The Turkish Ransom (closed for Monique_Minx)

[monique_minx]

Safiye listened as he spoke, not really sure how a royal marriage would ever compare to this sordid arrangement between her and Miramond but it was...challenging. He was still toying with her precious nub after all. How could she be expected to be as entirely focused like him?

“Yes, most men, most married men, have their wives lie beneath them, But lovers are more adventurous and even lie with the woman above.”

Safiye gasped as he gripped her waist and lifted her, swinging beneath her until she sat atop him. His hand never left her cunny. Her hand never left his wrist. His erection far closer to her mons than she'd have liked now. It seemed her took her quite literally!

“Lovers find all varieties of positions as they make love, all as they find mutual pleasure in the act.”

He confirmed her thoughts and she swallowed as she felt his fingertips reach behind her. They made her skin crop up in goosebumps as they travelled down her back and Safiye pressed her lips together tightly to stifle any sound. When his hands finally reached her bottom and dipped into the crevice of her cheeks, she felt a light pressure against her rosebud and froze. She was rigid as a board and her hand tightened around his wrist. The shock written in her expression.

“Some even emulate the style of priests and acolytes, finding it pleasurable or convenient for a number of reasons.”

He laughed and Safiye felt oddly threatened in a way she couldn't explain, perhaps it was his joviality? Where his finger lingered? What he said? Or all three...

“Now, Safiye, how does it seem from atop? Do you wish to finish what I have started, or shall I continue?”

Safiye was so intent on their conversation and the warring sensations that she was caught off guard when his ministrations on her vulnerable clitoris increased with vigour. And she let the tiniest squeak-turned-moan escape her mouth. She clenched her teeth immediately.

"Son of a dog." She cursed him in a soft whisper, glowering down at him as she dragged his hand from her clitoris so she could think straight.

"Am I a hawk on your perch then, my Lord?" She said, more breathlessly than she'd have liked, "Yet your hand is still between my thighs. Your fingers betray you my Lord, they remind me I am not your Lady, only your captive."

 

[Tio_Narratore]

The Marqués laughed, enjoying her display, after all, it was her feistiness that first attracted him.

“There’s no betrayal, girl,” he said. “You are my captive, my slave, and are here for my pleasure, be it carnal or other. I can see no reason such a woman should not be treated well and still be a slave. But still, a slave must be punished for misbehavior, and you have misbehaved.”

He turned on his side, then, leaving her on her back once more. He laid over her right arm, pinning it to the mattress beneath him, and wrested his right hand from her grip. He took firm hold of her free hand and forced it between her thighs.

“Now, slave,” he declared, “this shall be your punishment.”

He took her hand and began massaging her mound with it. Down beneath it, then, and into her furrow. Her clitoris was his target, and her own hand the instrument. He wrapped his leg around hers to hold her in place as he rubbed her pearl with her reluctant hand. Slowly, then more rapidly, varying the pace and the pressure as he watched for the signs of her unwanted and unwelcome arousal. The shortening of breath, the trembling of limbs, the moans and sighs of inescapable pleasure.

“Yes, Safiiye,” he taunted, “a fitting punishment for an insolent beauty. One she can appreciate far better than a beating on her soles.”

He slid his left arm under her neck and reached down her chest to take hold of her breast. As he fondled the one, ke leaned over and kissed the other, drawing her nipple between is lips to suckle rhythmically upon it. He was determined to continue until she had reached the climax he knew she was fighting against. Her orgasm would be a delightful punishment.

 

[monique_minx]

“There’s no betrayal, girl. You are my captive, my slave, and are here for my pleasure, be it carnal or other. I can see no reason such a woman should not be treated well and still be a slave. But still, a slave must be punished for misbehavior, and you have misbehaved.”

She yelped as he turned over and she lost her balance as he took her down flat on the mattress, pinning one arm before he shook himself free of her grip. Safiye tried to pull her hand from him as his fingers encircled her wrist and forced her hand down...to her horror, between her own thighs. She watched him easily, too easily, wrestle her hand to her own pussy.

“Now, slave, this shall be your punishment.”

"Treated well, my eye!" She yelled at him and wriggled beneath him helplessly.

He merely wrapped his leg around hers so she was further restricted as their positions were almost reversed again. She felt her fingers brush her clitoris and she froze, the sensation sent a little shiver through her extremities. As he proceeded to pressure her clit, the tiny nub became somewhat distended again and swelled to greet her fingers, peeking from beneath its hood. She groaned desperately and writhed beneath him, her skin warming up and a flush crept across her chest, matching the lush colour of her face.

“Yes, Safiiye, a fitting punishment for an insolent beauty. One she can appreciate far better than a beating on her soles.”

"You shame me, my Lord?" She gasped, her breath coming in faster, shorter little bursts as she spoke.

It was a rhetorical question, they both knew the answer, of course. But she nearly lost all grip on her orgasm in the process as his head dove to find her breasts, the sensitive tissue standing up to greet his mouth almost instantly.

"Ha-ah!" The exclamation issued from her pouty lips breathlessly, the jolt between her clitoris and nipple made her whole body jump beneath him.

'Not by my own hand!' She thought loudly in her head, her brain wrestling for control with her body and it wasn't hard to see it was fighting a lost battle. Not even losing, already lost.

"Aman! Mercy, my Lo-ord!" She begged him desperately and only seconds later, her body succumbed to the inevitable.

She threw her head back as her frame contorted into a slight arch beneath him, pressing her breast further into his mouth as her body shook with the force of a tremendous wave of pleasure that overtook her entirely. It swept over her in pulsing waves and she cried out, unable to hold it back any longer. That she gave in to beg him had unknowingly made her lose control of herself, though she would have eventually anyway. She panted heavily as she came down from her high, swallowing as little whimpers slipped away, signaling the effort and strength of the orgasm.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

Miramond continued suckling at Safiye’s teta as her orgasm gradually subsided, and, when she lay supine on the bed he lifted his head.

“Was that an appropriate punishment, slave?” he asked with a touch of a taunt.

He shifted his position to prop himself up on his elbow so he could look into her eyes.

“Or would you prefer a good lashing? Perhaps I should have you flogged for the next offence, and then you could decide which is more to your liking.”

He paused to run his hand up and down her torso, stopping to fondle each breast and her mound

“Then again,” he said, “perhaps I should flog you myself. That might provide me some amusement.”

He was silent, then, allowing her some time to think about the prospect of a whip on her flesh; would it be as bad as the bastinado she’d already suffered?

“No matter,” he continued, “it won’t be happening soon. Tomorrow you’ll be transported to your chamber. Constansia will look after your feet, and I will see you again when they are healed and you can walk to my rooms unaided. Pick the three virgins who will share your cell; your needs will be met, and there’ll be servants to help you along and teach you four some of our ways. And you will send me one after the evening meal who will dance for me, and not be as reluctant to cede her virginity to a kind master as you have been.”

He turned fully towards her, and kissed her on the lips, briefly but passionately.

“Your hand showed its talent in punishing you,” he observed, “perhaps it might punish me in the same manner?”

He rolled onto his back, his erection thrusting straight up from his groin, and waited to see what his concubine would do.

 

[monique_minx]

“Was that an appropriate punishment, slave?”

She shivered and looked at his face as he shifted, evidence of her humiliation painted plainly in her blushing cheeks.

“Or would you prefer a good lashing? Perhaps I should have you flogged for the next offence, and then you could decide which is more to your liking.”

Safiye tensed in the face of his threat which allowed him to run his hand over her body entirely unimpeded and she shook her head ever so slightly, indicating she did not wish to be flogged.

“Then again, perhaps I should flog you myself. That might provide me some amusement.”

She couldn't help the whimper that escaped her lips or how her eyes widened, the fear of further pain seemed an unbearable concept.

“No matter, it won’t be happening soon. Tomorrow you’ll be transported to your chamber. Constansia will look after your feet, and I will see you again when they are healed and you can walk to my rooms unaided. Pick the three virgins who will share your cell; your needs will be met, and there’ll be servants to help you along and teach you four some of our ways. And you will send me one after the evening meal who will dance for me, and not be as reluctant to cede her virginity to a kind master as you have been.”

"Perhaps then you'll decide on a better head concubine to replace me, my Lord. You've obviously had your fill of my disobedience." She murmured hopefully as he leaned forward to kiss her again, this time it was brief and less confusing for Safiye.

“Your hand showed its talent in punishing you, perhaps it might punish me in the same manner?”

'Oh Allah...' She thought silently as she watched him roll onto his back, his intentions perfectly clear.

"My hand...at your behest my Lord." She flushed bright red as she slowly sat up, "I've never...t-touched..."

She wanted to finish by saying 'a man' but her voice caught in her throat. Technically she had though when he had forced her to earlier. Safiye would never admit it but she was curious about his naked body and equally fearful that he might flog her. Her hesitant hand slowly reached out to encircle his girth, she watched her own movement as if somehow detached from that limb. Her dainty fingers seemed smaller somehow as her fist wrapped his sex organ gently, she glanced up at his face uncertainly.

She applied a little more pressure to her hold and moved her hand up and down slowly, feeling the skin beneath it grab and move with her. It felt like such a simple motion and yet she felt she needed to concentrate, she wondered if it felt good for him or was she squeezing too tightly? It was vastly different to how she pleasured herself, she was a little fascinated by their similarities and yet their differences.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

Safiye’s discomfort was obvious to Dionysiac, and he laughed loudly at her tentative grip on his shaft.

“It’s new to you, girl,” he said as he lightly tousled her hair. “Explore. See what feels good to you and what feels good to me. Let your heart and your hand guide you. If I have a problem with what you do, I’ll let you know. If you’re pleasing me, you’ll know that without me telling you. Now, follow what you feel.”

The Marqués settled back, now softly stroking his slave’s hair, to enjoy her willingness to explore his pleasure and, perhaps, find some of her own.

 

[monique_minx]

If she wasn't preoccupied by so much embarrassment and the fact that she had a new 'task' to learn, she might've scowled over his condescension. He stroked her hair gently as she moved her hand up and down, settling for a firm grip. She preferred to keep her eyes on his cock oddly enough, it helped her remain focused on the movements rather than on his smirking face. They both knew she was a virgin, that she had little to no sexual experience and yet Safiye felt like she ought to somehow, like she was vastly out of her depth. Perhaps if the shame wasn't so overwhelming, she'd handle it better though.

"How will I know without you telling me, my Lord?" She asked him softly and even as she did, she watched the tiniest drop of white pre cum milk from the head of his shaft.

"Oh..." She murmured, her cheeks flaming again.

It felt silly and yet, natural to be humiliated by this experience. It was a unique conflict. She was serving the purpose she was provided for and yet had been told her whole life this was something she'd endure from a husband rather than enjoy as she had with her conqueror. A bizarre paradox that clashed with everything she'd ever anticipated about this night. And worse still, she felt a little...warm between her thighs...again. She ignored it with everything within her though, refusing to give it thought as she tried alternating the speed at which her hand moved up and down. His breathing seemed quicker when she went faster so Safiye decided to keep that pace for a little.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

The Marqués placed his hand on hers and stopped her stroking.

“There,” he said as he continued oozing seminal fluid, “you can tell that I like what you’re doing, but do you like what you feel? What your heart says, not your mind.”

He guided her hand down to his scrotum and had her fondle t to feel the testicles inside, and then back up his shaft to the tip to feel the heat and stickiness of his pre cum.

“Do you like what you feel, Safiye?” he asked. “Does your heart warm at the hardness of my cock?”

He took her hand from his organ and ran it from side to side over his broad chest.

“Does your groin feel a warmth rise at your touch of my hard muscles?”

He drew her hand over to her own chest.

“As warm as my groin grows when I feel the softness of your breasts?”

He picked up her hand and slammed it down on his muscled chest.

“Or does your heart tell you beat me in anger at being made my slave?”

He released her hand.

“Go ahead,” he told her, “pummel me with your angry fists, if that’s what you feel. Or caress me with your sensuous fingers, if you prefer. Or perhaps both. You’re free to decide, with no punishment whatever you choose to do.”

 

[monique_minx]

“There, you can tell that I like what you’re doing, but do you like what you feel? What your heart says, not your mind.”

She hesitated to answer him as he moved her hand to allow her to feel his testicles and as embarrassed as she was, she squeezed and explored, endeavouring to understand his body as much as he seemed to understand hers. He shifted her hand back to his shaft and she looked up at his face as he spoke.

“Do you like what you feel, Safiye? Does your heart warm at the hardness of my cock?”

Did it? Even Safiye wasn't sure how she separated her heart and her brain...and apparently her womanhood which was experiencing this differently too.

“Does your groin feel a warmth rise at your touch of my hard muscles?”

Her hand grazed across his chest and her heartbeat quickened before he put her hand to her own chest.

“As warm as my groin grows when I feel the softness of your breasts?”

She was surprised by that and looked from his hand on her chest to his face, "It does?"

He took her hand to smack down harder on his chest, she felt a little like a doll as he led her about their bodies, guiding her hand.

“Or does your heart tell you beat me in anger at being made my slave?”

She shook her head ever so slightly as he released her at last. For some reason she wasn't feeling particularly angry with him at that moment, she felt...confused. Conflicted.

“Go ahead, pummel me with your angry fists, if that’s what you feel. Or caress me with your sensuous fingers, if you prefer. Or perhaps both. You’re free to decide, with no punishment whatever you choose to do.”

"You would not punish me for pummelling you? Is that because you believe I'd not harm you any before you could stop me? I have no illusions about that, my Lord. And that would be awfully confusing, would it not? To caress you and then...pummel you? Do those things often go together?" She asked him.

Her hand still laid on his chest where he'd released it, she didn't snatch it back this time, "perhaps my anger is not with you...or at least not entirely with you. You didn't pick me, you were gifted me, my Lord. The most you could have done was refused to receive me and that...my people would have seen that as an insult and I would have been blamed for it anyway. Still...it is not the life I desire..."

She trailed off, she wasn't sure he cared for what she had to say about it. A slave had feelings about being a slave - imagine that! She placed her other hand on his chest and leaned above him, certain her weighted press was nothing to him.

"You must know I have no idea what to do, my Lord. I have no experience except that which you've given me tonight." Her tongue darted out to moisten her upper lip, "How does one listen to a heart they've been told to ignore their whole life? You feel...warm beneath me and I feel hot in places my mind tells me I shouldn't."

She breathed a little heavier telling him that, should she not have? Her mind warred with her conscience over that, there was an almost equal amount of guilt to relief over being honest with Miramond. She swallowed a little and ran her hands lightly across his chest, shifting her body weight back to her knees again. Her hands pressed just a little firmer as she explored his torso while she spoke.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

"You would not punish me for pummeling you? Is that because you believe I'd not harm you any before you could stop me? I have no illusions about that, my Lord. And that would be awfully confusing, would it not? To caress you and then...pummel you? Do those things often go together?"

Miramond laughed. “They may, and, perhaps often do. Your mind may be angry and your cunny full of lust while your heart feels the pain and desire of both, and then you would wish to pummel and fotre at the same time. To do it to me? If that what you felt, I’d welcome it. Emotion gives it meaning.”

Safiye did neither, but continued to speak as she left her hand on his chest.

"perhaps my anger is not with you...or at least not entirely with you. You didn't pick me, you were gifted me, my Lord. The most you could have done was refused to receive me and that...my people would have seen that as an insult and I would have been blamed for it anyway. Still...it is not the life I desire...”

“No one would, I think,” he responded, “desire to be a slave. Some are forced into that state by poverty, others by capture. Either way, it is not preferable to be someone’s property. Here, though, we have mitigated some of the hardships of that life.”

He paused and said “enough of that talk. Now is a time for pleasure.”

His slave began to speak again as she leaned on his chest. He smiled at the warmth of her hands.

"You must know I have no idea what to do, my Lord. I have no experience except that which you've given me tonight." Her tongue darted out to moisten her upper lip, "How does one listen to a heart they've been told to ignore their whole life? You feel...warm beneath me and I feel hot in places my mind tells me I shouldn't."

He turned slightly towards her and placed his hand between her legs.

“You must let your body give you the ideas,” he said. “No matter what you do, there needs be feeling behind it. I could tell you - or show you - to do this or that, but it wouldn’t bring the same pleasure. A man could learn to play the lute and tune it perfectly, striking every note clearly, but if his soul wasn’t in the music, the performance would be mundane. So . . .”

He suddenly lifted Safiye by her leg and laid her atop him. His hand was between his hip and her thigh, and he guided his organ to her portal before slipping his hand from under her. Both hands on her shoulders, he slowly drew them down her back, over her shoulder blades, over her sides and her waist to her hips. Onto her buttocks, then, firmly grasping each in a hand.

“Time to explore and discover, girl,” he said softly, “do whatever you feel and we’ll see what happens.”

 

[monique_minx]

His hand slipped between her legs to find the truth in her words, that she was hot and moist against her will, again.

“You must let your body give you the ideas. No matter .what you do, there needs be feeling behind it. I could tell you - or show you - to do this or that, but it wouldn’t bring the same pleasure. A man could learn to play the lute and tune it perfectly, striking every note clearly, but if his soul wasn’t in the music, the performance would be mundane. So . . .”

"But I barely know how to play..." She whispered breathily.

She gasped in surprise as he lifted her onto him, she straddled him and swallowed as he pointed his cock towards her warm slit. The gravity aided him slipping beyond her tight entrance and Safiye was gripped with a small amount of fear. It was the pain of the first encounter that she feared but it never came and she relaxed visibly when she realised it wouldn't hurt.

It felt full though, she felt full. Her tight pussy gripped his length with no additional space as he filled every part of her inside. It felt deep, like he was in her stomach. His hands travelled over half her body before finally resting on her ass which he held firmly. Her knees bent beneath her on either side of him.

“Time to explore and discover, girl, do whatever you feel and we’ll see what happens.”

"Okay..." She whispered uncertainly.

Safiye remembered how good it had felt when their positions had been reversed and he had thrust in and out of her. She thought that she could perhaps do the same and began to slowly lift herself up, feeling him slide inside her. She tested the sensation and leaned forward a little, it felt better that way, like he hit her somewhere inside just right. She then left herself slide back down, it felt nice internally but awkward to stare at him so and not feel the same intensity he'd given her earlier.

She started to repeat the motion a little faster and found that good, warm feeling heated even more that way. It made her breasts jiggle but she ignored that tugging sensation in favour of the delicious tingling inside of her loins. It took more effort and that feeling, the intense build of her orgasm, that made her pant gently. It made her clench tighter around him if that were possible.

"That feels...nice." She told him softly as she bounced on his shaft, ignoring the guilty little stab she felt admitting it.

Soft little moans issued from her throat not long after but she found she couldn't quite pace herself as quickly as he'd managed to. Her hands gripped at the sides of his torso as if she needed to hold onto him.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

“Yes, it does, Safiye,” Miramond breathed in her ear between his sigh of pleasure. “It feels nice to me as well. See, I told you it would work.”

The Marqués was delighted that it was working; he wanted emotion in sex with his slave, and the alternative to this sweetness would have been pain. Not a great start to a relationship, even with a slave, but still it would be arousing. With Safiye, though, he’d definitely prefer to avoid the whip; she was lovely, spirited, intelligent, and had already suffered more than enough pain.

“May I join you?” he asked with a little laugh. He realized she was struggling to ride him more quickly.

The question needed no answer, and he slipped his hands from her buttocks to her waist and joined in, thrusting his hips upward to drive his cock into her cunny. He timed it as a counterpoint to her pelvic thrusts so as to double the speed at which they fucked. Both were soon breathing heavily.

“There’s something else I’d like,” Dionysiac gasped as they rocked back and forth together. “Your breasts. I want to feel them rub over my chest.”

He slid his hands up under her arms and held her upper torso up high enough above his chest so that her breasts hung down and swung up and down, just grazing his chest. He wondered if the hardness of his muscles felt as good to her as the softness of her tets felt to him.

A few minutes of that and he lifted her to a sitting position, kneeling astride his waist, his organ deep inside her. He held her there, his hands on her hips, guiding her in narrow circles for a different sensation in their conjoining. Climax was approaching for both of them, and the Marqués suddenly sat upright, his slave still on his lap. With his hands clasping her around the waist he began raising and lowering her on his throbbing shaft. It was only a few moments until he climaxed, punctuating his ejaculation with loud gasps and sighs. He kept raising and lowering Safiye as he came, aiming to share hat ineffable pleasure with her.

 

[monique_minx]

His question of joining her made her flush just a little but he answered it himself and started to move his hips to meet her every bounce, increasing the speed which made the delicious heat Safiye felt, burn even hotter. A soft cry ripped from her lips at the depth and vigor of him and the intensity of which they fucked. It made sharp little bursts of electricity radiate outwards from within her, sparking poignant sprigs of pleasure.

“There’s something else I’d like. Your breasts. I want to feel them rub over my chest.”

She didn't quite understand what he meant but she didn't need to, Dionysiac shifted her until her breasts lightly tickled his chest and swung in time to their continued thrusting. The curious sensation gave her little shivers but it was his enjoyment of it that she liked most of all. That she did something to him and for him especially. That feeling was something she'd have time to question later.

He soon lifted her upright again and began a unique rhythm like a spoon stirring a bowl and Safiye felt it hit her pleasure centre once every rotation. But when he took complete control of their thrusts and Safiye merely endured him ramming upwards into her, that was the beginning of the end. She began to cry out louder, a tight pressure wound up inside of her quickly and burned hotly.

She felt his hot fluids shoot inside of her but he never stopped for even a moment and Safiye was undone. She practically screamed her pleasure, digging her fingernails into the sides of his hips as if she needed to hold on for dear life. Her entire body shuddered atop him, her pussy clenched and gripped him in a tight vice as if to tell him he couldn't leave her in this moment. And as she slowly came down, her back visibly slumped in her physical exhaustion and her muscles gradually relaxed.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

Dionysiac smiled as Safiye eased from her climax and laid her head on his chest. He held her up against him as she relaxed and he stayed still himself, savoring the press of her soft flesh against his hardened muscles. His penis slowly grew flaccid inside her, and then he gently lifted her from his lap to lay her on her back on the bed.

“You’ll share my bed for the night,” he said softly, “and in the morning we will talk.”

As he rose from the bed to snuff all but one candle, he pointed to a door at the back of his chamber.

“There is no chamber pot,” he advised her. “Behind that door is a bench with a hole. If you need it during the night, wake me, and I will carry you there. Your feet are not yet healed enough to walk on.”

The night was warm, so no covers were needed, and the Marqués lay awake a long time, admiring the slave’s body in the flickering candle light as he gave thought to what needed to be done the following day.

‘A hundred slaves are quite a handful to deal with,’ he thought as he casually laid his hand on Safiye’s hip. ‘The distribution is decided, but the women must all be prepared.’

Safiye could serve him well in that regard, he felt; it was partly why he had chosen her to be first among the slaves. In the morning he would explain it all to her, and he would give instruction to his deputies before the midday meal.

He thought further about the woman beside him, about their intimacy, her first night with him. It would have been a pleasure even if she had detested his touch, but that she seemed clearly to be pleasured by his attentions magnified his pleasure tenfold. He looked forward to the day her feet were healed and she could share his bed again. As he fell asleep, he wondered what was going through her mind, what reflections she had on her new state.

 

[monique_minx]

By the time Dionysiac lifted her from him, she'd been able to recover enough to slow her breathing. She was anxious about spending the night with him but nodded as he explained things including the facilities. Safiye hoped she just wouldn't need to go at all but inevitably, at some point, Miramond would have to take her, even if it was just in the morning instead.

She was silent and laid on her side with her back to him thinking things over. His hand graced her hip and Safiye realised it would be the first time she'd sleep with another in her bed. Well, sleep in another's bed. She wondered if this was merely because of her feet or if he would regularly have a slave share his bed for the purposes of slumber.

Safiye dealt with a mess of feelings and couldn't recall when her eyes finally slammed shut, her last thought was wondering what they'd talk about in the morning. She woke only once in the night and groaned softly, it was her bladder of course. It took her moments to recall where she was and it was the sensation of her bandaged wrapped feet as she moved that reminded her rather violently of where she was and what she needed to do.

She groggily reached over to wake Miramond, "I, uh, I need to...use the bench, my Lord."

It was humiliating beyond her wildest dreams but he didn't make her feel ridiculous or inconvenient and he kept his word to take her. The next time she woke, it was morning and she was still naked but at least her memory returned to her a little quicker this time and she was less disoriented by her surroundings. Despite not needing any cover due to the temperature, Safiye pulled a sheet over her breasts and torso before she sat up slowly.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

Safiye’s stirrings woke Dionysiac, and he laughed lightly at her modesty.

“No need to hide your beauty when you’re alone with me,” he said as he gently pulled the sheet from her breasts.

He arose and used the toilet bench himself and then carried Safiye in. He left her, and returned when she called. With both of them back in the bed, he pulled the cord to summon servants and drew the sheet back over Safiye.

Constantia came in a few minutes later along with two other servants, Hermine and Sileta. Hermine placed a lavabo and ewer on the table while Sileta added a pitcher and two goblets for drinking water.

“I thought the slave would need this, Sir,” Constantia explained as she handed Safiye a simple blue smock. “When she’s dressed, I’ll see to her feet.”

“You’re very thoughtful, Constantia,” the Marqués said and then turned to Safiye.

“You and the three companions you will choose are my slaves,” he noted. “Constantia is my senior servant, and you four will obey her as you would obey me.”

As the servants left, Miramond told the senior to inform his deputies that he would see them in his chambers before the midday meal. When they were once more alone, he turned to his slave and mistress.

“We still follow Roman law for the most part,” he began, explaining the situation to Safive, “but a slave must be provided with decent housing, food, and clothing. The slave must obey the master, but may not be excessively punished for misdeeds, and may only be executed for a capital offense, and then only after being found guilty at a public trial. There are some slaves here already, women some of my knights took as booty from the crusade; some boys as well who work in the fields. The women’s lives have been decent, serving not unlike the secondary wives in your faith. They are collared; that is required. You and the others will wear torqs as well; it is the law. I will arrange for our metalsmiths to make light collars for you all. Your torqs will also show your special status as slaves, delivered into slavery through no fault or act of your own. Those who came as virgins shall have torqs of gold; the others will have bronze. The masters all will be reminded to treat their slaves well.”

He lifted her from the bed, then, and carried her to sit at the table, where they washed and took water. “The women eat separately. Our main meal is at midday, and we eat a small meal in the evening,” he explained.

“Now,” he began, “you are to choose three of the other virgins to be my slaves and your companions. You all will be expected to work as well as entertain me. And for tonight, I want a girl to dance for me. The dances of your people that I have heard are done on the wedding night to inspire the groom.”

He paused a moment.

“Do you have any questions, anything you’d like to say me,” he concluded, “before I have you carried to your chamber?”