Slave Wife (15 page)

“That would be a great relief. The woman is very annoying. And I really do not want my neighbours to know my business.” Teresa stood facing them, head once again bowed and hands clasped behind her back. “Teresa, you may crawl to the staircase ahead of us.”

The girl dropped to all fours and crawled to the door, which Ward unlocked with the ringed key, and then out into the hall. As she moved, the taut alabaster skin of her young behind and thighs and the two tender openings between winked at them from under the short skirt. Reza leered meaningfully at Ward.

At the grand staircase’s upper landing, Ward said, “Teresa, you may stand now.” The girl stood and waited. With annoyance Ward turned to Reza. “Now I pretend she’s a relative. You can see the problem.”

The men descended the stair with the girl clomping her heels a little awkwardly along behind. On the way through Reza peered into the remaining ground floor rooms – the huge formal dining room, the very masculine panelled library. They stuck their heads into the door of the antiquated white kitchen and Ward spoke to the stocky, grey-haired woman who stood at the sink cleaning vegetables. “Mrs. Everard, could you please bring some lemonade and snacks to the porch? Thank you.”

At the back Ward opened a transomed door. “The original Victorian solarium. The old caretaker had a green thumb and so does Mrs. Everard.” His tone was ironic. “A very small compensation.”

The room was entirely glass, with a hundred small, clear bevelled panes, and filled with plants. Plants with long drooping leaves or pendant clusters of foliage piled one on top of the other on every surface. Giant ferns and small palms sat in huge Oriental pots on the tile floor clustered around white wicker furniture. In their centre, a tall fountain with scalloped tiers stood dry and silent.

“Wonderful!” Reza exclaimed. “When one lives in a desert,” he politely excused his outburst, “one grows to appreciate moist air.” He touched the fountain’s edge. “But you must make this work! One of my uncles breeds rare koi. You must let me give you a few.”

His gaze swept the room. “And you know what else this room needs?” Ward politely shook his head and Reza continued with childlike enthusiasm. “A bird cage! I have just the thing!”

Iron furniture in a venerable fern and blackberry design, many pieces spotted with dirt and rust, was scattered about the long rear veranda. “I’ve only managed to have a few of these cleaned,” Ward apologized as he ushered Reza to a round table and chairs. “There’s just so much to do for my beautiful old dame.” He sighed then brightened. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do first but then I realize how much I’m going to enjoy putting the house in order,” he winked jovially at Reza, “to my own specifications.”

Teresa stood still and silent beside Ward’s chair. When he and Reza were comfortable, Ward said, “You may sit in a chair, Teresa.” He turned to Reza. “She’d rather curl at my feet and I’d rather have her there but we’re constrained by Mrs. Everard. But enough about that.”

Ward swept his arm toward the expanse of overgrown lawn spattered with ancient willows’ lacy green drapery and the burgundy of flowering cherries several months past bloom that rolled down hill to the
Potomac River
. “Nice view, isn’t it?” The loud boom of an explosion echoed over the water. Ward began to explain, “Testing at the Naval Research Lab,” when a helicopter roared closer.

“That must be the doctor,” Reza shielded his eyes to look into the distance.

Mrs. Everard stepped onto the porch carrying a large silver tray. She glared disapprovingly at Teresa as she set down glasses, a large pitcher of lemonade and plates of small sandwiches and sweets. Her disapproval refocused upward as a sleek British racing green helicopter with black markings landed in an open spot on the lawn.

“Thank you, Mrs. Everard.” Ward wanted her immediately gone. When she didn’t respond he yelled over the rotor noise. “Thank you, Mrs. Everard.”

Finally she turned her head toward him. “I’ll let you know if we need anything else.” Reluctantly – and grudgingly – she swivelled her sturdy frame and re-entered the house.

Teresa, also, stared at the helicopter. Ward smiled at her, evaluating her response to this new event. Once again her tranquillity amazed him. He put his mouth close to her translucent ear to be heard over the whining rotor. “Stay, Teresa. Drink and eat while Reza and I get our guest.”

By the time they reached the chopper the rotor had slowed to lazy circles and a tall elegant man lowered his long legs from the cabin. He bent his thick shock of grey streaked black hair to duck under the blade and strode to greet them, arms extended. “Reza!”

The two men threw finely clad arms around each other and embraced with a filial enthusiasm Americans can never muster. They separated and the doctor extended long dexterous fingers toward Ward. Reza made the introductions. “Ward Smith, let me introduce Doctor Abenamor Sinclair.”

As he shook hands, Ward surreptitiously examined the doctor. French hauteur obviously but also with a dark, exotic touch. Moroccan? “Welcome to my house. I’m pleased to meet an associate of Reza’s. We were about to have lemonade. Would you care for some? Or something else? Coffee? Tea? Wine?”

“Thank you. Lemonade would be lovely.” To Ward’s ear, the doctor’s accent sounded pure
Paris
. But then so did Reza’s when he spoke French.

Teresa was consuming a piece of shortbread, licking her fingers like a child, when they ascended the veranda’s wide steps. The doctor smiled kindly at her. “This is the young lady?” He nodded to Reza. “Yes, I can see what you mean. She is exquisite
!”

“I’ll go get another glass,” Ward glanced meaningfully at Reza, “so we don’t bother Mrs. Everard.” As he turned toward the kitchen door Teresa stirred nervously. “Teresa, Reza will take care of you. You are to obey him.” Teresa’s blue eyes widened but she quieted. Doctor Sinclair and Reza had launched into animated French, gazes fixed on the girl, when Ward passed through the door.

When he returned, the two men were still watching Teresa, who quietly sipped lemonade. Reza looked up. “The helicopter is actually a mobile clinic.” He smiled. “As you might imagine, taking my goods to hospital is not always the best idea. In any case, Abenamor thinks it best to examine her there.”

He paused, chagrined. “Please forgive my poor manners! I am sometimes far too passionate about my work. We must first drink and eat the wonderful treats our host has provided. Ward, tell Abenamor how you found the girl.”

After an interval of eating and conversing Reza’s traditional family would consider appropriate, the group again crossed the lawn. Ward, who loved all machines, was glad of the opportunity to examine the beautiful metal bird more closely. The sleek exterior housed a flying ambulance with two detachable cots fitted with thick webbed straps, one with a gynaecological assembly at its end, and a collection of efficiently stowed medical devices and equipment.

Ward motioned to Reza to help Teresa inside. She flinched when he touched her arm and looked over her shoulder at Ward. “Reza will take care of you, Teresa.” Again she quieted and Reza lifted her and followed after.

While Doctor Sinclair and Ward climbed aboard, Reza said, “Remove your clothes and lie on the bed, Teresa.” Again she looked at Ward but when he nodded she obeyed.

When she lay, naked and vulnerable, on the cot, Reza took her chin between his fingers and held her blue gaze with his beautiful dark one. “The doctor is going to examine you now.” She quivered nervously and he said, voice gentle, “Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.”

Now the doctor stepped forward, a stethoscope around his neck and his hands gloved in latex. He also smiled kindly down at the girl and, like Reza before, took her chin between his fingers. She winced slightly as he squeezed. “Open your mouth, dear.” He peered into her throat and did a survey of her teeth, nodding approvingly then examined each ear canal with an otoscope. When he slipped the speculum into her nostril she tried to pull away and tears streamed down her cheeks but she made no sound. Reza put a warm hand on her shoulder for comfort and also to hold her still.

Desperately she tried to turn her head toward Ward but he purposefully stood back, out of sight. When the doctor released her head and moved lower, she jerked her head toward Ward. “I told you, Teresa, Reza will take care of you.” He kept his demeanour stern but calm. She stilled but tears continued their paths onto her pale cheeks.

The doctor listened to her heart and lungs. He rolled her nipples between his fingers and palpitated breasts and abdomen all the while nodding approvingly to himself. Reza resumed his place at her head. “The doctor is now going to look at your vagina.” He smiled. “I promise he won’t hurt you.”

Teresa trembled uncontrollably as Doctor Sinclair spread her knees and lifted her feet into the metal stirrups. She stared at Ward, who felt an unwanted pang of conscience. He said, “Teresa, show Reza what you’ve learned with your mouth. Then you won’t even feel the doctor.”

The girl tentatively stretched out a slim arm and unzipped Reza’s trousers. He stepped closer and she extricated his penis and sucked it into her mouth. Reza inhaled sharply. “Oh yes! Marvelous!” He turned his head toward Ward. “You’ve trained her well.”

While she sucked, Ward moved to the cot’s foot to watch over Sinclair’s shoulder. The doctor used only his fingers and the light from the otoscope, no speculum. He glanced up at Ward. “We don’t want to risk accidentally deflowering her.”

With his thumb and forefinger he gently spread her tissues, slowly and cautiously opening each layer. The girl wriggled and he spoke urgently, “Reza, make certain she stays still.” Reza placed one hand on her shoulder and the other over a breast and pressed her against the cot’s soft surface. She began to struggle. Reza’s pressure increased and his voice became hard, “Lay still, my dear. We don’t want to hurt you.”

Though Ward wanted to wean her from him, he was more concerned about damaging her. “Teresa, Reza will take care of you. No one will hurt you now. Do your job and keep your body still. Only your mouth should be moving.” She instantly obeyed.

Sinclair’s fingers resumed their exploration – briefly. He turned his head to Ward. “Here. Look at this.” With utmost care, he inserted the tip of his little finger into the vaginal opening between labia minora and gently pressed to each side. “You can see how tight she is.” He shifted his hand until the tip of his index finger hovered above the ephemeral pink tissue around the tiny hole. “This tissue is the hymen. You can see it is not torn. Not even stretched.”

Sinclair spoke to Reza, who watched distractedly, sighing and moaning softly as his penis penetrated the girl’s small mouth. “She is
définitivement une vierge
.”

“Praise be!” Reza exclaimed. He smiled and Ward saw his native cruelty poke through. “How good is she at swallowing cum?” Ward smiled back and nodded despite a small surge of discomfiture.

Reza looked down, appearing, as he did so, to puff up with evil satisfaction. He held the girl’s head rigid between his hands and forced his thick member into her throat. Again she struggled, choking and coughing, and this time he let her, enjoying her distress.

Ward watched Reza’s performance – watched him hold Teresa’s head in a vice grip deeply impaled on his unforgiving tool while her young and seemingly fragile body contorted this way and that in pain and terror, watched for so long her agony seemed to him eternal. Finally, he watched Reza fill her mouth with semen in one jolting ejaculation that made her eyes roll back into her head and thick white ooze pour out of her lovely lips. Despite Ward’s best efforts, anxiety rose in his chest.

When Reza had withdrawn, leaving Teresa curled in a foetal position, Ward spoke, “Reza.”

Reza looked over at him, concern marring his beauty. “Oh dear! Ward, forgive me if I’ve overstepped.”

“Please, Reza. Think nothing of it. It’s just that I’m new to this and I’m finding it a little harder than I expected. She just seems so vulnerable. I need to find her a suitable home.” Ward shook his head, trying to shake off his peevish emotions. He smiled benignly. “Tell me about your client.”

“He’s a Saudi sheikh with houses in several Western countries including the
U.S.
He owns numerous slaves who he treats as valuable possessions.” Reza smiled diffidently. “But he does punish them when they require it.” His expression filled with sincerity. “I’m convinced he will cherish her.” He glanced at Teresa, still curled tight on the cot, then back to Ward. “She’s very special.”

“Can you call him now and get some sort of commitment so she can go straight to her new home?”

“Well, it’s the middle of the night over there,” Reza’s expression clouded then cleared, “but yes, I will.” He extracted his mobile from his trousers pocket and dialled. He listened silently for a moment then spoke earnestly in Arabic. Ward intently followed Reza’s changing expressions and tried to understand.

After several minutes, Reza clicked his phone closed. He beamed at Ward. “The Sheikh trusts my judgement and has sworn to take her.” He looked down at Teresa. “Do you think I’ll have to drug her?”

Ward pulled Doctor Sinclair’s short stool next to Teresa’s head and sat. Gently he touched the girl’s cheek and she looked at him, wide-eyed and innocent. “Teresa, Reza is going to take you on a long trip.”

Teresa vigorously shook her head no.

“Yes Teresa. I have found you a wonderful new home and Reza is taking you there.” She jerked toward him and buried her face in his black shirtfront. “He will not hurt you and you will go with him.” He laid his hand on her head. “You will obey me and go with him. Correct?”