The Circassian (closed)

Marcel looked at Katirah and responded, "You promised to never be dressed in my presence didn't you?"

He walked over to Katirah caressed her cheek then began to undress her slowly, his eyes never leaving her. As her clothing fluttered to the ground he noticed Samara was off to the side, trying her best to look insignificant, trying to hide in the small spaces allowed by the tent.

"Katirah, undress her, please," he said softly.

"I did, my Comte." Katirah said. But she felt shy with the three of them there knowing what was to come later. She had felt far less shy the day before when the Effendi Henri had entered the tent. She did not have time to ponder that over much, but the Comte had not invited the effendi in to perform sexually with Katirah.

Katirah moved this way and that to aid the Comte as he undressed her. His hands moved as if she were a precious gift he was unwrapping. His voice sounded like he was speaking to a nervous horse, or a lover.

"Katirah, undress her, please," he said softly.

She went to Samara who, for all her giggles earlier, was even more nervous than she. Perhaps if they had been given time to get to know each other more intimately on their own, this would not be so...awkward was the only word Katirah could think of.

Samara was not the prettiest woman Katirah had ever seen, but she was by no means ugly. Her hair was black like the night sky, as were her eyes. Her skin was dark, as she believed she came from the south of India. Her hips were wide, her waist narrow. Her breasts were not quite so large as Katirah's. She also was devoid of body hair from the neck down. Samara's body was firm from her duties as a slave. The muscles of her arms and legs were more defined than Katirah's. her skin was not as smooth and her hands and feet had callouses from a lifetime of work. All-in-all she was pleasing to the eye.

It was not long before both Katirah and Samara stood before the Comte. "I shall pour wine." Katirah said and squeezed Samara's hand in reassurance.

Marcel watched as Katirah poured the wine, his eyes on her, virtually forgetting that Samara was there until Samara put a dish of food down for them to eat from.

As Katirah settled down, he said, "I will watch the two of you for now. Katirah, pleasure Samara first, then Samara will pleasure you."

HIs eyes were soft as he said, "Then afterwards, Katirah, you will pleasure me whilst Samara watches."

Katirah noted that a brazier was already lit and warming the tent. They would not be cold even if they were naked.

Katirah and Samara ate lightly. Both were feeling somewhat nervous about what was to come, which also explained why they were drinking more wine than they normally would. In fact they had been drinking more than usually throughout the day and while not drunk, they were feeling a lot more relaxed.

"I will watch the two of you for now. Katirah, pleasure Samara first, then Samara will pleasure you."

His eyes were soft as he said, "Then afterwards, Katirah, you will pleasure me whilst Samara watches."

"As the Comte wishes." Katirah said. His voice seemed thick with desire already. She moved to sit closer to Samara and fed her a morsel from the plate. She made sure their wine glasses were never empty. Her head would probably hurt in the morning, but it made her less nervous and more sensuous, more tactile. She gave Samara a gentle kiss and was happy that Samara responded.

They ate less and less and caressed each other more and more until finally Katirah took Samara's hand and led her to the Comte's bed which was nothing more than a pile of furs and blankets.

They kissed again and fondled each other's breasts. Katirah whispered, "You must tell me if I should do something you do not like. Or if you want me to do something I am not."

She put her thigh between Samara's legs and kissed her nipples to bring them to full hardness. Samara moaned and let her own hands roam Katirah's body. They were both exploring and discovering each other. It was not long before Katirah forgot the Comte was even in the tent.

She slid her hand down Samara's torso to slide her hand between the woman's legs. Samara groaned and opened her legs wider.

Marcel never touched himself; he didn't need to. Watching Katirah seduce then begin to pleasure Samara was so intense that it more than was enough to keep his attention, and his blood in his cock.

He knew after a while that they forgot he was there, and smiled. Their passions filled the tent, the sweet muskiness of their sex filled his nostrils. Not wanting to draw attention from what they were doing, he sat quietly, stifling each vocal reaction he wanted to make as he watched Katirah kissing Samara's breast while Samara help her tightly to them.

As Katirah's hand delved into Samara's sex, Samara moaned, her head thrashing. Her eyes were wide open, though Marcel could easily see that Samara saw nothing but the pleasure Katirah was bringing her.

Katirah brought Samara to bliss once with her hand. Then Katirah began kissing down her body, nipping her here and there, grazing her hipbone with her teeth. Katirah teased and began using her fingers again until finally her tongue flicked out and worked on Samara's clit in earnest.

Katirah had once heard someone say that eating a woman was like eating the sea. That they contained the same salty tang. But Katirah had never seen the sea, let alone experienced the salt air. She thought Samara tasted of musk and spices. And earthy flavor. A taste that was as intoxicating as wine the way it filed her senses. Her rump was in the air as she knelt between Samara's legs. She used her fingers and tongue, featherlight and rapid, then stronger and slower.

Samara moaned and tossed her head and came with a shout. Only women seemed able to make her come so hard.

Katirah rested her head on Samara's stomach as the slave caught her breath. Katirah remembered the Comte and looked at him through heavy-lidded lust-filled eyes. The hint of a smile played over her lips.

((the thing I hate most abt same-sex sex scenes is pronouns. Making sure the reader knows who is doing what to whom. ))

((Not that I have done it, I understand the situation))

Marcel lowered himself to Katirah, his hand massaging her sex, while his tongue trace a wet line along the crevasse formed by her ass cheeks. Slowly, taking his time, ensuring that Katirah felt no pain at all, he started filling her back door with one finger, then a second.

Alternating between the slick juices of her sex and his saliva he readied Katirah while Samara held her, kissed her, and at Marcel's urging massaged Katirah's sex.

Then slowly he fed his cock to Katirah's ass, taking his time, ensuring that Katirah experienced no pain. As Katirah began to ram back to meet his slow strokes, Marcel rolled over on to his back, pulling her along. Hooking her ankles with his feet, he spread her legs wide.

His cock planted further into Katirah's sex and the each moaned. Marcel looked at Samara and said, "Get the green one from the box."

A moment later, Samara nodded and then returned with the jade dildo. "You know how to use that?" He asked.

"Yes, Comte," she said softly.

"Good, pleasure Katirah with it while I am filling her from the back."

Katirah tensed as the Comte used his finger in her forbidden place, but he was being gentle and slow. While her brain thought it was a horrid dirty and humiliating thing to have him do to her, her body found it pleasurable. She pulled her knees up to open herself more fully. She knew the Comte would put his cock there and fought to remain relaxed. He took his time and even though there was a strange burning sensation, she found herself pushing back urging the Comte deeper.

Katirah groaned as the Comte changed positions. The Comte was sheathed as far as he could go. Her breathing was shallow as she tried to relax.

Samara knelt between their legs and slipped the dildo into Katirah. She used her thumb on Katirah's clit eliciting a high pitched cry as Katirah jerked and bucked against the dildo. Her pelvis moved back and forth alternating between being impaled fully by the Comte's cock or the jade dildo.

Samara pumped the dildo in and out. She was very aroused by this most unusual coupling. She wadded a part of the blanket between her legs to rub against it as she worked the dildo making Katirah moan and cry out.

The Comte's strong arms encircled Katirah helping to hold her steady. He occasionally tweaked a nipple. Katirah twitched and dug her fingers into his arms. She cried out, "I die! I die!" As the wave of her orgasm built.

Marcel's hands cupped Katirah's breasts rolling her nipples, pinching them, pulling on them and distending them. The feel of the jade dildo sliding along in her pussy, against his cock was maddening. Samara's knuckles dragged along his scrotum intensifying the effect.

Katirah squirmed causing his cock to flail inside her ass. As she screamed, "I DIE!! I DIE!!" Marcel knew that he too would die.

"Suck her clit, Samara," he whispered hoarsely, "Kill her!"

Samara plunged the dildo in as far as it would go then did as she was told. She bent her head and licked and sucked on Katirah's clit. Katirah thrashed. She tried to close her legs, but Samara held her open.

Katirah dug her fingers into the Comte's arms, her face distorted as she neared her orgasm, she opened her mouth and screamed.

The orgasm rolled over her. She tried to catch her breath, but Samara goaded her on to another and another.

"No more! No more!" She pleaded.

Samara only stopped when she was sure the Comte had also reached his bliss.

Samara grabbed a napkin to sop up the fluids when she slowly removed the dildo with a sharp pop.

It was the wildest sensation that Marcel ever felt. Samara drove the dildo deep into Katirah's pussy angling each thrust, seemingly along the length of his shaft buried in Katirah's ass.

Katirah's spasms and gyrations on his cock massaged him pulling at him desperately, heightening his pleasure, forcing his eyes to roll into the back of his head.

Katirah's cries of "No more" fell on death ears as Samara fucked Katirah.

He felt the growing need in his balls and clenched his ass cheeks trying to the orgasm hold off as long as possible. It was when Samara twisted the dildo in Katirah that Marcel roared, "MORE!" as his cum exploded into Katirah.


He vaguely felt Samara cleaning the dildo, and whispered, "Clean up, bring us wine, and then you are dismissed for tonight."

Samara straightened up, put things away, and brought wine over to where the Comte and Katirah still lay. "The wine is low, I will fetch more and then leave." She left quietly happy that she might still see Luc when he was finished his watch.

Katirah was exhausted. She could not tell if she were actually quivering or if her body just felt that way. She seemed to be floating. She could not move, not yet. Her heart still thundered, her breathing was ragged. She heard the Comte speak but it was meaningless to her.

Finally, she began to come back to herself. His cock was still buried in her. It was the discomfort that spurred her to groan and try to move.

The Comte rolled them onto their sides. His softening cock slid out a little. Katirah groaned. She bore down and pushed his cock out the rest of the way. She hissed in a breath.

"Should the Comte wish to enter me thus again...there is a cream that will ease your passage." She pulled the Comte's arm around her as they laid like spoons. "I thank the Comte for being gentle." She thought she should probably clean herself and the Comte, but she was so tired she did not think she could move. She heard Samara return with more wine and then leave.

Marcel felt Katirah tug his arm across her as they laid back to stomach for a while. He heard sleep overtake Katirah, her breathing coming in shallow droughts. He relished the feel of her chest rising and falling and in short order fell asleep behind her.

He awoke early in the morning, before the sun rose and felt Katirah in his arms still. He smiled briefly before extricating himself from the furs, trying to not disturb her, or cause a draft of cold air to hit her skin.

He sat at the table with the maps, staring at her while listening to the morning activity begin around the camp. A moment of dread passed through him as he thought briefly of what France would bring, then decided that at least for now, it was out of his control.

He heard her stir a moment then watched as she plopped her arm around seeking him, only to sit up when she did not find him there. "Good morning," he said.

"The day is cold, I would stay under the furs as long as possible if I you."

Katirah woke. She was not sure why. As she reached for the Comte and found him missing, she thought his absence must have awakened her. She blinked sleepily at him where he sat at his table looking at maps. What was he looking for, pouring over the maps so much? She hoped it was for a way to prolong their journey. Ever since the bandit had galloped away with her she thought the Comte could do that: take his horse, scoop her up and gallop away, far from the caravan. The Effendi Henri could say they were killed by bandits, or stelen away by them, Or that a fever had taken them. She would broach the subject with the Comte when the time was right.

"It is cold even under the furs without the Comte." She pouted prettily. "It is still dark, come back to bed." She pulled up one of the furs, but held it so it exposed one perfect breast with a rosy and very hard nipple.

Marcel looked at her hard nipple jutting out from her firm tit and smiled. "So now you wish for Henri to join us in the furs?" he teased.

Marcel slid into the furs, his hands roaming over her lush body and soon nestled between her legs. His middle finger slowly rubbed up and down her slit, pressing gently as it moved along.

"You better get me undressed quickly," he breathed hoarsely into her mouth.

Katirah's eyes grew wide. She looked around the tent, she had not seen the effendi in there. The Comte was teasing her. Her cheeks went red. She decided it best not to answer that question about having both the Comte and the effendi. The Comte would always be enough man for her, but after having both holes filled--twice now, she wondered what it would be like. Although she still felt stretched and sore in that most private of places.

She was surprised that the Comte did come back to the furs. The effendi must be coming to make plans with the Comte again.

Katirah tugged at the Comte's tunic to pull it off of him. Then she worked on his trousers releasing his cock. She arched her back against him with a moan as she took his cock in her hand.

As it always did, Marcel's manhood rose to the occasion when Katirah wrapped her hand around his girth. She arced into him and Marcel moaned gently at the feel of her naked flesh pressed against his.

Foreplay be damned, Marcel rolled atop of Katirah and kissed her ravenously as he slid himself into her.

The feel of her sex clamping onto him, drawing him in deeper, caused his eyes to roll back into his skull. "Katirah," he moaned.

Katirah cried out at the Comte's sudden penetration. She dug her fingers into his shoulders. "A moment, mon etalon." She gasped when he let her come up for air. She shifted her legs and relaxed. "Better." She murmured.

The Comte began thrusting again. Harder, faster. Katirah rocked her pelvis beneath him. Her dove-like cries began and she bucked stronger.

Marcel rose up, extending his arms and arched into Katirah, driving his cock as deep into her as he could. With long slow strokes, he filled her and vacated her, his eyes never leaving her eyes.

He focused his mind and energy on one thought, bringing Katirah to a screaming orgasm that would wake the camp. As he brought her close to an orgasm he slowed and shifted positions slightly, denying her the bliss momentarily.

Katirah was readying herself for release when the Comte moved and changed rhythm. She sighed in disappointment. "Must I now beg each time we couple?" She pounded lightly on his chest with her fist. She pushed against him trying to urge him on. She pinched his nipples lightly as she would do to a woman.

"I thought we must be quick, before the effendi Henri arrives." She shuddered as the Comte slowly pushed forward. "Or does the Comte wish to leave us both unsatisfied until nightfall?"

Marcel continued his slow throbbing strokes, his cock sliding deep in to her drenched vagina with each measured stroke. His eyes turned to hers, "There is a third option, and that is leaving only one of us unsatisfied until nightfall."

Rolling off her, yet keeping his cock buried in her, Marcel placed his body at a 90 degree angle to Katirah's and placed her feet on his hip. The new angle forced his cock along the top wall of her vagina, making the head drag across her G-Spot with each stroke.

"Why would we wish to do such a thing? It would be most uncomfortable to spend the rest of the day in want and need." More so for the Comte, since he would be spending the day on horseback. She could always pleasure herself in her wagon, with or without Samara.

The Comte changed positions. She wondered if he had been memorizing The Perfumed Garden.

She gasped and moaned loudly. "That is...ooh. Mon coeur. Mon coeur." Her body undulated at the new sensation. She slid her hands down her body, Fingers of one hand opened her folds exposing her clit. The other began to play across it lightly. She moaned again and rocked faster against the Comte.

Katirah began gyrating against his cock harder and harder as she rubbed herself, racing toward an orgasmic release. He could feel the head of his shaft beating gently against her vaginal walls, which seemed to constrict a little tighter with each move of her body.

His eyes rolled back into his head and he moaned.

"Faster, Katirah, fuck me faster!" He groaned out.

((Mmm, went to a mead tasting today. Yum.))

Katirah put her leg over the Comte's hip to better hold his against her. She did not need urging. She pushed faster against his cock.She worked her clit bringing herself to a frenzied orgasm. Her muscles spasmed. She let out a cry of ecstasy. She kept pushing against the Comte wanting him to come along with her.

Marcel smiled to himself as Katirah's orgasm overtook her. He kept the pace going as orgasm after orgasm rolled through her. Marcel picked the pace of his hips up to make up for the lack of motor control Katirah showed as her body quivered from pleasure.

As her orgasms receded, Marcel rolled his body onto hers, kissing Katirah deeply. "Now my turn, use only your mouth."