The Love Slave Part 16

There was a knock upon the door, and the young eunuch hurried to open it. Another eunuch stood outside. Wordlessly, he handed Naja a silken packet, and turning, departed. Naja could scarcely contain himself as he handed it to Oma.

"What is it?" she asked him.

"A gift from the caliph, Oma! It means that our master will certainly come to her tonight. She has already found first favor with him. Such a thing is unheard of! No woman has ever found favor so quickly! She will be the great love of his old age. I sense it!" the eunuch said excitedly.

Open, the packet revealed a large and absolutely flawless round pink pearl.

Naja's dark eyes met Oma's meaningfully.

Chapter 10.

There was no knock upon the door. It simply opened, and the caliph entered the room. Jumping up, Oma and Naja bowed low.

"Where is the lady Zaynab?" the caliph asked politely.

"She is in her private chamber, my lord," Oma said softly, her eyes lowered.

The caliph nodded in answer. Opening the door of the bedchamber, he pa.s.sed through.

She had heard him in the outer room. Now she bowed silently, patiently awaiting his command. He closed the door behind him and stared at her for a long moment Zaynab did not move. Indeed she was barely breathing, for she suddenly realized that she was a little frightened, although her face showed no emotion whatsoever. She was frozen like a statue.

"I thought that I had imagined your astounding beauty," he finally said, breaking the silence between them, "but you are indeed real, Zaynab. Disrobe for me now. Those tantalizing little glimpses of your body this morning in that fetching costume you wore have made me eager to see all of you."

His tone was demanding, as if he were struggling to contain his impatience for her. The look on his face was imperious. He was obviously a man used to immediate obedience. Then, as if to put her at her ease, he smiled a quick smile at her. His teeth were square, even, and white. His hair, without the turban, was indeed a reddish-blond; the eyes beneath the sandy lashes a deep blue.

How strange, she thought. She had a.s.sumed before coming here that Moors were all dark-haired, dark-eyed men, yet it seemed they were not. Her fingers reached up to undo the tiny pearl b.u.t.tons on her caftan. One by one she unfastened them, her eyes never leaving his. The last b.u.t.ton slipped its silken loop. The caftan was open to the navel. The caliph's gaze was mesmerizing, and she still could not breathe.

Before she might shrug the garment from her, he reached out, easily parting the twin halves of the caftan and sliding it over her shoulders. It fell to the floor with a small hiss of silk. Abd-al Rahman stepped back a pace and let his deep blue eyes wander the lush curves of her body. "Where," he said softly, "in the name of all the seven djinns did Donal Righ ever find a creature as magnificent as you?"

"I was brought to him by a Norseman," Zaynab replied, amazed that she could actually speak again. "He raided the convent in which I had been placed."

"You were a Christian nun?" His eyes feasted upon her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and it was all he could do not to bury his face between them.

"Nay, my lord. I was to be, but I had only arrived that same day," Zaynab explained.

"What cruel, unseeing, unfeeling man could place so beautiful a maiden within a convent's high walls?" the caliph demanded half-angrily. "You were not meant to be incarcerated, a dry virgin, for the rest of your days. Praise be to Allah that my old friend, Donal Righ, found you!"

Zaynab laughed at his ardent opinion. She could not help herself. He was certainly a pa.s.sionate man. "I have a twin sister, my lord," she explained. "We are identical, but she is the elder. Our father died before our birth. We were his only legal offspring. It was decided that Gruoch would wed a neighboring lord's heir, and that I would be sent to the convent. The decision was made on the day we were born. Neither of us had any say in our fates."

"Could not a husband be found for you as well?" the caliph wondered. Allah, her hair was incredible. He wanted to feel its softness on his naked body.

"A husband for me would have caused difficulty. He would have wanted half of our father's land, my lord. The neighboring lord wanted it all for his heir and his kindred. I cannot fault him. Our two families had feuded for years. My sister's marriage put an end to the waning. There was no other place for me but in a convent," Zaynab finished.

"Your place is here in my arms," the caliph said firmly. "You belong to me, and me alone, my beauty!" Reaching out, he drew her to him. Then, taking her chin between his thumb and his forefinger, he kissed her mouth, exploring its texture, its firmness, the special taste of her. His eyes swam with a look of melting l.u.s.t as he ran the very tip of his tongue across her lips. "Ummmmm, you are delicious," he declared, "and you are meant for nothing but pure pleasure. 'Tis why Allah created you, Zaynab. Your fate is to pleasure me, and be pleasured in return. I am an excellent lover, as you will shortly learn." With one hand he began to knead her left breast gently. "I am half in love with you already," he told her. "You excite my body as it has not been excited in many a year. My heart calls out to yours, Zaynab." His hand now moved to caress her face, even as his low voice caressed her rebellious spirit "Are you afraid of me, my exquisite one? You need not be, for your sweet surrender to my will guarantees you my favor."

"I am afraid of your power, my lord," she admitted, "but I do not think I am afraid of you."

"You are wise to know the difference," he replied, smiling. He fastened his hands firmly about her waist and lifted her up onto the bed. Then stepping back, he observed her once more. "Turn for me, Zaynab," he said.

Slowly she revolved, giving him ample time to view her naked form. She was amazed at how very controlled he was with her.

He ran a hand over her pretty posterior. "You have a bottom like a perfect little peach," he complimented her. "Has the maidenhead between its halves been plundered yet?" His hand lingered, caressing the silken skin, fondling her.

"The Pa.s.sion Master felt that was your privilege, my lord," she told him, "but I have been prepared to receive you." Zaynab strove with all her might to keep from shuddering. There was something sinister in the fingers now trailing over her flesh.

"Good!" he responded. "Now turn back to me, my lovely," and when she had, he said, "I know you are trained to give me pleasure far greater than that of a mere concubine, but tonight I would simply have you be a woman. Tonight I will make love to you. You will obey my every command, and together we will find pleasure." He lifted her down from the bed.

"You will find no woman more obedient or eager to please you than I am, my lord," Zaynab promised him. She felt foolish at her earlier nervousness. The caliph was no monster. He was really quite nice, and the fact that he was a stranger to her could make no difference. She was not just his personal possession. She was a Love Slave, and she knew her duty.

He quickly disrobed, pulling his caftan off and letting it drop to the floor next to her garment. Then he stepped back, giving her the same vantage point that he had previously had. "You may look at me," he told her. "A woman should know her master's body even as he knows hers."

Her face was grave as she examined him. Her earlier impression had been correct. He was not slender like Karim, but rather stocky. Still, he was not fat, and he was very well muscled. She knew his age to be over fifty. Yet the body before her was not what she would have imagined that of an older man to be. It was attractive and firm. He was fair of skin, but devoid of body hair. His torso was short, his length in his shapely legs. His male parts seemed well formed and of a good size. Zaynab raised her eyes back to his again. "You are most pleasing, my lord," she complimented him.

"Men's bodies," he told her, amused, "have not the exquisite beauty of women's, my lovely. Still, when put together, they usually fit well." Reaching out, he drew her back into his arms, moving to fondle her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with the eagerness of a young boy with his first maid.

Zaynab closed her eyes a moment. His touch was distinctly different from Karim's, but the thought, rather than distressing her, sobered her. The fact that she and her Pa.s.sion Master had fallen in love was unfortunate, but they had both known all along such a love could not end happily. She would not disgrace him by behaving badly with the caliph. She must be a credit to Karim, and it was he who had taught her to give herself over to the pleasure of man's pa.s.sion. For all their sakes, she had to do it. She was not some silly virgin with foolish dreams of true love.

She concentrated upon the hands now palpating her flesh. They were firm, a trifle insistent perhaps, yet gentle. His mouth met hers, his deep kiss warm and sensual, sending a thrill down her spine. She could not help but respond, kissing him back. He was a stranger, yet he was able to arouse her, which she had not thought really possible. There were obviously things Karim had not taught her; things she would discover for herself.

She threw her head back, and his lips followed the graceful line of her throat She felt the warm wetness of his tongue succeeding the feathery touches of his kisses. She murmured, satisfied, as his mouth found the swell of her young b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He kissed and licked the perfumed skin, the scent of gardenias permeating his senses, heightening his desire for her. His mouth closed over a coral-tipped nipple, sucking hard on it, and her body arced in his possessive embrace. He bit down lightly on the nipple. Zaynab cried out softly, her senses now whirling, caught up in the strengthening erotic loveplay between them.

"Open your eyes," he commanded, standing straight again. His look was pa.s.sionate as he stared directly into her gaze. He traced his fingers over her half-open lips, suggestively pushing his forefinger deep into her mouth. She sucked slowly upon it, her tongue revolving sinuously about the finger, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed lightly against his smooth chest.

"You have eyes like aquamarines," he said softly. "A man would die for such eyes." Drawing his finger from her mouth, he ran it down the valley between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Then, hands upon her slim shoulders, he pushed her down upon her knees before him.

She knew what was expected. Taking him within the warm cavity of her mouth, she began to suckle upon him. His sharp intake of breath told her she was pleasing him. His fingers dug into her head, kneading the scalp with growing urgency as he began to burgeon. She fondled his pouch in her hand, cupping it, squeezing it gently. With a single finger of that hand she reached beneath him, seeking for a certain spot, finding it, pressing up upon it. He groaned, then shuddered as a sharp stab of desire slammed into him. Her clever little tongue encircled the ruby head of his manhood, coaxing his desire into full flower.

"Cease!" he groaned, pulling her to her feet again. "You are going to kill me with delight, Zaynab. What a naughty little witch you are, my lovely!" He was swollen with burning l.u.s.t, but he yet managed to control his need to possess his new toy. He would not take her too quickly the first time. He wanted to test her mettle. If he died, it would be from pleasure.

"Sit," he said. When she had settled herself upon the edge of the bed, he knelt down. Taking her foot in his hand, he studied it intently. It was small and narrow, each toe beautifully shaped, the nails dainty and round.

Enfolding the little foot in his hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed it. He ran his tongue along the high arch, then sucked upon each tiny toe. Next he pressed slow, hot kisses from her ankle up her leg to her inner thigh. Her other foot and leg received equal treatment. She shivered with delight beneath his skillful mouth.

"You have love b.a.l.l.s?" he asked her, and when she nodded, he said, "Fetch them, my lovely."

Reaching out to the gold basket by the bedside, Zaynab drew the velvet pouch forth and handed it to the caliph. Opening it, he spilled the little silver orbs into his hand, rolling them about his palm, smiling with satisfaction.

"They are nicely weighted," he noted. "Open yourself to me now." She spread herself before his avid gaze, and he slowly inserted the b.a.l.l.s, one by one, pushing them deep into her love ca.n.a.l with a long, expert finger. Bending forward, he then spread her nether lips, staring with delight at the moist coral flesh beneath his gaze. His tongue snaked out to touch her little jewel.

"Ummmmm," she murmured, squirming edgily at the contact. Within her the silver b.a.l.l.s. .h.i.t together at the slight movement. Zaynab gasped. The sensation was incredibly intense, almost painful. Karim had demonstrated the b.a.l.l.s once. She had forgotten the sweet torture that they could inflict upon a woman.

The caliph's tongue began to probe her in earnest. It lapped over the interior of her soft, silky nether lips; it worried at the sentient little badge of her s.e.x until she thought she would die of the pure pleasure he was provoking. She was half sobbing as again and again the silver b.a.l.l.s b.u.t.ted against one another, sending the painfully sweet sensation thrilling through her writhing body.

Finally she could take no more. "Please!" she pleaded to him.

Without a word he withdrew the wicked little instruments of torture from her body. Then holding her legs apart, he leaned forward once more, his tongue pushing into her pa.s.sage, withdrawing, pushing forward again. She cried out with pleasure. Her love juices were flowing generously when he pulled himself up and over her and kissed her deeply, his tongue transferring the taste of her own musk into her mouth. His lips were everywhere on her body: the hollow of her throat, her belly, her lips again. She was wet with the waves of heat he was creating in her.

Zaynab was suffocating with her desire. She clung to Abd-al Rahman, feeling the hardness of his masculine body against the yielding softness of her female body. They had somehow in their love battle managed to gain the full area of the bed. Now the caliph positioned himself between his eager lover's outstretched thighs. He smiled as the girl beneath him whimpered her hunger, rubbing the tip of his manhood against her little jewel.

"Look at me," he growled low. "I would capture your soul when I mate with you. Look at me, Zaynab!"

She was half mad with pa.s.sion, but if she let him overwhelm her now, she would fail with him. She would be just another concubine. Opening her eyes, she gazed meltingly at him. "What a lover you are, my lord!" she murmured huskily at him. "Do not keep me waiting any longer. Sheathe yourself within me! Make me ache with the pleasure that I know only you can give me!' "

Her words sent a thrill of excitement down his spine, and he thrust deep into her. She was hot, and tight. He groaned. "Ahh, Zaynab, you will surely kill me with delight!" He began to move upon her. She was wonderful, wrapping her legs about him, taking his face between her two little hands, clinging to him desperately as if she would perish if she let go.

"You are a stallion, my lord," she half sobbed. "Take me! Punish me with pleasure! I am yours!"

His l.u.s.t was inexhaustible. It had not happened to him in years. Again and again and again he pushed into her eager body, but he could not find his release, though she certainly found hers, not once but twice. Finally he withdrew from her, saying, "Turn your body and a.s.sume the opposite stance, my lovely. I need your other maidenhead."

Her compliance was immediate. He saw no reluctance in her at all, but she dreaded what was to come. She hated this form of lovemaking. She had hated it when Karim had slowly pushed the ivory d.i.l.d.o into her. She hated it now. She had hoped never to be used in this fashion. In the future, she would try to find a way to avoid it if at all possible. Pulling her knees up beneath her, she arched her back, elevating her bottom for him.

He was at her in a moment, his hands pulling the cheeks of her posterior apart, his manhood pushing against the tight little rosebud of her fundament. Pushing. Pushing. And then it gave way. The head of his weapon gained a slight entry. His hands tightened about her hips, holding her steady as he thrust hard, ignoring her cry of pain, groaning with his own pleasure. She was incredibly tight. Tighter than any he had ever known. He pressed on, withdrawing slightly, pressing steadily forward again and yet again until finally he was fully engaged within her. She felt him throbbing, and at that very moment his crisis came.

Though his seed fell on barren ground, he sighed with relief at his release. "Ahhhh," he groaned, and slowly withdrew from her.

After taking a few minutes to recover herself, Zaynab arose from the bed. Going to the door, she opened it and gave swift orders to her two servants outside. She returned to the caliph's side with a silver ewer of scented water and several love cloths. He lay sprawled, utterly exhausted, before her. Tenderly, she bathed him, and then herself, clean of any evidence of their pa.s.sion. Removing the basin, she crept back into the bed next to him.

His arms tightened about her, drawing her back into his embrace. His hand caressed her golden hair. "I will try never to use you in that fashion again. I could sense you did not like it, but tonight there was no other way for me, my lovely Zaynab. I cannot remember having ever been so aroused in my entire life by any woman as I was aroused by you a few moments ago. You are magic. You have brought me back my youth, and I quite enjoy it."

"I am your slave, my lord Abd-al Rahman. Your Love Slave. I will never refuse your pa.s.sion no matter the form it takes," she told him proudly. "I am not some weak little concubine. I have been trained to both give and to receive the ultimate in pleasure." She would never admit to him that she had hated his perverse way of pa.s.sion. It would only shame Karim. A Love Slave feared none of pa.s.sion's roads. She willingly traveled them all.

"Fetch me some wine, my lovely," he ordered her.

She left the cradle of his arms, and went to the single small table she had allowed to be placed in the room. On it were several decanters. Two were of wine, but the third was filled with the restorative that Karim had given her. Pouring a few drops of it into a silver cup, she filled the rest of the vessel with sweet red wine and brought it to the caliph. "There, my lord, drink, and be revived." He quaffed the cup quickly down, shaking his head at her offer of more.

"I know I am to obey you in everything, but will you let me relax you now in my own special way?" she asked him with a small smile.

The edge had been taken off his l.u.s.t. The wine was helping to mellow him. He nodded his permission, lying back amid the pillows of the bed.

Zaynab reached into her gold basket and drew out an alabaster jar. Setting it among the bedclothes where she could reach it, she straddled him, and opening the jar, scooped a handful of pink cream from within. Rubbing her two hands together, she then smoothed them over the caliph's torso with a delicate, sensuous touch.

"It has your scent," he noted, amused.

"Do you mind?" she replied, making teasing little circles upon his chest. "You were very masterful before, my lord. I but wish to soothe you." Her slender fingers ran seductively over his skin yet again.

"I think you seek to arouse me again, little houri," he teased her with twinkling eyes. Taking the jar, he scooped out some cream, which he then began to rub over her pretty bosom. "You have adorable b.r.e.a.s.t.s, Zaynab. It is impossible to see them and not seek to touch them." He fondled her with his fingers, pulling her nipples out and pinching them.

"Why do you not wear a beard?" she asked him innocently. "So many Moors are bearded, but you are not, my lord. Why is that?" She could feel his arousal beneath her. The restorative was obviously most potent.

"I am fair-haired," he explained. "When my ancestors came to al-Andalus two centuries ago, we were Arabs from Baghdad and Damascus. All of us were dark-haired and dark-eyed, but we have a weakness for fair-haired women. Over the centuries my family has intermarried with light-haired, light-eyed slave girls. Both my mother and my grandmother were Galacians from the northwest. My coloring is more theirs. When I grow a beard it is red-blond, and I look like a foreigner. It is better that I remain clean-shaven, for my features are those of an Arab."

Reaching out, she caressed his face provocatively. "I like your face, my lord," she purred at him truthfully. He had an elegant head with high cheekbones, a strong nose, and a narrow sensuous mouth.

"You are a little witch, Zaynab," he told her, playfully tweaking her nipples. Then, with a swift motion, he reached up, rolled her beneath him, and laid his body atop hers. "And you are a very naughty tease, my lovely one. You must learn who is master here. I fear I must chastise you," he told her, his mouth coming down hard on hers. He kissed her slowly, completely, his lips moving from her lips to her face to her neck. His mouth scorched her skin as it followed the line of her throat. Gently, he nipped at her ear, murmuring in it, "I do not think I shall ever tire of you, Zaynab." Then he entered her slowly, tenderly. "You are meant only for love, and I mean to love you. You will pleasure me as no other woman ever has, and I will pleasure you as no youth possibly can."

She had not expected such strength from him. To her surprise, she found him a wonderful lover. Perhaps it would not be so terrible to belong to him after all. He was not unkind. He had promised to try not to use her again in that way she disliked. She tightened the muscles of her sheath about his manhood, and he groaned with delight. "Does that please you, my lord?" she asked him, knowing his answer already.

He responded by increasing his rhythm, and she gasped. "Does this please you?" he countered.

Together they taunted and challenged each other with one erotic game after another until both collapsed, satisfied for the moment. Abd-al Rahman held Zaynab in his embrace, chuckling. She was wonderful! This morning he had welcomed spring, and longed for a new adventure, a new love. Well, he had certainly found it with Zaynab.

"Why do you laugh, my lord?" she asked him.

"Because, my lovely, I am happy," he answered her. "Happy for the first time in a long while. Do not let anyone tell you you have not found favor with me, Zaynab, because you have. Tomorrow I shall have you moved to a larger apartment that suits your status."

"No, my lord, let me stay here," she begged him. "These little rooms suit me. If you will but let me have the services of a gardener, I shall soon have my little garden blooming."

"You like these rooms?" He was surprised.

"The lady Walladah gave them to me because I demanded my own apartment, my lord, but she chose a place at the farthest end of the harem to punish what she considered my arrogance. However, I like it here. It is private, and few can spy on me," she told him. "If you move me to a suite of rooms amid the rest of the harem, I shall never have any privacy, nor will you. Each time we cry with pleasure, it will be heard, and it will be noted by the gossips. If you cry out fewer times one night than the evening before, it will be said that I am losing your favor. No, my lord. I prefer these rooms to any others you would offer me."

He was amazed by her reasoning. She had been in his possession but a few hours, but had already a.n.a.lyzed her entire situation. "You are very clever," he told her. "Very well, you may have these rooms, and I shall give you a gardener of your very own."

Leaning over, she kissed his mouth lingeringly. "I have no time for the politics of the harem, my lord. My duty is to please you. If I am to do that properly, I cannot be distracted by the foolishness of jealous, silly women."

Abd-al Rahman laughed aloud, and his laughter was heard beyond the walls of Zaynab's rooms. The women still awake and gossiping looked meaningfully at one another, nodding sagely. They would have been mortally insulted had they but known the reason for his amus.e.m.e.nt.

By morning the whole harem was aware that the caliph had stayed the entire night with the new woman. The early risers saw him leave her apartments, and eagerly reported it to any and all who would listen. The caliph looked as many had not seen him look in years. He looked as many had never seen him look. He looked happy. There had been a spring to his step, a smile on his lips. He had whistled!

When Zaynab and Oma appeared in the baths later that morning, escorted by a preening Naja, the voices ceased in mid-chatter. All eyes were upon her. She walked proudly among them, smiling, as Obana hurried up to her, greeting the new favorite effusively. Everyone already knew that the caliph's first gifts to his beloved had consisted of the furs and jewels that Donal Righ had sent. It was an astounding first-night gift for Abd-al Rahman to have made. The women were more than impressed.

"Good morning, my lady Zahra," Zaynab boldly saluted the older woman.

"Good morning to you, my lady Zaynab," the caliph's wife responded. "I understand that you have found favor with our lord."

"I am fortunate beyond belief," Zaynab answered her modestly. "Allah has smiled upon me. I am grateful, lady, but I am also greedy."

"Greedy?" Zahra c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "How are you greedy?"

"I shall not be content until I have found your favor also, lady," Zaynab said cleverly, looking directly at the other woman.

"In time perhaps," Zahra replied, half laughing. What a little devil this girl was: beautiful and seductive enough to have caught the jaded Abd-al Rahman's favor and kept it for an entire night-yet possibly she was dangerous as well. Zahra could not decide, and until she did, Zaynab would not have her acknowledged favor. "If you continue to please our lord and master, my lady Zaynab, if you do not sow seeds of discontent in the caliph's garden; then and only then will you have my favor too. Time will tell, my dear." Zahra suddenly realized that this girl could be her daughter. It was an uncomfortable thought.

If only Abd-al Rahman had not been so taken with her, Zahra considered. Perhaps she could have convinced him to give the girl to Hakam. She would be a good mate for their son. She looked like a girl who could breed strong sons. It really was time Hakam paid more attention to women. The damage was done, however. Abd-al Rahman had slept with the Love Slave and obviously been pleased. It was unlikely he would ever part with her. What a shame.

"She says she will not give you her favor yet," Obana gloated to Zaynab privately, "but, she has spoken at length with you before all the others. Many will consider that you already have her favor. You are an amazing girl, my lady Zaynab. In one day you have accomplished what it takes most years to accomplish. The majority of the women here have never attained the heights you have already scaled. You have made many enemies here today, I fear."

Zaynab laughed. "Not intentionally, my lady Obana, I a.s.sure you," she said. "I am the caliph's Love Slave. I seek but one thing: his pleasure. Nothing else matters to me. I will not become embroiled in female foolishness. It can only distract me from my duty."

"You are right, of course," Obana agreed, "but nonetheless you must be vigilant, my child. There are women here who have tried for years to attract our master's attention and never have suceeded."