The Circassian (closed)

Marcel moaned as his cock received the loving treatment of Katirah's mouth and hands. Her full breasts brushed against his legs with each bob of her beautiful mouth and head.

Glancing at Tamzin, he hoarsely croaked out, "Don't move."

Placing his hands under Katirah's arm pits he lift her up and turned her toward Tamzin. He pulled one leg and draped it over his good leg and maneuvered her into position. One leg was between his legs, the other between Tamzin's legs. Pulling on Katirah's waist, he lowered her until the head of his cock brushed along her slit.

As her lower lips spread, he could feel her quim spread across the head of his cock. As she lowered, she impaled herself on him, Tamzin's eyes wide and staring at the point where he was disappearing into Katirah.

As Katirah's ass landed on his hip and the chair, he moaned. Marcel gripped her hips hard enough that his knuckles were white. "Now beloved," he whispered in a croak, "show her desire unleashed."

((Your new quote made me laugh.))

((Is Katirah facing hin or facing away. I'm having a bit of trouble picturing the position, or I guess I can picture it, but don't know if she is facing toward him or away.))


At least Tamzin was getting a lesson in the practical aspects of pleasing a man. She was so focused on this awkward position the Comte had maneuvered her into and trying not to hurt his wounded thigh, that she nearly missed it when he called her 'beloved.' Her heart leapt.

She kissed him deeply pouring genuine passion into it. ((Unless she is facing away from him in which case she will wish she could kiss him.))

She moved slowly and gently to let his cock slide in and out of her. His grip on her hips was hard, so hard she might have bruises, but she did not care. It only showed his great need for her.

Tamzin watched in fascination. She could smell the heady aroma Katirah's arousal. Her breasts tingled and a warmth spread from between her legs.

((Desire unleashed?))

Marcel's cock slid in and out of Katirah easily as she raised and lowered herself on him. The feel of her rock hard nipples dragging a long his chest sent shudders of pleasure through out him.

"Face her now, let Tamzin see your face as passion explodes from you, in you."

Katirah leaned in and kissed the Comte again before she slowly moved to get off him. She turned around and gave Tamzin a faint smile.

She straddled the Comte's good leg. "Help me." She told Tamzin reaching out with one hand to use the girl to steady herself. She used the other hand to guide the Comte's cock into her. She let her head fall back and breathed out deeply as she lowered herself onto his cock.

She tried to keep her eyes on Tamzin, but the sensations were too exquisite. It made her moan. She took the Comte's hand and placed it over her breast as she gyrated slowly.

Marcel's hand tightened reflexively around Katirah's heavey breast, her nipple hardening even more in between his fingers as he rolled it back and forth. Tugging on her nipple to coax Katirah to rise and fall even faster on his cock, a low hungry moan rolled from his lips, reverberating in his chest.

He felt, more than saw Tamzin move into position to support Katirah. Her young firm breast smashed against his thigh, though not unpleasant, Marcel immediately decided that Katirah's chest felt infinitely better.

Moving his hand around to pull her hair back, Marcel rotated her slightly so that His mouth could clamp onto a breast and he began licking, nibbling, and suckling on it in earnest.

Katirah moaned but moved faster pumping up and down on the Comte's cock. She put a hand on Tamzin's shoulder for leverage. She moaned louder when the Comte pulled her hair. She moved even faster as he teased her nipple with his mouth.

"Yesss," she hissed. "Mon coeur, yes." She was suddenly much wetter as she felt her climax approaching.

Marcel felt that becoming familiar palpitation in Karirah's snatch as she began ululating her pleasure her voice reaching higher and higher pitches with each movement.

Blindly grabbing for Tamzin's arm, he pulled it up until he could place the pad of her hand against Katirah's clit. Katirah's body froze a moment at the unexpected pleasure, or source, and Marcel whispered roughly into her ear, "Now, beloved, cum for me."

Katirah cried out. Her orgasm rolled over her. The Comte's breath in her ear. His words. And finally, Tamzin's hand. She could not hold back. She was no longer concerned about the Comte's healing wounds, she just wanted him to come with her. She panted a bit and then shrieked her pleasure again.

She bounced and wriggled against him. Her fingers dug into Tamzin's shoulder

The heat of Katirah's pleasure, and the hand rubbing his balls on accident, forced Marcel to the edge of orgasm. It was when he realized that a pussy was being rubbed against his ankle and lower leg, Marcel lost it. Arching as much as he could in the restrained space, he drove his cock ever so deeper into Katirah as his ass left the solid board of the chair.

Locked in a state not too unlike rigor mortis, Marcel's shoulder's were braced against the back rest of the chair, as the seat fired up to smack him in the ass. He heard a muffled sound, not from Katirah, as he slammed back down into the chair.

Katirah leaned back against the Comte panting.

Tamzin sat on the floor still pressing her pussy against the Comte's leg. Her hand was stuffed against her mouth as a strange and wonderful warm flooded her body. Her cheeks tinged pink. She moved a bit away from the pair on the chair.

Marcel looked down at Katirah, his face flush but relaxed. Lowering his head down, he kissed around her eyes, down the bridge of her nose, and then worked his tongue delicately into her mouth. Pouring his heart and soul into the kiss, he explored her mouth languidly, enjoying the taste, the feel, of her.

Breaking the kiss, his eyes reflected the battle of his heart and mind as he stared into her her green gold eyes, which seemed more golden than usual. Never taking his eyes off of hers, his voice quavered slightly as he ordered, "Tamzin, leave us."

Katirah twisted her head, put her hand on the Comte's shoulder and returned his kiss. Something had come over the Comte since he had acquired Tamzin and Sophia. His kisses made her forget her reservations about having three women in in the same tent.

At the Comte's words, Tamzin stood and dressed quickly. Outside the tent she could feel the soldiers eyes on her. No doubt they had heard Katirah. Her cheeks burned as she hurried back to the wagon and Sophia.

Marcel dove into Katirah's eyes, drowning in them, almost losing himself with in their depths. Part of him wanted to send Henri on with Tamzin, allowing Katirah and he to take another route, never to return.

He cradled her in his arms, and cleared his throat. "I am yours in a way I have never been before, and will never be again."

He watched the emotions welling up in her, trying so hard to control his own, "But, Katirah..."

He felt her stiffen at the 'But' and held her, finishing in a rush, "I won't ever be able to marry you. Even if I never marry again, my eligibility is too rich a hook to dangle, the Marquis will never allow it."

He saw her emotions roiling and boiling, "I swear though, we will never be separated."

Katirah searched the Comte's face. He had called her 'beloved' for the first time earlier that day. And now...although he did not use the word love, he declared himself to her. Her heart swelled and she thought she would burst. She was about to process her love fully, completely, when he uttered the word 'but.'

She stiffened and pulled away a little. Her face fell. She listened to his words struggling to understand what he was saying. "I do not need marriage." She said, trying to keep her voice calm and even. That much was rue, as a slave, marriage was not something she even considered. But the thought of him marrying someone else, even if it were against his will or preference...She knew what life was like in the harem. The way the wives and concubines vied for supremacy. She had always been above all that, until First Wife decided the pasha was spending too much time with her.

"The Marquis." She turned her head and made a spitting noise. "I hate the Marquis." She looked away. "The Marquis may not accept Tamzin for his slave. Then I am his and we are not together. If he does--we are together, but he will no doubt force you to marry. Effendi Henri said as much to me. I may accept my position as your concubine, but I doubt your wife would. She will hate me as the First Wife did and I will be cast out, or killed or sold again." Anger and hurt fought within her. She blinked back tears.

She turned letting his cock slide out of her fully so she could fling her arms around him. She buried her head in the crook of his neck. "I will kill myself if we cannot be together." She pulled back to look him in the eyes. "I will." She said forcefully.

She wondered why the Comte did this to her...Held out hope with one hand and dashed it to bits with the other. Did he enjoy hurting her this way? Did he really feel about her the way he said? Or was that part of some horrible game he was playing? To keep her off balance. She wanted to slap him, to pummel him with her fists. She wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt her.

She moved to stand up. "I need to leave." She could not stay and allow him to toy with her any more.

"Non."

It is perhaps the simplest word, no. When said in certain inflections it carries so much more than any lexicon could convey. Frequently the first word a baby learns, slightly before "Mom", it use a daily thing for all people across all times.

This particular usage carried a heart, a soul, and a command in it.

Marcel's hand wrapped around her wrist, firmly, not tightly. "Do not run away Katirah, stay here, with me."

((Wow this was very hard to write...))

Katirah looked into his eyes. Her own shined with unshed tears. "I will stay with you, my Comte. Mon coeur. How can I not? You are my heart. My breath. My life. I cannot live without you."

The tears fell from her eyes. She managed look beautiful even when crying. She kissed him as if they were sealing their future together.

She did not want to be parted from him for even a moment, but if their plan was to work at all, she must continue to train Tamsin. That was the first step. Whether the Marquis would want the Comte to marry another was out of their hands. She must push those thoughts away so she could focus at the more immediate problem of Tamzin.

She tried to gather herself, but she could not bring herself to let the Comte go.

Marcel nodded, swallowing the large lump that had materialized in his throat.

"Never run, Katirah. Not from me."

He stood up, his left leg flaring in pain at the weight it bore and he stepped tentatively around the tent, his manhood swinging with each step. He looked at Katirah and shrugged, "Not good yet, but better. Maybe you can chat with some people as we go along to see if anyone has a remedy for bruises."

Katirah had to let the Comte go when he stood. She could see the pain in his face as he walked.

"I will see what I can discover. I have heard of creams...but the wound is more than a bruise. The muscle was cut and needs to heal." She looked at him with a playful glint in her eye. "I think perhaps the Comte needs to consider his wounds and not be so vigorous in his pleasure."

She stood and picked up a piece of fruit. "The Comte should eat, and I must go back to Tamzin and begin her lessons for the day. She must know how to play a few instruments at least. And sing many songs."

She paused at looked at the Comte. "Just how much does the Marquis know about the almeh? What are his expectations? If I know where to focus first, it would be a help. Does he want a slave who can entertain him and be pleasing in the bedchamber, or does he want a sex slave who is also entertaining?"

She herself was the former, and proud of it. A true alma was worth much money as the Comte had discovered when buying her. But if the Marquis only knew of the almeh though rumors, it would make their plan much easier to carry out. Of course, there was the small detail that his men knew Katirah had been purchased first and Tamzin captured later...If they spoke out, all would be undone. The knot in her stomach returned.

Marcel considered her question a moment before answering. "Train her to be an entertaining sex slave. At least as much as possible with out endangering her maidenhead."

"As to my vigorous pursuit of pleasure," he smiled, "I tackle all things with equal zeal, otherwise, why bother?"

Grabbing a piece of fruit, he held it up to Katirah for her to take a bite, and then kissed her as she chewed the sweet delicacy.

He could feel his manhood responding to her closeness, to her raw emotions, and to his own need for her. "Perhaps today we should show her how to make love for hours, allowing the wagon to rock us."

"That I can do, my Comte, with the help of Sophia." She nodded. It would be impossible to teach a lifetime of music and song and dance and stories to Tamzin in a year. But there is plenty she can learn in that time about how to please her master. May we use the Comte for some lessons? Or one of the other men?"

Katirah quirked a smile at the Comte. "I understand. But my Comte should consider his wound...perhaps three women in his bed is two too many until he is better healed."

Katirah stood to return the Comte's kiss with more ardor, then pulled him down to sit as she sank to her knees. "The Comte will now allow me to do the work." She said. Part statement, part suggestion and the hint of an order, albeit a playful one.

She took his now fully engorged cock in her hand and bent her head to take him in her mouth.

Marcel leaned back, his hands wrapping themselves in Katirah's hair, as her mouth worked it's miracles on his throbbing cock. "Non, I will be the only man involved, so yes, you may use me when the time comes."

After that, Katirah's tongue flicked across his piss slit, and Marcel was no longer capable of coherent conversation, rendered to a lulling moan.

It did not surprise Katirah at all that the Comte would be the only man involved in training Tamzin, but she thought it best to ask to be sure. The Comte was a very possessive man.

Katirah gave her full attention to the Comte's cock. By this time, she was more than familiar with what he liked. She licked and sucked and then tried one of the things Sophia had suggested to her. A way to help her take all of the Comte without gagging. She took half, then three-quarters, and then her nose was in the nest of hair pressing against his body. She sucked a little gauging his reaction.

Sophia told her that while nearly all men were impressed by this, not all of them actually liked it in terms of making them come. And some actually enjoyed the sounds of their woman gagging while trying to please him this way.

Marcel leaned back enjoying the ministrations of Katirah's mouth around his cock. Warm and soft, her mouth massaged him gently, her tongue caressing the hard ridge.

A groan escaped his mouth as he felt Katirah's nose bury into his short curly mane, His hands wrapped into her hair as he held her tight against him. His eyes locked onto hers, "A trick from Sophie?" he grunted out as her cheeks collapsed with increased suction.

((Argh!! I posted something for this yesterday and Lit ate it Now I have to remember what I wrote.))


"Mmmm." Katirah made the sound in assent. It vibrated along his cock.

She liked the power she felt when she took him in her mouth, the control it gave her over him. So often, not often--every time they coupled, he had her moaning and writhing until she didn't know her own name. There was something about being able to give him her undivided attention.

She switched back to using her tongue and pumping her mouth up and down. Her hand went to his orbs to tug them a little.

It would be very pleasant spending the day in the wagon with the Comte and it would do his wounds good. That is, if he did not insist on sexual acrobatics with the three of them.

((It was hungry))

Marcel's body convulsed as Katirah fucked his piss slit with her tongue, all the while seemingly trying to suck his brains out of his head through his cock. Her fulls lips sealed around his thick member, dragging softly along his length as she pleasured him.

Her movements alternated between a combination of fast and vigorous and the sensuous combination of slow and tender. Marcel's hips began firing up into Katirah, driving his cock into her throat.

Then his body tensed as pleasure erupted from his balls through his cock and into Katirah's welcoming mouth.