to make her lick his fingers clean.

The line moved to the right, and a different man moved up to face Carina. He moved close to her face and whispered in her native Catalan, "Si no plores, em trauré el teu mordassa." ("If you do not cry out, I will remove your gag.")

Carina nodded frantically. He untied the cloth and let her move her jaw around. She whispered back, "Sir, what is to happen to us?"

"First, young one, I am a slave like you. I have been here eight years, and I have earned their trust not just by obeying, but anticipating their every whim. You must do the same.

"Are, are you a eunuch?"

"Yes, all men from outside religions are such. We will not speak again about it." She noticed a slightly pained expression on his face. Though she knew almost nothing of men, she realized that being here among so many stripped and displayed women must be terribly frustrating for one who lacked the male amenities. She couldn't know then that eunuchs lost most of a normal man's desire as well.

"What is your name?"

"Carina, sir." He frowned.

"I am Philippe, not sir. I am not your Master. Carina, you saw what the girl next to you went through. I want you to anticipate my orders. They are watching your responsiveness. When I use my hand, move your hips and gasp, so I can write favorably on your forehead. Do you understand?"

"No, please! I can't bear the shame!"

"You must do as I say! They will punish both of us. Do you understand?"

She gave a slight, tearful nod. As his left arm encircled her waist, Carina moved her arms to his shoulders and spread her feet apart.

"Gràcies" He began his manual arousal. His finger touched her hymen and withdrew.

"Oh!" He flicked his finger up and down in the shallow confines of her sex. "Ahh!" She snaked her hips closer to him, on tiptoes. He inserted a second finger, and as she lubricated, he moved the liquid upwards making a startling but pleasant friction on her clit. "Oh! Please! AHH!"

Every male eye in the room turned toward her. Philippe realized that he had not replaced her gag. "Shhh." He breathed a relieved sigh when he heard laughter behind him. His Masters were often unpredictable but amused this time. He let her relax. "You were not pretending, eh?"

Carina blushed again, remaining silent. "As you have seen, it is the custom here to make the women clean our fingers, but I am not going to extend your embarrassment further." He began to wipe his hand on his shirt.

"OWWW!" One of the overseers noticed Philippe's omission and smacked him sharply with a rod. A tear formed in his eye from the pain as he held two fingers in front of her mouth. She made an effort to tenderly lick his fingers, one by one, ending with a light nuzzle against his hand. He took what looked like a red grease pencil and wrote on her forehead. He leaned close. "It says you are a virgin, and highly responsive." He replaced the gag.

As he turned, the overseer barked out an order. Philippe held his right hand out, palm down and received another sharp blow of the rod across his knuckles.

Carina moved to the next position in line, not having noticed its purpose. Her "social intercourse" with Philippe had been quite distracting.

Women in her culture did not shave their bodies. She had no time to react as a sitting woman pinched a tuft of her pubic hair, snipped it off with a tiny pair of scissors, and dropped it in a bucket. Carina glanced down at the container and spied a huge mound of black hair. As she lost her fur, she noticed the next woman in line donating her underarm hair in the same fashion.

As she shuffled sideways to the next spot, she quickly raised her arms in cooperation. There were noises behind her, but she dared not turn around. This woman pulled her hair much harder than the first, causing an annoying sting. Finally, the painful trim ended. Carina looked down at her roughly sheared parts and briefly commiserated with the sheep on her island.

The last station, to the rear, was another humiliating nightmare. Two women were splayed out on benches, getting a final shave. She recoiled from the sight, even while thinking, "Cooperate. Cooperate." But she fearfully jerked back from the woman who tried to guide her onto the empty bench. The woman stepped in front and drew her into a kind of hug while an unseen man behind her bent down to lift her right ankle.

"Whack! Whack! Whack!" Carina had never felt such an intense stinging pain as the rod struck her arch. Even through the gag, her screams echoed through the room. The woman guided her onto her back. She wailed throughout her shaving, her body heaving so erratically that the woman had to stop a few times in fear of cutting her. The overseer had to step in to help hold her legs open.

The woman pulled her up, kissed her on the cheek and whispered a few words in a strange language. Carina tearfully nodded, as the tone seemed to be sympathetic. Before entering the next room with the other virgins, she had to undergo one more inspection. A man motioned that she should place her arms behind her head and place one foot on a high stool.

She quickly realized that she was standing on her punished foot. Her knee almost buckled with the pain. He carefully felt each area that once sported hair. After stroking and pinching her labia, he stepped behind her and ran fingers down between her cheeks. Carina was beyond embarrassment by this time and quietly suffered through the intimate appraisal. For a moment, she forgot her anguish as his fingers stroking her newly bared inner parts produced a pleasant tickle. She realized that, in general, the men here treated her with considerably more tenderness than the women.

He pointed toward a doorway about 40 feet away. She walked as slowly as possible, shoulders hunched forward and hands clasped at her crotch in a vain attempt at modesty. Her fingers grazed against her newly bald mound. It felt so indecent! The very air in the room produced an odd, cooling sensation.

The shocking events of the last three days flashed across her mind. How could this happen? One beautiful summer morning, as she gazed at the fluffy white clouds drifting by her patio, the sound of the front door crashing open signaled the start of her ordeal. A servant foolishly ran toward the commotion only to be cut down by a sword. Five men searched the house and brought everyone to the main hall.

Her family joined a procession of neighbors in the street, marching toward the square. Carina noticed two ladies and a man, completely naked, apparently having been caught while bathing. At one intersection, the pirates separated men from women. Any man who protested the division received stinging blows from a short whip.

Evening found them herded toward the ships like cattle and crowded onto the decks.

But Carina could never have imagined the humiliation of this morning's events. She had been stripped, washed, whipped, and shaved by these horrid people. Two men put their fingers inside her! Her shame seemed overwhelming as she reached the doorway. The bitter taste of her own body lingered on her tongue.

Most of the 20 nude girls in the room were quietly sobbing. Some were curled on the floor in a fetal position while others, arms crossed, stared blankly at the wall. She noticed that all the women wore a thin belt. In a moment, a woman walked up to her and placed Carina's hands on top of her head. The slave rolled up a long piece of red fabric and tied it tightly around Carina's waist, then proceeded to tie another rolled ribbon up between her legs, securing it to the waistband.

When the last captive sported her red binding, three men entered the room. It was Philippe! He stood between two men with the dreaded canes tucked in their belts. "Atenció per favor."

Moments later, he spoke in their native tongue. "Mi nombre es Philippe. I am a slave like you. The Masters have asked me to speak to you about your situation here. Please drop your hands to your sides. Your modesty is not important here. You have probably already guessed at the meaning of your red sash."

Carina felt glad to have the scant covering, but it felt more like a diaper, and she inwardly cringed at its implication. "All of you are clean and pure. This garment is a symbolic chastity belt. It simply serves notice that you are not to be molested, as that would decrease your value."

A murmur ran through the women but quickly ceased when an overseer touched the rod at his belt. Each woman had either felt or seen the effect of the instrument.

"You are not to remove it, or even put your hand inside for any reason." Several hands, merely resting on the waistband, stiffened at the warning. "When you feel the need to relieve yourself, any of these slaves will accompany you. These men are your Masters, and you will now address them as such. Do you each understand what I have said so far?" He cupped a hand to his ear to signal a voiced response. His movement revealed a white bandage on his right hand.

"Si, Mestres!" came the reply, nearly in unison.

"Ladies, there are Masters in other parts of the building. They may not have heard you. Do you understand?"

"SI, MESTRES!" Carina concluded that Philippe's manner was an unsubtle attempt to regain favor with his superiors.

"I have spoken to a few of you about his, and now I say to all of you, the way to survive and thrive here is to be completely obedient, and..." He searched for the right word in their language. "...seductively responsive." He let his word sink in for a moment, and quietly spoke to the men with him. They nodded.

"I am going to give you a simple command that will demonstrate your understanding of my advice. Form a line across the room facing me. These two Masters are going to pass in front of you. You will offer your beautiful breasts to them in an enticing manner. You must do this now, without hesitation."

The overseers started at opposite ends, slowly making their way down a highway of nipples. Most of the women pushed their breasts out with their hands while attempting a weak smile. One Master fondled each tender bud in turn, while the other sometimes used his rod, running the tip across the little jewels. A few women stepped boldly forward, pressing themselves into the men, but a deep blush typified the most common response of these sheltered, shocked women.

Several girls started crying and one recoiled and collapsed on the floor. Instantly the overseer dragged her out of the line by her long hair. Philippe stepped forward to lift her, gripping her from the front. Carina shuddered at what she knew would happen.

The man lifted her right ankle and delivered three vicious swats to her arch. The woman gave out one loud wail, then fell silent as she tried to catch her breath. Each intake made a frightful, rasping sound. Philippe pulled her head into his chest, muffling her cries. The room fell silent as he slowly shuffled her back to the line. He whispered, "You must complete the command. I'm sorry."




16th Century Slave Market Pt. 01



Her face completely red, tears dripping down over her breasts, she moved her hands and lifted herself toward the two men. One nodded at Philippe, and the ordeal was over.

"Please listen. The reason they whip your feet is that it is extremely painful but doesn't mark the body. Again, this is about your value. I have felt this pain myself. Please don't give your Masters a reason to do this. Let me finish. You will be sold off in the market in a few days." He held his finger to his lips.

"There is no way to alter your fate. No ransom is coming, and no one even knows you are here. You are only a few of the hundreds of women who come here each month. I would add that you are lucky that you are virgins, as you will receive far better treatment than the others. You will likely be in a harem where you will find female companionship as you serve your Master.

"Many of your fellow women will be kitchen slaves or maids, or serve in the tents of soldiers. Your men, if they survive the next few weeks, will serve in the mines and quarries. Slaves built most of the beautiful towers in our city." Most of the women, numb, showed little reaction other than more tears.

"You will find mats at the back of this room. Claim one for yourself, and then see me or any of the others to tend to your needs. Please don't bother asking about escape, or try to curry favor. Your sash defines your high status here. Wear it with pride. Thank you."

An hour later, Philippe walked Carina with a group to relieve herself. The "facilities" consisted of two rough holes in the floor. "This is a large group today, and we don't have enough of these. You will fare much better in the future." He untied her sash and turned away as she squatted.

He re-tied the belt very tightly, making her squirm. "Shh. It is meant to be tight. The pressure is supposed to remind you of your precious treasure." He pressed his hand underneath the sash. "Carina, this is a gift you are saving for the time when your new Master decides to claim it."

The sounds of quiet, forlorn sobbing made sleep difficult that night. At some point in the darkness, nearly every woman turned to the wall and secretly slipped her fingers down to explore that part of her that had suddenly become so central to their lives. Most only wanted to feel their strange, newly bared skin. A few rubbed a little more and had to stifle their little whimpers for fear of discovery.

Philippe, standing watch in the dark, heard the familiar muffled sighs and smiled.

In the morning, he brought five captives to the latrine and removed the first red sash. "You all are very lucky. After the Masters inspected you last evening, they went straight to the other quarters and had their way with your compatriots. I could hear them into the night."

He winked. "I also heard a few of you!" One of the women blushed and covered her breasts. "That is forbidden, and it is not worth further punishment to your feet. Do I make myself clear?"

The maidens nodded in fear. His words only increased the dismaying frustration that their entire existence suddenly centered on the forbidden spot between their legs. Philippe knew from experience that, in response to this terrible stress, some would take the risk and learn to stimulate themselves in complete silence.

Meals on the second day seemed almost luxurious compared to the meager fare on the ship. Beside Philippe, three female slaves attended the "reds." Sweet-smelling bread and a kind of vegetable and lamb stew along with strong tea raised the group's spirits somewhat.

Five at a time, the slaves took them back to the bath rack, which soon drew a crowd of leering onlookers. Philippe took the second group, including his obvious favorite, Carina. He whispered, "Senorita, pay no attention to these men. They are the ones too sick or old to go to sea. Our ships are leaving for another raid soon and may be gone for weeks. The crew said that only a handful of their men died taking your island, so they are going back to the Mediterranean for easy pickings."

The last group to the bath rack found the onlookers growing restless. They called out what were obviously lewd comments to the foreign captives. One of the men motioned Yasmeen, the slave woman, to the platform edge and started gesturing toward the five and making demands. Having no choice, she nodded.

Unlike the previous groups, she removed all the red sashes at once. Then she took each girl by the neck and pushed her down on all fours, feet widely apart, and began washing them in this wanton posture. As instructed, she spent extra time scrubbing roughly between their legs, causing squirms and cries from the scandalized virgins and much laughter from the bemused gallery. Their bodies received a hard lathering as well, so that, as they returned to quarters, their skin looked almost uniformly red, either from the hard scrub or the deep blush that painted faces and chests.

With tightened sashes and retouched forehead marks, each bevy of five beauties rotated through a room, receiving a wire wristband with a clay tag. The tags contained the same information as their foreheads: virginity status, responsiveness rating, and a mark that denoted their place of origin.

Philippe forbid any touching of the tokens, reminding the women that they would confer high status and value at the next day's auction. Confirmation of their pending sale visibly increased the level of distress among the wide-eyed innocents. He directed them to rest on their pallets for a few hours.

"Your preparation is complete. You are the most beautiful group I have seen in many months, and your black hair and fair skin will be prized. I will see you after the last meal for a brief training session."

Quiet weeping replaced sleeping for the afternoon, as the conquered, inconsolable women lay face-down or in fetal positions to preserve the wisp of modesty left to them.

That evening, he again arranged the 20 maidens in a line facing him. "We will be rising early for final preparations. You will be combed and made beautiful. Your Masters expect complete obedience tomorrow. Each of you witnessed the exquisite punishment that they employ here.

"Only three times in recent years has a girl balked. In each case, she received blows on both feet right on the platform and still had to complete the command. The trainers of those three, once including myself, received punishment as well.

"You will be sold one at a time in the nearby market. The buyers are from many places, and some will not understand the language. On the block, the seller will display your beauty with hand gestures and facial expressions that are understood by men everywhere.

"He has a whip, but it is mainly for communication. He will use it to direct you to various positions and angles, which you will assume instantly. Many of you will cry. That is permitted and, in fact, your innocent embarrassment increases your value for some buyers.

"One more thing. As you are sold, you will be directed down steps at the side of the platform to meet your new Master. You must kneel and offer yourself. Yasmeen will show you."

The slave fell to a kneeling position, opening her legs. As Philippe walked toward her, she bent forward and pulled her hair aside. "He will place a collar on your neck. It is customary to kiss his hand and wait for his direction. Prepare yourselves to follow behind him in complete submission. Please sit in your group now. I will come to speak to you of other matters." He came to Carina's little flock first and spoke in a low voice.

"Most of you will have a better life than you can imagine right now. The other women in the harem will teach you and sustain you. Of course, you will also know the petty jealousies and backbiting that are part of any group of females. The sale tomorrow will be difficult, but each of you will shine with your beauty and your obedience. In a few weeks, you will be settled in your new home, and your Master will send for you. By custom, he will expect you to dance for him while removing and offering your sash in complete surrender."

Carina began to tremble. "How can this be? How can you send us to this fate?"

Philippe took her hand. "Carina, I am your compatriota. If I could change our unfair world, I would. But we must accept our destiny. It is the way of these men.

"Look at me. I have arranged a small favor for you. This morning, I spoke of a certain forbidden behavior." Several eyes dropped downward as recognition dawned. "I have spoken to the other slaves, and we agree that many of you might need to relieve your stress and apprehension for tomorrow. It will also help you sleep. Tonight when the Masters leave, I will say, 'Goodnight, senoritas.' You may proceed as quietly as is possible.

"Some of you may have never touched yourselves, and I advise you to do so. It will help your understanding and even enjoyment of your future life." Abruptly, Philippe looked at the floor, appearing close to tears himself. He stammered, "Remember, the men of your village will never again have that enjoyment."

He rose and walked away, leaving his appalling meaning to sink in among the women.

Darkness fell across the room, and the quiet sobbing seemed to cease with the setting sun. They waited. Fifteen minutes passed, then half an hour. Had he forgotten?

"Bona nit, dolça Senyoretes."

A few of the women dismissed this idea as sinful and depraved, but for most, these lascivious thoughts ran in one direction. In the midst of this oppressive, terrifying prison, age-old instincts prevailed. A few fingers slowly descended under the hated red sash. Tentative motions gradually increased to a near frenzy as the neophytes realized that this was an elusive goal.

Philippe slowly walked across the room and smiled at the other slaves as faint sighs became muffled grunts. The sounds faded, but the delicate smells of nearly 20 females in heat lasted for an hour.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the morning of the auction, no food appeared. At the latrine, the women heard the odd command to relieve themselves completely, to avoid accidents at the sale. In place of a bath, the slaves used wet cloths to wipe down each body and erase the forehead marks. They sat cross-legged on the floor so the slaves could work on their hair.

As Philippe's brush tugged and snagged its way through her long hair, Carina, as most women do, entered a state of light euphoria. She closed her eyes and imagined her mother, primping and braiding her tresses. For ten long minutes, she kept her dire situation at a distance. As the beauty session finished, a lighter mood took over the group. The women whispered and touched one another's hair in what must have seemed like a brief period of freedom between horrible nightmares.

"We are ready to leave. Please re-tighten your sash. You would not want to lose it." The captives cinched the knots, feeling the subtle, not unpleasant pressure on their most private parts. "We often march to market chained together. I don't think that is needed today, but you must hold tightly to another hand as we walk." The slaves walked among them handing out long garments. "This culture requires public modesty for women." As the hooded cloak covered her nudity, Carina thought of it as an ironic and cruel charade. She glared at Philippe, who quickly looked away.

The sights, sounds, and smells of the ancient city distracted the group until the large market building loomed. Cattle and sheep occupied much of the space while other parts sold dry goods. Vendors and customers bartered and gestured over wares of infinite variety. At length, they entered a doorway that led to the human flesh merchants.

Philippe and the other slaves first washed dirty feet then directed the girls to line up along the walls in a room behind the block. "A few of the most favored buyers will be allowed to see you before the sale. They will want to see your body, but as you are virgins, they may not touch you. Again, you are fortunate, as the other women sold today will have no such restrictions. Just stand there and look straight ahead. Hold up your tag if they point to it."

A tall man in flowing robes stepped into the room. At once, the three female slaves fell to their knees. Philippe bowed at the waist and gestured toward the women. The man, obviously in charge, spoke briefly to Philippe and motioned four bearded men toward the line of merchandise.

Carina, fourth in line, garnered interest from all the guests. Her garment soon dropped to the floor as she raised her arms and turned in a circle at their bidding. They didn't touch her, but she could feel their breath on her breasts and face. She gasped, mortified, when one man bent down to sniff her crotch like a dog.

The patrons departed while Carina and the others quickly covered themselves. They heard voices to their left and through wide doorways, they could clearly see four men on an adjacent platform being sold. Their heads were shaved and they were naked, save for a small loincloth.

Buyers would kneel down, lift up the cloth and closely inspect the sweating men. Guards directed them to bend over for further examination. In a few minutes, the men shuffled off the block and into a shortened life of grueling hard labor under the whips of cruel men, appropriately called "slave drivers."

Philippe knew Carina would go early, as the practice dictated that the most alluring maidens went first. Otherwise, the men would hold back their bids. A lackey came back and grabbed the first girl by the hand, rushing her to the stage. Carina tried to listen to the proceeding but only heard crowd noise.

In ten minutes time, Carina found herself hustled to the block, hood lowered. The auctioneer checked her clay tag and began his pitch. He seized her long hair in one hand and pulled her mouth open with the other. He apparently pronounced her teeth healthy and circled to the back. Keeping up a constant chatter, he slowly drew the garment off her shoulders and down to the floor, leaving nothing but her definitive red belt before a sea of black eyes. He slipped his hand around inside the front of the sash and made a gesture indicating the smoothness of her innermost secrets.

Carina's eyes fluttered as her mind abandoned this repulsive place. She noticed a dreamy white cloud drifting high above the arena. Birds wheeling around the city.

He called for bids at this point, building interest in his livestock. Placing her hands on top of her head, he began running fingernails down her arms and across the sides of her breasts. Carina started squirming as he finished by grazing just inside the top of her sash. The expert stimulation produced bucking hips and gasps. Only the sash protected her from a much more intimate demonstration of her responsiveness. Other women sold later in the day were not so lucky, sometimes having an orgasm forced on them to make the sale.

Carina's gyrations started a bidding frenzy, finally ending with a closed fist. As her new owner came forward, she tried to discern if he had a kind face, but her foggy mind could only fix on his black beard. She froze for a moment until the auctioneer turned her shoulder to the side. The steps felt odd on her bare toes. In a haze, she saw the dry ground at the bottom and had a fleeting concern that her feet were going to get dirty again.

On the eighteenth of July 1558, Senorita Carina Orellana, formerly of Menorca, remembered Philippe's instructions. Covered in sweat, she sank to her knees in the dust. As he approached, she moved her knees apart in submission and lifted her hair to the left.

End, Part 1

Author's note: Thanks for reading. Please vote! These tales are pure fantasy. In the real world, slavery is not confined to the dustbin of history. Today's victims are often women who are duped with false promises.

For new readers:

For many years, I have experienced a recurring dream in which I am taken from my bed and marched off to a captive slave auction. The two auctions reprinted below are from my series, 48 Hours on Blue Bayou and embody the varied aspects of my dreams. I would like to read comments and emails, particularly from women, on your own dreams and fantasies. It will be obvious that the second auction below inspired the research and writing of the Algiers story.

— Carole99

From 48 Hours on Blue Bayou, Part 1:

{The story to this point: Albert and his men have commandeered a luxury yacht, Blue Bayou, at gunpoint. They have captured six women who are who undergo a day of slave training before ten men bid on their bodies and services. The auction takes place on the forward deck.}  

"Ladies, as I call your number, please walk gracefully to the rail and return to your place. Number one." A small sound escaped her lips as Autumn made her way to the rail. The tight dress forced small steps and, as all the men noticed, her heels made the small muscles in her calves move in an enticing way.

..."Heads up, please. Number one, rise. Number two, unzip her dress and help her out of it. Very slowly."

From 48 Hours on Blue Bayou, Autumn Part 6:

{The story to this point: After the auction, Autumn soon finds herself on an even larger yacht under the domination of the Master's trainer, Miriam. She is explaining the Master's latest whim to the four captives.}

"Master is a history buff, and we are going to reenact a slave auction as it might have happened in ancient Syria."...

...The Captain led the captured women onto the platform. They were joined in a coffle by collars and a light chain, hands bound in front of their bodies.

"Gentlemen, welcome to our humble market...He drew a small knife and cut the button from the back of the caftan, slowly baring her shoulders. He began a leisurely roll of the dress down over her breasts and abdomen,..He began to caress her stomach, moving up to the left breast and nipple.

One by one, he stripped the women in the same casual manner. He stepped in front of them, snapped the whip and pointed to the floor. Using the touch of the whip to place their limbs, he soon had each captive kneeling spread-eagled and stretched.

"Please step forward and inspect your prospective purchase."

Author's note: For the full story, see "48 Hours on Blue Bayou."

— Carole99 



16th Century Slave Market Pt. 02



Note: Thanks for the votes and comments on Pt. 1. I have also heard privately from five women about our mutual dream (nightmare) of abduction. One was quite touching and detailed. In Part 2 Carina faces her uncertain future as a captive virgin. 

From Part 1: 

Carina's gyrations started a bidding frenzy, finally ending with a closed fist. As her new owner came forward, she tried to discern if he had a kind face, but her foggy mind could only fix on his black beard. She froze for a moment until the auctioneer turned her shoulder to the side. The steps felt odd on her bare toes. In a haze, she saw the dry ground at the bottom and had a fleeting concern that her feet were going to get dirty again. 

On the eighteenth day of July 1558, Senorita Carina Orellana, formerly of Menorca, remembered Philippe's instructions. Covered in sweat, she sank to her knees in the dust. As he approached, she moved her knees apart in submission and lifted her hair to the left. 

Part 2. 

Trembling, fighting back tears, Carina closed her eyes, awaiting her fate. A metal collar snapped shut on her neck. She was expecting to kiss the man's hand, but he pushed her head down to his feet. She began kissing his shoes, tasting her own salty tears. Humbling herself before her new owner, she sensed another man crouching behind her. He moved the sash aside and roughly plunged a finger into her vagina. 

Carina gasped and tried to twist her hips away, but he had already withdrawn. Blushing and ashamed, she realized that in the last two days, three different men had touched her hymen and verified her precious virginity. How could these people put so much stock in a flap of skin! 

With a touch, Carina's bearded master bid her to stand. His assistant retrieved the garment and covered her nudity, tied her hands, and led her away to an oxcart. There a female slave placed a gag and blindfold securely on her head. Over the next two hours, several more people joined Carina on the rough board floor. The crack of a whip started the cart lurching forward along a bumpy stone street. 

Muffled sobs and whimpers gradually faded to silence as the wagon made its way out of Algiers. Carina heard children laughing and men shouting. She had never seen a camel, but their peculiar snort announced their presence all along the journey. Amid the jumbled sounds of the city, she realized that they were passing hundreds of people who thought nothing at the passing of a cart full of slaves. The poor road constantly jarred their bodies, punctuating the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness. 

How life had changed in a few weeks! No one in her home city seemed to sense the danger until it was too late. On the fourth day of the siege, a panic set in as men met in small groups to make desperate plans to send for help, or to offer a ransom, and finally, as the city fell, how to hide in hidden corners and passages. A few people managed to escape by hiding in family mausoleums, some even crawling into empty coffins. The pirates had a superstitious anxiety around crypts and graveyards, thereby overlooking a small number of lucky sons and daughters. 

There would be no such salvation for the Orrellano family. Carina lost track of them in the square and probably would never know of their fate. Now, as her very bones ached from the bumpy ride, she clung to Philippe's words that life in a harem would be better. With a bitter sigh, she contemplated her short journey from sheltered innocence to utter humiliation. Much worse than being stripped naked in front of strangers or being spread and shaved was the exquisite torture of men's probing fingers and their clumsy attempts to arouse her. 

She knew that part of this "better" life would include volunteering her maidenhead to a cruel master. On Menorca, Carina had three handsome men courting her who today were probably naked and bound in some building undergoing that horrible procedure. Philippe said that all men from outside religions were altered. She remembered the auction where the buyers had closely inspected under the loin cloths. 

The cart started to slow and make frequent turns, finally stopping in silence after a trip of many hours. For long moments, the only sound was the heavy breathing of the oxen. The movements of the cart signaled the unloading. From the sounds, she counted four passengers, including herself. As Carina's feet touched the ground, her knees buckled. Someone picked her up, carried her into a building and laid her on a mat. 

Carina felt hands removing the gag, and then the blindfold. The low light in the room, though tolerable, still caused a measure of pain in her eyes. She blinked and worked her jaw. A woman knelt down beside her, signaling with a finger to be silent before offering a welcome drink of water. She again cautioned silence and used her hands in the universal sign: sleep. 

Sleep offered the only escape from this dreadful destiny, and she slept for many hours, waking once in the middle of the night to glimpse two other sleeping women in the room before nodding off until morning. Where was the fourth passenger? She awoke to see a woman sitting in the middle of the circle of mats, again counseling silence with her finger. In a few moments, the captives sat up, yawning and stretching. Carina could smell that at least one had wet herself during the night. This reminded her of her own painful need. She glanced around the group and vaguely recognized the other women. They were from Ciutadella! Then the woman, a slave from Africa, she guessed, bid them to stand and file out of the room. 

Carina expected the usual holes in the floor, but these fixtures were ceramic in the shape of a flat tray. The slave collected the sashes, two of which were dripping wet. Squatting proved awkward with hands still tied in front, and cleaning impossible. She needed a bath but shuddered at the thought of the rough bath in the slave house. She was used to a weekly ritual of washing herself in private, and dreamily soaking in a tub until the water cooled. In fact, until the last few days, she had never even seen another woman undressed, let alone a man. 

In her culture, modesty in dress and manners were ingrained. Only in her private fantasies did Carina dare to think about undressing for her future husband. In polite conversation, even a slightly suggestive remark would produce blushes among the ladies present. Now, in the passageway, missing even her red binding, a deep blush served as her only covering. 

The slave directed the nude women to a bathing room and into one of three small pools sunk into the tile floor. A man stood in a corner dressed in a loose shirt and pantaloons, carrying a small whip in his gold sash. He stared straight ahead as the group of naked beauties paraded past him and stepped into the pool. Carina knew he must be a eunuch as no normal man would keep his composure at such a sight. 

The slave untied their hands and one by one, wordlessly washed each one, body and hair, with sweet-smelling soap. They knelt up to have their privates scrubbed and then sat on the edge to bare their legs and feet. She directed them to sit in a circle around an odd looking fixture on the side of the room. It was a slanted board extending out of a small basin of water. She passed a towel to each one to dry her hair before beckoning Carina to lay back on the board. To her great dismay, she realized too late that it was a shaving bench. The slave opened Carina's knees widely and began scraping with a straight razor, starting with the little hairs on her toes, moving up each leg before starting on her pudenda. 

Carina remembered the shocking pain on her foot at her first shaving and tried to cooperate. The razor and the slave's practiced manipulations produced a pleasant tickle. The next girl's name was Johanna. When beckoned, she fell face-down and began screaming, "NO! NO!" The man stepped up and gave her two hard swats on the inside of her thigh. Sobbing and holding her leg, she awkwardly crawled up on the bench. 

As each woman opened herself, Carina noticed the slave taking great care to remove each tiny hair around the anus. This seemed to be the most embarrassing part of the procedure, as the woman had them tilt their hips even higher. In an hour, the women were smooth from the neck down without even a single razor cut. At the slave's direction, they held their hair up while rinsing off in the pool. 

Their new chastity belts consisted of a leather belt with a thick, woven fabric strap, fastened in the back. Carina realized that they were still mostly symbolic, though much more protective than the ribbons from before. The freshly cleaned and bare captives received a shift-like garment and slippers. They had not eaten since the previous morning, and the smells and sight of food in another room drew their immediate attention. 

Thinly-sliced beef strips, slabs of cheese, eggs, and a sour-tasting yogurt, served with a strong tea made breakfast a pleasant diversion. Still cautioned to silence, they could only glance at each other under the eye of another man with a whip. Carina noted that none of the males she had seen had beards. Only the man who collared her sported a full, black beard. This meant there were likely no undamaged men in the building, explaining her minimal chastity belt. An avid horse rider since age 11, no one told her what "gelding" meant until she was 16. She cried all night for her beloved Diego. 

During the next few weeks, a daily routine developed as they would visit the latrine and eat three times a day. Their slave minder took them to bathe and shave every 3-4 days. She would also take them for silent walks through a beautiful courtyard. They often saw the other women in the harem but still could not interact with them. The one saving grace came after dark. The three women found that they could arrange their mats in order to whisper into the night. 

Carina, Johanna, and Emilia, three captive maidens ripped from their homes just as their lives were about to blossom, quietly chatted for hours before sleep. They had not been close friends on Menorca but knew of each other. 

Johanna, 21, the Mayor's daughter, described the preparations for her upcoming wedding. It was to be the event of the year, held in the largest church in town and attended by all the notable citizens. She last saw her fiance, Rafael, in the march to the square. During the night, she dreamed of him breaking down the palace door and rescuing her. 

Until that horrible day, Emilia, 18, led a pampered life in a merchant's family, looking forward to attending the Universitat de Madrid. She was the youngest of five children and had not seen her brothers and sisters since the pirates overran the city. Her oldest brother Ricardo had been in Barcelona that day. Emilia had little hope of ever seeing him again, but at least he would be spared a life of slavery. 

They each spoke in detail about their families and their life on the island. It soon became too painful to speak of hopes and dreams for their now shattered futures. Talk of their torment at the slave house or the ordeal aboard the ship proved too embarrassing. Thoughts of being stripped naked and displayed in front of all those men were truly unspeakable. 

Whispers became even more subdued as they pondered their fate in this place. Who was this mysterious bearded Master? How long would it be before their forced surrender? Thoughts of offering their most precious treasure to a heartless barbarian always brought tears. Like most young girls, they each had a vague fantasy about their wedding night. 

Emilia dreamed of a handsome man on a white horse carrying her off to a hilltop cabin and making love by a fire. Carina's vision embodied a Prince knocking on her door, begging for her hand. Johanna's reveries were not so defined. They involved deep kissing in the dark with a tall, mysterious man. 

The actual penetration, more of a male fantasy, was not a big part of their wedding dreams, but here in this awful place, they could think of little else. How would it feel? Was it painful? Other than perhaps seeing an infant, they had never seen a naked man. 

In the night, each one found time to explore their secret places. The cloth belt did not prove to be much of a barrier. By this time, they were used to the exotic feel of their smooth parts, but the delicious friction of a finger was irresistible. Carina and Johanna had taken Philippe's advice back at the slave house and rubbed themselves to climax, while Emilia did not. But the little gasps and muffled groans in the night prompted her to try some self-stimulation as well. 

Sometimes in the morning, as they awakened and sat up, their slave would move her head in an exaggerated sniff. The first time this happened, it caused embarrassment as the girls recognized that she was smelling their female heat from the night's activities. Their occasional arousal was also quite evident during bath time, though not a word was spoken. 

Their routine world changed as they awakened one morning about three weeks into their captivity. A man sat beside the female slave! In the dim light, they strained to recognize him while a feeling of dread sank into each chest in fear that this was their Master coming to choose one of them. 

"Hola, dolça Senyoretes." 

Speaking for the first time in three weeks, Carina couldn't help but exclaim, "Philippe! Philippe! How can this be? Deu Meu!" 

The dam seemed to burst as all three started talking at once. The slave, with a slight smile on her lips, showed the signal for silence. 

Carina had a vague thought of rescue, but Philippe explained his presence. "After the Master, Fuad Pasha Abaza, realized that he had purchased three Catalan women he requested me to act as a translator and teacher. I am to help you understand what is asked of you, and also to teach you a little of the Arabic language. 

He paused. "Each of you needs to understand fully that I am not here as your friend or to intercede for you. I am a slave like you, and they will punish me severely if I fail to follow their exact wishes. For the last few weeks, they have been training me to train you. I have received a number of lashes to impress this on me. I was thoroughly whipped on my first day here just for failing to bow and kneel properly. 

"When I give you a command, you must not only follow it instantly, but you must show a measure of enthusiasm. At first, this will flow from a fear of punishment, but it will eventually become part of your very being. You will learn that when a man is present, every female eye, mind, and heart is on him and his every whim. 

"Now, Senyoretes, you have permission to ask questions. You may address me as Philippe. I have no title here." 

"Carina spoke first. "Philippe, where are we and who is our Master?" 

"Fuad Pasha Abaza is the Pasha of the Province of Médéa. A Pasha is like a Governador. He is a close ally of Hasan Pasha, Beylerbey of Algiers. Médéa is a province outside of Algiers." 

Johanna: "What is going to happen to us?" 

"Master Abaza is away on a military mission. All of North Africa seems to be at constant war with Spain. When he returns, he expects each of you to be a compliant concubina, ready to yield to him in passionate devotion." 

Johanna fell to her side in tears and began a series of heaving sobs. The other two began to cry. 

In a low voice, Philippe continued, "Senyoretes, we must all accept our fate. We are here. We are under the strict and absolute control of others. You might think that our God has abandoned us, but perhaps He has brought me here to help you face this predicament." 

Emilia asked, "What do we have to do?" 

"Jove Donzella, you will learn complete submission to the male. You will all learn to carry yourselves and position your body to be attractive to the Master. I will teach you to perform an enticing conjugal dance for your first visit. It seems we may have a month or even two before his return. 

"Now I understand that you are to bathe this morning before the meal. Training starts right now. As you walk, take smaller steps and sway your hips very slightly. As you enter the bathing room, let your garment drop off as you walk, so that even the castrati on guard will be entranced." 

At the latrine, Philippe removed Carina's belt as he whispered in her ear, "Amor meu, I will try to keep you safe, but it must never show. Here is a secret you must keep in your heart. In my dreams, in another land, beneath another sky, we are lovers." 

Carina gave a slight nod and wiped away a few new tears. In the passage to the bath, they tried to walk delicately with moderate success. In the 20 steps from the doorway to the pool, Johanna was the first to let her shift drop from her shoulders. Emilia followed, gracefully stepping naked into the bath. Carina stumbled a bit on her garment but managed to keep from tripping into the water. 

"I am told you have not been allowed to speak yet. You may now talk when I am present, but you must speak in a low, demure voice. You may respond to a question or make a request. Later, when you are part of the Master's harem, there will be no end to all the chatter that goes on. 

"Your keeper's name is Rahma. She is from Ethiopia, and she tells me that all of you have been very cooperative. Please remain so and you will have little to fear from the guards." He noticed that Johanna still had faint red marks on her left thigh, but said nothing. "You are to start washing each other today. Rahma will still come back to shave you on those days, as she is skilled. Many of the women here ask her to keep them smooth. 

"Our Master is away right now, but I have learned that he likes to watch his women bathe and dress. You must move gracefully in the bath as you do elsewhere. Emilia, stand and place your arms over your head. Let Carina wash you in every place with the sponge. Johanna, move around and help wash and rinse your friends. The bath is to be a sensual experience." 

Emilia crossed her wrists and stretched into a pose. The other two tried to understand their role in what seemed to be more dance than bath, but soon they started to forget their nudity in front of these half-men and even began to giggle and splash each other. 

Philippe's sudden appearance lightened the atmosphere in this otherwise cheerless place. He was their countryman. He spoke their tongue. Without saying it or even consciously thinking it they knew that they would try to do whatever he asked. 

On the way to breakfast, Philippe told the women to watch Rahma as she walked. "Look at her ankles. See how they cross just a little in front of each other as she moves in a narrow path? She holds her shoulders high and back. Rahma is proud of her body." 

At this early point in their training, Emilia showed the most grace, while Carina struggled, even with the idea of walking and posing seductively for a man. In her culture, women were demure and shy. Men were quite dominant but in a very different way. Here, women were only a few levels higher than breeding cattle. Her education and skills meant nothing. She had read of the travels of Cabeza de Vaca and was learning Latin! 

Philippe noticed Carina's depression and decided to take the group on a tour of the palace, followed at a distance by one of the ever-present guards. They viewed the beautiful gardens in the courtyard and rooms of elegant statuary and art. The palace contained a large library. 

"Though you are captives, you can, over time, earn the trust of our Master and have a taste of the culture here. Men and women like us who came here as slaves have often risen to positions of responsibility." 




16th Century Slave Market Pt. 02



The scullery, a separate building, was the next stop. They first noticed the unbearable heat in the large kitchen. The workers, mostly older women, were sweating and scurrying around under the eyes of four guards. Philippe kept them in the room until sweat ran down their faces. "Do you see the woman in front of the fire? She is heating bath water for the Master's family." Carina saw the young woman, bent over a large kettle. Smoke curled around her face and drenched clothing. "This is her first week here since the Master ordered her out of the harem. Her name is Katherine, but she has no need for a name anymore. She is simply portador de l' aigua- a water bearer. 

The last stop was the abattoir. There they watched men turn two sheep upside down in a wooden trough, raise long knives and slit the animal's throats from ear to ear. Great gushes of blood dropped down as the sheep kicked for a few moments and died. Johanna started to wretch as Philippe guided them back to fresh air. 

He walked them quickly back to a bench in the garden and waited a few moments. "In this culture, it is required that all blood is drained from the bodies of the sheep, cows, and goats before any other preparation. I wanted you to see that and the cooking area for a reason. 

"Senyoretes, you have seen the great beauty of the palace, and you have also seen the places of unending toil and sweat. It is not likely that any of us will ever go back to the life we once knew. You each need to choose your destiny right now. There is only one future here for a woman who becomes sullen and passive. Each of you- ponder for a moment about what you saw today." 

Philippe waited and watched more tears on the three faces. "At this moment, I am the Master. Each of you will show me your decision by standing up and performing a short dance. I must see passion and spirit in your face and body. You will end your dance by shedding your garment and dropping to your knees." He crossed his arms on his chest. 

"Johanna you are first. You may not speak, only show me if you will be amante al seu Mestre- your Master's lover, or portador de l' aigua." 

Johanna slowly stood to face him. She wiped her red face on her sleeve before striking a pose with one arm raised and the other on her hip. On her island, dancing had been an intrinsic part of life. She began a tentative twirl to the left, kicked up one heel and reversed. She slid her shift off one shoulder, then the other, letting it slide to the ground as she faced away from him. She turned and sank to a kneel. Philippe cleared his throat. She corrected her mistake and raised her arms behind her head, baring her breasts to him. 

Philippe uncrossed his arms. "Thank you, Johanna. I accept your decision. You are very graceful." 

Emilia performed a similar dance, but she hesitated at removing her garment. Philippe frowned and stared at her until she slipped it off and knelt. "Emilia, I know this is difficult. If you promise to try harder, I will accept your choice. Now get dressed." With a great sigh, she quickly replaced her shift and sat back on the bench. 

Thinking about his earlier profession of love, Carina decided to go all out for Phillippe. She kicked her slippers to the side and jumped up to face him. The sight of the slave at the fire and the poor sheep's flowing blood gave her a complete incentive to step into this role for Philippe. 

She extended her arms to the side in the familiar style of the Sardana, a popular dance in her home country. After a few jumps and kicks, she extended her hand to Emilia and Johanna, who quickly joined her in a moving circle. For a brief moment, they were back home in the town square, forming ever larger circles, jumping and moving with great joy. 

In all his years of slavery, Philippe had not seen his childhood dance performed. He had to restrain himself from joining the circle. 

After a few minutes of merry diversion, Carina stopped the circle and faced Philippe. Instead of dropping her garment, she reached down and drew it off over her head, then dropped to her knees, continuing down until her head touched the ground, arms again extended outward. 

Philippe now took his turn to let out a sigh and even wipe a tear from his eye. "That was meravellós, my sweet Carina. Gràcies." All four quietly sobbed for a while, reflecting on lost loves and lives. 

That evening, Philippe sat them in a little circle. "Tomorrow, after the morning meal, we will start practicing your dansa de l'amor. Each one must be different, yet alluring. I will bring a woman here from the harem to show you how to move. You performed well yesterday, but only Carina put her imagination and heart into her dance. You will all strive for perfection. You must not only please; you must also arouse our Master when he calls for you." 

As the light faded, the frightening and stimulating day found each of the girls slipping fingers beneath their protective pouches. At first with delicate, then with quick, demanding strokes, each found relief. Unknown to them, Philippe sat nearby in the dark, smiling at the muffled gasps from inside the room. 

In the morning, Rahma again sniffed the air but this time she was smiling. "Don't be embarrassed, my young ballerinas," Philippe interjected. "You have found a moment of comfort here. Rahma tells me that most of the women here find similar release. In a large harem, your nights with the Master are sometimes far apart." 

After breakfast, the group gathered in a room to begin dance practice. A tall brunette waited for them, wearing a gold, semi-transparent wrap. "My name is Noelle. I came here from Calais in France a few years ago. I am to help you with your first dance for the Master." Philippe translated her words. The three women were entranced by her slim, athletic body beneath the thin covering. 

"Please stand. We dance barefoot here. Let us try a few simple twirls. Watch my arms and hands." She began moving across the room, first spinning on one foot, then the other. Her arms made a graceful spiral through the air. Again, her nude body under the thin cover commanded attention. Her smallish breasts lightly bounced as her long legs and smooth feet crossed the space. 

"You are Emilia? Please begin." Emilia tried to emulate Noelle's grace and confidence with fair success. Johanna and Carina followed. Fortunately, the three women had considerable experience with dancing, so they improved rapidly over a few hours. 

"Please practice this one move for the rest of the day. I will show you more tomorrow. You have done well. After our hard work this morning, we all need to bathe. Philippe will take us there now." 

Philippe guided his charges to walk a little behind Noelle to watch her elegant walk. Her backside, under the revealing wrap, moved in a beautiful rhythm. As she arrived at the bath, she shed her garment in one motion and entered the water. The three women stared in awe at her poise and allure. 

Noelle whispered, "There will be times when you are granted the honor of bathing the Master. He is a powerful man, but in the bath he becomes a little boy. Let me show you what he likes. Lay across my lap with your head on my shoulder." Johanna warily complied. Noelle slowly proceeded to wash every part of her with her fingertips. The feeling was at once stimulating and relaxing. Johanna nearly fell asleep at one point. Noelle prompted her to turn over to soap her back and down to the split between her legs. Somehow, Johanna felt no embarrassment from Noelle's tender ministrations. 

As she watched Emilia happily take her turn, Carina saw a strain on Philippe's face. A thought dawned on her. She leaned over to him and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Philippe. Is this difficult to watch?" 

"Yes, Amor, even after so many years, there are times when..." 

"... Can't you, uh..." 

"...No. It is forbidden. If I even stepped into the water with any of you I would be killed. Now put those thoughts from your mind and watch Noelle. She is the Pasha's favorite concubina, and it is easy to see why." 

Philippe began a slight tremble as he watched Noelle's fingers roam over Carina's breasts and trail down between her legs. Carina raised a knee to give her more access, again without any shame. In one morning, the three had fallen in love with the exquisite charm of Noelle of Calais. 

This day became a turning point in their odyssey into slavery. Philippe's sudden appearance and today's encounter with the alluring Noelle offered a glimmer of hope in their bleak existence. In the dark, they began whispering of a future in the harem beyond the dreaded first night with the Pasha. 

One evening before the light faded, Philippe came in the room and sat cross-legged by Carina. "Amor," he whispered, you must not be concerned with this frustration of mine. There is nothing to be done." 

"Philippe, in our dreams we are promesa, remember? We are to be married. I love you." Through tears, she said, "I want to see what they have done to you. Please." 

After a moment, he opened his garment and haltingly lifted a leather flap. In the dim light, Carina saw a shriveled penis, no larger than a small boy's finger. She reached out to touch it and lift it up. There was nothing underneath. She thought of Diego and began to cry. She brought his head to her chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"I must go. The guard will be back soon, my sweet femení." He fought back tears of his own. "I will love you all the days of my life." 

Emilia and Johanna, having heard the exchange, moved to embrace and cry with Carina long into the night. 

For the rest of the week, they practiced their dance routines with Noelle. They learned shimmies, undulations, and "snake arms." The suggestive hip shakes were difficult, as they would be considered indecent in their home country. "Ladies, all dancing is actually simulated mating, but here it is more explicit and sensual. You must snap your hips with force and passion. 

"All of you, look at me. You must realize that when you enter Master's bed, your dance will continue. I know this is difficult for you, but as he takes you, you must use your hips and body to respond. Do you understand?" 

The three maidens blushed as they visualized Noelle's meaning. None had thought that far ahead. Noelle recognized the stress on her naive pupils and ended practice early. 

The Master expressed a liking for the red sashes from the slave market, so Rhama brought them the next day. "Today we will practice unwrapping. As you finish your dance you will be wearing only your belt. Your last move is to remove it gracefully, fall on your knees, and offer it to the Master. At the end, your knees will be touching, indicating your purity." 

Noelle performed a dance combining many of the moves while removing her golden shift. Deftly, she whirled the cloth around her into a veil, letting it flutter to the floor. As it fell, she dropped to one knee and smoothly tucked the other leg into place. The other five people in the room gasped in awe at her skill and her complete ease at displaying her adorable naked body. 

"Now, each of you will take my wrap and practice dropping it from your body with poise and balance." She showed them several variations, including a difficult one that turned the whirling veil into butterfly wings. 

After a few hours, Noelle was satisfied with the progress. "Tomorrow, you will come here one at a time to start your individual dance moves. Emilia, I will see you first. Thank you all." 

Noelle started to work with each one on her personal dance. She brought an instrument. "Emilia this a riq. We would call it a tambourine. It will help you create a rhythm. I will sit behind a curtain in Master's room and keep the beat. Of course, I will leave as the dance ends." 

"Thank you, Noelle. I think I can get through the dance. It is what comes after that scares me." When Noelle heard Philippe's translation, she drew Emilia into a hug and began kissing her tears. 

"I am here with you, young one. Philippe is here and your two friends are here. One day soon, we will look back and laugh. He is not a cruel Master. He is simply part of this culture where men predominate. Now, let us prepare your dance." 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

After two weeks of work, Noelle and Philippe praised all three girls for their efforts. The goal was not perfection, but confidence. They were ready. One day, at the mid-day meal, Carina sensed a different tension in the room, the chatter more muted. Was the Master back? 

Philippe confirmed the disturbing news. "Yes, he returned yesterday in a foul mood. His mission did not go well. He sent Noelle for Johanna last night, but she begged him to spend his fury on her. She has convinced him to wait a week. Let us not tell the others. 

"Carina, you are the strongest of us. Let me pass the word that you want to be first. It will flatter him to be desired. Noelle tells me that he responds, as most men do, to admiration of his strength and prowess. You can use this knowledge to gain his favor." 

A few days later the Pasha entered the dining hall accompanied by four guards for the evening meal. He settled in a large chair at one end while a dozen women scurried up to sit at his feet and fuss over him. One held a cup to his mouth while others fed him pieces of meat and vegetables with their fingers. 

Carina noticed that they were all vying for his attention. Some rubbed themselves on his legs while others lightly massaged his shoulders. Noelle completed his meal by placing grapes in her lips and pressing them into his mouth. As he rose to leave, he said something to one of the guards. 

The guard stayed back to speak to one of the women who had been rubbing her breasts across the Master's calf. At his words, she squealed with delight and jumped up to follow the man out of the room. As she left, the room filled with chatter that struck Carina as a mixture of excitement and envy. 

Noelle brought the dreaded, long-awaited news one evening: The Master would see Carina the next night. Ignoring the look of panic on her face, Noelle spoke reassuringly, "Dear one, we will spend tomorrow getting ready. I will bring a dress and perfume for you. I will tell you everything you need to know. As I told Emilia, he is not a cruel man." 

"But I have always heard it will hurt!" Noelle reached out to give her a hard pinch on the arm. 

"Did that hurt?" 

"Oww! Yes, it hurt!" 

"And does it hurt now?" 

"No, not really." Noelle drew her into a hug. 

"That is all it will be, my sweet, innocent girl. A quick pain and all these months of thinking about it will be over. And you can tell Johanna and Emilia not to worry so. The next day you will be sore but not especially painful down there. I have been with him three times since he returned, each one quite pleasurable." 

After dark, Carina told her sisters-in-innocence that she was chosen. She lay awake recounting the events that had brought her to the point of attempting to enthusiastically offer her virginity to one Fuad Pasha Abaza. 

Senyoreta Carina Orellana had been captured in her own home, forced aboard a terrible ship, stripped and humiliated in a warehouse for slaves, sold on a platform along with cows and sheep, and brought to a palace in the desert where she would soon lose her most precious pearl. 

The next afternoon the two women bathed alone in the pool. Noelle calmly talked about the upcoming evening and even used her fingers to show Carina what she might experience. "He likes to enter a woman slowly, like this." Carina gasped at the intrusion. "Did you hear yourself just now? You must make those same pleasure sounds tonight. A man loves to hear small moans and gasps. Make small movements with your hips as well." 

"As he enters you , begin greater movements and groans. Stroke his neck and back with your hands. Lightly scratch him. Wrap your legs and feet around him." 

"Carina, lay back in the water. I will face you and make moves like Master does. You respond as I have said. Keep your legs together until the last moment, then surrender." 

Unknown to them, the Pasha watched from behind a screen. He saw Noelle kiss Carina and begin to grind her hips. Carina parted her knees a bit to accept the feigned affection. Hearing the sounds of passion nearly caused him to burst out and take her right in the water. He slipped away in an effort to 'save' himself for the evening's pleasure. 

Noelle brought a flowing white gown and veil. The red sash showed through in the light. White slippers and a touch of perfume completed the outfit. Unlike the experienced women, virgins wore no makeup. "Carina, you are truly the most beautiful woman in the palace." Hearing Philippe's translation made her blush. He added, "Dear One, you will be la seductora. He will eat from your hand." 

Noelle added one more bit of advice: "Carina, remember some of those nights when you found your own pleasure? You have learned much about your body. As he takes you, recall some of those stimulating thoughts. Let this also be a fantasy apart from the Master. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, Noelle. I am so grateful for you and Philippe. In a way you will both be with me tonight. Thank you." 

Late evening found Carina at Master's door. Noelle gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek, a smile, and a shake of her riq and left to enter a side alcove. 

As instructed, she opened the door and stepped inside to wait for a sign from the Pasha. He smiled and made a small hand motion. The performance of Carina's life began. A deep breath. She stepped out of her slippers, made a small leap, and took up her stance with arms entwined over her head. The riq started the beat. 

Carina made three quick twirls while spreading her long veil like a bird's wings, followed by a series of back bends. She extended her left arm toward the ceiling and extended the right arm down to touch her ankle. 

She froze for a moment to look her Master directly in the eyes, straightened up, and twirled in the other direction. Then, lifting one foot against the opposite thigh, made a ballet-like spin on her toes. As she finished, she flung her veil in the air, letting it gently flutter to the floor in front of him. She gave out a small sigh in relief at the success of this well-practiced move. 

Her finale began with a slow spiral as she bent down to curl up on the floor. A few unfastening movements preceded her leisurely lift. As she rose up, her gown stayed on the floor, revealing her nude body. It was so stunning that Noelle skipped a beat and the Pasha let out a small sigh. 

All that remained was for Carina to pull a slipknot on her belt, go to her knees and offer the sash to her Master with a low bow. For a long moment, neither sound nor movement existed in the room. He sat, nearly hypnotized. At length, he grasped the sash and her hand and pulled Carina up to sit on his lap. She felt his arousal immediately. 

She threw her arm around him, buried her head against his neck, and burst into great sobs and wails. The tension and apprehension of the entire cursed summer erupted over him in a stream of tears. 

Noelle stayed in the alcove, too worried and too fascinated to move. She tried to gauge her Master's reaction to Carina's breakdown. He might call a guard in to drag her away. She waited. 

The sensuous dance prevailed. He wiped her tears on his sleeve, embraced her, and began a deep kiss. Carina's whimpers slowed as she responded. She understood kissing! In the heat of the moment she nearly forgot that she was sitting stark naked on a stranger's lap. 

He beckoned her to stand with him, took her hand and spun her around in a slow circle. They had no language between them, but his murmurs and looks sent a clear message: "You are exquisite and I want you." 




16th Century Slave Market Pt. 02



He brought her hands to his robe, indicating that she should undress him. As Noelle sat in silent witness, too afraid to make a noise, Carina slipped his robe to the floor. He guided her to the large bed as he removed an undergarment. She remembered to keep her legs together as he clambered over her. She could clearly see his enlarged organ and gasped at the thought of his next move. 

But he moved his legs outside hers and began kissing her neck. He moved all over her neck and shoulders, returning to her mouth from time to time. His beard tickled a bit, but his lip contact was electric. He placed his hand on her hip and slowly squeezed and grazed his way up her belly and to her breast. Carina squirmed and groaned under his leisurely touch. 

His hand reached one nipple while his tongue found the other. Carina had never imagined such sensations could exist. She could feel his rigid organ sliding against her belly. She needed no one's advice to begin bucking her hips against his pressing need. She knew the moment was at hand. 

She reached down to grasp his penis, whispering, "entra en mi, Mestre." 

Fuad Pasha Abaza needed no translation. Carina opened her legs to her Master. He paused at her entrance, then began an excruciatingly slow journey inside her lubricated passage. As he reached the barrier, he attacked her neck with a distracting kiss and broke through. A small cry, a jerk, and it was over. The momentous event of every young woman's life was complete. She clung to him with arms and legs and yielded to his mastery, bucking and gasping. Before long, he began panting and thrusting deeply. Carina had never heard the guttural grunts from deep in his throat. He collapsed on her for a moment, then raised up on his elbows. It was over. 

He moved to the side, kissed her again, and held her for a few moments before rolling to his back to sleep. Carina had not reached her own climax, but she lay back in languid contentment. Noelle padded silently away, proud of her charge, and fully aroused by the erotic spectacle. 

Carina lay awake for an hour or so, reliving the encounter over and over. Master seemed quite happy with her performance. He had kissed and embraced her before sleeping, a good sign. Her dance had gone even better than she hoped and the pain of his entry faded quickly. 

A candle still burned on a table, allowing a dim view of the bed. Carina sat up and looked at her Master's naked body. He was still on his back, lightly snoring. Her eyes went directly to his penis, growing out of a shock of black hair extending toward his belly. It was curved and softer, but still somewhat at attention. It moved slightly with each heartbeat. His chest, massive and shiny with sweat, sported much less hair. 

She curled up beside him to sleep, feeling small. Her first view of a naked male reminded her of a Greek statue she had seen once. He was magnificent, and she was his. 

Hours later, something touched her arm. Carina opened her eyes to see Noelle beckoning her out of the bed and taking her hand. They entered an adjoining room where steam rose from a small pool. Carina remembered the water bearer from the scullery. With no translator, Noelle had to communicate with hand gestures. First she wet a cloth and cleaned traces of blood and dried fluid from her legs. 

Then she motioned to Carina to sit at the edge of the pool and left the room. She felt a growing soreness from the night's exertions but such relief that it was over. In a while, Noelle came back with a nude, groggy Pasha, who stumbled into the pool. Carina, unsure of proper conduct, moved to kneel and bow her head. She watched Noelle undress and maneuver him over her lap in the same way as she had shown the girls. She held out a ball of soap to Carina. 

They began to lovingly soap and scrub his body. Carina remembered Noelle's comment that Master became a little boy in the bath. He lightly moaned and whimpered at the sponge's friction. His organ, however, quickly regained full adulthood. Carina became fascinated with its texture and hardness as she applied the soap. He responded to her contact with increasing moans and murmuring words that she couldn't understand. 

Noelle nodded and grasped Carina's wrist to begin a pumping motion. She drizzled more soap on the object of their affection. Master began moving his hips while Noelle lightly squeezed his testicles. With a grunt, he shot streams of white fluid onto his chest. As his movements slowed, Noelle picked up a dollop of his sperm and placed it on her tongue. Then she brought another one to Carina's mouth and nodded. With a frown, she stuck out her tongue, made a face at the salty taste, and swallowed it. 

Back in the harem, they insisted that she take a long nap before telling her story. She easily fell into an hours-long sleep. Philippe and Noelle had food and drink waiting. While the other women were in the dining hall, Noelle confessed. "Dear one, I am sorry, but when you began wailing in his arms, I had to stay. After that, I couldn't leave for fear of making a noise. I would never do that normally. But I have to say, you were magnificent! He can't wait to have you back!" Carina blushed at the translation, but quickly hugged her. 

"You said you would be with me," she laughed. 

Philippe joined in the embrace. "Amor, I couldn't sleep thinking about you and what he was doing, but you are laughing! I am so happy for you." 

Noelle felt great sympathy for this most outlandish pair of "lovers." She thought, "They ache for each other, yet their love must forever be unrequited. So sad." 

When Johanna and Emilia returned, Carina related the entire story of her successful service to the Master. Emilia, the youngest of the three, asked the ever-present question: "Did it hurt?" Carina smiled at Noelle and gave Emilia and Johanna a sharp pinch on their arms. 

Five days later, he called for Johanna. Noelle and Carina dressed and tutored her in the fine points of submission. She went through her dance once more. "After your dance, just let him lead you," Carina coached. "He will overwhelm you. He is so strong you might think he will break you like a twig, but I never felt in danger. He is what we would call viril masculí." 

Johanna turned to Noelle. "I know you didn't plan on staying with Carina, but would you stay with me? I would feel safe with you nearby." 

"Yes, dear one, I will stay. You know I will not enter the room unless there is some urgent reason." 

"Thank you. You know I am scared, but I feel ready thanks to you." 

"Don't forget your two friends and Philippe here. He takes a risk every day by being so much more than a translator." 

Johanna's request for her to stay put a hold on a certain plan of Noelle's for that evening, but there might still be time. Master's second fresh maiden finished her dance and offered up her sash and her naked body. The Pasha took her directly to the bed, knelt beside her and began to caress her legs, moving slowly up to her face. She began squirming under his strong touch. He reached between her legs to knead her private flesh. 

At length, as Johanna gasped and bucked, he drew her legs wide, lifted her up, and plunged to the hilt. It was so sudden, she barely registered the pain. He began rapid, full movements, holding his body at a high angle, so that every stroke grazed against her sensitive nub. She began a low groan as that familiar tension emanated from her core. Groans became screams of pleasure as an orgasm washed over her. 

Sometime during her passionate spasms, her Master pumped his seed into her depths. He lifted her hips up once again, staying fully lodged. Noelle immediately recognized his intention: He wanted to impregnate her. 

As they disengaged and prepared to sleep, Noelle took her leave. She nodded to two guards in the hallway and went to find Philippe. She explained her insane proposal, and told him to go and clean up as best he could, and come to Carina's room. 

She drew a bowl of water and brought it to Carina and began washing her face, producing much confusion before Philippe arrived. Noelle explained that the guards were at Master's door, as always when he was not alone. 

"My sweet girl, if we could fly from this place, you and Philippe would share your love forever." A tear rolled down her face. That cannot be, but you can be his bride for one hour. I will take Emilia to practice." She kissed each one on the cheek. 

They stared at each other, stunned by this turn of events. In the dim light, Philippe drew her into a deep, tearful kiss. "Amor, I have never even touched a woman before. I am even more virgin than you were. Professo meu amor! They undressed each other, and fell on the mat. Two bodies became one as their hands roamed at will and limbs entangled. 

Carina drew his hand to her belly and down to her slit. She held his fingers and moved them, showing him her pleasure spots. She whispered, "Sí, aquí, aquí, l'amor." 

She moved her other hand between his legs, trying to achieve the impossible. He did feel a pleasant tingle, and tried to recall pleasuring himself before his enslavement. Carina scraped her fingernails on his thighs, tickling her way up to his abdomen. She moved his head to her breast, and he began a light suckling in the universal act that was at once maternal and erotic. 

Carina felt the first stirrings at his hand and began panting and moving. Trying to be quiet, she stifled her groans as she rode out her climax. They lay still for long moments bathed in sweat, their heavy breaths slowing in sync. 

"Núvia, romandrà con mi per l'infinit!" 

Philippe tearfully replied, "Si Amor, I will always be with you. Always. But now we must part for our safety. As they dressed, they rained kisses on each other. 

At midnight, sounds in the palace faded to near silence. One slave kept the fire alive in the kitchen. One or two guards reliably provided sounds of faint snoring. In one wing, sudden cries echoed, as the Master abruptly took Johanna for the second time. 

There would be no remedy, no deliverance for a man and a woman, steadily sobbing through the forlorn, black night. 

End of Part 2 

Thanks for reading and voting. My co-author, J Spe, and I appreciate your comments.