The Eastern Beauty

[Apollo Wilde]

Since neither one of them made no effort to move to the bed, a small, honest smile graced her lips. She would be fine on the floor. It was not that dusty, or uncomfortable…and she felt too good at the moment to want to move too far from where she was. As her fingers found his scar, her eyes widened a bit. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she stopped herself from asking. There would be time later.

His fingers found a spot that even she did not know that she had. She paused, her body shivering, and gasped. “M’lord…” she managed, her voice pleading with him. “What is this that you do…?” Words failed her, and she parted her legs, wanting more of what he was doing. She never had the luxury to really stop and explore herself, and before Lord Drago, had never had a “lover” that was interested in her pleasure as well. Warmth flooded her lips as his fingers gently probed at her clitoris, and she let out a trembling sigh, sounding like she was near tears. Her body began to throb, and it was getting harder for her to think clearly.

“Then I shall give it,” she managed, pulling her hands away from his phallus. Grabbing at his top, she tugged him down towards her, attempting to free him from the fabric and to pull him on top of her as well. Perhaps if he had not found her spot, she may have kept at her slow pace, but now, she couldn’t think past how good he would feel inside of her. She had never felt anything like this before – there was some response from her body, usually, when a master entered her, but she had never desired it like this. Her whole body burned at his touch, and she found herself pleading with him in her language, begging for him to enter her.

 

[LordLuck]

He felt her curious glare and fingers as they all explored his scar. He was no warrior., albeit Drago could have been. But instead of applying his body to combat, he had chosen to hone his mind for business. He would tell her his story later, as he was sure he would ask why her breasts were marked that way. It was curious, beautiful, but still... that ought to be some reason.

The way she had gasped brought a wide smile to Drago's lips. He still had his touch. Ages ago, almost in another lifetime, he once had a woman that held tight to him and begged him to touch her, squirming on his fingers and calling him her love. That memory was a good one, and brought him a warm feeling down his guts. She had liked it. "This...", he told her as he pushed his thumb against her little orb of flesh once more, pushing against it as if it was a little button, his finger trailing along her womanhood a little, finding it between her bush. "...Is how a woman should be touched."

And then, she pulled him over her. He went gladly, resisting her not in the least, letting her bring him over her, taking off his shirt and revealling his strong albeit a little flacid chest. Lorenzo was a strong, thick and broad man, after all. He covered her gently, aware of his weight and careful not to harm her as he leaned against her, taking her towards the ground, looking at her with eager eyes, a hand of his still against her slit while the other sought her left breast.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Wanting to say more, as his fingers continued to explore, all she could do was sigh in his ear. Adjusting herself under him, she pushed her hips into his fingers. In her servitude, she had been with all builds of men, and she was not surprised or repulsed that he was not in the best of shape. After all, his lifestyle did not require it. The men of her tribe grew tall and lanky, their muscles like ripcord from never having the opportunity to rest.

What she did now was just marvel at their differences. His flesh was so pale against hers, like being covered in a cloud. Outside, she could hear the sound of the sea and of the merchants, seeming a million miles away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the stiletto she'd pulled on him, and she closed her eyes, wishing to banish that from her mind. How strange things were! Not even that long ago, she was ready to take her life, to end everything...and now she was experiencing something she had never had before. Something she wondered if she would have gone her entire life without knowing. What could she do or say to thank him for this at least?

It was too early for her to say that she would give him her heart. After all, she was still a slave. The braid wrapped in brass was cold, and fell with a musical sound against the floor as she tilted her head back. What did people really want in life? To be loved, true...to be fed, to have a home, maybe have children. Would that, in turn, make them slaves in their own right? If she had married, would she not have been trapped?

Back then, it had not seemed that way. The idea of bearing children and belonging to one man did not seem...like it would have happened to her. And with the way her tribe worked, once a year, during the rainy season, she would have had a chance to take a new lover. But her duties would have been the same - tending children, mending clothing. Would it be different now? Would he really treat her well? She had heard stories of husbands who beat and mistreated their wives....she had seen it herself in her tribe.

Funny that she would be thinking about that now.

She hooked her legs about his waist – not only to bring him closer to her, but to make sure that she still existed in a place beneath him, that he had not turned her into the same pale shadow he was. Gently, she pushed her chest into his hand, her nipple firm against his palm. Between their bodies, she reached for his freed member, longing for him to bring it closer to her body, to enter her.
Not allowing herself to beg, she bumped her hips once again into his hands, and jostling his hips as well.

 

[LordLuck]

He felt it. It was a large, spotted and darker patch of flesh that poked, swollen, against his palm. It felt sweet and nice to feel against him. It was wide enough for him to have to spread his fingers and coil them around her breast, and feel it and knead gently upon her flesh, feeling just how nice she was. She was the colour of coffee, that seed that the Arabs used to prepare a strong drink that they took in the streets. It was bitter, but strong and could keep a man awake for a whole day.

A shiver runned along his spine as he managed to feel her fingers once more touching his manhood, taking him low as he moved his waist and groin to take him there, adjusting himself against her womanhood. His hand remained between them, touching her, feeling her up, trying to coach her slit into wetness. He would not brutalize her. She was so frail a woman he could not even think about it. He keep pushing against her, trying to get her ready and moist so he could slip into her easily.

Her body was a black sensual attack. Drago could remember the words of a sermon he had heard years ago, when he was but a young man first sailing with his uncle. The priest had once said that to the South of lands, beyond the Sea, there were people as black as charchoal, who had no souls - the descendants of Caan - one of the sons of Noah, cursed by his father into damnation. He sniffed upon her scent, trying to picture what had made her musk like that. But he was surprised no only know the scent of the kohl she wore, of her soft breath, and that particular scent of a woman's breast that hinted of milk. She was slender and elegant, her every move screaming of sin.

And he would indulge in her flesh. He gently leaned against her, his face diving between her breasts as a hand cupped one, going to chase and then kiss and suckle upon her other nipple. She felt so good under him. He wanted never to have to leave her, his hand between her legs kept playing with her some more as he sniffed and felt her heat growing with his own.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“Coffee” would be a good way to describe her skin color, though she had no experience with the drink herself.

At this point, he would have had no problem with coaxing a response from her body. She was wet, his fingers slipping against her entrance. Before, she usually had gotten a little wet after the act, but before…the more he touched her, the more her body throbbed, and the more wetness she produced. If they had moved from the floor, there certainly would have been a damp spot on the floor under them.

She suddenly laughed, completely bewildered by the feelings of happiness and pleasure coursing through her. Perhaps her gods had listened to her, after all. This was beyond her wildest dreams, and the feeling of him against her filled her senses. In these moments, there was nothing but him. Even the hard floor beneath her wasn’t enough to stop her from how she felt. She wanted to tell him so much, wanted him to know what he was doing to her body, and she willed it to be more open to him in whatever way that it could.

Loosening her legs from his waist, she left them fall on either side of him. Though it would not pull him as close to her as before, it made it all the easier for him to enter her. In the back of her mind, she knew that somewhere in town, she could procure the herbs that she would need to keep a baby from starting. Although nothing like that was really known among her own people, in her servitude to her prior mistress, she had learned all too well where to buy them and how to use them. It was only because she was bundled off with the clothing on her back that she had not any with her.

When his mouth reached her nipple, she let out a sharp cry. Hers were particularly sensitive – not even the mishandling of those before him would rob her body of that. She cooed in her language, calling him wonderful, gentle, precious. Like water flowing over stones, she spoke, her voice coming and going between moans and gasps. She usually was quiet even in the act, but she could not silence herself now. Her skin was slick, not only from sweet, but from something else that coated it.

Her prior master, on occasion, had sneaked her a few coins here and there. He knew some things of women, and what was needed to keep themselves attractive. Here in the town, she was easily able to meet with other Africans, and whenever she found one that spoke her dialect, it was almost as if she became a different person. In bartering, she had procured a long time beauty secret – shea butter. She would mix this with perfumed oils that either her mistress had thrown out, or those she could argue to a reasonable price, and rub her skin with it. The shea butter itself had a slightly nutty smell, something that Europeans would not discover but for several centuries later.

That, and the fact that she usually indulged in a bath more often than the people around her.

“Enter me,” she whispered into his ear. Although she hated for him to move his hand from its teasing, she needed to feel him. She wanted him to feel her.

 

[LordLuck]

He could not really understand most of the words she had suddenly uttered to him, words whose sound and intonation, however, denounced him as words of passion and affection rather than words of scorn and fury - for her arms embraced and welcomed him rather than trying to shove him off her or cast him away. She was melting under him, he could feel it in his hand, into his wriggling fingers. The woman was growing on him, he could feel it already blooming into his heart.

It had been so long since he had Laura. So long. He could barely remember what she did look like, trully. They had ordered her features to be carved out of stone, for a statue in her likeness was to guard her tomb, back in Venice. He had loved her so much. It was strange, though, how this woman - so different from his Laura as black from white, as day from day, as the sun from the moon - yet she squirmed and moaned under his caresses exactly the same way Laura had.

And how she had yelped once he started to nurse from her breast. He was gentle, careful never to bite her nor to have his teeth digging hard into her sensitive flesh. His tongue coiled around her skin, slurping loudly as if he was actually trying to make her produce her milk. He could taste something along her sweat and her own skin's taste. It was a little greasy, but pleasant. Lorenzo could imagine it to be some sort of product to keep her flesh that incredibly smooth and soft.

Laura had used such things on her time. Carefully, she would walk through the Market and the docks, seeking for the best vendors of cosmetics in order to find herself that fair, rice-powder and other sorts of beauty products the both of them loved to share. She had been so careful with those.

When she asked him... commanded him... felt the need to speak him those words, the merchant was already moving to it on his own. He loved how she cooed gently towards him, filling his ears with words unknown that meant so little and at the same time so much. He wished he had known her speech. If only to know what she was saying when he brushed himself against her once, sliding along her bush and against her little orb in a long, fluid movement of his hips.

And then, suddenly, he was connected against her properly, and his gentle thrust made him moan as he started to make his way into her.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Feeling him nudge against her, she twisted her hips just so, and took him in as deep as she could, moaning against his neck. For a moment, she sat, allowing her body to adjust to him. He was so big…she felt as if he was stretching her, carving out a place within her that was his and his alone. At present, she had no one in her life that was comparable to his Laura – just an arranged marriage that she had no strong feeling towards one way or the other. And even that was gone. Her would-be husband, a youth of 20, was killed in the raid that ended with her slavery. She had barely known the boy, but had mourned him all the same when he was killed.

Wrapping her legs about his waist, she pushed her hips back into his, taking more of him into her until she could feel his sack lay flush against her opening. Tossing her head back, she sighed in pleasure, not making any further move, just savoring how he felt inside of her. Tightening her muscles on him, she withdrew, giving him room to thrust in and out of her.

So, there, on the floor, almost no better than animals, she allowed him to have her. Wrapping her arms about his shoulders, her fingernails bit lightly into his back. Like many servant women, her nails were kept almost painfully short due to her various duties. They would not cause him much pain or leave any marks, but she had to pull herself closer into him. In her own words, far from the language he used, she asked him to take her, to move faster, to make her cry out in pleasure. But then she figured she would do one better. With her firm thighs, she squeezed on him gently, shifting their positions so she would be on top. It would not take a lot of nudging from her or additional strength to make her intentions understood.

As she now sat astride him, she tilted her head back, her sleek body arching atop his. Her hands gripping his knees, she began to lift herself atop him, only to slowly ease her way back down. With a practiced vessel, she clenched on him as she pulled up, dragging his manhood so slowly out of her, and as she eased down, she loosened her muscles, wiggling her hips in a circular motion. Now, she would show him a face that none other had seen before – that of a woman driven by passion. It would not take long for her to quicken her movements, thrusting her body on top of his with vigor. Her breasts bouncing unrestrained, she would now lean forward, covering his body with her own as she continued to work her hips, taking him in, pulling him out, taking him in, and pulling him out in the oldest of motions.

 

[LordLuck]

And that was it. He shivered into her as he felt the woman on his arms. It had been long. Perhaps too long since he ever had a woman on his arms. She felt just so neatly tight against him. Perhaps it was but her channel, maybe the way she was holding him, clenching against his lenght as if she was trying to keep him out or suckle him in - he could not know it anymore. He had not hammered any woman's loins for too long. After Laura had fled this world, he had not reached any woman. He never felt the need to. He grew stiffened every now and then for one or another Lady, but nothing like he was feeling right now for his exquisitive girl he did not really know the real name.

His hands had come, then, towards her waistline, holding her in place underneath him as he started to move - in her deep and then gently out, slowly into long and fluid patterns. However, she needed more. He needed more. Drago started to rock against her, keeping his pace steady as he increased the number of invasions, but still it would not be enough for them to endure it.

So he rolled with her once she started to move. She was the protagonist of it, after all. He had been mating her because he wanted to offer her the pleasure of a sexual release, and the strong arms that could give her the security she must have been craving as well as a man's seed. He rolled when she moved so that she would seat straddling him, as if he was her stallion and her his rider. She mounted him with a sort of passion he had not really seen into her, her own lust making her rock upside down against his loins, his manhood buried so very deep into her his moans started to echo throughout the whole storehouse.

And bellow, the Sellwords laughed and cheered mugs of ale towards their employer and his new mate.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Lifting from him again, she flung her head back, her braids scattering across her shoulders. Her body shone with her efforts, her nipples firm pebbles atop her breasts. For a moment, she reached down, moving his hands to her hips. Feeling his fingers dig into her flesh, she smiled, the expression erasing all lines of worry and care from her face. This smile would reach her eyes, and she praised him lightly in her unknown tongue. The transformation was complete. From a fierce desert snake, she had turned into a sweet lioness.

She would have much to share with him, if he would let her. But for now, all that she felt and knew was the feeling of his flesh under hers, his phallus buried deeply within her.

Gripping his chest, she rode him swiftly now, the little room they were in resounding with the wet sounds of her rear against the tops of his thighs. Her voice rose, musical as ever, changing from her language to just moans and cries of pleasure. Her torso flushed a darker shade of brown, and her body began to shiver on top of him. Her hips moved erratically now, and her channel tightened sporadically. She was getting so close...but she didn't want the feeling to end. The feeling that sparked electricity throughout her body was so new, so enjoyable...This must have been what her old mistress praised so greatly.

“M’lord….” She cried, the first words she had said in his language since he had entered her. Her lips trembled, threatening to spill more words, but none came.

At the cheers of his guards, her face grew a darker color, embarrassed. But it wouldn’t be enough for her to stop. One last heavy thrust atop him, and she cried out, a nameless shriek to echo throughout the storehouse. Her walls constricted, nearly painfully about him, and her orgasm sent a flood of heavy warm fluid across his phallus.

Panting, her body shaking, she did not stop, determined to use her body to bring him the same pleasure as he had brought her.

 

[LordLuck]

And it was that lioness who he wanted ever more to be his partner, to share with him the pleasures of the flesh. Some said that amongst the Egyptians, the Lions were once Gods made flesh, and that one of their most powerful, warrior-like deities was indeed a Lioness herself. Her name had sounded queer upon Lorenzo's tongue, but now he wanted to have remembered it so he could call this woman, this black panther that way.

Mounting him, she rode his loins feverishly. It was more than he had really hoped her to, but she knew her art way too well - perhaps much better than he had, albeit when Drago thought about her being but a pleasure slave, it was quite odd that she ignored how to bring pleasure to herself. Had she never touched her womanhood in curiosity, perhaps even as a girl? The thought came unbidden to his mind, but the merchant could even now remember when he had discovered the pleasures of self touching, on how he would do so in the dark, before Laura came to him and told him she could do it for him. Laura had been his first.

But now, his whole attentions were upon the woman. Perhaps he should tell her to stop calling him her Lord - he was no nobleman, albeit between the City-States of Lombardy and Tuscany, all wealthy merchants were noblemen. Her mumbled and yelped words were so different, but they way she moaned all of them was still so very sensual, as the movements of her breasts as the bounced up and down in accord to her own ride. He thrusted his manhood upwards as he could, meeting her there and letting her move on, his hands caressing and holding and digging into her waist's flesh as he felt her moving so tightly against him.

"Hmmm...", he grunted as he felt it soon. The sellswords bellow had cheered given her loud moans, but still he could only smile at them. He was loving it. He pitied them, for none would ever touch a woman like her. He tried to reach upwards to cup her breast once more, but then she clenched fiercely against his manhood, his thickness pressed against her very channel so tightly, her juices running so richly that both his and her pubes would grow damp.

And then, as she rode the last of her orgasm, he reached his own climax. His moans were loud and powerful albeit not as loud as her shriek, they were certainly violent enough to have his whole frame trembling as he exploded deep into her womanhood, making not the least movement to get away from her - his hands holding her tight against him as he sheated himself completely into her, impaling her, her sweat running down her body to drip warmly against his boiling flesh as he gasped and shivered, sending jolt after powerful jolt deep into her body, one of his hands coming to caress upon her tummy and navel as he sprayed his thick, virile seed into her belly.

And he stared at her. He stared, wide-eyed, at her face, at her breasts, at her body, and he knew that he wanted no other woman no more.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Shaking atop him, her breath left her in shuddering gasps. Not wanting to move, she leaned over him, her head hanging low as she tried to catch her breath. She had never felt that before….not a real orgasm where her entire body was stimulated. For a while, she laid there on top of him, not bothering to wrap her arms around him, her breasts pillowed against his chest. When her heart finally slowed down, began to beat normally again, she lifted herself off of him. Looking down into his green eyes, she searched them again. A little bit of her old distrust was there – it would probably never go away.

She wanted to make sense of this man under her that had shown her kindness, made her body sing. Part of her was so happy to have had the experience, but the other part, the part that knew the cruelty of men, kept her from holding the feeling too tightly. So he had made her feel good. In her “side” trade as a pleasure slave, the only thing she could take from it was how to do it herself. She made a vow to make sure that whenever she had the time alone, she would find where he touched her that felt so good, and learn how to manipulate it.

Almost as if going back to business, she lifted herself back to a sitting position. Without a sound, she pulled herself from him, his manhood slipping limply from her body. As she withdrew, a long trail of his seed made its way down her inner thigh. Her eyes darted about the room. There was nothing to wipe it up. Oh well. She was probably going to be tasked with cleaning the room anyway.

“M’lord, might I suggest a bath?” Her voice took on the usual quiet quality of the slave. It was almost as if what just happened had not, well, happened. Her mind moved quickly, trying to do anything that she could to discount what just happened.

There. She had thanked him for the kindness he had shown her, by showing him a side of herself that none other hand, not even herself. And that would always be special.

Now, her mind had fallen back into that of a well-trained slave – she needed a bath, to clean this room, to prepare a meal for this evening. Sometime between then and now, she needed to make sure that she could get a hold of the herbs that would stop a baby. In his own way, Drago had done the worst thing he could to a slave - he had given her knowledge.

 

[LordLuck]

For a moment, Drago was completely lost in that state of rapture that a mind-blowing orgasm delivers anyone. He could feel the woman's insides, clenching marvellously around him as she naturally milked his manhood of his seed completely, taking in and swallowing his load even as he had delivered it. And so, he sighed in pleasure, his hands gently caressing her waist, feeling up her tummy, one of his fingers gently rimming up her navel.

And then, she started to move away as he grew limp. He tried not to, but she was simply too much for him. Maura. Maura was how he knew the woman, even though she was most certainly called some feminine name upon her foreign and bizarre tongue. The words she had moaned to him, begging of passion and lust and desire were getting imprinted on his mind, even though he knew absolutely nothing of their actual meaning. Still, the occasion and her tone had revealled that to him, and he would like indeed to learn more about it.

Lorenzo nodded gently towards her, staring at her womanhood and his leaking seed. She made it look as if it really belonged there. "...Yes. A Bath. For both you and me. I could use you... bathing me.", he told her with a smile. Taking upon his cloack, he gently laid it over Maura's shoulders in order to close the clasp and have her wearing it as if a robe, concealing her gorgeous bareness, while the took upon his pants and pulled them up in order to conceal his own. Running towards the door, he bellowed for those in the storehouse.

"Eh, boy! Girl! You two get us some well-water for a bath.", he bellowed with his strong voice. He could hear the sellswords making bawdy and lewd remarks about him and Maura, but he cared not. He had loved it. He had never been into such pleasure with a woman. Only... with Laura. Not even Catarina had been that good, and she was certainly a skilled woman - albeit it was probably due to his months without a lady. Yes, that was probably it. Maura had been a welcomed release.

"Hmmm... the Fire is still burning.", he nodded towards Maura, taking her by the hand gently, kissing her fingers and her knuckles and then her palm. "...They'll get us water and it will be boiling soon.", he smiled as if he was the happiest man on the land.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Her job was done well, then.

When she noticed his gaze fixated between her legs, she fought the desire to close them, hiding herself and the traces of him from his eyes. She would never understand why that was such a fixation for men. Perhaps they felt as if they owned her now? She would not move or meet his eyes when he put the cape about her shoulders. It smelled of him, of men and the sun and the spices he traded. More than anything, she luxuriated in the feeling of the rich fabric over her body. To have a dress of this material would be heavenly indeed!

As he dressed – and this would probably be one of the few times that he would dress himself; she usually aided her masters after the affair in getting dressed-, she quickly gathered her clothes from the floor, inspecting them from any damage. While his seed still leaked from her, she would not get dressed again. She did not want to stain her clothing, as it was all that she owned. The long stretch of flame colored fabric, however….Kneeling in his cape, she held her hair up with one hand and began twisting the fabric about her head with the other. She did it so quickly and quietly that when he would turn his attention to her again, she had replaced her turban as if she never took it off. However, she had left the stiletto out.

As he took her hand, she nodded, ever so slightly. This is usually how it always happened, if she had performed well. There was a “grace period” after men had come, they were nice, stroked her gently, called her “My beauty” and other such words. Her old master in particular was fond of playing with her hair, idly stroking the braid wrapped in brass that he could never know that she was proud of. For sure, she had experienced pleasure too, unlike that she had before, but it was easier for her to keep moving after the fact.

Sometimes, though…she wished that she could believe the kind words and enjoy the tenderness, like it wouldn’t be taken away from her so quickly. Sometimes she wished she had someone that would stay with her, would always treat her well, and would have eyes for her and her alone. Like the kind of partner her favorite tribal songs were about. She used to dream of that person as a little girl, as her mother lovingly braided her hair and sang to her.

“What would you have me do with the blade, M’lord?” she asked, her gaze focusing unwavering on him again. She wanted to keep it – not to threaten him further, but for her own protection. Could there perhaps also be a sentimental reason? While it was true that she did not love her old master, his last words to her had struck something deep inside of her. For a moment, she felt as if he had looked at her as if she was a human being, not another object. And he knowingly sold her to a man that was gentle; not some of the others that she knew had expressed interest in her. For most, she knew it would be sheer folly to keep an armed slave, and she knew that she could never say anything to convince him otherwise, but....She licked her lips. “I would keep it, if possible, for my protection,” and her voice held a hint of humor, as if referring back to their earlier argument.

 

[LordLuck]

She was just so gorgeous that for a moment, Drago had forgotten he was starring. He went to the kitchen himself, checking upon the fire that burned beneath a large piece of iron - the little over of the house. It was a rather expensive piece, but it made it possible for them to have many kinds of delicacies one would only find on the Market and during daytime on the City. He nodded, noticing the fire had been put to burn by the little girl already. Giovanna was so attentive to her duties. She had become almost a daughter to him since he had taken her into his service.

Dressed solely on his pants, he knew that people would get asking - but he cared not. He had Maura with him, and she was quite revealling too, even if covered by the cape that on his shoulders would reach down to the back of his calves. On the inner side, it was a dark shade of burnt red, while on the outside it was sewn as a dark green colour that shined agaisnt the sun, a nice match to his own clothes that laid scattered on the floor.

"...Hmm.", he mumbled as he laid a hand upon the blade she had taken. Where could she had taken a stiletto? Certainly not from her home tribe, for it was a weapon wielded as the dirks by the warriors and knights of Italy, way back and beyond the sea. He took the weapon and laid eyes upon it. It was a fine blade. He used it to dig against the bread that had been lying over the other counter - it was a rather thick bread, but the blade dug easily into it by thrusting - but would not really cut much. The stiletto was made to stab, not to slice. "...You may have it back. And hold into it.", he told her as he rolled the blade with no little skill upon his palm as he offered it towards her. "...Protect yourself, but never again put it against me. I dread steel against flesh."

He had walked towards the little 'bedroom', motioning for her to come togheter with him once the children servants opened the door with four large buckets of water from the wells and fountains, sweet water instead of salt water. They poured it all over a cauldron, and clumsily laid it over the fire to boil. The girl kept taking care of it while the boy went to clean the tub.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“I thank you, m’lord,” she said as she took the blade from him. For a moment, she studied it, not looking at him. It was a simple thing – perhaps her old master had used it himself for protection, kept it up the sleeve of his shirt. Still…aside from the clothes that she wore, it was all she had left of him. She was not…sad to have left him. Or so she thought. Now she knew not how she felt.

When the children came in, despite her lack of attire, she helped them to fill the cauldron. After all, she was as much as a servant as they, and she did not like to sit idly by. As she watched them, she figured that in time, she would ask them of their duties, see how she could help.

As the boy left, she left Drago’s side, and motioned to the little girl. The girl, quite understandably, was frightened by her, and kept her attention straight to her task. With a cluck of her tongue, Maura sighed. Not that she blamed the girl for being scared.

“Here, show me how, little one,” she said, her voice taking on a tone that Drago had not heard before. It was tender, soft, one long used to dealing with children and caring for them. “If I am to be in your lord’s employ, I must know how his house works,” and she smiled, hoping to do what she could to ease the girl’s fears. “I am sorry for scaring you earlier. It is…not easy,” and she stopped herself from explaining further.

The little girl looked at Drago for guidance and curiosity. More than likely, she would bombard him with questions later over this new woman and what it meant for their small household.

 

[LordLuck]

Indeed she would, for Giovanna had not really seen her Master, Drago the Merchant, to hold any sort of womanly company for more than needed in business transactions. Well, that was until he had met the Lady Catarina. And before Lady Catarina, had been others. Young women, mostly, some as young as four-and-ten, while others as old as six-and-twenty. All were show and introduced by a man - a father, an uncle, a brother. Most were pretty, some were beautiful, but none seemed to actually find their way into his heart.

He had courted some more a little longer, going to their homes and dining with their parents and discussing a possible marriage, but Giovanna had never seem him ordering them away for a woman. She knew what she had done to him. She had... she had offered him those things that only women could give a man, as her older sister had once told her, ages ago.

"...She is our new friend, Giovanna. She's called Maura.", he told the little girl that looked upon him with her wide, blue eyes. She was thin and petite, her hair blonde and dark as hay. "She is beautiful, isn't she?", the merchant smiled as he approached on his pants alone, his chest bared as he reached gently for Maura's hips, rubbing his hand smoothly against her, even if over the fabric of the cape. "Don't fear, girl. She is a lioness from beyond the sea. She will protect you from any harm."

For he knew the harm that could befall his little household if anything happened to them. Pirates and bandits all would be more than eager to rape both Maura and Giovanna too if anything happened to him and his men, before forcing both to slavery still.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

And protect she would, beyond any aspect that Drago would know. Maura had a soft spot for children; they were one of the few joys in her life. It was the look of fear on the young girl's face that had brought realization back to Maura earlier when she had the stiletto at Drago's throat. She had been much older than than the girl when she was sold into slavery - five-and-ten, by European standards. Her people counted age differently, by whenever the rains came - so she did not know how old she was, really.

"My apologies, little one," she said, her voice still holding a kind note to it. She was embarrassed, now. The girl had probably seen their master entangled with women before, and probably knew all too well why she had been sent away. Some women did not mind children in the room during the act; largely because the spacing in houses did not allow for privacy. Maura had never seen her parents in such a fashion, and much more out of privacy, she had asked for the child to be sent away out of modesty. She did not want anyone but her particular master to see her in such a state. The shame of the act was enough to turn her stomach. It was not helped by Drago's handling of her in front of the child. Times like this, she prayed to her gods to open up a hole in the ground to swallow her whole. It was a reminder to her that she was nothing more than property. She wondered if she had made a mistake with letting go with him as she had a few moments ago.

There was no point in beating herself up about it, she thought. She had repaid one kindness with another. There was no point in dwelling on it or trying to make it seem like it was more than what it was. He was well pleased; that's what all this touching meant. And a well pleased master usually meant one that would give her more time to be left alone. She sighed. Or at least it would mean that if he had more servants. Right now, she thought, he might be all over her all of the time.

The only sign of her embarrassment was a darker coloring across her face, un-noticeable to those not used to those with dark skin. She stood stiffly as he touched her, all too aware of her nudity in front of the child, barely covered by his cape. But what could she do?

Giovanna, eased by Drago's words, gingerly moved over, letting Maura closer to her. With a visible sigh of relief to be away from Drago's hands, Maura went over to the cauldron.

"This is how we do it," said Giovanna, softly. Standing on her tip toes, she showed Maura the surface of the water. "When it starts to get warm, there will be bubbles at the bottom. You can use your finger to test."

Maura nodded. She was no stranger to preparing baths, but she enjoyed giving children a little power. What child didn't want to be thought of as an adult? Even servant children enjoyed feeling like they were an expert at one thing or the other.

"Do you have any dried flowers?" Maura suddenly asked. Giovanna, standing down, nodded a little. "We have some dried roses....Why?"

"If you bring them to me, I will show you a wonderful trick," and Maura smiled, the expression turning the corners of her eyes up. Giovanna, eased by the smile and potential to learn something new, dashed off to find the flowers. This was a trick Maura had learned from one of the Arab trader's wives. The men who had captured her were men of varying degrees of cruelty, but before they could sell her, they had to make her presentable. Had to make sure that she looked well fed and nice and smelled good. As they had removed the rough ropes from her ankles, she had found herself surrounded by veiled women. With gestures they made their intentions clear, and over time, she had grown easy around them. Though she was not always able to see their faces, she could tell by her eyes that they were smiling, that they felt bad for her, that they were trying to make her happy. She had grown so close to them that by the time she was hauled to the slave market again, she was in tears from leaving the women who had become her second mother, her sisters. They were the ones who had taught her how to draw the kohl around her eyes, and had doctored her brand tenderly when the wound was still fresh and pink.

Lost in her memories, Maura was shaken back to reality when Giovanna shyly handed her a sachet of dried rose petals. "Thank you, little one," and she took the sachet from the girl's hands. Raising it to her nose, she sniffed, and her eyes closed. She had not smelled a rose before...and the smell from the dried petals was beautiful. Stunned into silence, she hugged the sachet to her cheek. Giovanna looked worried, as if she had picked the wrong thing. "These smell...." and she trailed off, unable to find the words in their language. "These smell....like when the sun rises," she said. It would be hard to explain, even if she had the words. The smell took her far away, to a land that smelled of rain and was perpetually green. This would be the finest of baths, for sure...and she made a point to herself to find out how she could get more of these flowers for herself.

Giovanna's face lit up. She had made the right choice! This new girl was a little scary - her skin was so dark, and she had threatened her lord, but now she was so nice. She wasn't sure what to think. The master had always been nice to her, and the other girls that Lord Drago brought around sometimes were nice to her, too.

"And now, see," Maura took the sachet, and put it in the water. Within a few moments, the room filled with the smell of roses. "If you add dried flowers to the water, the water will smell like the flowers, and that means you will, too," she said, lightly tapping Giovanna's nose. Giovanna, still unsure how to act to Maura, but beginning to warm up to her, wrinkled her nose with a shy smile.

It would not take long before the water was of a suitable heat. Maura tested it with her finger, and nodded her approval. The thought of a hot bath was possibly one of the greatest luxuries that Maura could be allowed. More than sweet treats, new clothes, or a soft bed, Maura loved a hot bath. Even if she had to share it with other servants or her master, it was a time where she could let her day melt away from her, let everything go. Even rarer, but treasured most of all, were the times where she had the bath all to herself. Those times made her heart sing. Grabbing a thick piece of wool next to the cauldron (that was obviously used to help hold the hot handle) she lifted the cauldron from the fire. She struggled a bit with the weight, but quickly righted herself. Beneath her slim figure, well kept muscles flexed. She may have looked slim in her clothing, but her body was definitely nothing like an Italian noble woman's. Growing up, she did not have the time to lay idle and grow plump from being fed well, and even in her servitude, she kept active. Her body was firm muscle - the only areas with "extra" flesh being her rear and her breasts. Walking slowly to the tub, the boy dashed to one side. Giving him a smile of thanks, she poured the water into the tub. The steam rose from the surface, smelling of roses. Setting the cauldron down, she stretched, letting her muscles stretch out. Kneeling, she picked it up and returned it to the kitchen area.

Turning her attention back to Drago, she wrapped the cape tighter around her, as not to expose her body further to either him or Giovanna.

"M'lord, the bath is ready. Let me know if the children will need to draw more water."

 

[LordLuck]

For a moment, Drago himself went to catch onto his clothings that had been scattered around the ground. A merchant was no nobleman, not overly proud to take his time and take his own clothing off the ground, specially the exquisitive robes that Maura had been wearing. The fabric was rough but the needlework was very beautiful. Laying the expensive fineries of his and hers aside over the bunk, back at the little 'bedroom' area, he could hear her sweet, melodic voice as she spoke to the little girl.

Giovanna had always been quite a happy girl. She liked to play around and gather flowers and eat sweets and be kissed when she had done something nicely. The poor little servant girl had been an orphaned waif he had once found wandering around the streets, while Laura was still alive. She had beckoned him to take her into his household, to let the servants teach her to grow a nice serving wench and handmaiden to his wife, perhaps. She had liked the idea. But at the time, Giovanna was too young and too little to remember much about Laura. She had sometimes called her Mommy, or so Drago had thought.

She was a servant, yes, but was also akin to a daughter he never had. Only months after marrying his love, his Laura, the Doctors had all come to analize her and pass her through tests and leeches... and they would always say the same. Laura was barren. Grief had taken both of them, as both had made so many plans and dreamed so wildly about the children he would birth on her womb. For Laura was so unlike Maura, albeit their names were almost the same.

Laura had been of curly, chestnut hair, wide of bosom and thin of hips, a petite, little thing when he first met her. She had been a lovely flower, but all had warned them that she would have troubles to bring children to the world. Her hips were just too small, albeit round and pleasant to look at and have on the hands. Their love had been intense and true, but she could not conceive. Giovanna had then become one of their daughters, and she still sometimes called him her Daddy. It was becoming rarer, she was minding to call him 'M'Lord.' in public, but in the privacy of their home, Giovanna was still his lovely daughter.

But still she worked. Lost in the memories about his beloved Laura, Drago had done little as he smoothed down their clothes and took from a chest some ribbons of linen, colorful and bright. "Huh? Ah, yes. Yes, Maura. Thank you.", he told her with a smile. His eyes had come straight to her breasts, though. He could not yet shake how her exotic beauty was claiming his eyes. "Hmm... Send them away for more water, yes, if you please.", he told her as he came from the 'room' smiling with the ribbons on his hand. "Here. Have these."

He smiled as he reached gently for her hair. "...Wear them on your hair, if you'd like. I'm sure the orange and red ones will look really lovely.", he told her with a smile. Drago had also produced a little vial, a small little glass. "Hmmm... could you help me bathing, Maura? And please, come bathe with me too. We both need some... scrubbing.", he said as if meaning that was the reason for sending the kids away once more.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She smiled a little when she caught him looking at her chest. It was sort of...amusing. It was like as if he had never seen a woman's breasts before. She was tempted to tease him by flashing him entirely more than she needed to, but decided against it. There was time for that later. Besides, it was no fun to tease if she was readily accessible to him. No, the fun came in teasing those who could not have her.

Of course, she mused, it could be she was the first dark-skinned woman that he had been with. When she first arrived in this strange land, she had found herself staring in the same fashion at the pale men and women about her. When she learned to bathe her former master and his mistress, she had stared then, too. Their pink nipples were baffling to her. But now, she had gotten to the point where she hardly noticed it. If anything, she found herself drawn to other servant men. They were usually tanned from being out in the sun, and she liked that. It didn't make her as strange. Plus she liked to listen to them. Her prior master was not a noble by any means, but she had time to talk to other servants when she went shopping.

Usually, her mistress had done the shopping before she was brought on, but since Maura was to earn her keep, she often did the errands as well while her former mistress used the time to lounge around the house and put on airs of being a fine lady. It didn't bother Maura at all. She missed being around people, and the reason why she spoke the language so well was that she had plenty of practice as she went out in the streets. Though the men and women that her former owners associated with thought of Maura as a lovely mute show piece, the vendors around the town knew something quite different. She was talkative with them and in time, they overlooked her strange dark skin and looked forward to seeing her. She was well-liked, and before she was sold to Drago, quite a few had expressed interest in purchasing her.

Of course, there were those who were cruel to her, or worse of all, indifferent, but as long as she had at least one person to talk to, she was happy. She never really spoke of anything of depth, though - for her, it was a matter of practice. Small conversations about the weather, or how to pick the best chicken, simple things like that. Sometimes the older men would raise their eyebrows at her and offer her something sweet if she would but give them a kiss. That, she usually narrowed her eyes and swore at them in her tongue.

As he handed her the ribbons, she looked at him, confusion on her face. She had seen these things adorn the straight hair of the women in the town, but for her...She turned her head a little to the side. She had never been...just given anything before, either. Well, with the exception of the blade. She knew ribbons to be a luxury item - they were expensive and usually caused some of the loudest arguments she'd heard on the streets.

But....at the moment, she could find no use to them. Perhaps she could braid them in her hair, the next time she took it down. Still, it would be rude to refuse a gift. Reaching forward, her fingers lightly brushed his as she took them from him. "My thanks, m'lord." She would have to give some to the little girl, for being helpful. She tucked them away within the folds of her dress that he had picked up.

The very act that he had bothered to pick up not only his clothes, but the clothes of a slave surprised her. That, she had not seen before. Even her past master had expected her to undress and dress him. Hm. This day would be full of surprises. But she would still need to keep wary. A day's kindness did not win her trust yet. Besides, she thought, he could only be acting nicely towards her since she was still new. After her newness wore off, he would probably treat her as indifferently as anyone else. It was better to expect these things now then to be surprised later by a drastic change in fortune.

"I shall, M'lord," she said, and gestured to Giovanna. Giovanna, who had watched Maura with the ribbons a little enviously, came over.

"Little one, could you fetch more water and put it to the heat?" Maura asked. Giovanna nodded, and turned to go get the now empty cauldron. "Here, wait," and Maura knelt beside the little girl. Nervous to be so close to the dark woman, Giovanna fidgeted a little. With a true smile, Maura moved to a sitting position next to the girl, and gently parted some of her dark blonde hair. In a few moments, she had braided it neatly, weaving one bright blue ribbon into the little girl's hair. "There. My thanks for being such a help to me," and Maura stood up.

Giovanna reached up to touch the new braid, and when she felt the ribbon, her face lit up. Possibly one of the most wonderful thing about children was that they could be quick to forgive, and Giovanna was no exception. After all, her adopted father had treated Maura very well, even after the threat. With a squeal of delight, Giovanna launched herself at Maura, hugging her legs tightly. Maura laughed, the sound surprisingly loud from her, and returned the hug. Letting go of Maura, Giovanna eagerly pointed out her new braid to Drago, before heading down to get more water.

Maura smiled. The child, if she was lucky, would have a much easier time of it. She would never be demonized as a strange creature from hell with no soul and a "burning hell" for a womb - that was used to market her people as insatiable sex slaves. The idea was that because they lived in such hot temperatures (so close to Hell!) and wore little clothing that they copulated like animals, whenever the mood struck them. The funny thing was, from her time with these new people, she felt as it that described them more than her own people. She knew what her lord wanted - he wanted to taste her again. The real question was, now, what sort of taste would he get?

She had led him into the bath now, and with a single graceful movement, unclasped his cape from her body. The bath was curtained off much as the bed was, and when she parted the curtains, rose-scented steam rose to greet them. She could barely conceal how eager she was to get in the bath - but rather than ease in, she knelt in front of him, removing his breeches. His member hung within her eyesight, and though she paid it no mind, she could still smell herself on him. Taking his hand in hers, she helped him step into the water, before she followed him herself. It was a bit of a squeeze for the two of them, but it was to be expected. She had entered the tub behind him, her breasts pressed into his back. Her hair was still caught up in her turban, so she did not worry to pin it up. Holding the small vial in front of him, she asked, "What is this, M'lord?"

 

[LordLuck]

He had smiled once he had seen his lovely Giovanna wearing the lace upon her hair. Drago listened to Maura with attention, noticing how she was getting along neatly with his chosen daughter. Once he had given one such lace to her, but it was at sea, she felt sick and could not properly care for that. Still, he was glad she giggled merrily as Maura had given her enough attention to ease any bad blood that might have surged between them once she had threatened him.

The girl strolled towards outside with Paulo on her heels - the boy was another matter for Lorenzo. Some years older than Giovanna, the chubby boy was the son of one of his fellow tradesmen back at Venice. His father's name was Girolamo, and good Girolamo was married to a Leonese woman, who had named him in that way rather than Paolo as they would on Lombardy. Still, you could call him either way, few ever noticed the little change in the vowel to matter. The boy was leaning to be as fat as his father, but was hard working and was learning all of the work of a merchant with him.

Drago would take him to the storages and the shops and loggie where he would teach him which fabric was fake and which was true, when to buy and when to sell, how to learn actual prices and how to do the math of accounting to see if you had lost or earned money by the turn's end. He was dilligent, smart, and Giovanna had been growing warm to him. They played a lot while he had no tasks and she had no duties. If once he could marry his servant girl to anyone, it would be to Paulo.

The apprentice had run off with his little daughter, running towards the well to fetch more water as quickly as possible, as the iron cauldron was returned to the fire to lay besides the fire. "You are kind to her, Maura.", Drago commented once she was lowering his pants. That very sight of having her neat and readying herself and him as well in order to bath was so highly erotic into his mind that the merchant had to care not to show himself throbbing before her face already. "...Thank you. Giovanna means a lot to me." After all, she was the daughter he never had.

"Hmmm...", he moaned gently as she helped him into the water. It was hot enough to turn his skin reddish pink, but not enough to sear his flesh away. He liked hot baths - they were poor to the skin, but confortable and soothing. They made him feel so trully cleaned. Laying both his hands against the edges of the wooden tub, he allowed Maura to climb in as he looked not at her yet, smiling as she had come to share his presence. Her own warmth was also very much welcomed within the tub.

And then, he felt her pressing her breasts against his back. On his own motion, he felt her nipples, round and pushing agianst him gently as she reached to show him the flask. "It's a perfume... A scent. A good scent to lay on your hair and shoulders. It's good, and it's for you.", he told her. It was rather expensive, actually, but he had enough for himself and Maura seemed she could use somethings of her own. It was curious how he was caring for the woman. "Take that soap there, please... scrub my back, if you please."

Already he could feel his manhood swelling gently. Damn, feeling her so close was making him all ready and seeking for it again. Later, he told himself. Later. "...Once you are done... turn on your back so I can turn and scrub down yours too."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Perfume?
Out of curiosity, she opened the vial, and took a small sniff. It was sweet, but spicy at the same time…smelling like frankincense and myrrh. The way it smelled…it was stronger than the roses, but just as nice, if not better. She carefully closed it, and set it on the outside of the tub. She would treasure it, and more than likely use it sparingly. Such wonderful things had to be saved!

“She is but a child, m’lord,” she said, shifting behind him. “And I do not mind children, so much. I have several brothers and sisters…” she trailed off, sounding sad. Did she still have them? Had they survived? Or did they lay dead under the hot sun, bones white? She did not want to say more about it at the time. Reaching from behind him, she grabbed the cake of soap and a sponge. Lathering it, she said nothing, looking at his back. It was smooth, did not see a lot of the sun.

Shifting again behind him, she began to rub at his back with the sponge. Leaning against him, she squeezed suds across his shoulders, her breasts slick against his back and aiding her in her task. Quietly, she lifted his arms, washing one at a time, paying close attention to his underarms and his sides. “M’lord should not bother himself with washing a slave,” she said, her voice still a little sad. “I will tend to you, and then I can clean myself. After this bath, may I go to market?” She didn’t have to say any more, but her tone implied that she wanted to take care of things that only women could do. She was sure that he was not eager for another mouth to feed.

Pressing her slippery breasts against his back again, she began to lather his chest, moving her hands lower. She could feel him stiffening beneath the water, and her body tingled in response. Something must be wrong. She couldn’t be aroused by him, could she? But she was. It wasn’t that he gave her things – it was the fact that he tended to her as well. No master had ever asked to bathe her before. His hands on her body before were gentle, if not scared. He wanted her; she could feel it in the air. And, despite her best instincts, she was beginning to want him, too. What she had experienced before…it was the first time she had experienced an orgasm. All of her experiences before were about the man, huffing and grunting until he was done. But this man…he had touched her. Maybe he could take her to greater heights, still. Her nipples grew firm at the thought.

 

[LordLuck]

He had been smiling as he noticed how she took into the scent of the perfume. It was very sweet and spicy, true, but also a little bit refreshing should she try it upon her flesh. Drago was glad she took her time to taste the musk of it before putting it away. She could have dropped it all on the bath - and they would stay a week or longer reeking of the fragrance, but it was not like bath salts to do that. Unfortunately he had not found any to acquire on his trip, so he would have to see to that later - he was sure that Catarina would enjoy those pretty much.

But his mind could not be further away from that woman, as he had this coffee-coloured Goddess rubbing his back. He had wanted to hear more about her, but Maura had been evidently suffering once the memories about a family she might once had came up flowing to her mind. She had grown silent, so he would not pry her more about Giovanna. "I... I want to, Maura.", he told her in a low voice, albeit he had not really needed to lower his tone as he felt her hands working magic upon his back, upon his shoulders, and then again those large nipples, their dark flesh helping her smear him with it, washing him almost... almost lovingly. She had been really dedicated to her task.

"I do want to wash you. To bathe you.", he told her as his hand over the edge of the pool started to hold tighter. He could notice his knuckles getting paler as he held harder, his manhood growing stiff and thick under the hot water but yet away from her hands, even though in her reach, certainly. "Of... Of course you may... if... if you tell me your true name.", he told her as he slowly turned towards Maura. The water had washed most of the soap from him already, and her caresses had numbed him sensibly, but still he turned, facing her, his hardness under water but evident as a pale phallus before her.

And then, he reached for the cake upon her hand, gently sliding his soaped fingers against her forearm. He kissed upon her moist wrist, reached against her, noticing how her nipples were growing taut and firm and erect. She had a nice bosom, he had to tell it. His gaze should have denounced it, though, as he gently slid his legs against hers, lifting her gently and pulling her closer to him, against his lap. His mouth was open as he leaned to kiss against her neck, tasting and licking her before biting gently, leaning against her again, his eyes staring at hers, trying to understand what went on her mind before kissing her lips.

A long kiss, only broken by his gentle caresses. His hands had reached against her waist, held her gently against him. His hardness had brushed hotly against her thigh, but he made no motion to invade her with it. He simply hugged her, held her and kissed her, felt her against his skin. When he was doen kissing, he was panting. "...T-Turn over... so I can... wash you.", he told her with a smile. "Lay... both hand on the edge."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

His gentleness surprised her, but his touch was warmer than the water they were in. Sinking into his caresses, her body slid lightly against his. His arms held her in place, and she pushed her hips lightly into his. His hard phallus bumped against her inner thigh, and she shivered. It would not be long, it felt, before he would be ready.

And then, his lips fell to her throat. Sighing, she tilted her head back, exposing more of her flesh to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she parted her legs beneath the water, moving so she could straddle his waist. She knew not what he did to her, why her body responded in this way to him. It did not make any sense…and she was beginning to feel like it never would. Would it be such a bad thing, living like this? Already a second time, he was doing things to her that made her want to give herself to him without a second thought.

From her throat, his lips moved to hers, and she returned the kiss, softly. Breaking the kiss, she sighed. He had asked her name. And she must go to market – he must. Shifting in the bath tub, she turned so that her back was to him. “My name…m’lord….is Sadaa.” It took a lot of trust for her to turn her back to him, even in such an intimate situation. She was at his mercy now, and her mind spun. He wanted to bathe her….she had never had a man wash her before. Her sisters and the traders wives had, but it was nothing like this. It was a mutual washing among the women, a time away from men and for laughter and for jokes and for secrets and advice. Here, it was so much different.

Unable to help herself, she rolled her hips against his crotch with skill. She knew just what she was doing, and what she wanted. The lips of her sex brushed against his phallus with her movements, teasing him with a wetness that could be felt even in the water. One hand gripped the side of the tub, while the other drifted between her legs. She wanted to practice what he had showed her earlier – parting her sex, she let her fingers run across it. Towards the top, she felt the little nub of flesh, and gently pressed. A shiver ran through her – it felt so good! Fingers that were long used to stroking a man’s member now turned their attention to her own body, and gently, she began to manipulate herself, playing, seeing what felt the best.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “M’lord makes me feel strange…” she would sigh out. She wanted to say so much more, how she began to crave his touch just this shortly, but she did not, more out of fear than anything else.

 

[LordLuck]

He had trully, trully mean to wash her. He had even taked upon the soap cake that Giovanna did with the gathered grease and fat from both their meals and the sellswords' too. Gathering it all once it was already drying and growing alike to a paste of sheer fat, she would laid it all to boil for hours and hours, usually outside as the stench of it was almost unbearable, even to the little girl, who would throw rose petals and other scented herbs over it. Paulo would help her turning the cauldron of boiled fat over a square block like that of a mason's, usually used to make mortar to glue stone to stone; and once completely cooled down - it would have dried into the form of it - a scented bar of soap that only needed someone witha knife to carve a block out of it.

A block like the one Maura... no, not Maura. Sadaa. A block like the one that Sadaa had used to cake his back in foam and little bubbles before his movements had washed it all away. "Sadaa... That is a beautiful name.", he told her as he loomed against her rear, closing into her gently. She could feel him gently pressing his chest and tummy against her slender back. Sadaa was so lithe, so gorgeously nimble, her beauty as those of the wild lands where she once dwelt. She was so fit, unlike his courters that would usually be women on the plump, chubby side - even though Drago used to prefer fuller women, there was something on Sadaa that had him craving her ever more. "...Please ...call me by name, Sadaa. Call me Enzo. Or Drago.", he told her as his hands reached for her waistline, caressing her gently as he noticed she had tried to reach between her legs.

"...When we are alone...", he went on, delivering a soft kiss upon her shoulder and another along her neck, as if he could bite upon her flesh like those monsters from legend. "...No need to name me your Lord.", he gently brushed his manhood against her ass, touching along her buttocks softly, instead of humping her in abandon. He was loving this seduction with the woman that had once just tried to cut him. To slid his throat. His lips reached to her earlobe, nibbling against her kindly, as his hands reached for her turban, slowly taking it away from her head in order to reveal that lovely, charcoal-black hair of hers, letting the rings sing as it moved.

"Have you... Never felt like this, Sadaa?", he asked her curiously. As she had been used as a pleasure slave so far, and he could only guess for how long had she been used as such, he started to think about it if she had never felt an orgasm like the one he had given her earlier - for there was no way she could have faked the sheer amount of her wetness that had dripped against him, leaving his manhood and loins all sticky.

Then, he reached against her. His arm slid along her own as it went there, between her legs. "May I...? Let me...", he mumbled on her ear as he reached to her loins. She had never done it, or so she seemed. As clumsy as a girl that rubbed herself against furs to tend to that itch down there. She had touched herself, but he would guide her movements. His hand gently slid over hers, and took hers there, towards her little orb after seeking it between her bush gently. And then, with his thumb, he pressed against it.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Oh, Sadaa was familiar with the soap making process. She had made quite a few bars herself in her servitude, and it was the particular way in which she crafted hers that had partially earned her the reputation of being an excellent servant. True, she had to deal with the terrible smell, but she had figured out a way of combining herbs, oils, and other such things to combat the smell and leave behind a truly pleasant smelling bar.

She had a knack for developing these sorts of things - for at heart, being a captive in this strange land had given her a taste for things that she never had the chance to experience as a part of her tribe. Heated baths being one - water was a rarity for her people, and to waste it bathing was close to a crime. But whenever she had a chance to get near a river, she never passed up the opportunity to swim and splash with her family and the other women.

His breath came close to her ear as he moved himself closer to her, and even in her fumbling attempts to rub herself, she shivered to feel him getting this close to her. She wanted to thank him for liking her name - as it seemed just the custom-, but could not find the words as his hand covered hers, guiding it with expertise. He had asked her to call him by his name, when they were alone.

Her mind reeled. How could she? Was it not proper? Would it earn her a cuffing later? Her thoughts fled as he kissed the side of her neck. A moan escaped her lips, and for a moment, her body went partially limp beneath his. She hardly noticed when he took her turban loose, freeing her hair from it. The braid wrapped in brass clanged against the side of the tub, startling her.

"No...Drago..." and she said his name with some difficulty. He had asked, so she was bound to reply. But it was true - she had never felt like this before. No one had taken their time with her. With slaves, especially the rare ones of her skin color, it was assumed that they automatically felt pleasure from being plowed roughly. That was not the case.

For Sadaa, most encounters left her with varying degrees of bruises and bleeding. In time she had gotten used to it, but she had also developed the ability to put her mind far far away from what was happening to her body. With Drago, she was unable to do that. She was all too aware of how her body was responding to his, even if she tried to think otherwise or tried to calm her thoughts. She just couldn't. Maybe in time, she would get to the point where she could, but now it was impossible. How he was making her feel was absolutely addicting. Only one thought held firm - she had no idea if he was teasing her, or if he was enjoying himself. Somewhere, deep down, next to the hopes that she still had for being loved, she hoped that he was enjoying himself as well, and that he craved her touch as much as she his.

His fingers resting on top of hers, he began to manipulate her hand into probing her folds, something she had never done before. Her hand shook under his - she was both nervous and eager to learn what he had to show her. She never had the time to explore what lay there - the lessons of her people ran to just keep it clean, that it was a husband's delight, and it was where babies would eventually be birthed from. Having no children of her own, and having previous masters just jam themselves inside of her, she had no idea that it was capable of anything more.

Already, past his fingers, she was slick and ready, her lower lips swollen with anticipation. Taking his lead, she pressed her button ever so slightly, and her body trembled under his. However, it would not take long before her fingers slid from his, moving further down her slit. Her fingers, though rough, gently probed and pressed - marveling at the feel of her own body. Despite the coarse hair that covered her, her lips parted easily under her fingers, and the skin there was slick and smooth.

Rubbing the flesh, she pressed a finger gently in her opening, her body begging for something to fill it. She was silent through most of her probing, the only sound of their breathing and the movements of the water around them. Feeling his phallus press against her rear, she pushed back, stroking him with her rear. She knew that he could enter her of two ways now, but she would leave him to make the choice.

She moaned softly now, as her fingers learned her body quickly. In and out she probed within her slit, her opposite hand moving in turns with his to fondle her button. She wanted him so strongly now, but she did not dare to ask him. She was experiencing her pleasure now, true, but she could not afford to be selfish, not as long as he was still her master. Suffering the sweetest torments, she arched her body against his.