The Turkish Ransom (closed for Monique_Minx)

[Tio_Narratore]

Dionysiac was enraptured by Nehir’s second dance - the dance on his verga. He sighed and moaned with pleasure at every undulation, every twist, every turn, every lift and descent of his rhythmic slave. He reached - more so, she brought him to - his climax at the same time as Nehir reached hers. His back tautened as she lie on his chest, and it pressed them even closer together, her full, soft breasts tight against his firm muscles.

They lay that way, the slave girl atop her master, her palms resting on his broad chest, her petite form dwarfed by his massive torso, and his arms enfolding her. He began massaging her back in slow strokes as their orgasms subsided, and she sighed at the firm passes of his hands over her flesh.

“Did I please you, Master?” she asked softly.

“Very much so,” Miramond answered with a broad smile, and then smacked her sharply on her ass.

Nehir was surprised, and instantly sat up with a look of concern in her eyes. Her concern quickly turned to a smile as she realized what he meant by the slap. She had told him how much a spanking meant, and he was showing his appreciation of her dance.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said with a giggle; “did you like it a lot?”

“Yes, Nehir,” he replied as he gave her ass two more smacks, one on each cheek.

His eyes were on her tetas as well as her face, and had been from when she rose at the first smack. They were attractively large, even a bit too much for his large hand and long fingers. And the way they bounced and jiggled when she sat up with a start was delightful. After his second bit of spanking, he reached to her chest and fondled a breast in each hand. Nehir closed her eyes and sighed as he kneaded her tetas.

“Hold them, girl,” he commanded. “Show me how you’d like them treated.”

 

[monique_minx]

The last servant left the room after hanging additional oil lamps and Safiye was starting to wonder if Constantia was some kind of mind reader. The light was adequate enough to see by in the evening now. Aylin had returned to her bed opposite Safiye and was facing away from them which told Safiye she was probably mulling over whatever recipe she was considering cooking for Miramond. Roksana, however, sat cross legged in the centre of the floor folding a scrap of linen over in her hands again and again.

"You're quiet," Safiye said gently, not looking up from the bowl of broth cooling in her lap where she was propped up in her bed, "that worries me more than talk."

Roksana huffed shortly, it could have been a laugh, "Talking never did a woman much good where I come from."

"And where's that?"

"Near the border." Roksana answered, "We followed the army, my father fought and my mother stitched the wounded. I learned both trades before I learned how to speak sweetly."

She looked up, directly at Safiye, "Not that sweet words help much here, do they, Hanim?"

Oh that word was loaded as she spat it at Safiye but she took it in her stride, her lips curved faintly, "Perhaps, perhaps not. This-" Safiye gestured to the room, "-isn't what makes you who you are, it's what you do with it."

Roksana studied her for a long moment and then, "The others follow you."

"They follow because they're afraid and they know I'll speak first." Safiye tried to shrug it off.

"Men don't like women who speak first." Roksana pointed out.

"No," Safiye agreed, "But they prefer it over a woman who refuses to speak at all."

They both knew the 'first' they referred to meant more than merely who took their turn at speaking but Roksana did consider her words and nodded while Safiye took up her spoon and ate some of her broth.

"You talk and I'll listen." Roksana said with a stiff nod in a gruff tone, "For now."

Safiye smiled at her, "I want nothing of your respect and loyalty without having earned it Roksana, I like that you challenge me and you notice the others don't. You're smart, you hide it but you are so much more than you appear."

***
​

Nehir looked down at herself and cupped her breasts in each hand as best as she could and thumbed gently over her own nipples. Then she looked up at Miramond and squeezed them each just a little harder. Her fingers crawled inwards and pinched each of her nipples, rolling them between each hand's thumb and forefinger. She got a little tighter, a little rougher and she pulled a little on them, emitting a soft moan.

"Just like this Master," She said softly, "with a...firmness."

She didn't really know how to describe it and settled on that word while she showed him. The wetness between her legs started to leak out and leave its own thin sheen against his thigh. She rubbed herself against him somewhat as she played with her breasts which caused them to jiggle in her hands.

"Do you enjoy watching this more Master or would you prefer to take over?" She asked rather considerately given the circumstances.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

Miramond laughed. “It’s very hard to choose,” he declared.

He’d certainly been enjoying Nehir’s performance, but was sorely tempted to take things into his own hands. A few more minutes of watching her play with her own breasts, and he did just that. In an unexpected way.

He reached for her breasts, and before she could remove her hands, he covered them with his own hands, twice the size of hers, and held them to her breasts.

“Let’s see if I have it right,” he said as he began to play with her breasts using her own hands.

He squeezed and kneaded and pulled on them just as she had, and then released her hands.

“You like it firm,” he said. “Perhaps even firmer?”

He squeezed and kneaded again, much harder this time, and he took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers to pull and twist them. While his hands were on her tetas, his eyes were on her face, studying her reactions to his rough play. He could feel her fluids running down his thigh, and he could feel himself become aroused again, stiffening inside her cunny.

A sharp tug on her nipples brought her torso down to lay atop him. He quickly wrapped his arms around her and rolled over, his hips against hers and her legs around him. He nuzzled into her hair, kissing her neck, and then kissed her full on the lips, thrusting his tongue insistently into her mouth. She was still virginally tight around his verga and he could feel every spasm of her sheath. He wondered if she could feel the throbbing of his cock as he drove up and down inside her.

He came again, with a long satisfied sigh, and stayed holding her until they both relaxed. He lie next to her, then, her head resting on his muscular arm, and contemplated this second virgin slave.

He didn’t know much about her; there’d be time enough for that, but he did know she was delightful entertainment, a concubine who would enjoy the physical pleasures of intercourse.

Intercourse. His mind wandered. There was much still to be done about the slaves; he’d have to meet again on the morrow with his deputies. And then there was need to report to the archbishop in Arles. A week away, but time was needed for planning, for receiving reports of what was going on at the ecclesiastical court. He knew there were those in Arles who begrudged him his position; who felt they should have had the title and the land, though they did nothing to earn it. Still, they were there, having the Archbishop’s ear, and that of the Duc. Gifts from the ransom were in order, and the Marqués himself would choose, selecting what he thought would best touch the ego of the recipient.

Tomorrow. For tonight he would turn his mind back to the playful dancing girl beside him. A hug and a kiss, and he pulled on the cord to summon Constansia.

The head servant knew what she was called for, and arrived with her basket of remedies. Her master was first, and she carefully cleansed Nehir’s virgin blood from his cock. Then Nehir herself. Cleansed outside and in. A poultice to prevent pregnancy. Finished, she asked if she should take the slave back to her chamber.

“No, Constansia,” he said as he took Nehir into his arms again. “I am pleased by her presence. She shall stay the night.”

As the servant left, Dionysiac pondered what further pleasures he might find with the girl..

 

[monique_minx]

Nehir gasped as he gripped her hands to press against her flesh, it was odd to experience her own touch but not her own ministrations. He then released her hands and took her breasts in his own grip, she moaned as he pulled her nipples.

"Oh yes Master, just like that." She groaned as she felt him harden inside of her at the same time.

She squeaked as he suddenly pulled her nipples and fell atop his chest in a flurry of motion. Before she knew what was happening, he had rolled them both and he was above her. His lips grazed her throat and she arched, offering it to him. He brought his mouth to hers and she twined her tongue with his as he started to thrust his hips, driving himself in and out of her. Her pelvis lifted to meet him as she moaned into his mouth, her orgasm already building steadily with his.

She let go of his mouth when she finally came, her sheath clutching him tightly as her hands gripped the sheets beneath her. Her moans reached a crescendo just as his seed spilled into her depths.

She panted gently as she came down from her high, he held her a long while and then he finally rolled off of her to lie at her side. He was quiet for a long moment which she didn't mind as she needed the time to recover. His quick kiss was the only alert she got before he summoned Constantia and like Safiye, Nehir had to spread her legs and endure being washed clean before a small muslin sack was pushed inside of her to prevent pregnancy.

Nehir's blood warmed and she blushed as he snuggled into her and told Constantia he would like her to stay.

"I am glad to have pleased you so, Master." She beamed at him and enjoyed his embrace as she drifted into slumber.

The next morning, Nehir woke gently and blinked several times, rubbing her eyes before she smiled at the sight of Dionysiac beside her.

"Good morning Master, did you sleep well?" She asked softly.

***
​

Safiye woke when Sileta entered her chambers to collect Aylin for their trip to the market and another servant delivered breakfast to Safiye. Roksana ambled out to join the other slaves for theirs, Safiye was still taking her meals in bed as she was unable to walk. Soon enough, she was all alone in the room.

"This will surely drive me mad," Safiye contemplated her bedridden state mournfully, "They could have attacked any other part of my body but they had to take my mobility."

'You brought it on yourself...' the little voice in the back of her head whispered.

She scoffed in response to herself, "If I'd been a man, they'd have laughed. Hypocrites."

It was then that she realised she was alone - Nehir had not returned.

"Perhaps I was right after all, My Lord has found interest elsewhere. Good. I hope he is sated with her..." Safiye tried to speak with conviction she didn't feel.

In the back of her mind, there was a small burning that she refused to acknowledge - was it jealousy? Anger? Self loathing? Or all three? She wasn't entirely sure, all she knew was that she felt unsettled and conflicted...and in turmoil.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

Dionysiac awoke to Nehir’s question.

“Yes, girl,” he responded with a smile as his mind flooded with remembrance of the night’s pleasures. “You’re a very good bed companion.”

He kissed her on the forehead, and decided to make use of his morning erection. He rolled over atop her, propping himself on his elbows to avoid crushing the poor thing as he spread her legs with his knees. In an instant he was deep inside her, stretching her cunny into her belly as his balls slapped against her with every thrust. Her legs wrapped around him and tightened to pull her to him as he ejaculated into her welcoming sheath.

As he lay between her legs, there was a soft rapping at the door, and Constansia enetered with a ewer of fresh water and two goblets. She left the couple as soon as she had set the water on the table,

“Call for me when you want the slave led back to her chamber,” she said as she left.

Miramond and his slave arose and took care of their morning needs.

“Yes. Nehir,” he said as they sipped some water, “you are a very pleasing girl. I expect I will be calling on you for entertainment often.”

It was clear that the Marqués really did enjoy this slave’s eager willingness to satisfy his corporal desires, but it was clear to him that such pleasures were only of the body; it was Safiye who entertained his mind. He looked forward to seeing her again.

“Time to get dressed and return to your sisters, Nehir.” he said and then called for the servant to come fetch her. “And tell Safiye I hope she’s enjoying the books I sent her.”

Constansia came, bringing her Master’s valet along with her.

“I thought you’d want to get started early today, Sir,” she explained; “I know you have much to attend to.”

She left with Nehir and the valet helped the Marqués to dress. Off, then, to court to meet with his deputies and get to the day’s work.

“The smithy and his assistants have already been at work collaring the slave girls, Sire,” Cléophas began his report. “The goldsmith will come after the day meal to collar the virgins”

Angelin laid out the gold torques from the ransom treasure, and Dionysiac selected the ten to be used. He chose a thin braid of gold for Safiye and thicker torques for her three companions.

“You may choose for the others,” he instructed his deputies.

“Have you enjoyed your new slaves yet, Sire?” enquired Angelin.

Miramond laughed. “Yes, two of them in two nights. Both quite enjoyable. I had one dance for me; perhaps we’ll find a time for her to entertain you two along with me. And yourselves - have you picked and deflowered your share of the ransom?”

The two men laughed.

“Most assuredly, Sire,” Cléophas declared. “We took them separately the night before, and last night we shared the evening and the girls. They were very accommodating, and discovered they liked wine, in spite of their religion.”

Miramond laughed along with his deputies.

“There are some tidings of concern, though,” announced Angelin after their laughter had quieted. “Some fishermen returned early from their work this morn. They spied some Arab pirates at sea. We have enquired of the merchants if any galleys were expected. One should be arriving within a few days.”

The Marqués instructed them to ready some knights and archers for sea duties, and send them on daily patrols with some of the fishermen as soon as possible.

Miramond took his leave and made his way to the main hall to see the smithy at work, and to get a better look at the ninety other slaves. A worthwhile visit, he felt. There were many attractive girls there, and not a one at all was hard on the eyes. And he did find a touch of arousal in seeing them fitted with collars, torques that showed their staus as prize slaves, given for pleasure. He resolved to be in Safiye’s chamber to see her adorned with his collar. To the midday meal, then, and further discussions of business and pleasure.

 

[monique_minx]

Nehir beamed at his praise, "Not that I have the experience to say otherwise Master but you're very pleasing yourself!"

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then he was on top of her once again, spreading her and pushing his way inside of her pussy with little fanfare or warning. She grunted with the pressure, accepting him and wrapping her legs around his waist to hold them together. It amazed Nehir that he was so virile, were all men like this? Certainly the older married women didn't speak of so much sex, perhaps she ought to have asked a newlywed?

She moaned softly but she hadn't been well prepared so inevitably, he came inside of her before she could but Nehir was merely happy to satisfy him. Having servants enter while he was still hilted in her was another experience entirely. They went about cleaning themselves up not long after Constantia left and finally he told Nehir to dress and she pulled her gomlek and dress back on to be led back to her room. She nodded and half curtsied in respect and adherence to Dionysiac's orders before she departed.

When Nehir arrived, Safiye was alone and reading on her bed but she placed the book down as soon as Nehir entered the room.

"Master hoped you were enjoying the books." Nehir smiled and came to her bedside.

"Oh yes, very much. I might have gone quite out of my mind with nothing to do in here alone."

"I see that," Nehir shifted to survey the room before looking back at Safiye, "Where's Aylin and Roksana?"

"Aylin went to market with Sileta this morning and they have yet to return. Roksana returned from the morning meal only briefly before she left again, I believe she's helping with household duties or something. She said she refused to be stuck in here doing nothing until she could serve His Lordship. She'd rather be busy with chores I suppose." Safiye shrugged.

She couldn't blame Roksana for that, were Safiye not injured so badly then she might have been out to do the same. Fortunately the books kept her somewhat occupied.

"And what of you, Nehir?" Safiye asked.

"I had a rather busy night if I do say so myself, I did not expect it to be quite so...tiring." Nehir admitted, "that might take some getting used to."

Safiye nodded in agreement, "Sounds rather similar to my experience. Perhaps you ought to have some sleep before the midday meal? That way you're recovered for the afternoon."

Nehir was in agreement much as Safiye would have liked to continue their conversation and she ambled off to her own bed as Safiye collected the book from her bedside once again.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

As he prepared for the midday meal. Miramond instructed Constansia to have the ten virgin slaves assemble in Safiye’s chamber for the fitting of their torques. To the meal, then, and further discussions of business.

The pirates were the first subject, and Angelin reported that five fast fishing boats, each bearing nine knights and a capitan, each with crossbow and sword, as well as a skipper and mate. The knights would also serve as oarsmen, and all would leave on patrol right after the midday meal. The trip to Arles was next for discussion, and the main concern there was the plotting against Miramond by those who were jealous of his position, even if they were of higher rank. Gifts would be in order, gifts from the ransom. On the morrow, it was decided that the Marqués, Cléophas, and Angelin would select appropriate items for the Duc and his deputies. There would be religious gifts for Archbisop Aicard as well as something more secular for his personal use. There was agreement that the Archbisop’s favor was most important to curry. The meal finished, Dionysiac made his way to view the collaring of the ten slaves.

Only Safite and Nehir were in when he arrived, and he greeted them both. Sileta soon appeared with Aylin and Roksana, whom she had picked up in the kitchen. Safiye introduced the two girls Dionysiac had not yet met. He had already figured out who was who since Roksana showed obvious signs of being a farm girl. He wondered which of the two was to prepare his dinner this night, but didn’t enquire; either was comely enough for his pleasure.

The goldsmith arrived with the four torques Miramond had selected. Roksana was fitted first, a thick gold braid with a knob at each end was heated over a brazier to soften it. The craftsman then carefully bent it around the farm girl’s sturdy neck and twisted the ends so the knobs crossed over, securing it in place.

Her anxiety and despair showed on her face as the collar was fitted and her new lowly status took on a concrete reality. If the Marqués didn’t admit to a certain arousal at the sight, he would be lying. Yes, it was clear now she was a slave, his slave, a woman to treat well, but to treat as he wished.

The same with Aylin and the solid gold band she had fitted snugly around her delicate throat, save for the tear that ran down her cheek as she felt the physical reality of her new status. Nehir’s countenance was full of confusion; she had such a pleasant time with her master the night before that she felt like a lover and now she was a slave. Dionysiac thought on that night as well, and hoped the torque wouldn’t dampen her lively enthusiasm.

Now it was Safiye’s turn, and the Marqués watched closely to read her reaction in her eyes and lips.

 

[monique_minx]

Safiye had to watch each of the other nine slaves be fitted with their collars before her, knowing all the while that her turn was coming. She'd had the advantage of knowing this had been coming all along. After all, Dionysiac had told her personally. Although it hadn't really occurred to her that he'd come to witness it. So she did her best to seem unbothered throughout, only offering the other ladies gentle smiles and nods to encourage them.

She was asked to move to the edge of the bed to make her accessible so she knew when her time had come at last. She inhaled deeply and shifted into position, one of the other women came over and bundled her hair atop her head into a tight bun, tying it off so it would remain out of the way. Her shorter blue smock rode up on her thighs as she had moved and she tugged it down. Safiye noted her collar was thinner than the others almost immediately, she also noticed Dionysiac's eyes were on her now.

"Is there a reason my...collar is so different, My Lord?" She asked him softly, almost choking on the word 'collar' as the goldsmith was focused on fitting hers.

She remained as stoic and unconcerned as possible but she wondered if asking him about it was the best idea. Would it make the others feel 'less than' or make her feel that way? She didn't know what answer he'd come out with so Safiye regretted asking for a moment as she belatedly considered that it might be a mistake to have asked him so publicly.

It felt warm near her and she held her breath as if expecting to be burned but the goldsmith worked diligently and with care to ensure the heated metal never touched her skin. She couldn't see what it looked like when the smith was finished but she had a rough idea based on the appearance of the others. The collar felt final. Like it stole her breath and gave her a shallow version. She could feel how tight it was if she inhaled deeply enough but when she breathed normally, it wasn't nearly as noticeable. Safiye hoped she'd grow accustomed to it. It felt extremely foreign and heavy - mostly because her mind gave it more weight than it actually had.

The six that didn't reside with the rest exited after their collars were fitted. Some were as unbothered as Safiye had tried to appear and others looked like they needed privacy to come to terms with it. Safiye didn't blame them, she'd spent a good chunk of time alone in the room and even she thought she might need time to process it despite advance warning of this moment. Aylin, Roksana and Nehir sat down nearby on Nehir's bed while Safiye had been fitted so they were out of the way.

Miramond's eyes had been on her the entire time and she'd tried to ignore it at first but once the smith was finished and went about tidying up, she decided to address him directly, "I suppose this would please you, My Lord?"

 

[Tio_Narratore]

The Marqués paid scant attention to the collaring of the six virgins; his eyes and thoughts were on the chamber and the four who were his slaves. The size of the room was adequate, but he decided they should have more comforts - more lamps, and, there being sufficient room, a proper table and chairs so they could share their meals and their free time. He was pleased to see the books he had sent resting on the tiny table beside Safiye’s bed; each had a piece of straw jutting out that marked where in the book the reader had left off. He looked forward to discussing them with her when she next came to his chambers.

He remained silent, ignoring Safiye’s questions until the goldsmith had quit the room. Alone now with his slaves he addressed her second question first.

“What man would not be pleased to have four beautiful girls as his slaves, their torques a mark of his possession, and each prepared to share his bed at his desire, and perhaps even at her’s. I’ve known two of you and look forward to the third tonight. And tomorrow I will complete the pleasurable task of freeing you from the bonds of your virginity.”

He wondered if it would be Aylin or Roksana who would sate his hunger and his lust this night, but preferred not to ask and rather to be surprised. And now it was time to address the first question.

“There is a reason for your collar differing from the others,” he began. “When I asked who among the ten would elect to be my premier concubine, it was you, Safiye, who spoke out. Headstrong and foolishly, some would say, but it showed you to be unlike your sisters. Where they were cowed by their slavery, you questioned it; you suffered for it, but it showed you to be distinct.”

He stepped to her bed and lightly stroked her hair as he declared his appreciation of her rebelliousness.

“Now,” he continued, “I’ve given you some explanation of the laws we have regarding slaves. All of you women will get a full explanation of the laws by which you are bound and of the laws which protect you.”

He turned towards the other three of his slaves, addressing them as well as Safiye.

“Safiye has expressed her concern about how a slave could make her complaint known if she finds herself ill-treated. Our Christian slaves have recourse to a priest. Each week he hears their confession in private and in confidence, and, if a slave is concerned, the priest brings the complaint to a civil authority. Safiye rightly observed that such would be of no use to a Seljuk girl. So, Safiye, as my first concubine, will be entrusted with hearing any complaints of those who keep their faith, and bringing them to me if she can’t resolve them herself. There are a hundred of you now, and that would be an onerous task for one woman. Safiye has chosen you to be her companions because she trusts and respects you, and, therefore, I will appoint you three to be her deputies in this.”

He took a step towards Aylin and brushed the dry trail of the tear from her cheek before kissing her lightly on her forehead.

“I know the torques weigh heavily on your spirits, but the law requires that all slaves be collared. I hope, though, that all of you who were enslaved to free a commander will find a life as pleasant and worthwhile as possible.”

He went next to Safiye and cupped her cheek in his hand as he gazed affectionately on her.

“If you have any questions,” the Marqués offered as he left, “discuss them and send them to me with whoever will share my table and bed tonight.”

 

[monique_minx]

Miramond saved his responses to Safiye until the goldsmith left and she was sure that she was not the only one who felt his 'possessions' comment like a gut punch. She looked at the faces of the other women and saw an array of surprise and hurt there. She couldn't blame them, each of them had been traded in to slavery by their government, if not their own families. Safiye looked at her lap as he mentioned freeing the rest of them of their virginity. She was sure Nehir hadn't minded but Aylin was more timid than Nehir and was likely more anxious about that. She was equally certain Roksana would be resolute in her duties and merely do as she was told for the sake of survival over any emotion. That seemed to be her way.

He addressed Safiye directly at last regarding her own collar and it made her blush. He moved towards her to stroke her hair and she'd have pulled away were it not for the fact that she knew she was sending Aylin to him that night and wanted to show her strength in submission. That Safiye wasn't asking anything of her that she hadn't been willing to endure herself. She was loathe to admit she appreciated his touch as well. That part confused her most of all. Safiye also didn't really understand why Dionysiac appreciated her rebellion where her own countrymen were willing to kill her for it.

'He is so strange...' She thought as she looked up at him while he pressed on about their laws.

Safiye was surprised that he appointed all four of them in charge of any complaints from the other slaves. She was rather glad he recognised that would be a mammoth responsibility for her to carry alone but she glanced across to her companions and realised she'd likely be passing along complaints to Dionysiac herself for awhile until they became more comfortable with him. Perhaps Roksana would be the only one who wouldn't care and maybe Nehir but Aylin...she saw how Aylin flushed at Dionysiac kissing her on the forehead and Safiye sighed softly, she would need to give that woman some confidence before sending her to Dionysiac that evening.

Miramond returned to Safiye's side before long and cupped her cheek, Safiye looked up at him in surprise for the affection she saw on his face. It confused her, she considered whether or not she'd misread his expression but she didn't think so.

"Thank you, My Lord." She murmured a soft farewell as he exited, her noble decorum forcing her to respond almost automatically while the others remained silent.

After Miramond exited, there was a long silence which Safiye allowed. Each of the women split off to their own beds. They required some quiet contemplation and Safiye didn't blame them. There was another interruption not long after and more lamps, a table and four chairs were brought into the room.

"Constantia? What's all this?" Safiye asked the servant directing the men who placed the furniture and scurried back out.

"His Lordship's orders." Constantia said shortly and then exited.

Safiye looked in wonder at the furniture and thought about Constantia's tone with her, her shortness specifically. Safiye had the distinct impression she had somehow displeased the stout woman but she didn't know how.

Aylin had less time to prepare herself visually than Nehir or Safiye had because she was constantly returning to the kitchen to check that her Etil Nohut (Lamb & Chickpea Stew) was cooking properly in an earthen pot. Aylin was quite proud of her cooking and didn't trust the kitchen staff to watch it as well as she could but Safiye finally had to slow the woman down and remind her she needed to dress appropriately too. Her linen shift was not appropriate attire to dine with Dionysiac.

Nehir and Roksana dressed her in a saffron yellow entari with a sash over her gomlek. She chose to wear a matching headscarf to quell her anxiety and went barefoot. The final result was rather demure and exotic but not really provocative at all, Aylin was roughly the same size as Safiye in shape but had smaller breasts much like Roksana.

"You will be alright Aylin, he will love your food." Safiye reassured her.

"I know," she wrung her hands, "the servants said they'd deliver it for me so I don't have to worry about spilling on myself. I'm just...so nervous Safiye Hanim."

Safiye let her former title go though it made her unconsciously finger her collar, there were more important things at hand.

"Take deep breaths and go slowly, he is not a stupid man. He is not unaware of your naivety and concern. You will do just fine." Safiye smiled as brightly as she could, suffocating all the guilt she felt - it was unreasonable to feel guilty, she had not put them in this position anymore than they did her.

Aylin nodded and took her leave at last.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

A scullery maid was waiting at the Marqués’ door when Aylin arrived.

“It’s still nice and hot,” she said, “and it smells delicious. I hope you get to work in the kitchen with us.”

The maid handed the tureen to Aylin and knocked softly on the door. Miramond himself opened it for them, and the maid set the table while the slave offered the dish.

“It looks and smells good, Aylin,” her master commented. “We make a cese stew here,but not so aromatic.”

The maid took her leave, and the two, master and slave, sat to dine. There was water, of course, for Aylin, but Dionysiac decided on wine for this supper. He clearly enjoyed the offering, and complimented the girl repeatedly. His approval helped allay Aylin’s anxiety, but she remained nervous about what would happen after they ate. Would he find her attractive? She hoped so; she was dressed nicely and pleasantly scented, and her parents had always told her she was pretty and would find a good husband.

Her countenance darkened for a moment at that thought; as a slave, she’d never find any husband at all. She drove the thought from her mind, telling herself she’d have to make the best of her situation, and that meant pleasing her master. She humbly thanked him for his compliments, and, as they finished their meal, she wondered about what was to come next. Would it hurt? She expected it would, but not too much she wished, that his Lordship would be gentle with her. And now it was time she’d find out.

The effects of the tasty food and the strong wine put Miramond in a playful mood and he began to tease Aylin. He stood and called her to him.

“I see the cook is as pretty as her dish,” he said as he looked into her eyes. “I wonder if she tastes as well.”

Aylin fidgeted a bit, anxious as to what he might be up to. It wasn’t what she expected.

“Just a little taste to begin, a faint touch of the lips,” he continued, leaning towards her and brushing her ips lightly with his.

“Deliciously enticing,” he declared. “Time for full indulgence.”

Dionysiac pulled the girl tight against him and pressed his lips to hers once more. Harder this time. Much harder. He slipped his tongue out and licked across her lips before forcing it between her lips and deep into her mouth. She didn’t resist, but, rather seemed not just to accept it, but to enjoy it. For a full five minutes his tongue explored her mouth, twisting and twirling to taste every bit of it. The kiss broken, he took half a step back and declared that it was time to uncover the whole dish.

As Aylin stood there, a bit confused and apprehensive, her master undid the sash that held her entari closed and then slipped the robe from her shoulders to let it fall to the floor.

“And now your tunic,” he announced as he reached down for the hem of her gomlek.

The garment was over her head and cast aside in a moment. The Marqués spent a minute ogling his third virgin before taking her up in his arms and transporting her to his bed.

“A beautiful dish, indeed,” he declared as he hovered over the girl, “and with a delightful aroma. Does she taste as good as she looks?”

With that he dove to her left breast, kissing it and drawing its nipple between his lips to suckle. Then to her right breast for the same and more, as he twirled his tongue around her nipple while he sucked at it.

“Delicious!” he exclaimed, and then proceeded to kiss his way down her chest and abdomen to the top of her vee.

“Now to try the legs of this tender lamb,” he proposed.

He lifted her legs with a hand around each ankle and spread them wide. A kiss just above the knee on the inside of her right thigh. The skin sucked in between his teeth. Capillaries broken and her skin in his mouth turns auburn. The left thigh, and the same. Back to the right, a bit higher. One leg, then the other, climbing his way upward on a ladder of love bites. The top; he reached her vee. Now on her mound, a long bite and a deep red-brown mark of his ardor. He lifts his head to look on her face, her breasts, her waist, her hips, her belly, and down on his handiwork.

 

[monique_minx]

Aylin laid there on her back as he desired, trying to quell her fear and anxiety as best she could. She gasped sharply at the sensation of his mouth wrapped around her nipple and threw her hands in his hair, her fingers combing through it as she fidgeted. He repeated the process on her other breast and Aylin felt herself moisten between her thighs without quite understanding why. She whimpered softly as he sunk lower on her body, kissing his way down her skin tenderly until he reached the top of her pelvis.

He spread her legs and Aylin covered her face with both hands for a moment, her heartbeat quickened as his mouth pressed to her inner thigh just above her knee. The sucking was surprisingly strong, it made her part her hands to look down at him and she watched him match his efforts on her other leg. She looked curiously at the marks he left behind and her fingers unconsciously ran across her collar because it felt like he was leaving further marks of ownership across her skin now. She was a splotch pattern of red marks that were slowly bruising by the time he was done and took a moment to appraise his work.

She was red in the face and breathing a bit irregularly, her slit glistening with arousal in front of his face. She looked down at him as his eyes roved her body and squirmed uncomfortably, she was not used to men looking at her so...lustfully.

"D-do I please you, M-master?" She asked uncertainly, her hands twining into the sheets on either side of her nervously.

***
​

In her room, Safiye had her evening meal upon her bed while Nehir and Roksana were able to take theirs at the new little table, the three were still able to hold a conversation across the distance. The smell of barley stew filled the air within the room and predictably, Roksana was the first to break the silence.

"Is the table meant to be another reason to keep us in chambers?" Roksana asked and dipped her spoon into the steaming bowl.

"Perhaps. It could also be meant for convenience. His Lordship hasn't confined us here thus far..." Safiye pointed out, "...well most of us." She finished in a mutter.

"He is odd. Requests different things from you all." Roksana commented and then snorted, "I suppose he'll be largely out of luck with me unless he springs an injury suddenly."

Nehir smiled, "You have practical talents Roksana, that should not be dismissed so easily."

"Practical out there, not in here." Roksana pointed out, "I'm about as useful to a man as what is between my legs."

Safiye sighed, "You act like that is so awful. You can learn things if you wish it. Aylin could teach you to cook."

"Least she cooks better than she trembles." Roksana snorted.

Nehir's eyes snapped up, startled, "She's gentle, not weak."

Roksana smirked and shrugged, "The gentle get eaten first."

"Not as long as someone teaches her where to step. You will be a good influence on her, Roksana." Safiye encouraged.

Nehir looked grateful while Roksana looked sceptical.

Safiye continued, "At any rate, we should be as supportive as we'd like the rest of us to be, when she returns. It has been an emotional day and I know you both feel that."

All three of them were instantly thinking of their collars which felt a little heavier for just a moment.

"He could treat us far worse," Nehir offered, "We are lucky compared to the slaves of our country."

And that got nods of agreement from both Safiye and Roksana, all three of whom looked at Safiye's feet sadly.