The Circassian (closed)

"So, we move onward again tomorrow." Katirah sighed. "I do not wish to think of France."

As she settled into place next to him, he stroked her thigh, and he said, "Naked, we should spend them naked as much as possible."

"The Comte's word is law." Katirah smiled. "I shall be clothed in nought but a smile in your presence."

"Is it possible for my Comte to sleep in his saddle? The Comte should rest now, I think. I will massage my Comte until he sleeps--if the Comte wishes." Or was his manhood stirring yet again? She kissed his cheek and whispered, "Tell me what the Comte wishes."
 
Marcel pulled Katirah down into the furs with him and covered the two of them up. "I believe, as localized as it was, that you have massaged me enough for one night."

Marcel pulled her close, his body spooning against hers as he drifted off to sleep the scent of her hair putting a smile on his face.
 
Katirah did not sleep as well as she would have thought after her exertions of the night before and feeling so safe and warm in the arms of the Comte. In fact, it was still dark outside.

She slowly and quietly extricated herself from the Comte, not wishing to wake him. She relieved herself, dressed in her plain shift and left the tent. She met a soldier not far away. "Should the Comte wake before my return, please tell him that I have gone to fetch his breakfast."

She stooped at her wagon and changed into a simple dress and pantaloons. She was happy to be done with the slave's shift. She hurried off to the merchant Samara had made arrangements with for the Comte's dinner. She made a tray with an assortment of fruits and a few meat pasties. She wondered how long before they would have no more fresh fruit. She poured two cups of strong Turkish coffee.

She made her way back to the Comte's tent, singing as she went.
 
Marcel woke an unexpected chill greeting him. Reaching out, he placed his hand where Katirah should have been; and was not.

The sun was not quite up yet, the first light of dawn on the eastern horizon, and in the mountains he knew they were hours away from the light of the sun actually making it down far enough to see by.

Dressing he lit a lamp and poured over the maps for the days journey ahead. He could hear her singing get closer. He wasn't sure what the song was, but the tone of her voice was happy, and more full of energy than he would have expected.

Balancing a tray of food and two steaming mugs of coffee she whirled her way into the tent. Glancing up, he said, "Thank you," and turned to the maps.
 
Katirah made a face at the Comte's back. Must he be all business so soon? She toed off her shoes and pulled off her dress, then slid the pantaloons off. She carefully folded her clothes and set them aside. She chafed her arms a bit.

"I think it shall be difficult to honor my promise to be naked in your presence as the weather gets colder." She walked to the tray and picked up the coffee cup. She breathed in the aroma then sipped the strong bitter brew.

"Where are we now?" She asked looking at the map. She tried to find where they had been. But she had not been educated in geography. The map was a great puzzle to her.
 
Marcel nodded, "Then I suppose your nipples will be hard all of the time." He smiled at her face when she screwed it up into something akin to exasperation.

Pointing to the map, "We are here. I want to be there, in the lowlands before the first snow up here. If we make it, which we should, we will make it to Pest before the winter strikes in Central Europe."

"If we don't make it," Marcel shrugged, "Then we are in all manner of trouble time wise."
 
"I shall catch the ague." Katirah pressed her body against the Comte's for warmth.

She looked at the map. The spot he pointed to looked nothing like the place they had been. The mountains looked like mountains and she could recognize lakes, but as the the rest...it was like a maze with no walls. "How do you know where to go? And why would it be trouble to linger longer?" She asked. If something delayed them from returning to France, that would be preferable, she thought. They would have more time to be together.
 
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Marcel felt her svelte body press against his for warmth and leaned into her a bit. "Remind me to have them light a coal fire for us in the mornings then."

He saw the momentary glint of hope in her eyes when she asked how the delay would be bad. He patted her on the tail gently, "It means I would have failed my task Katirah."

He began explaining how a map worked, black lines were roads, blue rivers, and so on. He paused part way into the explanation and asked, "Are you truly interested or humoring me?"
 
"I will remind the Comte about a fire." Katirah said. "I do not like the cold. Especially if I am to be naked in it. Will we see snowfall? The Pasha had snow brought down from the mountains and flavored it with rosewater or fruit juices. It was refreshing."

"Failure for the Comte would be bad then." She sighed. Having bad weather delay them was not something to wish for. "Would you be punished? If we were late?"

Katirah listened to the explanation of the map. The lines made more sense now. "This is how you know where we are to go. Follow the black lines--the roads." Katirah smiled as if the question were absurd. "I _am_ interested. I know many things. I have learned many things. I like to learn." She put her hand on her hip. "If I was not interested, I would sit among the furs for warmth and sing for my Comte."
 
Marcel looked confused a moment at her question. "Punished?"

He appeared to think about it a moment then shook his head. "No, I doubt very much the Baron would punish me; or even try. I suppose the worst he could do is for me into the marriage I have been avoiding for a year or two now."

He saw the look in her eyes and caressed her gently, "Worry not, he hasn't ordered me to by now, he isn't likely to."
 
"If you will not be punished if we take longer to reach the Baron, then why rush?"

Katirah felt her stomach drop. The Comte's words did not reassure her. She had been purchased for the Baron. When they reached France, she would be handed over to him. Her time with the Comte would be over. It would not matter if the Comte was married or not.

"It is not for me to say. If the Comte chooses to take a wife, that is for the Comte to decide. Or the Baron, I suppose." She tried not to pout like a child. It was unbecoming. The lump in her stomach was back. "I do not wish to talk of marriage, or France or the Baron." She turned to go to the furs and get warm. Or perhaps she should dress and return to her wagon. She thought the caravan should be moving soon. The Comte would have other things to do.
 
"Stop."

It was easy to tell that the emotions in his voice were being carefully controlled as he walked up to her and placed his hands on her hips. "Regardless of what happens with the Baron, I will always be there for you. I will talk him into letting you stay with me."
 
Katirah froze. Had she overstepped her bounds already? Her shoulders tensed and she held her breath not knowing what the Comte would say or do next. It was not for her to tell him what they would and would not speak of.

She could not believe her ears. She blinked back tears. She turned and buried her face in the Comte's chest."Would the Baron do that? Let me stay with you?"
 
He saw the hope return to her eyes as she asked if the Baron would let he stay with him. He nodded, "Just break a string when you play a song, it will be easier that way."
 
Katirah frowned up at the Comte. She did not understand. "Break a string...?" Then the light dawned. "You mean I should make mistakes on purpose. Not now, but when I meet the Baron." She smiled impishly at this idea.
 
He smiled at her impish grin. "Keep that up, we'll never make it because I will be here a week in your mouth."

He kissed her quickly and gently as the ten flap opened, Henri coming in unannounced.

"Err, sorry, Comte" he said.

Breaking the kiss he look into her eyes, "Not at all Henri, come on in. Katirah was about to sing us a song as we pour over the silly map."
 
Katirah wriggled against the Comte. "As the Comte wishes." She smiled at him again the same way. She put her arms around his neck and played with the hair that curled around his ears. "Tonight, I shall please the Comte with my mouth." Her smile became smug. He could think about that for the rest of the day.

Katirah stayed close to the Comte, not actually covering herself, but not being blatant about her nakedness.

Breaking the kiss he looked into her eyes, "Not at all Henri, come on in. Katirah was about to sing us a song as we pour over the silly map."

"As the Comte wishes." She got on tiptoes and kissed the corner of the Comte's mouth. The she turned and walked like a queen to the furs to get warm and comfortable.

"Effendi, good morning. Do you have a sort of song your would enjoy?"
 
Henri looked back and forth from the Comte and Katirah. Shrugging his shoulders, "I guess something light and cheery, we have a long day ahead."

Marcel nearly choked on laughter, knowing full well that Henri enjoyed ribauld entertainment when away from court.

They were certainly as far from court as Marcel would want to be.

He could imagine farther east, but had absolutely no desire to come back here, much less farther a field.

He listened to her as they went over the map for the day's journey the camp that night and the next day's journey. Pointing at a section of the map, "If we take this trail, it could shave days off the trip."

Marcel scowled, "If infested with bandits and tribesmen, it could be the end of the trip."

"True, my Comte, but is not the reward worth the risk?"

Marcel looked out the tent flap and slowly shook his head. "No, the saffron alone is worth the extra time."
 
Katirah was not sure why the Comte laughed. Perhaps the effendi do not like singing at all, or perhaps it was some private joke.

Katirah sat in the bed of furs facing the map table. She pulled a fur over her and thought of what to sing. The Comte did not like her bawdy songs, though the men and slaves enjoyed them well enough. She chose a song about a silly bird.

She could not hear what the two were saying but there seemed to be a slight disagreement about the route. She thought she heard the word 'bandit,' and felt a chill go down her spine. She paused before starting the next verse to hear the Comte say, "No, the saffron alone is worth the extra time."

So, the Comte wanted to spend more time on their route. It made her smile. While she sang she became less self-conscious and let the fur fall from covering the front of her.
 
As the two men split, Marcel was aware that the song she had been singing certainly was light and airy. The sight of her kneeling naked in his furs singing for him naked stirred his blood.

He walked over to her and helped her onto her feet. His mouth found hers, a long kiss designed to inflame, to tease, to promise more later. "I must say, I certainly like seeing you naked," he whispered into her mouth.
 
The Comte's kiss left Katirah breathless. She was happy to know that her presence stirred him, but she had been surprised that he allowed the effendi to see her thus, but then this was the same man who made her walk naked through camp. That other men would see her thus did not seem to matter to him.

"And I like seeing the Comte naked." She squirmed against him. "If the Comte does not need me for anything else, I should prepare for our departure. I have not been to my wagon since--in three days."

((If not, ignore this and I'll delete it or move it to a later post. Unless we want to try it on horseback :D If the Comte wants her to go, then this:))

Katirah could hear men moving around outside closer to the tent. They no doubt wanted to take it down and stow it so they could get moving. She dressed quickly She could wash with a basin in her wagon as they moved along.

She went to the Comte and put her arms around him. "Until tonight, mon coeur." She turned to leave, then turned back again. "Should I speak to Samara and bring her with me tonight?" Katirah was not happy at the prospect of sharing the Comte, but he had seemed very interested in having the experience of being with two women again. Perhaps she should not have mentioned it, but she did not want Samara to be summoned and not know what she would be walking into.
 
Marcel stood a moment thinking about Katirah's request. He almost said no, but then thought this at least the second time Katirah brought Samara up. Noddidng his head, "Yes, and the box as well."

Her face was almost unreadable, but there was a glimmer of something there, resignation perhaps?

Marcel strode by Katirah, patting her affectionately on the rump as he said, "I will leave you to prepare for tonight then."

As he left the tent, Marcel began barking orders, getting the caravan up and heading down the road.
 
Katirah breathed out. So. The Comte wanted Samara as well. She walked to her wagon which was further back down the line, not near where the soldiers made their camp.

Samara greeted her with a smile. "I _knew_ you should go to the Comte."

Katirah smiled back. "Yes, you were right. But now we will share the wagon again. If you would fetch us water so we may wash, I'll tend to the wagon."

It did not take Samara long to return with a basin of water. "You said 'we'..."

"You do not wish to be clean?"

"I usually wash at night when my day is over. To wash the dirt of the day off before bed."

"The Comte wishes both of us to attend him tonight." Katirah said. She secured the flaps on the wagon and turned to Samara. "Do not look at me so. You are not naive. The Comte wishes to have both of us pleasure him. Or to pleasure each other. Or both."

"But--"

"The Comte's word is law," Katirah recited. "Last night, the Comte asked about the harem and what the women do there. He told me he had been with two women before." She took off her shoes and clothing. "Get undressed, we shall wash each other." She took a cloth and put it in the water.

Samara undressed and turned her back. Katirah began washing her. "If what the Comte wants is upsetting to you, you must tell me. I believe he is in an understanding mood. I could speak to him..."

"I have been with men." Samara answered. "When you were...gone, Luc stayed here with me one night when he had last watch." She turned to look at Katirah. "You are not upset with me, I hope."

"Katirah shook her head, "No. No. As long as my things are undisturbed, I do not care. The Comte did not seem happy when I told him I thought you were spending time with one of his soldiers, but I soothed him about it. Tell your man to have a care, though. If the Comte thinks he is neglecting his duties--it will not go well."

"Luc? He treats you well?"

"Well enough, and it keeps the others from bothering me. Especially after what the Comte did to that mercenary. Word went through camp like a windstorm."

"Is he handsome?"

Samara shrugged. "His eyes are like fairouz, very blue."

"Turn around." Katirah washed Samara's arms. She looked at the woman who acted as her servant now, but also had become her friend. "I do not know what the Comte will ask of us tonight..." This was very awkward. Katirah felt her cheeks go hot. She washed Samara's chest and then her breasts. "In the harem in the palace of the pasha, sometimes the women...The Comte may wish us to pleasure each other. Have you done that before?"


((And I will leave this here for now since it is late and I must decide just how much experience Samara has had. And I need to ponder just how possessive and jealous a woman Katirah is. Although it depends just what the Comte has in mind for his entertainment this evening.))
 
It never crossed his mind again that he was having two women in his tent that night, so focused was he on the task at hand.

No caravan is a swift moving unit. They all take a long time to get ready to leave, and even longer it seemed, to settle for a night. Part of Marcel wondered how the Roman Legions managed to travel a goodly distance each day, and build a pallisade each night for protection.

Perhaps it would be easier with merely a legion of highly trained men, but even they had camp followers. Maybe not to the percentage that Marcel did; but whores, merchants, and missionaries alike are all part of moving a mass of men cross country.

After they stopped for the day, Marcel positioned the guards and turned things over to Henri for the night. It then dawned on him, that Katirah and Samara would be there than night.

He went to his tent and changed from his travelling clothes, to something a little more comfortable for lounging around. He could here the murmur of the camp and listened to its tenor. The usual amount of grousing, but mostly is was a quiet, contented sound.

About an hour later, Katirah and Samara arrived at the tent, Samara carrying food, Katirah some wine and her box. He went to the two women, and said, "Let's eat and discuss the night, then we'll start."
 
((Meanwhile, earlier that day...))

The women washed each other discovering a little more of each other's bodies. Katirah showed Samara the contents of her box and how the items were used. Some were obvious and made Samara giggle. Katirah told her of the night the Comte had tied her and taken her on the table in the inn. That was when Samara had found the jade phallus on the floor when she cleaned up after them.

They drank wine and ate dried figs. They put lotions and creams on each other, especially on Katirah since she was not happy with her skin since being in the sun so much. Samara put ointments on Katirah's feet. Neither woman needed to be depilitated yet, though both showed signs of their body hair growing back, it needed to be longer before it could be threaded or waxed. Two more weeks perhaps.

The wine put them in a relaxed mood. Katirah pulled a book from one of her chests. It was heavily illustrated with all manner of sexual positions. She turned to the pages showing two women with one man. They giggled and turned the pages this way and that.

At one point Samara dressed and went to speak to Luc.

"What? The Comte already has the most beautiful woman in the camp, and now he wants the second most beautiful?" He groused quietly. he had climbed off of his horse to walk with Samara while they spoke.

Samara smiled and looked down. "You flatter."

"I speak truth." he patted her rump. In truth he though Samara had the better shape. The dusky woman had a bottom you could really hold on to. "And now I must spend the night thinking about where you are and what you are doing." His cock twitched at the thought of having two women rubbing their bodies against him. He thought the Comte had lived like a monk for so long he now was making up for it.

"If I am sent away early, I will come to you."

"No," Luc made a face. I have middle watch. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night, come to me and tell me what you did with her..." He squeezed Samara's bottom again. "Now go before I take you here in the dirt."

---

Katirah helped Samara to ready herself. She applied makeup and gave her servant a beautiful dress of her own to wear, white and red and gold. For herself she wore green which always made her hair look more lustrous. The dress was beautiful with delicate embroidery and beadwork and would be a lovely pile on the floor minutes after she entered the Comte's tent.

The two women walked to the Comte's tent trailing the scent of spicy food and amber perfume.

"Let's eat and discuss the night, then we'll start."

Katirah looked at the Comte. She was not sure what was needed to discuss. She was not sure if that should make her feel better or worse. Just what did the Comte have in mind?

"Shall I--shall we disrobe?" Katirah had told the Comte she would always be naked in his tent, but with Samara there, it was different. It was not as if the Comte had ordered her to be always naked in his tent. That would be different.
 
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