The Circassian (closed)

[a_libertine]

The brush never stopped as he listened to Katirah tell him about the jade dildo. His memory replaying the scene in his head including the near table shattering orgasm that wracked her body.

"Very well, Katirah, we won't use that device again," he said softly.

He maintained the same steady pace with the brush, not missing a strand of hair. His legs held her close, a comforting touch. "You delayed, Katirah, is that because you don't trust me yet?"

 

[haremfaery]

Katirah hadn't actually meant that the Comte should never use the jade pillar again. But it was far too large for a virgin entrance. She thought that one should begin with something smaller and work up to a larger size if that is what one wanted. She wondered if the Comte had plans to use that spot to take his pleasure with her, the way men did with boys. She would not think on that now.

"The Comte is very kind." Katirah said. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the relaxed feeling that the brushing caused in her.

"You delayed, Katirah, is that because you don't trust me yet?"

Katirah had never been interrogated so gently before. It was if the Comte was doing his best to relax her so she would answer honestly and without gile.

"I do not understand the Comte. I am trying, but... That does not not answer your question. I trust the Comte in many things, but I do not understand the Comte's mind and that...makes me hesitate."

How many days had she known the Comte? Three? Her emotions had bounced up and down in that time like a juggler's ball. The Comte had shown her the heights of bliss she had not thought possible. Yet, he had also shown his anger and his threats frightened her.

 

[a_libertine]

Not that she couk see or hear it, Maecel nodded. "I forget sometimes that you have been here only two maybe three days. Wonderful days to be sure."

He thought of the road ahead and knew that there would be plenty of time for the two of them to get to know each other, despite their fast start there was much to learn about each other.

His voice was soft and warm, fingers raking through her hair as he asked, "What would you ask of me?"

 

[haremfaery]

Katirah rested her cheek against the Comte's knee. It was so soothing have him stroke her hair. She felt safe and content.

"What would you ask of me?"

She thought about the question. The Comte was full of questions for her tonight. "I do not know. It is not for me to ask anything of you. I am your servant, your slave." Or the Baron's when the time comes.

What would she ask of the Comte, if she could? She truly did not know, it was such a wide question. That he treat her gently? That he not make threats that chilled her to the bone?

 

[a_libertine]

This was it. The moments he missed the most with his deceased wife. The intimate moments when she sat on the floor between his legs while they talked and he brushed her hair. Played with her hair.

But this woman between his legs now was not his wife, but his slave. A rueful smile crossed his face as he thought, not that there is a lot of difference between the two. The slavery aspect more clearly formalized the relationship; marriage was the transfer of the rights of a woman from her father to her husband.

"Yes that is true, you are my slave, but would I ask if I did not wish to know?" he asked softly.

 

[haremfaery]

Katirah sighed a little. She did not want to ruin this moment by saying the wrong thing. "I suppose not." She said. Why would he have reason to toy with her thus? "Truly..." She turned so she could look at the Comte's face. "I do not know what to ask of my Comte. I do not need things. I have my instruments and clothes. This is a question no one has ever asked me. I have no...knowledge. I am at a loss."

What could she ask? That he love her? She did not know much of love, but she knew it had to come from within a person. It could not be bidden forth.

The Comte had already said she held a place in his heart. He said he knew she held a place for his, but she still had misgivings.

Kneeling between his legs, she put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. "At this moment, my Comte, I have all I want." She gazed up at him. There was a tightness in her chest.

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel reached down and cupped her face and held her a moment. His eyes warm and liquid drank her in. "From now on, we will spend time sitting and talking, you will tell me of your day so that we may learn of each other."

Marcel leaned forward, his lips grazing her lips as he whispered, "You must be able to tell me anything."

 

[haremfaery]

Katirah could not help but to laugh a little. "I am sure the Comte will find my days very boring. I should rather sing for my Comte or tell tales."

But she thought of something she and Samara could do to pass the time that the Comte might find interesting. Once they were on the move it would be difficult to execute. She would have Samara henna not just her hands and feet, but her body too. Then she would not have to tell him how she spent her day, she could show him.

Then he gave her a wisp of a kiss. "If that is what pleases my Comte, I will try. I wish to please my Comte in all ways." She leaned forward to offer him her mouth. Her breasts pressed against him. Nothing separating them but the thin fabric of their night clothes.

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel took her with his mouth, soft tender caresses from his tongue and hands, exploring mouth and body alike. Coaxing her body with his finger tips, he felt more than heard her sigh into the kiss.

Her body melted into his, her arms and hands caressing his triceps and shoulders. Her breasts crushed into Marcel's chest, heating both of their bodies, hotter and hotter.

With an ease that was almost ridiculous, Marcel rolled Katirah up and across his body until she laid on the bed. His body poised above hers, Marcel broke the kiss and looked down into Katirah's eyes and smiled gently. "Mine" he whispered softly before kissing her again.

 

[haremfaery]

This was the Comte she preferred. When he acted like a lover, she could return that love a thousandfold.

Gentle hands, soft kisses. She felt a like a virgin on her wedding night. She let her hands explore the Comte's chest and shoulders as if for the first time. Her kisses became bolder.

The Comte broke the kiss and looked down into Katirah's eyes and smiled gently. "Mine" he whispered softly before kissing her again.

Katirah's resistance was faltering. At times it could be so easy to love this man. To give herself over to him body and soul. She was afraid she already had. She put aside her fears and reservations. "Toujours toi," She whispered back.

Katirah began to pull the Comte's night shirt up. She wanted to feel his skin under her hands. She wanted to feel him shudder with pleasure. She wanted him to lose his mind the way he made her lose hers.

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel nodded his acknowledgment as his night shirt cleared his head. His cudgel was stiff and pointing at her, throbbing with a prurient life of its own. His hands slid down her body, gathering her clothing up around her waist as he lowered himself between her legs.

His eyes captured hers, held them locked in place as he maneuvered himself and pressed the head against her loving core. Slow, measured, each stroke of his hips taking the length of nearly ten heartbeats as he plunged into her over and over. As always when with Katirah, the world shrank around him, until it was only the space of their bodies.

Rotating his hips forward, Marcel's pelvis ground against her hardened clit with each down thrust, never quite freeing it from pressure as he withdrew.

 

[haremfaery]

When the Comte loomed over Katirah, it was as if his manhood filled the room. She was not as ready for him this time, but it only served to create a more delicious friction between them.

He held her gaze for the first slow thrust. The size of him entering her still surprised her. The second and third thrusts, were also excruciatingly slow and deliberate allowing her to feel every inch as it filled her. By the fourth, Katirah was arching her back and moaning, unable to keep her eyes open any longer. She pulled him down to her. Her tongue mimicked his own slow attack.

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel wasn't sure if he had ever taken a woman so slowly; but, there was certainly something to be said for it. Her tongue slid into his mouth with the same slow progress as his cock made. Her body arched and twisted under his.

Marcel wrapped his arms under and around her, clamping their bodies together. There was no need to hurry, Marcel knew that this was important. Important for him, and more so for Katirah.

His mouth began to assert itself, thrusting into hers, pacing his cock. Filling her mouth and pussy Marcel lovingly, tenderly and systematically tore down her resistance.

He whispered into her mouth, "Tonight, Katirah, I give you the gift of ages. I will be your muse, sing to me, Katirah. When you sing, sing for and too me."

 

[haremfaery]

Katirah sucked on the Comte's tongue. Her hands explored his chest, his shoulders, his back. Her fingers tangled in his hair keeping his face within kissing distance. She circled her pelvis as she ground against him.

She made a sound between a moan and a sigh when he spoke to her. His voice was like velvet. Sometimes she thought he could bring her to completion with his voice alone. Her body shuddered and clamped tighter around him. She could not sing. Not in the matter of usually singing. But she could quote poetry. Or at least try.

"Everytime I kiss you..." She sighed and took a breath, I feel," She paused again to tak a hitching breath as his manhood pressed hilt deep. "I am putting a hurried love letter" Another moan escaped her lips. In a red mailbox.*

((I know this is an anachronism, but I really liked the imagery.))

She moaned again closing her eyes.

*(( from a poem by Nizar Qabbani))

 

[a_libertine]

Another six seconds, six minutes or six hours, Marcel didn't know how long he and Katirah lay in the bed he atop her, driving his cock and pelvis as deeply into her as possible, she, like a barnacle on a ship, clinging to him, her hips and pelvis rising, rotating, maintaining and increasing the contact between them.

It was not the earth shaking ear piercing orgasms they had shared before. It was a thief in the night that came silently on them both, forever robbing them of their individual hearts and minds, leaving behind one heart , richer for the parts that made it, more enduring than the parts that made it.

 

[haremfaery]

((Wow, Marcel should have said that to Katirah, she would set those words to music.))

Katirah made little sounds as she exhaled. Some might call them the cries of a dove. The Comte, too, was breathing heavily. She could feel the sheen of sweat on his back.

Then she made no sound at all. Her mouth opened into a great O as her body and neck arched from the bed. Her eyes were closed tightly. She held the Comte to her and let out one sharp quiet cry, almost as if she were surprised. Finally she could understand why people used the phase 'making love' for this most intimate carnal act.

 

[a_libertine]

((Ha! Like any man tells his woman what's on hiw mind That and it was more editorial than his thoughts))

Like sembiotic life forms the two were still twined together when Marcel woke to the sound of the rooster crowing in the stableyard. His eyes studied her face as her eyes fluttered open.


His morning excitement throbbed between their bodies as he kissed her gently.

He heard her gasp as he ground his cock against her clit, his balls draaging across her flowery lips.

Slower and harder his hips ground down against her womanhood. Katirah's breath caught in her throat as he nibbled on her ear lobe.

 

[haremfaery]

((Hee, how true. Marcel does seem more like the strong silent type. This is why writing with a man helps me with my own writing. It gives great perspective on what's going on inside.))

Katirah awoke to the sound of the cock crow and the weight of the Comte's cock pressing against her. Their limbs were still entwined. She gasped and came fully awake as he moved against her. His intentions were more than clear. She stretched her neck to give him better access. Her breath hitched and she let it out with a sigh.

"So proud are the tall beauties of the world,
Outshines all the others this handsome spruce of mine."

Katirah quoted the Persian poet Hafez between moans and kisses. She did not think she had overstepped her bounds by saying such a thing. It was not flattery if she thought it true.

 

[a_libertine]

Their bodies undulated together until Marcel slid into Katirah. His hard thickness filling her again, reveling in what was already the best part of the trip; or his life.

It was slow, methodical, and oh so powerfully delivered. A consummation of the act of love from the night before; a daylight affirmation of his affection for her.

His eyes bored into hers as she whispered a poem he didn't recognize, but knew the obvious intent. Her inflection was different than previous days, a more heartfelt inflection in certain words, like 'mine.'

Too soon his hunger for her reached satiation, at least temporarily. With one final thrust deep into her, with a low rumbling groan, Marcel unloaded himself once again into her palpitating core.

 

[haremfaery]

Their joining was birdsong at morning. Katirah thrilled at every touch and caress. Her fingers moved over the Comte as if she were memorizing his every contour. Before she could no longer speak, she murmured as his face hovered over her like the moon.

"By your amourous eye, you have killed me.
My soul is on my lips.
Take it and return it to me a thousandfold."

Their bodies quickened finding the other's rhythm. She made one cry reaching her bliss with the Comte.

Not much later when their breathing had settled, she stroked his back. "Will I see my...," She hesitated. She had nearly said 'darling.' "Comte for dinner? Or perhaps lunch?" Her eyes twinkled.

((and if we want to move them along, that's fine.))

 

[a_libertine]

"Dinner," he whispered into her mouth as he ravished it with his own. "I am anxious to leave and head back to France."

Reluctantly, Marcel rolled to the side of Katirah, his body popping at all joints, having been locked in one relative position so long. Sitting up his gaze traveled the length of her lush body and for a moment considered staying in bed for the day.

Then thoughts of the Baron crept into his mind, doubts as to what the Baron would do, or want, with Katirah. His eyes snapped to hers as he asked, "What were you about to say when you paused?"

 

[haremfaery]

"I imagine the Comte is anxious to see his home again." Katirah said. He must be sure the Baron would let them stay together if the Comte was anxious to return home.

Katirah sighed when the Comte rolled off her. She felt his eyes roving her body. She stretched luxuriously for his benefit. The look in his eyes changed as he asked,

"What were you about to say when you paused?"

She glanced away. The Comte seemed never to miss the smallest detail. Her cheeks colored a little. She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees suddenly feeling very exposed.

"I was about to overstep my bounds." She looked back into his dark eyes. "I was going to call you sevgilim. Mon cher." She translated for him insure if he would know such a word in Turkish.

 

[a_libertine]

He looked at her a moment then nodded. Leaning forward he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and then another on the corner of her eye farthest from the bridge of her nose. "I think in private, I might like that," he whispered.

Marcel stood from the bed, then stepped ot the wardrobe. Getting dressed he paid Katirah little mind, allowing her to see, be seen, and in general get herself together to face the day.

After he finished, "I believe the soonest we can leave for France is ten days or so. If there is anything, or anyone, here you need to say good bye to..." His voice trailed off a moment as he considered something, "At any rate you know the time frame, Henri and a guard will take you where you need to go. Always be sure to be back for meals."

 

[haremfaery]

Katirah smiled and pulled the Comte to her for a proper kiss. "Mon cher." She kissed him again. "Mon tresor." She kissed him again. "Mon coeur."

She finally let him go. She could hear Samara bringing breakfast into the outer room. She pulled a robe on and sat on the bed. Katirah planned to take a bath and then have Samara henna her body.

Who would Katirah have to say goodbye to? The slave master? She nearly laughed in the Comte's face. She could not believe that he would permit her to leave the inn again after what happened in the marketplace.

"I do not have anyone to speak to..." She told him, "Though it would be nice to take some exercise. Are you not afraid something will happen again?"

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel smiled a rueful, almost frightening smile, "Non, Henri is capable; he will continue to kill who ever tries to take you. Eventually either we will leave or your would be captor will be caught and dealt with."

Hearing Samara clattering around in the other room, Marcel said, "Let's eat then I am off."