The Captive Flesh (5 page)

How does he stand it? Marietta thought, appalled. But, like the crowd, she could not take her eyes from the rigid stem crowned by the tight swollen bulb.

After a while the man picked up the whip. He stood
to one side of Gabriel, grinning and running his tongue around his thick fleshy lips. Gabriel mouthed an obscenity and the man laughed. Grasping the erect stem and scrotum in one hand, the man wrapped the lash tightly around the root, under the sac. The organs were now painfully exposed. Gabriel's shame was tangible. For a time the man tormented him further, tapping the head of the cock with the end of the whip, beating it lightly down its length.

The crowd jeered and cheered. Judging the mood of the audience, and picking his moment, the man released Gabriel's organs. Then he trailed the whip over his shoulders and walked around Gabriel to stand behind him.

‘You want more?' he shouted, suddenly, grabbing Gabriel's buttocks in both hands and dragging them apart. The phallus stirred, jerking. It was dark red, suffused with blood.

Gabriel winced as the thick fingers pulled at him, exposing the tight puckered anus, surrounded by damp blonde curls. The crowd were delighted.

‘Lash him! Lash him now!' Someone began. Others took up the cry.

The thickset man grinned. ‘Oh, you've had enough of just looking. Right then,' he said.

Marietta could not tear her eyes away from Gabriel's beautiful face. His jutting cheekbones were set, flushed darkly with shame, and ready now for the first biting sting of the lash. His mouth – full and tender – was still curled with disdain.

Her thoughts rioted within her. Suddenly she wanted to see his expression change; to see him slimed with sweat, his beauty broken as he sobbed with pain. Ah, then she would love to cradle his proud head in her arms. Kiss his bruised mouth …

She was alarmed by the darkness inside her. Where had such thoughts come from? Did she know instinctively what Kasim spoke of?

Yes. All at once, she knew. Sister Anna had awoken hungers – not planted them. Her senses had been slumbering only. What a startling discovery. She needed space to think, to encompass this new revelation. But she had no time to wonder at herself.

The beating began.

The sound of the lash hitting flesh broke the air. It was a soft sound; there was not too much force behind the blow. A sigh went up from the crowd. Marietta saw Gabriel's head jerk back, but his expression did not change. Another blow. The lash tip curled around his waist. She saw the slight weal it left, pink against the white flesh. Beads of sweat broke out on Gabriel's forehead.

She wondered at his tension. The blows could not be very painful. A third blow. Then another. The people standing behind the prisoner must have seen how the marks coloured his white skin. Pink and white. Such symmetry. She would have liked to see that too. But she had his face. That was even better.

Now the cords stood out in Gabriel's neck. The blows came often and he strained against his bonds. Marietta saw how the shackles cut into his wrists. His hands were curled into fists, the fingers pale and bloodless. His chest swelled. The copper-brown nipples were stiffly erect, small and tight. At the next blow he drew in a great breath. His ribcage gaped and his belly grew concave. Tremors ran down his thighs. A sheen of sweat pearled his limbs, running down his legs like rain down glass.

She was intent on his face, watching as it slackened. He could not hold back his reaction. Oh, Gabriel, you
are even more beautiful in your distress. She was almost moved to tears, longing to kiss his hot face, to smooth the hair back from his cheek where a damp yellow strand was plastered to his cheekbone.

Gabriel's lips trembled. His bravado crumbled, inevitably. He twisted his head round to rest on one shoulder and buried his face in his outstretched arm. As he began to groan Marietta felt heat gather between her thighs.

‘The phallus,' Kasim whispered.

She watched as Gabriel's member grew even more rigidly erect. His sac contracted, becoming two firm stones. Surely every woman who watched wanted him. People began shouting obscenities. She wanted them to stop. Such a sight should be enjoyed in reverent silence. Her legs felt weak. Each of Gabriel's groans went like a dart straight to her stomach and an insistent pulsing began in her lower belly. Under her bodice her breasts swelled until they ached. She felt a sound gathering in her throat and caged it behind her teeth.

Kasim laughed softly, knowingly, one hand snaking around her waist as he drew her against him. He took her weight on his arm, whispering:

‘I knew I would not regret bringing you to my house. Feast your eyes, Marietta. Let your passions rise. Look into Gabriel's face. Is he not a marvellous animal? Watch him lose all control. He cannot help it. Though he tries to withhold himself to punish the crowd, he cannot – and they know it. That is why they jeer. That is the spectacle they come to see. They love him for his frailty. Look at them. You can see it on their faces.'

It was true. Every face was avid. While they berated the bound man and enjoyed his suffering, they admired him. Some probably envied him. Many of the men had shining eyes, slack mouths. A woman with
dyed red hair and a painted mouth pulled down her tunic, exposing ripe breasts with large brown nipples. She lifted them as if offering them to Gabriel. Flinging back her head she laughed, showing strong white teeth. Then she turned to a man wearing a butcher's apron. He grasped her around the waist, suckling at her breasts eagerly to the great delight of the crowd.

From the corner of her eye Marietta saw a man lift a whore's skirts and slide into her from the rear. Even while the whore protested, demanding payment, he thrust at her. His groans of pleasure were muffled against the bunched-up material around her shoulders. The many coarse gestures, the open sexuality of the crowd, inflamed Marietta's passions further.

Gabriel, rapt in his battle with his own responses, tossed his head from side to side. His long hair was wet, soaked with sweat. Droplets flew out, sparkling in the sunlight. Marietta felt the hot drops land on her face, tasted the salt of his sweat on her lips, and realised that Kasim had pulled the veil down, exposing her eyes, nose and mouth. His fingers were a vice around her arm. She felt his other hand caress her neck and move upwards to cup her chin.

Then the tips of his fingers found her mouth. She parted her lips eagerly and he thrust his thumb between her teeth, rubbing the fleshy pad over her tongue. She tasted salt on his skin.

Kasim's breath came in a harsh shallow rhythm. As Marietta sucked on his thumb she felt his sexual excitement mounting. His eyes were fastened on the spectacle before them. The rigid tension was evident in every line of his body and his narrow angular face looked as if carved from marble.

Marietta's tension matched his. She had never felt so aroused. A shameless hunger rose in her. She envied
the whore. Her womb throbbed, sending signals of readiness to her moist slit. She wanted to be filled, impaled, torn into. Kasim's thumb moved, probing the soft flesh inside her mouth. She drew it deeply into her throat, circling it with her ravenous tongue.

She could not look away from the platform. Gabriel's hips thrust forward each time the lash stroked his back. His distended member beat against his stomach. The exposed glans was shiny, moist and purplish, collared by the ruched cock-skin. A single clear drop, like a tear, trembled on the tip. The skin on his organ looked stretched it was so engorged. Surely he could not contain himself much longer.

The tip of the lash snaked around Gabriel's inner thigh, marking him lightly from thigh to groin. He bucked and jerked his wrists against his bonds, then the lash curled around his pubic hair, licking his balls. And again. A harsh groan escaped him. His breath was ragged now, his teeth bared in a rictus of shame and pleasure. The crowd groaned in unison.

‘He breaks. Now!' Kasim hissed in Marietta's ear, drawing out his thumb and rubbing the damp tip of it across her parted lips.

She felt a gathering of excitement. Her heart beat fast. Yes. Oh, Yes.

Gabriel threw back his head and roared. Every muscle in his body was strained to breaking point. The swollen veins were visible under his golden skin. His phallus jumped, his balls tightened, and a great jet of seed spurted across the platform, followed by another, and another.

‘Oh, God,' Marietta whispered against the back of Kasim's hand, as, at that precise moment, she locked eyes with Gabriel.

The troubled grey eyes fastened on her face, became
focused, and remained. She looked deep into him, projecting her admiration, her arousal, her soul towards him. The barest flicker of acknowledgement passed over his face. His mouth trembled, pulling away at the corners. And she knew that he was on the brink of tears.

She felt her body respond with the force of a furnace.

She loved his self-hatred, his shame, the way he sagged in defeat. Only the shackles at his wrists supported him. Without them, he would have fallen in the dust. She could see how he longed desperately to hide; how he hated the eyes watching his every move. A silent darkened room must have seemed like paradise to him at that moment. Oh, he was achingly beautiful in his sweat and pain.

She held his eyes by the force of her will as she leaned against the wooden edge of the platform. Kasim was silent, locked in private appreciation of Gabriel. She meshed her black-gloved fingers, gripping them tight, pressing them into the hollow between her thighs. Suddenly her climax wracked her, washing over her in great wrenching spasms, leaving her weak and spent.

Kasim's hard body supported her still. He was fully aware of what had happened. He said something under his breath and the hand that rested on her waist trembled. He too desired Gabriel, she could feel it. The thought excited her beyond measure. Could men be lovers? What things would they do together?

Kasim and Gabriel. The darkest night and the sun. She imagined their bodies locked in a fierce embrace, and glimpsed a world of jewelled delights, hitherto unknown to her.

She felt quite faint. Though her body was sated for the moment, she was confused by all she had experienced. The tight lacing of her gown restricted her
movements and she could hardly draw breath for the tightness of her throat. Her responses alarmed her. Suddenly the crowd seemed to lose its fascination. She wanted to get away from the crush of people.

But poor Gabriel remained a prisoner.

For a moment longer she looked at him. A thin trickle of semen ran down one thigh. Even as she watched, a last pearly droplet fell from the tip of his cock. Tremors jerked across his chest. He was sweating so much he looked oiled.

The man with the lash drew away, grinning. The spectacle was over. She realised, belatedly, that the whipping had been incidental. There was no blood and the marks, though pink, were not raised, and plainly not too painful.

Humiliation had been Gabriel's punishment – not the lash.

His master must have known him well to have chosen such a refined chastisement. As well, it seemed, as Kasim was beginning to know her.

‘Come, Marietta. It is hot and dusty. There is nothing here for us now,' Kasim said shortly, drawing her away.

Marietta looked over her shoulder at Gabriel, who was still watching her. She mouthed ‘Thank you' to him.

Surprise, then the ghost of a smile passed over his remarkable face before his head sagged forward a last time and dropped onto his chest.

Gabriel lifted his head and stared after the figure of the woman who had watched him.

He felt grateful to her. Her presence in the crowd had dissipated some of his agony of mind. It had seemed, at the last moment before the explosion of pleasure came, that he was on show just for her – and
it had not been so very bad. He had pretended they were alone, and the reflection of himself – which he had seen in her shining face – had made him proud to be beautiful. Proud that, though he could not hold on, and the crowd would have their satisfaction at his expense, he could give himself to her.

The crowd did not matter. Only
she
mattered.

And she had understood that, accepting what he gave her. She had even thanked him, shaping her lovely mouth around the silent word. Even through the haze of exhaustion and the shame which still burned in every line of his abused body, he held onto her image. While they untied him and led him away, he thought only of her.

That perfect oval face, framed all in black, and the big blue eyes. Blue as the summer sky. Blue as flax flowers. Who was she? He had not heard of a blue-eyed slave. Such a one would be noticed. She had been with Kasim Dey, and Kasim was a friend of his master, Selim the jewel merchant.

The merchant went often to Kasim's house to do business. Gabriel might be taken, too, if he took pains to engineer events. He smiled, the strong well-shaped mouth curving richly. He knew what he must do to influence his master. Tonight he would beg to be allowed to pleasure Selim, protesting his contrition after the public punishment.

Selim could resist him nothing when he had his buttocks pressed to Gabriel's groin and Gabriel's hand working up and down his hungry shaft.

Ah, it was more than possible that he would meet the woman. He hoped fervently that it would be soon.

The crowd began dispersing rapidly.

The ranks of slaves closed around Marietta and Claudine. Safely hemmed in by strong black bodies they moved on. There was no time for Marietta to see what happened to Gabriel. The market and platform of punishment were soon far behind them.

Kasim walked by her side, supporting her elbow in one strong slender hand, a gesture that to outward appearances looked innocent enough, but she felt the tightly leashed power in his fingers. His profile was stern, the set of the strong mouth severe. Those refined nostrils were white-tipped, flaring just a fraction, the only hint of his contained inner turmoil.

He was still aroused by the sight they had witnessed, she was certain of it and the thought excited her.