The Circassian (closed)

Samara looked questioningly at the Comte. Why did he need a table? She was going to tell him that the food on the tray in the corner was fresh and that she had recently refilled the wine pitcher. But the look in his eyes kept her silent. She nodded quickly and left. She would see if her brother was done his work for the day.

Katirah heard the Comte and was turning around when he walked into the room. He began to give him a smile, but his face made her stop. He was curt with her as he ordered her into the main room. He must still be angry.

She followed the Comte. When she saw the table she remembered what he had said to her downstairs. Did he mean to act on his threat now? Or did he plan on tying her to the table and beating her?

She knew it would only be worse if she struggled. She thought he would also know if she pretended tears. Hear heart pounded. She was afraid she would be crying real tears soon enough. No one had ever tied her before. She was a musician and singer. She should not be used thus.

The Comte maneuvered her into a very awkward position and tied her with a few scarves. It became fairly obvious that the Comte did not put her in this position to be whipped. At least, she fervently hoped so since the tenderest parts of her body were thoroughly exposed ot him.

She cried out a few times as he pulled her into position, pressed her face into the table, and tightened her bonds.

She finally got the courage to reply. "Must Sir tie me thus when I have willingly given myself already?" But his words were true, she was extremely uncomfortable and the anticipation of what he might do next with her in such a vulnerable position had her nether part tingling.

She tried lifting her head form the table to look at him. "My Comte has searched my things? But why?" She lowered her head back to the table. She heard him jostle a box. Her cheeks reddened as she realized what he had discovered. "I think Sir has found the... sexual aids." She did not know why, but this embarrassed her greatly. It should not. Although she was not trained as a sex slave, she had been schooled somewhat in this area. Right now in her awkward position, knowing he held the box, wondering whether he planned on using any of the items on her. It made her feel humiliated. Unclean. She thought an explanation was in order. "Sometimes a man is unable to bed a woman as he would wish. These aids may help. Some of them can be useful if a woman is to be without a man for a long time. I am not a sex slave. I have been instructed in their use, but they have been idle for some time now."

She realized that her whole body had tensed. She tried to relax, This position was uncomfortable enough as it was.
 
Marcel placed the box on the table between Katirah's ankles and looked down at her gaping pussy. His cock stirred between his legs as his eyes focused on the juice that was welling up between her lips.

Reaching out, he tenderly ran a finger along her slit from the area near her clit up to her wet hole. A moan escaped Katirah's lips as he slid his finger deep into her and rotated his hand until the palm was down.

Hooking his finger, he began playing with the most sensitive spot on any woman and said, "You have yet to begin to give yourself to me. By the time I am done taking, and you are done giving, your whole heart will be dependent on my happiness, and your part in that happiness."

Marcel could feel Katirah quiver under him as her pussy began to flood with juices. Stopping his actions, keeping her just short of an orgasm, he whispered, "I may give you to the Baron when the time comes, but your heart will always belong to me. Won't it?"
 
Katirah gasped then moaned at the Comte's probing finger. Her body shuddered. She listened to his words. This was something like what the Effendi Henri had tried to explain to her. She wondered if she could ever give that much of herself to a man. A few times her condition in life had been dependent on how well she pleased her master, once even her life, but her heart? It was not good for a slave to lose her heart.

Katirah closed her eyes, her mouth was slightly open as she panted and moaned in response to the Compte's skillful hand and fingers. She had forgotten her discomfort, forgotten her embarrassment as she felt herself ready to tip over into the rush of orgasm when he stopped. She groaned in disappointment and pushed back against his hand.

His words were like lead poured in her ears. "The Comte is most cruel." She was not just speaking of him leaving her unsatisfied. "How can I live with one man if my heart belongs to another? Why? Why would Sir wish do such a thing? It would be torture."

Katirah closed her eyes at the sick feeling in her stomach. Could the Comte _make_ her love him? She found him very attractive. He had been the first man she had been with to be concerned that she experience pleasure in their coupling. That made her more inclined to think fondly of him and their time together. But this? No. She must steel her heart against him if he only meant to cast her aside. That was beyond cruel. She could feel tears burning behind her eyes.

She wanted this to stop. She wanted it to stop now. She wanted to be left alone with her music and her stories where everything was far removed from her own feelings.
 
Marcel picked up a jade object from her box about the size of a man's cock and pressed it against her hot slick opening. Slowly he used it to screw her, keeping Katirah panting and quivering, unable to breath much less speak coherently.

Getting the jade dildo slick with her juices, Marcel spit on her anus, and slid the dildo from her pussy to her ass, and slowly worked it deep inside her forbidden opening. With the same slow motion as he used on her pussy, Marcel fucked her ass with the dildo.

Dropping his trousers, he grabbed the base of his cock and held it against her pussy and then shoved forward, filling both holes simultaneously.

As his balls slapped against her clit, Marcel said horsely, "Cum now Katirah."
 
((Oh dear, old men and young boys have never been interested in _that_ part of Katirah's anatomy. Except for the Comte's thumb earlier, I don't think anything else has ever gone in there.))

Katirah heard items in the box click and rattle right before she felt something cool penetrate her. She gasped as the Comte use it to fuck her. He kept her balanced on a knifeblade of pleasure not allowing her to come but coming tantalizingly close. He kept the movement slow and deliberate. She was in danger of hyperventilating and passing out as she gasped for air. He body was as tense and quivering as a string on her Kemenche (a Turkish bowed instrument).

Then he spat on her. That brought her somewhat back to her senses. She was even more humiliated than before. To be spat upon. Tears burned eye eyes again.

He removed the dildo leaving her unsure what he would do next. Was he finished with her? Would he untie her now and leave her to her humiliation and misery.

The Comte was not finished, however. Katirah felt the now warm and very wet hardness of the dildo as he slowly pressed it to her brown cherry. Brown cherry indeed for no had ever penetrated her there except for the Comte when he had pressed his thumb there--was that only this morning?

Katirah tensed and tried to move away. "No. Please. Do not put it there. Please." She begged in French, then in Turkish. In Latin. Then back to French. "Please stop. It burns. It hurts." She balled her hands into fists and twisted against her bonds. But the Comte was deaf to her pleas. He moved the dildo slowly and deliberately as before.

Katirah cried. She pleaded. If only he would stop moving it, give her time to relax. Give her time to breathe. As if reading her mind he did stop leaving the dildo buried inside her to the hilt. She took stuttering breaths and willed herself to relax.

She had barely gotten herself to the point where she could tolerate the dildo when the Comte pushed his own hot manhood into her vacant pussy. She knew it was him and not another dildo because she felt his balls slap against her and his pelvis jarred the dildo in her ass with each thrust.

She cried out again. This was too much. "You split me in twain! You will kill me." She gasped between his thrusts. She writhed against her bonds. At some point the pain and discomfort became a kind of pleasure. A different kind to be sure. A kind she had never experienced. Her nether parts were stuff full. She began to shake. Her body quivered. She made a mewling noise with each of his thrusts. She drooled onto the table, her cheek and shoulders pressed hard against it. She her his words urging her to lose herself in the floodwaters. Her body seized up. Her hands spayed open straining against the scarves. And she came. She came hard. Harder than ever before. Far harder than she had that morning. It went on and on. Pain was forgotten. Humiliation was forgotten. The Comte himself was forgotten as wave after wave drowned her. Dark spots danced behind her eyelids. She couldn't breathe. She thought she might lose all sense of herself and go mad. Or pass out.

She wanted it to stop. She wanted it never to stop.
 
It was the most amazing feeling ever. Katirah's pussy palpitated around his cock. The molten liquids that sluiced from her with each of his long slow thrusts splattered onto his thighs and across the table. Each droplet threatening to melt his flesh or set flame to the table.

The hard dildo occupying her ass provided a tantalizing contrast to her softness. He was vaguely aware that Katirah was screaming out as her body thrummed like the strings of a violin. Sawing his hips to and fro slowly, Katirah froze as her orgasm overcame her, and threatened to do him in as well.

Slowly Marcel pulled from Katirah's core. The jade dildo no longer held in place by his pelvis was forcibly ejected from her ass as he flipped Katirah over onto her back.

Walking around the table, Marcel dropped his heavy balls into Katirah's mouth, his thighs straddling each side of her head.
 
Before Katirah's orgasm was quite finished, the Comte pulled out. The dildo was expelled from her ass as she groaned in relief. She gasped for air. He turned her quickly onto her back. She grunted as her own weight landed on her hands and arms. She struggled to make herself comfortable while pleading with the Comte again, "Please, no more. No more." She shook her head back and forth. Her body ached now that her orgasm was over. Specific areas of her body were in actual pain. Tears slid from her eyes.

The Comte pushed her so her head was hanging over the table. He straddled her head and plopped his balls into her mouth. If this is what he wanted, she could do so much more for him, make it feel so much better if she had the use of her hands. And in a different position.

She could smell their combined musks on him. It was a heady scent, cloying and strong. She breathed through her nose and sucked one of the Comte's balls into her mouth.
 
Katirah sucked one of Marcel's balls into her mouth, her tongue rolling across it. A tremor shuddered through his body as he leaned forward, bracing himself with one arm as he reached between her legs.

Two fingers slid up and down her gaping gash, her fluids soaking the table beneath her. Keeping time with her mouth and tongue on his balls, Marcel massaged her clit, taking it between his thumb and forefinger, twirling, twisting and tweaking it ever so gently.

Her moans rattled his balls as small tremors of pleasure wracked her body. As she approached another orgasm, he slowed down, and eased the pressure to a tortuously light touch. The breath of an angel against her nether regions.

"You will come to give me pleasure, Katirah. Not because it is expected of you, but because you will be incomplete with out it." He whispered.
 
Katirah thought this time the Comte would take his pleasure in her mouth, but he reached forward and began to finger her. How could a man know so much about about a woman's anatomy? How to pull such feelings from her? She moaned and writhed. Once again she thought she might faint from the exquisite ecstasy of it all.

It took a supreme effort of will on her part not to bite as her body quivered toward another orgasm. Some part of her was coherent enough to know that if she bit the Comte, even by accident, she would be punished swiftly. She was sure she would not like the punishment at all. Look what had gotten her into this position.

She thumped her feet on the table and rocked her pelvis. She moaned and made mewling noises around the Comte's heavy ball sack that threatened to suffocate her. Black dots danced behind her eyelids. She turned her head away so she could breath unencumbered. She tried to close her legs to trap his hand. She pleaded incoherently for release. He whispered something to her but she did not understand. She was too close to coming to think of anything else.
 
Marcel was fingering Katirah's pussy her whole body convulsing at the slight pressure between her legs. She rotated her head gasping for breath, gales of her hot wet breath battering his leg, tickling the hair along its length.

His balls had begun to tense up in response to her suckling, but the feeling faded quickly as her head stayed off to the side.

Katirah's body was beyond her control. It appeared the only reason she hadn't thrashed her way off the table was because she was tied down to the point of near immobilization. Maintaining his touch and caresses, Marcel rotated around until he stood between her ankles again.

Pulling her toward him, Marcel rammed his cock deep into Katirah in one fluid, hard thrust. Her pussy juices splattered as the base of his cock rammed home, his pelvis slamming into her exposed sensitive nub.

"Now Katirah!! Cum now, and revel in my pleasure!" Marcel roared as his balls exploded, expelling their contents deep into her.
 
Katirah was losing her mind again. How was the Comte able to do this with just his touch? She rocked her pelvis against his hand. "Please." The word exploded from her. He moved around the table never stopping his contact with her body.

When he was back to standing at the other end of the table, the Comte grabbed her and pulled her toward him and thrust his cock deep inside her. He yelled for her to come as his hot seed spewed inside her mixing with her own juices. She did not need to be given permission to come, she had already been to the point where she only needed some very small stimulation to tip her over the edge.

Instead, she received the Comte slamming into her which was like using a canon blast to kill a fly. She screamed as she came. Part of her thought she might be ripped in two at the violence of the Comte's entry. Her orgasm went on and on, for as long as the Comte pumped his seed into her. For as long as he stayed inside. Her internal muscles camped down hard on him. They pulsated and milked him dry. The black dots danced before her eyes again as she looked up to see the Comte's face contorted as he finished in his own climax. She closed her eyes again as another wave rolled over her.

She lay spent and panting. She was full of the Comte's seed and her own nectar of arousal. She hoped he was down with her and she could simply curl up somewhere, anywhere, it didn't matter, and go to sleep.

The room was silent now except their ragged breathing. Katirah realized again how loud they had been--she had been. Her cheeks flared with color. Her loudness, the table being brought into the room, she did not think she could look anyone in the face again. She felt shame and humiliation now. Was this the Comte's plan to teach her her place? She had only wanted him to understand that what happened was not Henri's fault. Her bonds were hurting her. She shoulder's ached. She hoped this was over.
 
Marcel slowly began untying Katirah's bonds. As he freed each silken scarf from her, he massaged her until the blood began flowing properly through her limbs. Every now and then a small tremor would wrack her body, her knees shaking non stop for several minutes.

Marcel wiped her with each scarf and tossed them aside one by one as they became saturated with their mutual juices and sweat. After she was as clean as he could get her, Marcel easily lift her from the table, cradling her in his arms, her head resting against his right shoulder.

He called over his shoulder, "Samara, you may clean up now," as he settled onto his cushions with Katirah in his lap.

Katirah's nakedness pressed against Marcel, the heat furnace that was her core a tangible, sexy reminder of what they had shared, and a tantalizing promise of the pleasures they would share in the future.

His hands roamed over her body, caressing her, touching her, keeping her body vibrantly alive, while she recovered.
 
Katirah whimpered a little as the circulation returned to her limbs. The Comte was so gentle cleaning her, massaging her with his strong hands. She could almost forget what he had said earlier. Perhaps it had been his anger speaking when he said he would own her heart even if he gave her to the Baron.

She nestled in his lap snuggled against his chest. She closed her eyes and floated in a post-orgasmic haze. His hands explored her body like a lover's. In moments like this she could easily fall in love with this man. She had to remind herself that love was not for a slave like her. Especially if it was the Comte's intention to possess her body and soul and then give her to the Baron. For now however, she would luxuriate in his caresses. She shifted to give him better access to her body. He was maintaining her in a low level of arousal. She wondered what he was thinking. What he was planning to do. It was clear he wasn't done with her yet tonight. Would he take her again so harshly? Or did his caresses foreshadow a gentler session to come?

---

The guards grinned at each other. They had certainly gotten an earful of the Comte's pleasure. One of the them echoed the Comte's call for Samara to come and clean the room. She gave her brother a hurried kiss on the cheek and went to Katirah's suite.

Samara was not sure what she would be walking into, but she thought she would be changing linens again. She first noticed that the room was redolent with the scent of sex. The Comte was reclining with Katirah sprawled naked in his lap. She looked away and took in the rest of the room. She would need a bucket and water and a few rags. She glanced in the bedchamber and saw that it was undisturbed. She left to fetch what she needed.

She came back shortly and went to clean the table. She nearly tripped over something. She looked down. Her eyes grew wide. She glanced at the Comte and Katirah then picked up the jade -object- and turning her back on the couple, carefully washed it. She took it into the bedchamber and set it on the table next to the bed. She returned to clean the table and the floor around it.

When she finished she put the scarves into the bucket, the would need washing as well. "May I bring something back for the Comte?"
 
Marcel paid almost no notice to Samara as she cleaned the room. A chuckle did rumble in his chest when her ears turned beet red, presumably at the jade dildo that was on the floor. Katirah shifted in his arms, granting him a far easier access to her body, opening it up to him.

After she was done cleaning, Samara asked if he needed anything and he responded, "Yes. Bring us dinner, a hot dinner with meat and whatever else may be available."

Katirahs breathing was quickening and becoming shallow again as one hand nestled her core, the other hefting a breast, tweaking the nipple between fingers. His cock began to harden between their bodies, the heat of her flesh warming it, inviting it back into her.

SHortly the dinner was delivered and placed near the two of them on the floor, Samara handling the delivery almost delicately. The only hint of what she saw was when she stopped and stared a moment at the head of his shaft as it pressed against his hip.

As she left, Marcel whispered, "Now feed me, Katirah, bite by bite. Seduce me with food."
 
Katirah moved her bottom against the Comte as she felt his manhood quicken. She looked at his face to try and see what he might want from her next. But Samara came in with food. Katirah had eaten before her bath but it was obvious the Comte had not.

Katirah moved to sit on the floor between the Comte's legs. First she used the bowl of water to wash her hands. She used a towel to dry them. Then she lifted the bowl to the Comte. When he finished washing his hands she took a towel and gently wiped them dry. It made her think of when she had helped the Comte with his bath. Had that only been the evening before? She set the bowl aside.

"Seduce me with food." He said.

Katirah had never seduced anyone. Not consciously. But she had read many books and had some ideas about it. Like any good seduction, she would start slowly.

She picked up a piece of lamb soaked in honey and sprinkled with almond slivers. The meat was hot but not too hot to eat or touch. She held her other hand to catch any drips. She got up on her knees to lift the morsel to the Comte's mouth. His lips were soft as he took the lamb into his mouth. She fed him another piece and then another. Now for the seduction.

She picked up the next piece and 'accidentally' let a drop of the honey land on her chest. As she raised her self up to give the Comte the tidbit, she let it fall onto her chest. She arched her back and leaned toward him so he could eat the honey'd lamb from her body.
 
Marcel leaned back enjoying himself for the moment or two that Katirah was focused on him, then her focus turned on herself as she 'dropped' the food onto her breasts.

Shaking his head slightly, Marcel licked it off her, then whispered, "No Katirah, it is my turn to be pleasured. Surely your count has seen to yours already."

He looked into her eyes, and almost lost himself into them as he said, "Give to me Katirah, give to me what you would like for me to have."
 
Katirah was puzzled. The Comte had said she was to seduce him with food. She thought he would enjoy taking some morsels directly from her body. She had not done it for her own pleasure at all. At least she had not made him angry.

"But I--" She began then looked away as her cheeks colored. "A thousand pardons, Sir." She looked back at him wondering what she was supposed to do. The way he looked at her made her chest feel tight.

"Give to me Katirah, give to me what you would like for me to have." he said. What did she want him to have? She would have to think on that. What if she chose incorrectly?

She selected a piece of fruit from the table. She straightened up on her knees again pressing between the Comte's legs. Leaning against his broad chest as she offered the fruit to him. Her face was close to his, Her lips were as close to the fruit as his.

Did he want to finish eating, or did he want her to do something to pleasure him right now? At least this close any clues from his body would be obvious.
 
Her breasts crushed into his chest, his hardening cock pressed between her stomach and his. The morsel of fruit tantalizingly close to his mouth, as was her mouth. His tongue flicked out, wrapping around the fruit and pulling into his mouth. Turning slightly, his tongue flicked across her lips as he swallowed the citrus.

"Better" he whispered as his hands wrapped around her waist, holding her curvaceousness to him.

The svelte feeling of her breasts with each breath made his heart race faster and faster. His cock quivered between them as she turned and brought another bite of fruit up.

"What is it that turns you on Katirah? What makes your heart race with abandon?"
 
Katirah smiled. She pressed closer and moved her body a little feeling his cock begin to harden between them. She held a piece of fruit for the Comte again. "I thought, Sir wanted me to concentrate his pleasure, not my own." She moved her body against him again. She liked the feel of his hands on her.

She thought about his questions. What did make her heart race? The Comte did. His closeness. His voice, when he whispered in her ear. When he touched her like a lover. Even when he did those vile humiliating things to her. It was hard for her to pinpoint what exactly roused her the most. She had so little real experience in these matters. Although the Comte was correcting that on a daily (and nightly) basis.

She thought about what he might want to hear from her. She kissed his lower lip and dragged her teeth across it. She kissed his jaw close to his ear. "You, my Comte." She said sincerely. 'Tis you makes my heart race."
 
Marcel nodded as if he knew the answer already, though his heart sang out in relief. He held her face tenderly as he lowered his mouth to hers, claiming it again. His kiss was tender yet full of the possessive hunger and need he felt for her.

"Show me Katirah, show me how you feel, what you feel. Make me feel that way."
 
When the Comte kissed Katirah like that, it did make her heart race. She returned his kiss with passion sucking his tongue into her mouth. She let her hands explore his chest undoing the laces of his shirt ((because I don't believe he ever took his clothes off)), she helped him off with his shirt. She kissed his nipples then took it in her teeth and bit lightly.

Katirah moved one hand lower to rest on the bulge between his legs. She rubbed it up and down with her hand. She enjoyed hearing his low moan. She was determined that she would make him lose his mind ot passion the way he did to her. If the Comte was determined to have her heart, then she would claim his. If she was to feel the pain of separation when she was given to the Baron, the Comte would feel the pain as well.

She pulled away from their kiss so she could undo his trousers. She gave him a sly smile. She kissed him again as her hand closed around his manhood.
 
Katirah's hand rose and fell slowly along the length of Marcel's shaft. At the top of each stroke, she squeezed his cock firmly, pre-cum welling up in the slit. Her thumb spread the pre-cum across the top of the head.

His eyes rolled back in his head as Katirah began kissing slowly down his chest, taking a moment with each nipple, suckling on it, nibbling, then lower still.

Pleasure rumbled through his chest, a warm contented sound. His right hand played along Katirah's thigh, up and up until he cupped her exquisite ass in his hand, middle finger pressing gently against her womanhood.
 
((What a fascinating new icon you have.))

Katirah smiled a little at the Comte's noises. It was good to know that he approved of what she was doing. Her breath hitched a bit as his own hand moved to hold her ass. She could feel his finger pressing against her.

She paused.This was not supposed to be about her pleasure. Although she had to admit the Comte had an extreme way of giving it to her.

She had been planning to take him in her mouth, but his hand on her... She angled her body more sideways so that he could touche her if he wanted and she would still be able to do what she had planned.

She kissed the head of his cock, then making sure she had plenty of saliva, she licked it and took it in her mouth. Her hand continued to move up and down. She added a twist of the wrist as she moved her hand up. She looked up at his face for his reaction and took more of him into her mouth.
 
((Thanks, it is an illustration by William Blake called Whore of Babylon.))

Softness. Warmth.

Heaven.

Marcel's eyes rolled into the back his head, and his hand stopped moving as Katirah sucked his cock into her mouth after washing it with saliva. Her tongue rolling along the piss slit, her lips latching on, forming an air tight seal as she began slurping him down her throat.

Slowly she swallowed more than half his length into her mouth and then began working her way back to the head of his spear. Each millimeter of distance covered unveiling sensations he had not felt in so very long. Back down again and her other hand wrapped itself around his balls, and hefted them up. Her middle finger began massaging the space between his balls and anus gently, then increased the pressure with each little movement.
 
Katirah was not a sex slave. She had not been trained specifically in how to please a man. But she had received some instruction. Generally though she found the old men and boys that the Pasha had given her to for a night. Mainly the men were so happy for her to put her lips on them in that way, that is was all over very soon. She had never had much of a chance to experiment or truly to discover what a man liked.

Katirah alternated taking the Comte deep into her throat and sucking, though not so deep as to gag, and pumping up and down. She used her right hand to continue the motion, squeezing and sliding up and down. Her hand was slick with her saliva and his precum.

She fondled his orbs far more gently than he treated her breasts. She lifted them feeling their weight. She looked up at him again. His head lolled back on the cushions, an expression of bliss on his face.

She made a little contented sound that sent vibrations through his cock. She moved with more vigor now wanting to hear him moan. To hear him beg the way he made her beg.
 
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