The Captive Flesh (7 page)

She exerted pressure on Marietta's arm so that she made a half-turn. ‘Your bottom is high and round too; nicely plump. And your thighs are long and firm. Why are you ashamed to be naked? You have a body which must give you much pleasure when you touch it and bring yourself to a melting peak.'

Marietta's cheeks burned. She knew that her whole face was red. Never had anyone spoken to her in such a direct way. And she had never touched herself in the way Leyla described. It had never occurred to her to do so. But she knew what pleasure Leyla spoke of. Sister Anna had first shown her.

She had to admit she was pleased, flattered, that Leyla thought she was comely. Leyla was very beautiful herself. A far cry from the stern humourless nun who had used Marietta's body for her own twisted pleasure. She felt a stirring within her as Leyla's sultry eyes lingered on her naked flesh, as if she was unwilling to look away.

When Leyla let go of her arms she left them as they were, letting Leyla continue her examination at her leisure. She was more intrigued with each passing moment by the fact that Leyla found her desirable. It was not something that she had given thought to in the convent. Now she felt a new pride beginning. The obvious interest and admiration shown by the slave girls added to her feeling of being special.

‘The soft fleece on your sex is so pretty,' Leyla said.
‘So unusual. Pale, like spun gold. It is a pity that it must be removed. Here it is considered to be a sin to have hair on one's female parts but I like the mystery it gives. Your sex is concealed from the casual gaze and must be discovered by close inspection – perhaps only by touch. How a lover must long to spread you and feast on your secret flesh. Charming. So charming.'

She touched Marietta's mound with gentle hands, pulling at the fine silky hair which covered it, letting the curls kiss her fingers. Then she slid one finger down the slit of the sex and dipped inside the lips momentarily before removing her hand. Marietta was speechless with shock at the casual intimacy of Leyla's gesture, but too surprised to brush her away.

Leyla withdrew her hand. She laughed. ‘I forget myself. We are here to bathe. After … we shall see. Come.'

Leyla began to pull on a pair of stilted bath shoes. Only when Marietta sat down and did the same did she absorb the other woman's words. Was she too expected to submit to the process of being denuded of all body hair – as it seemed was the custom here? She decided right away that she would refuse to submit to such an indignity. Surely guests were not expected to be bound by such customs?

Leyla and Marietta entered a side room of the bath house. The slaves came after them, carrying soft towels, perfumes and oils. There were no tubs of hot water as Marietta expected but deep basins lined the stone walls. Heated water flowed directly into the basins from brass taps set above them. The square-shaped plunge pool in the larger room was visible through a line of pillared archways.

Leyla and Marietta sat on stools, which resembled wicker cages.

‘I will attend you,' Leyla said in her lovely husky voice, picking up a silver bowl and using it to pour perfumed water over Marietta's shoulders. ‘Let me introduce you to the potent pleasures of the bath, beautiful Marietta.'

The water was very hot, but Marietta soon grew used to it. More disturbing was the feel of Leyla's soft hands on her skin. Sitting behind Marietta, her parted knees brushing the sides of her hips, Leyla rubbed a creamy perfumed concoction into Marietta's arms, then gradually worked her way down Marietta's body. Leyla's hands made small circles up and down her back. She encircled Marietta's waist, using a rotating motion of her fingers and thumbs to massage the skin, then she cupped Marietta's buttocks, one in each hand, and began kneading them.

As Leyla pulled at the globes of flesh, Marietta felt an indirect pressure on her sex. Her buttocks opened and closed, parting the flesh-lips slightly. At each movement that drew back her buttocks the flesh-lips were drawn a little way towards Leyla's hand. The warm steamy air of the baths penetrated the deep valley between Marietta's buttocks, playing over the damp skin and the tight little nether mouth. The seat of the stool was cool and firm and it provided a pleasant friction on the whole of Marietta's secret sensitive area. It was most disquieting. She drew away from Leyla's fingers a little.

‘What is it? You do not like?'

‘Yes … I like. But …'

Leyla laughed. ‘Ah, you wish to offer me the same services, is that not it? Perhaps you think I am offended because I serve you like a slave? But I like to do this … Wait. I know what we shall do.'

She stood up and adjusted the position of her stool.
Then she sat down facing Marietta. ‘There. Now we can attend each other.'

Leyla turned her attention to the front of Marietta's body, describing creamy circles around her throat and jaw, then progressing down to her shoulders and chest. In another moment Leyla would close her hands over Marietta's breasts. Marietta felt a moment's panic and, in confusion, dipped her hand into the bowl of scented cream and began to apply it to Leyla's arms, neck and shoulders. But rather than calming her, the feel of Leyla's petal-soft skin only confused her further. Marietta concentrated on lathering Leyla's body, staring blankly into space over her shoulder, trying not to dwell on the feel of Leyla's hands on her skin. Nor would she look directly at the signs of pleasure on Leyla's lovely face, but she could not help seeing the loosely parted lips, the slight flush on the pale cheeks, the soft gleam in the sultry dark eyes.

The languid stroking went on. Marietta copied Leyla's movements, mirroring the pace and pressure of the other woman's hands. The movements were hypnotic. It was like a slow dance. Through the thick steam she caught brief glimpses of other bathers engaged in similar activities. Pairs of women were pouring water over each other. Some were washing each other's hair. Others were lying together on low platforms. She heard sighs and gasps near at hand. The sound of skin moving on skin. Little breathless moans. Subtle erotic sounds.

Marietta dared not look at the women who made these noises, yet she wanted to, badly. The air seemed scented with the musk of so many female bodies. She felt it surround her, as if sinking into her pores.

‘You have a gentle touch, Marietta,' Leyla said on a sigh.

Marietta could not reply. Her mouth was dry. However much she concentrated on what she was doing, she could not ignore the feel of Leyla's touch or her own body's reaction to Leyla's close proximity. Her breasts were swollen, and the nipples had gathered into hard, aching peaks. The thick steam swirled around the two of them, screening them in a small private world.

Droplets had gathered on Leyla's black hair and the thick ebony ropes seemed to have a silver sheen. More droplets trembled on her sooty lashes. Her face was turned to the side, so that the straight, slightly-long nose was shown in profile. The delicate nostrils quivered. The dark shapely mouth, with its full, slightly puckered lips, looked shiny, moist and inviting. There was a darker brownish-red line running around the edge of Leyla's rouged mouth, delineating the edge of her lips, making its shape all the more startling against her white skin. Leyla opened her mouth, and nipped the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth; the small teeth gleamed like pearls.

Marieta shivered. She had never thought to find a woman so utterly desirable, or to find such pleasure in a woman's touch.

She was unable to stop herself, though she knew that she should. Under her palms Leyla's nipples hardened. Crested by the creamy suds, they looked like cherries in milk. Marietta itched to taste them, to draw the little round nubs into her mouth and collar them with the rolled curve of her tongue. Leyla's lovely mouth looked ripe for kisses and the liquid weight of her firm breasts filled Marietta's hands.

With a soft sigh, Leyla leaned forward into Marietta's grasp, throwing back her head in shameless enjoyment. The long sweet curve of her throat was revealed; a tiny pool of moisture had settled in the hollow of her neck.
Marietta felt the urge to bend forward, to lap at that little salty pool with her tongue. Drops of scented steam silvered Leyla's face, wetting her curved black brows, meshing on the fine down that grew above her full top lip. Tiny curls of springy black hair stuck to her damp forehead.

We should stop this, Marietta thought again. But it felt wonderful; Leyla was more than willing, and who was to see? Her body seemed to have come alive and the whole of her skin felt acutely sensitive. A pulse ticked between her legs.

Leyla lifted her head and smiled sweetly. Her hands slid over the swell of Marietta's stomach, massaged the slight pout of it for a time, then dipped between her parted thighs.

Marietta trembled violently as the creamy fingers threaded through the hair on her mound. They rubbed and teased, drawing out strands of moistened pale hair, playing lightly up and down the outside edges of the fleecy lips where they joined the creases of her groin. Then the fingers moved in to the centre. Gently Leyla parted the lips of Marietta's sex and began to caress the secret flesh with an expert touch. Her parted fingers rubbed either side of Marietta's hidden bud.

Marietta locked eyes with Leyla. A moan of pleasure was rising in her throat.

‘No … Please,' she whispered, but her back arched and her thighs opened more widely. She could not help pushing towards Leyla's hand.

Leyla smiled into her eyes. ‘No? Lovely Marietta,' she said, tugging very gently on the little hood of flesh that covered the bud. ‘Your mind says no, but your body wishes it. Let it have its way. Give yourself up to pleasure. Learn to take that pleasure wherever you can, as I have done. The hours here can seem so long.
Boredom is the enemy of the women in the harem. Why not take what is free and enjoyable?'

Marietta let out the groan she had been trying to hold in. She smiled. Where was the harm? She felt suddenly wicked, lascivious, and greatly daring.

‘You mean, like this?' Marietta said, teasingly.

Leyla gave a hoarse little gasp as Marietta attempted a more intimate caress; a sound that acted like a goad to her own rising passion.

‘Oh, so divinely enjoyable,' Leyla purred. ‘Do you like it when I stroke you thus and when I insert my finger here?'

She slid one finger in and out of Marietta's body, assessing her wetness and readiness. Then she slipped another into her, exclaiming at the silky tightness. Marietta could not concentrate on what Leyla was saying. She knew only that the tone of her voice, husky and melodious, was like silk against her skin. Her flesh sucked at Leyla's fingers, unwilling to relinquish them even for an instant, though she must, for each new inward thrust. Her hips began to move, the buttocks flexing as she pushed forward, sheathing herself on Leyla's slippery fingers. Leyla's knuckles pressed the liquidly soft inner lips as she curved her fingers inwards, drawing Marietta's sex up towards her.

Ah, what a practised seductress she is, Marietta thought on a wave of sensation. The fingers circled her, moving round the silky inner walls, drawing out her feminine moisture.

‘Do it to me too, beautiful one,' Leyla whispered. ‘Can you feel how ready I am? Under your touch I am like a ripe fig. A split fruit ready to be suckled, so that the juice runs down the fleshy cleft. Yes. That's it. Spread my sex open. Rub me there. Oh, yes. Like that. Gently. Yes, on the flesh-covered bud. Just there. Feel
how hard the little kernel has become, how it juts out? The fruit ripens for you, fair one. How it swells. What delight Kasim will have in you.'

‘Kasim?' Marietta said dreamily, thinking only of the way Leyla's fingers worked away inside her.

At the same time Leyla had pressed the pad of her thumb to the stiffly swollen bud inside Marietta's flesh-lips, rotating it delightfully. Her passionate words were almost poetic, spreading magic through Marietta's mind as her fingers cast a spell over her body.

Marietta loved the feel of Leyla's naked sex against her hand. The swollen flesh-lips, so smooth without any hair covering, were thickly engorged, slippery. She pinched them gently, squeezing them together, feeling the hard pulsing little bud inside them. Leyla was very wet. Her hot juices felt like melted butter. Her smell of jasmine, salt, and musk made Marietta feel light-headed.

Leyla laughed throatily with abandoned delight. ‘You are wonderful, fair one. Your body is a jewel. Perhaps Kasim can be persuaded to enjoy us together. Would that please you?'

Gradually Marietta became aware of what Leyla was saying. Then a word she had mentioned earlier in an unguarded moment rang in her head, discordant, like a cracked bell. Harem? That was it.

Harem! Here was the reason why she had felt so ill at ease. Realisation rushed upon her. She felt cold. Her passion died at once.

She pulled her fingers roughly out of Leyla, who gasped and moaned with disappointment. Marietta drew away, and dashed Leyla's hand away from her. Then she stood up and jerked her stool away.

‘Take your hands off me!' she said icily. ‘I will bathe myself. And I tell you again, Claudine and I are guests here, not residents. We shall be leaving soon. We are
not harem inmates. I expect Kasim asked you to pleasure me, did he? No doubt hoping that I would be won over by the sensuality and riches all around me. He wants me to stay here. Is that it? So that he can use me for his pleasure like a whore!'

She stopped, her blue eyes blazing into Leyla. Leyla's lips trembled.

‘It is true that you are beautiful enough to seduce an angel, Leyla. and I will not lie, I do desire you. But I warn you, I am not a pawn to be dallied with at will. Yours or Kasim's! Do not try your wiles on me again!'

In the instant before Marietta grabbed for a towel and swung away she saw the hurt and confusion on Leyla's face. Perhaps she was wrong about her. She hoped she was. She liked Leyla. More than liked. A great deal more, to be truthful. But she was too shaken and disturbed to think clearly.