The Harem...... All Welcome!!!

Idrial sat in the middle of the room after finnishing her tale and waited quiety without complant her eyes on the floor for the sultan to ether ask another tale or dismiss her back to sit with the others, as he saw fit.

Idrials body was still on fire from the drinks that Si had given them her nipples were extreamly sensitive to any movement she made while jesturing with her hands while telling her tales and extreamly hard, but she thought that perhaps the wine was wearing off for the longer she sat and concentrated on her storie the less her body burned.. for the touch of a hand or the kiss of anothers lips.

She was still curious about the man who had spoken to the sultan.. she did not remember if he had given her his name.. nor did she know what he looked like for the first time they met he was outside of the window and now her eyes remaind on the floor... She truly wanted to take a peek and see what he looked like but did not wish for ither her or Zaynab to be punnished again.
 
Nackal just grins. She is making this very easy, already so hot and wet. She does not realize it but she has brought out the commanding side of his nature, the chieftain's son that expect all to obey unquestioningly and give way to his desires. And he has decided that she shall beg and plead for his touch, for him to finally take her. He finishes his binding of her by blindfolding her, using her own undergarments to do so.

He exits the bedroom then, calling to the guards saying his mistress requires one of the slavegirls. She is fetched and brought. They speak for several moments before entering the bedroom again. Only one set of footsteps is heard, and that faint. They are her feet treading the floor. She does as she was instructed, remaining silent, only letting her fingertips come into contact with Susanne's body. Nackal watches, speaking to Susanne, close enough so his voice does not seem out of place, too far away.

The female slave has been told a little of what is going on. And that no matter what Susanne says, his word is law for right now. Afterwards whatever happens happens, Susanne is again in control.

"Feel that love? It is different isn't it? Feeling someone touch you, caress your skin with hands you know well, but not be able to see them or interact? To be forced to feel?" The slave's hands move according to his words, going where he directs them, the places he speaks of.

"Like the soles of your feet, your toes, the arch that connects them and makes your feet whole. Sensitive under all conditions but as you will find with the rest of your body, moreso when you can do nothing about it."

"Your ankles are so delicate, thickening into the rest of your legs. They are so firm, yet so smooth, supple, giving under my fingertips. They feel divine, make me want to taste them. My mouth is watering thinking about the taste of you."

"Your thighs. Those wonderful thighs my hands know so well after but a few days. They feel almost as good now as when they are wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer and closer to you. Your mound, looking so delectable I can not resist tasting you, sliding my tongue in deep. Once, twice, licking my lips satisfied."

The young woman has been moving with him all this time, her touch firm, solid, but soft. At his words about tasting she hesitates then does it, her tongue slipping out and into the Englishwoman twice. She looks mildly offkilter but not disgusted by the other woman's taste. He shakes his head at her look, one that seems to ask for another taste.

"You taste good. And I want to taste you again and again. But I shall not. You would like it too much. My hands continue up over your stomache, learning your curves anew, fondling your breasts as if it were my first time with your body again, rolling your nipples, kneading the flesh. Then up over your shoulders, your throat and face...My hands lightly tracing your lips. Playing with your body like a child with a new toy, able to do as I wish. Play with you as long as I desire, for hours on end, or letting you go after mere moments."

This is the moment the slave has been waiting for. At this point she can choose if she wants to leave, or to stay. She is a virgin, has never been with anyone though she knows and has seen much. After this she shall still be virgin in that she shall not have lost her hymen, but in very little else if she stays. She doesn't even think about it. Her mouth follows the paths his words have sent her hands down, licking and tasting. Nackal is silent, his hands doing as they wish, Kira's, for that is the slave's name, running over her own body, easing a fire building there.

This goes on for several moments. Then Kira's mouth again finds Susanne's sex. She laps experimentally, tasting and feeling the texture, taking in her scent deeply. The Nackal speaks, something that should be impossible if he is alone with her and his tongue is buried deep inside.

"It is fitting punishment isn't it, that since you won't share me...I choose to share you? And perhaps myself as well. But this is just a tease...You shall not find release yet. Not til I allow it."
 
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The sunlight continued to beat down on the group and Miranda continued to worry about what would happen in the evening. Eventually they stopped for a brief break and Miranda ordered the gift to take her meal and drink. Miranda stayed in the small cart and lay down. She was exhausted and tired and desperately needed sleep.

Sleep did claim her and it was the sleep that was filled with dreams of a ship and the ocean. She hadn't had that particular dream for years, but now as she slept it came back to her.

She saw her family, a band of gypsies. She wasn't sure, but something told her that wasn't right. There was more to her dream, but when a shadow crossed over her, she felt the temperature change and she slowly woke up.
 
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Susanne lay there listening to her lover’s words and feeling the obvious touch of another. Inside her mind tried to block out the woman’s touch. Nackal was only doing what she told him to do. He was playing the part she’d given him to play, now she would lie there and take it. They had not talked about this. She had not laid down rules and now as her mind tried not to beg him to send away the girl she cried inside. She had promised her body to Nackal and no other unless she was forced and now he was forcing her.

As the slave aroused her body she said nothing to her lover. Her body reacted, it had to. She had aroused herself to a heated passion and now it was being further heightened, but not by the man she loved, but by a stranger. Nackal may or may not have been proving something to her, but inside she felt it. She was no better then the slave. She would lay beneath the Sultan and be used just like Nackal was making her lay still and be used. He had chosen the wrong torture. He had tortured not only her body, but her soul.

Her arousal grew and she held back the cry of sorrow and passion. He had said he would leave her weak. He was right, she would be weak and broken. For she never would have wanted another lover. She was Nackal’s, after confessing how badly she didn’t want to bed the Sultan, how could he think she wanted bedded by a woman. The pain was gut wrenching and eventually she broke. She cried, tears of hurt fell from her face and she begged him to make the woman leave.

Susanne felt cheap and used and all she wanted to do was be released and curl into a ball. The fun was gone. She had offered herself to no one but him and now he had forced her to become nothing but another whore. “Please,” she whispered through her passion and pain. “Please. . .stop.”

She heard his words. She hadn’t shared him. She loved him to much to do so. Now as he told her why he did this. Why he shared her with another, she breaks a little more. It will take more then Nackal has ever managed before to bring her back to him, for he has wounded her beyond anything she had ever imagined him doing. “I only wanted you,” she whispers as the woman continues to drink the fluids that run freely down Susanne’s body.

The slave girl doesn’t stop though she hears the woman’s pain, the slave girl was ordered to do this and so she continues to force Susanne’s body to bend to her will and her skill. Susanne lies there breathing hard and gasping because of the unwanted emotions rolling through her.
 
Nackal doesn't realize her pain at first. She hides it well. But he is watching, watching her closely, listening to every sound she makes. When she starts to cry he is stunned a moment, for precious seconds. Then he acts. He pulls the slave away, motioning her towards the door.

His hand moves towards the blindfold, her words ringing through his hears. She had only wanted him. He messed up, he did the completely wrong thing. And it shows. He can't believe how stupid he was, bring another in, even if she -had- made comments about sharing him just before. He took that to mean maybe they could have some fun together but apparently not.

He dreads what he shall see, what her words imply. He draws the fabric away only to find exactly what he feared. He sees the pain in her face. He sees the tears that were caught by the blindfold. He releases her then, undoing the bindings that hold her to the bed.

She curls over, away from him, her back to him. He takes the hint. He sits there, next to her, not knowing what to do. He wants to hold her, banish the pain he now sees....But when he tries to do so she pushes him away, seems not to hear the sorrow he feels for what he has caused her when he apologizes. But that is understandable. Her words haunt him. So he sits near her, but not too near. She wants space, she shall get it. He shall leave if she wants but til she does so he'll be here.

The last he does is cover her with a sheet before sitting against a wall, a dagger in hand. He flips it slowly through his fingers and over the front and back his palm, not saying a word when he slices himself open, just continuing the motion, the dagger soon becoming smeared with the crimson that is blood, the air slowly filling with the metallic scent. It's not a fatal wound, not even close. But it could end up making his left hand very close to useless if not taken care of for too long, or if it gets infected. He ignores the pain, waiting to see what she will do, for he does not know what is now in store for him.

Maybe he shall be returned to the Sultan. Maybe some other female shall decide to rent him. He'll run at that point if it comes to that he decides. He might end up shot in the back but oh well. He'll find a way out if that becomes the case. Women are all well and good but damn it, he will decide who he is with. And right now he wants no others if it is not with her.
 
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Susanne lay there her eyes full of the unshed tears. The woman gone. Her lover on the floor. Her eyes move to his. She feels so lost, hurt, confused. “Why?” she asks him, but he doesn’t hear her. He is lost in the pain he inflicts on himself for hurting her. She gathers the sheet over her body and slips off the bed. He has learned a painful lesson. . . and so has she.

She slides down to the floor and takes the dagger away from him. She doesn’t speak, just presses the sheet to his wound and absorbs the blood. “I can not let him have me,” she whispers quietly. “I can not lay there and be used by him,” she looked up. “Or by another.”

The sound of ripping material filled the room and she wrapped his hand tightly. She wiped away the tears that fell and pushed his legs open. She slipped in between them and wrapped her arms around him. “I can not stay here,” she whispered against his chest. Her tears fell hot down his warm flesh.

She looked up and she could read his pain and she knew he saw hers. Her palm came up and she stroked his cheek. “I want no other,” she told him. Her fingers toyed in his hair and her lips trembled. Had she said it to him? Had she not told him the words? Had she assumed?

Susanne looked at him now and spoke softly to him. “I am yours, my love. You have broke me,” she saw her words upset him, but she continued. “You have broke me, but it showed me that I can not carry on with the Sultan’s plan to bed me. I will not. My body is yours, my heart, my mind, my soul. You my love have captured them all. I love you,” she whispered.
 
He hears her moving, but doesn't look, not looking til she is at his side, taking the blade from him. He is afraid to. He does not want to see what he fully expects to. He hears a rip, then she is binding his hand. "Id've been okay..."

He smiles a little ruefully when she makes a spot for herself between his legs, burrowing against him. He holds her tightly, listening, looking at her when she strokes his cheek.

Hope bubbles up. Maybe all is not lost. Maybe he will have a chance to fix his mistake. Words form on his lips, apologies, vows to never again but they go nowhere. She silences him. She wants him to listen so he does. He responds when she is done as such.

"I'm so sorry...I did not mean to cause you pain. I thought perhaps...But it matters not. I'm yours, any way, where, or when that you want me. Can you forgive me my love...?"

He looks at her, soul bared. He had just tried to be pleasing. He wanted to give pleasure, not pain. He wants her happy, not sad. He wants her to be the playful, demanding, sexual and aggressive woman who has at least semi-tamed him. He hopes he has not ruined the chances of them being all he hopes.
 
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Si / Miranda / Gift

Si noticed that Miranda hadn’t eaten when they stopped for a break, when the gift arrived for her meal on her own.

“Where’s the Favoured one?” he asked the gift.

“She’s resting in the litter,” she replied.

Si hadn’t realised how much sleep Miranda had missed the previous night, so he let her rest wondering if she’d obey his instruction to present herself before bed dressed as a pleasure slave. He knew that there was a good chance that she wouldn’t as the order was given in private, but if she didn’t he could cause quite a row so everybody would know that she’d disobeyed him.

They travelled on through the hot day stopping at an oasis for their midday meal. The guard commander decided they’d spend the rest of the day and the night at the oasis, as they wouldn't find a more suitable place for a couple of days. The tents were set up and the midday meal prepared, Si enjoyed his meal before returning to his tent to relax out of the sun, thinking maybe he’d drink from the oasis pool later.
 
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Akbar retires for the evening

As Lord Evanston leaves Akbar returns his attention to the slave who has weaved another fascinating story.

Applauding he summons her to him as she kneels before him he says, "You have pleased me with your tales you will have to tell me more stories at another time now you and your friend are to return to the harem and rest."

With a wave of his hand he dismisses the slave and stands and leaves the room. Entering his bed chamber Akbar smiles as he admires the beautiful young slave girl laying upon his bed arrayed in a pleasing manner and attire.

Sitting upon the edge of the bed Akbar speaks to the young woman and says. "Your dancing pleased me now i would like you to dance for me again but i want you to remove your clothes this time." Sliding back against the head of the bed Akbar removes his shirt and sandals as he waits for her to perform for him.
 
Idrial nodded and watched as Akbar left the room having dismissed her and her friend to return to the heram she was glad that he had enjoyed her stories. Rising to her feet she kept her head bowed and made her way to Zaynab taking her with her back to the heram where they could rest until called upon for another service.
 
Susanne/Nackal

Susanne’s eyes never leave his as he speaks to her. She turns in his arms and rests on her knees. His legs bent and her wedged between them. Her fingers raise up and she released the sheet that she had tucked against her. The firelight plays across her skin. She is not aroused, yet. She leans in and softly kisses his lips.

“All is forgiven... it is my fault too,”she whispers. She leans back and rises to the floor, extends her hand and calls for him to take it. He does.

Together they move to the bed and she lays down, opening her arms to him. “We have both been punished enough,” she tells him.

“Just love me,” she whispers. Her fingers dance across his chest and up to his shoulders and back down his arms. “Claim me... I still need you so very much.”

She trails slow teasing caresses down his chest and pauses at his sex. She strokes it, the entire time whispering words of seduction to him. Telling him how badly she wants him to take her in his arms and love her. Her eyes meet his and a spark lights up in them as she smirks... “Do not come to bed clothed ever again though...”

Her fingers grasp his cock and she strokes it vigorously as she waits for him to once more claim her. She knows though, that this time it will be different, this time it will be love.
 
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Zahra blushed at the Sultans comment. But she simply smiled and nodded. She stood. There was no music, but she had a beat in her head and let her body follow it.

Just the thought of undressing infront of nearly a stranger exhilerated her! She fought not to tremble as she let her body respond to the beat in her head. Her hips swiveled in slow graceful circles. Her hands undid the knot at her waist even slower, letting it fall teasingly slow with each turn of her hips.

Soon that fell to the floor, baring her lower self for the Sultan.

She let her upper torso twist and undulate a bit faster, and arching her back a bit as she does so. HEr hands weaved mesmorizingly as she undid the amazingly complicated precious metal and stone top of hers. It made a soft clinking noise that matched her rythem.

Soon she was free...and teasingly turned her back to the Sultan as she let it fall to the floor. Then she turned, her young body there for him to see as she gracefully finished her dance for him, and curtsied low to honor him.

ooc-Sorry, i won't be able to post again for a week and half due to a break in my college. Have fun and I'll be back!
 
Miranda/Gift

The jarring stop of the caravan brought a rude awakening to Miranda. She stretched and found herself hungry and wanting nothing more then to refresh herself with a bite to eat and a drink. She did both once the tents were set up. She barely noticed Si Habib and when he went to his tent to relax, she too relaxed. Once he was gone she realized how high-strung he’d made her and she found herself more annoyed with the man then she had been when she went to sleep. He’d forced her to lose sleep and now miss one of the meals. She had been able to snag some of the fruits and wine before they were packed away, but again it would not be enough for her to be full.

Her thoughts traveled to the Gift and she went to speak with her. The young virgin had been conversing with one of the guards and Miranda immediately drew a halt to it. She pulled the young woman aside and stressed to her the importance of not being seen alone with any of the men. She was to trust none of them, only Miranda, as an after thought she added Si Habib’s name. The Gift bowed her head and followed Miranda to the pools and the two women bathed quietly, after the servants had gathered up the drinking water for the next few days.

“Miranda,” the Gift asked her.

“Yes?” Miranda answered, her fingers running through her hair.

“Why does Si Habib dislike you?”

Miranda dipped her head under the water and came up again. “He dislikes me because he can not have me. . . though it seems now he can.”

The Gift thought for a moment. “That doesn’t make sense. He should like you now, shouldn’t he, since the Sultan has given him to you?”

Miranda sighed, “I believe he sees me as nothing more then a slave and wishes to prove that to me. He knows I am the Favored One and while I am away, he is going to treat me like the lower slaves in the Harem. The Favored One is not a low slave. I am important and as much as that seems to pain him, he knows in the end, when all is said and done, when I return home. . . If I tell the Sultan I have been grossly abused, Si Habib will be punished.”

She swam away from the Gift and floated on her back. “Also he has a special drug that he gives to slaves for the Sultan and it causes them to desire a man more then normal.”

“Is desire a bad thing?” the Gift asked.

Miranda brought herself upright and rested on her knees, the water skimming her neck. “Oh desire is a wonderful thing. It is exquisite when a man is skilled. But Si Habib is like a teacher. He trains women. He is not passionate. At least I do not see him as that. He gives orders and expects people to obey. There is no fire in his eyes, so probably none in his loins. When a man is a teacher the desire is bland. . . if even there.”

The Gift sighed. “I do hope I find desire where I am going.” She slipped from the water and redressed. “I will return to the others now,” she called to the redhead that had once again gone to float on her back.

"I will go with you," Miranda said back to the young woman, not quite trusting her to leave the young guard alone. The two women made their way back to the others and rested inside one of the tents. Eventually boredom overtook them and Miranda found herself sharing bits and pieces of her past with the Gift.
 
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Once they returned to the heram Idrial sat quietly while Zaynab rested, and looked around for something to do. She could cook and sew but thos were jobs for the servents and if she were to do them than it would mean a punnishment for whomever she helped.

So Idrial began thinking of stories that she could tell when she was called upon again... and hummed a tune her mother used to sing.
 
As night fell away, Kenneth found himself growing more curious as to how to rid the women from the Sultan. He thought of Miranda. . . his Amanda, he thought of the story teller and her friend, he even found himself thinking of the newest addition. Did all these women enjoy thier position? Would they like to live a different life? A better one? He could do that for them. He could save them from a life of servitude, purchase backgrounds for them, create a history that with his name behind it no one would ever question.

Sleep did not come easily for Kenneth, but eventually it did. When it did it was filled with dreams of all the faces that he'd met that day, all beautiful, all special, and in his mind he tried to not focus on the one he could never have, but instead on the one he was betrothed to back in London.

The following morning brought not much different to his day. He was growing weary and wondered how he would deal with waiting for Miranda to appear. His afternoon blended with his day and when he left the palace to head toward Susanne's home, to overlook her property, property that now belonged to him, he found himself thinking of Si Habib and his special skills.
 
Susanne

They spent hours loving and reigniting the passion that had flared between them. In the morning when Susanne awoke she looked down at her lover and separated herself from him. She still had no clue what he and and Kenneth had discussed and she needed to know.

She pulled the rope and soon a slave arrived and readied her bath. Once she slipped into the hot water and felt the oils perfume her skin, she relaxed and thought on how best to eradicate Miranda from the Sultan as well as herself and her lover. The oils soaked into her body, leaving her glistening in the light as well as being perfumed with a deep scent of lilies.

Her body was then pampered and dried by the servant and she wondered what to wear to meet with Kenneth. She needed to come across trusting, but not willing to fuck him for her own gain. She looked in on Nackal saw he was still sleeping and slipped into one of the thicker gowns the Sultan provided his female guests with. She then eased her feet into the matching slippers and left her room.

She almost gave the order to have Nackal guarded, but she didn't. She trusted him to stay where he was. He was a slave and a lover, but in the palace he was a slave. His wondering could easily be misconstrued as escaping.
 
Watching the beautiful Zahra dance and tease him as she slowly removes her clothes turns on Akbar.

Slowly he begins to stroke his hardening shaft thru his pants as he takes in her beautiful young body.

As Zarha finishes her dance and kneels Akbar summons her to him on the bed and says, "Show mw how they train a slave to please a man in Egypt."
 
Zahra smiled up at the Sultan as he beckoned her over. She sat on the lush bed beside him.

"Show mw how they train a slave to please a man in Egypt."

Zahra hesitates for only a moment. This is what the other Harem girls had talked about..had taught her about in the palace at Egypt. It was now or never.

She leaned over...placing soft kisses against his neck as she shifted her body. She kissed lower and lower..against the base of his neck..his chest...against his abs. She moved untill she was kneeling before him, her slim body between his legs. Her kisses slowed the further down she got, her nimble hands deftly undoing his pants and drawing his manhood out.

Her soft hand lighlty pumps it..before she bends further, her lips and tongue teasing the tip. Her own body was racing, and she fought the urge to tremble. While she continues to pump against his shaft, her tongue slowly runs along the sensitive underside of his cock...down to his balls and back up.

Her dark eyes look up towards his, wondering if he is pleased.
 
Zaynab

"That is a beautiful song Idrial, where did you learn that one from? I haven't heard that one before." Turning her wintery eyes upon the girl to which she is speaking to. Zaynab listens intently to the words, closing her eyes once more to concentrate upon the sound of the girls voice, the melody soft and lifting of ones spirit.

"Things are going to change Idrial and I fear for us both if we do not bow to them. Perhaps if we give to them as they wish it will not be so bad for either of us. What do you think my friend?" Zaynab had been thinking hard about what all had happened to them since they had been brought here. Some had indeed been bad, but then some had been very pleasurable. Thoughts of their time with Si and what she had experienced in his chambers filtered through her mind.
 
Susanne - Kenneth's home

Susanne headed toward Kenneth’s rooms, upon her arrival she learned he had left the palace and for a moment she thought of returning to her rooms, instead she left a note to the Sultan as well as her slave that she was going to the village. She had been told that Lord Evanson was in fact headed toward her home. . .a home he thought was hers. She still had no clue what agreement if any the two men had come up with and she was not a woman to enjoy being left out of the loop.

A horse was provided to her and she quickly worked her way through the village taking one of the Sultan’s guards with her as she traveled. Her thoughts circled different paths, one wove around Nackal and the need she had for him. She longed to be with him and only him. Another ran a path that spun a web of London life, a life she no longer could go back to since Kenneth held her lands. She wondered what deal they could reach, if they hadn’t reached one yet.

Would she give herself to Kenneth for her lands? Become his lover if that was what he asked? She shook with disgust at the idea of becoming any man’s whore. She was not the slave. She was the Mistress. . .

Her thoughts also ran over the deceptive practices she used in taking her husband’s life. He was weak in age, but she’d spurred his death forward with the powders she’d given him through the years, slowly increasing their strength and the number of doses until eventually he was to weak to move on his own.

“Not to weak,” she thought to herself. He had after all managed to change his will and leave her nothing.

They approached her home in the village and she ordered the guard to care for the horse and return to the manor in two hours to collect her. She wasn’t sure if she’d be negotiating with Kenneth or not, but she would take this time to at least try to reach some kind of arrangement with him.

Susanne didn’t bother knocking as she walked into the home and called out for Kenneth.
 
Kenneth and Susanne

Kenneth had spent hours pouring over his late friend’s papers. Susanne had no claim over her properties or anything in the home. The lands in England were his as well. He heard the footsteps as soon as they entered the home, his study door open. He smirked when he recognized the woman’s voice. He let her call out for him a few more times, before rising and going to greet her.

He stood against the opening of the study and watched her look around. He cleared his throat and swept his arms in greeting. “Hello Susanne. . . what brings you to my home?”

Kenneth’s eyes traveled over the fine lines of her figure and his eyes met hers briefly before traveling back down again. When he had taken his time admiring her full breasts and generous curves he smiled. “Did your slave leave you hungry?” he smirked.

“Please come in my dear. . .I’m sure there are things we need to discuss. Or perhaps. . .do?”

Kenneth’s brow lifted and he watched as the woman advanced toward him. “Take a seat, my dear friend,” he whispered in her ear, just as she passed.
 
Susanne sneered at the comment, as she moved past Kenneth. She did her best to avoid brushing against him, though when he whispered to her it had been impossible. “My slave did not leave me hungry.”

“He is at the palace. I have come to learn the details of your discussion with him. He told me,” the lie fell easily from her lips. “I come to see if your words mirror his.”

She glanced around the room, noting that nothing had been disturbed since Nackal and her had removed a few meager things here and there. She wondered if there were other things she could remove while she was here. Little trinkets that would go unnoticed by someone with no knowledge of what all her and her late husband possessed.

Susanne smoothed out her skirt and waited for her enemy to speak. She’d recognized the look he’d given her and she shuddered in revulsion. This land was just as vile as London. Young bucks harassed women there just as badly as they did here. Her thoughts moved to her slave and for the millionth time she wished she had him by her side.
 
Kenneth and Susanne at Kenneth's new digs

Kenneth watched her take her place and smooth out her clothing. His eyes continued to drink in her form. His thoughts moving to what lay behind the cold calculating eyes and the stiff back. Was there a fire inside the ice? He was sure there was and perhaps. . . he would taste it before she slipped away.

As she spoke, Kenneth drifted over the past few days. He’d gone from looking for his sister, to finding her and fucking her. He’d gone from having more wealth than most, to increasing it ten-fold by the murder of a friend. He was now sitting on a pile of money, ships, breeding stock and across from him was a woman that drove him to think of vile ways of ending her life, but also of wonderful ways of thawing the thick wedge of ice that surrounded her heart.

Kenneth was a business man though and right now as much as he wanted to fantasize about fucking the proper English bitch across from him he couldn’t. He sighed and pulled out a sheet of paper and lifted a quill. “My dearest Lady Rolith,” he spoke to her as he wrote out a contract.

“This will outline the details. In it you’ll not only have a legal standing if I double cross you, but you will also have the means to bury me as well as yourself.” He wrote out the details, and then signed his name in a flourish. Once he sanded the wet ink he brought it over to the sofa she’d retired on.

He sat down next to her offered her the paper and let his hand rest on the back of the sofa. “Now as you can see,” he spoke, his finger moving along the curve of her neck. He knew she didn’t want his touch, but she also was concentrating on his words and the paper.

“You help me bring my sister to me. Willing or not. . . then I will sign everything back to you. Your dower lands, your money, your husband’s wealth.” His finger moved to the front of her dress and slipped over the collar. He chuckled and pulled his hand away before she could react to his touch.

“Sign it and then you not only have leverage over me, but I have leverage over you. I will leave you the only copy, for I already profit. . . Please note the added part on the bottom. Your slave didn’t know about that clause.”

He stood up and went back to his desk. “If you fail. . .You become my personal plaything. . . I believe the legal term is Mistress.” He eyed her as he pulled another sheet from his desk. “Now my lovely Murderous. . . let us take inventory of the house. I believe some things are missing and luckily for me, a count of everything was done with the revision of the will. Didn’t think of that did you my pet?”
 
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