by Cleo Cordell
The Captive Flesh
Cleo Cordell
First published in 1993 by Black Lace 332 Ladbroke Grove London W10 5AH
Reprinted 1994 (twice) Copyright © Cleo Cordell 1993
Typeset by CentraCet, Cambridge Printed and bound in Great Britain by Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading, Berks
ISBN 0 352 32872 X
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Black Lace novels are sexual fantasies. In real life, always practise safe sex.
The Captive Flesh
Chapter One
Marietta clung to Claudine in the darkness. The deck of the Spanish trading ship, their rescuer, pitched under their feet, slippery and treacherous.
Exhausted and half-frozen, Marietta watched sadly as the little ship which had been speeding her homewards from Nantes, sank without trace under the heaving waters of the Bay of Biscay. The storm raged still. The rescue ship seemed small and fragile, surrounded as it was by the heaving waves. She was shivering so much that she could barely stand.
'Where is Sister Anna?' Claudine said. 'I cannot see her with the others.'
Marietta shuddered, remembering how she had seen the nun swept overboard. 'She is gone. Drowned I fear, poor thing. We are alone now. Come, we must go below. Find shelter.'
Together they fought their way forwards. The sailors paid them no attention, intent on helping the other passengers. Marietta felt a strong hand take hold of her arm. Above the crashing of wind and waves, came a deep voice close to her ear.
'Come with me. You may have the use of my cabin. The hold will be crammed to bursting with people and baggage. Young ladies of breeding have need of their privacy.'
She stammered her heartfelt thanks. Claudine was beyond speech. Her face was white, her lips blue with cold. Marietta leaned on the stranger's arm as he half-carried, half-dragged them both below deck and along a narrow corridor.
'Best to strip those wet clothes off before you take a chill,' he said, throwing Marietta two large towels. There are dry clothes in that trunk you can use. I'll leave you to change. My help is needed on deck. Make yourself comfortable. Use whatever you wish.'
Thank you. You are very kind. May I ask your name-' Marietta began.
But he had gone. The door slammed shut behind him.
Gratefully she stripped off her sodden dress, bustle and petticoats, then rubbed her limbs until they glowed. Claudine wrapped herself in a towel and did the same. They sat side by side on the narrow bunk. Both were subdued by the loss of their chaperone. Marietta spoke a silent prayer for the soul of Sister Anna but she could not help feeling a sense of relief.
'I'm glad she's gone. The cold fish!' Claudine said suddenly.
Marietta looked at her friend in shocked amazement. Then suddenly they both began to laugh. Sister Anna had been a stern and humourless woman with repressed sexual hungers. Marietta remembered all the times the nun had ill-treated her. Even now the thought of what she'd made her do brought a blush to her cheeks. She had told no one of these encounters. Not even Claudine.
Claudine apparently, hated Sister Anna for her own private reasons.
'Is there . . . any brandy?' Claudine said now, her teeth chattering. She was sitting swathed in the towel, her long red hair hung in tangles over her creamy bare shoulders.
Marietta looked around for any alcohol. The cabin was large and luxurious. A charcoal brazier gave out warmth. An oil lamp, swinging crazily from the ceiling, cast a reddish glow and lent the wood panelling a polished depth. There was no brandy. She found a pot of water and coffee.
'Our rescuer is no drinker/ she said. 'But he must be a cultured man. Rich too.' She spooned ground coffee beans into a long handled pot, added water, and set it over the brazier. There is fresh fruit on the table and that bowl is gold. And look at these embroidered silk bed hangings.'
Claudine sank to her knees and opened a trunk. 'He was well spoken, with a charming accent. Is he a merchant do you think? Perhaps he is the owner of this vessel. As to his wealth, I think you are right. Look.'
She delved into the chest and scooped up armful after armful of rich and exotically designed clothes. There were pastel coloured silks, velvets, gauze veils, figured brocades. She smiled, cheered as she always was by the sight of beauty or luxury. Marietta recalled that there had been precious little of either for the two of them in the past six years.
Marietta grinned. 'What clothes are these? Theatre costumes surely.'
'Does it matter? He said we could make use of anything we found in the trunk. And we need dry clothes.'
Claudine pulled out a silken tunic of pale yellow, a deeper yellow skirt, and an embroidered and jewelled sash. She pulled the tunic over her head, then wriggled out from the towel, keeping her bare back turned to the cabin wall. While she dressed she kept her eyelids lowered.
Marietta was surprised by her modesty. Claudine had no need to be ashamed of her lovely body. They had been friends since childhood and had seen each other naked many times. They were alone now, but Marietta supposed that convent habits died hard.
Claudine dug back into the chest. 'Let me choose for you. Ah, yes. Plum coloured velvet, a wide-necked silk tunic and loose full trousers, gathered in at the ankle. How daring! Wear these, do. The colour contrasts so well with your pale colouring and light hair. There is jewellery here too.'
Her enthusiasm was infectious. Marietta laughed at Claudine's childlike delight and pulled on the outfit, feeling strange without her usual layers of petticoats and the bustle pad on her hips. The silk felt cool and exciting against her bare breasts. There was a looking glass in the cabin. The two young women admired their reflections, revelling in the lovely fabrics, the way their limbs gleamed through the thin silk. They giggled, twirling so that the fine silk billowed out like fairy wings, thinking how shocked the sisters at the convent would have been if they could have seen them.
Soon the smell of coffee filled the cabin. They had hardly finished dressing and were sipping coffee from shallow dishes when their rescuer returned. There had not been time for Marietta to study him earlier. Now she saw that he was tall and dark, with pale skin and a strong featured, angular, face.
He smiled. 'You are recovered, I see. Good. And you have made coffee. I shall join you if I may, I am in need of the warmth.'
'Please do. Mr . . .?' Marietta said.
'You may call me Kasim. And you are . . .?'
'Marietta de Nerval, and this is my dearest friend and companion Claudine Dupont.'
'Ah, you are French,' he said knowingly.
'Creole to be exact/ she said, smiling. 'We are indebted to you, Mr . . . Kasim. This cabin is very comfortable. I hope you do not mind, but we borrowed these clothes from your trunk.'
He waved a hand. 'I meant you to. I wish you to keep them. They were bought as gifts for ... for my family. But the colours might have been chosen for you. You both have such unusual colouring. Claudine with her golden skin and red-gold hair. And yourself, so pale, with silver-blonde hair and blue eyes. What a feast for any painter, indeed for any connoisseur of the arts . . .' He spread his hands and smiled disarmingly. 'Now, I insist that you keep these things. How could anyone else do such justice to them?'
Thank you monsieur. Most of our clothes were lost in the storm. You are most kind. 'Claudine smiled fetch-ingly, showing her dimples.
Kasim sipped his coffee. 'I am always kind to beautiful women. Especially young ladies in distress. Oh, dear. There I go again. I'm
sure you must think me very bold.'
His well-shaped mouth curved in a smile, but his dark eyes on Marietta were intense. She felt a delicious little shiver snake up her back. He really was most attractive.
'Perhaps not bold, but a little - too honest?' she countered.
He laughed. 'Yes I am that. Truthful to a fault, always.'
There was something languid, though not soft, in his refined features. The light of a keen intelligence was written clearly on his pale, broad brow. Marietta knew instinctively that this was a man who could be dangerous. She found the fact at once disquieting and compelling.
'We are not exactly in distress now monsieur/ Claudine said with spirit, breaking into her thoughts.
'No? But is it not true that you lost your companion in the storm and are unaccompanied?'
'Yes-'
Then I insist that you allow me to oversee your welfare. I have a large house in Algiers close to the port where we are bound. It will give me great pleasure if you would consent to be my guests until passage home can be organised for you. I can arrange for a message to be dispatched to any relatives who may be worrying about you.'
Marietta looked at Claudine. Her friend had her hand to her mouth. Her lovely light-brown eyes were as round as saucers. She gave a slight nod. Marietta responded eagerly. It was wrong, she knew. They should not accept the invitation. But who was to know? Sister Anna was no more and where else would they stay while they awaited the arrival of a suitable ship to carry them home? Far better to stay with Kasim than to have to comb the unknown town for a suitable hotel.
'Thank you monsieur/ Marietta said, speaking for them both. 'We shall be delighted to accept your kind invitation.'
Kasim finished his coffee and lifted one dark eyebrow. 'So, you are travelling to Martinique, you say? You have families there?'
Marietta nodded, thinking of the large white house at Pointe Royale. 'My father has sugar plantations there. Claudine lives with my family. We are travelling back from the convent at Nantes, where we have been completing our education.'
'Ah, I have heard of this place/ Kasim said. 'A finishing school for young ladies, is it not? And of a somewhat severe regime?'
Marietta blushed. He could not know how severe, surely. Could he?
'After the spartan surroundings and simple food you must be ready for a little luxury. You must allow me to spoil you. Rest assured that your every need will be catered for at my house.'
Claudine dimpled. 'It sounds wonderful. I am heartily sick of serviceable blue serge gowns, plain food, and bare chambers with stone walls! The mere mention of luxury makes my mouth water.'
Kasim laughed. 'Soon we shall reach Algiers. I will show you around the souk with its spice, perfume, and jewellery stalls. At my house you shall drink fruit sherbet while fountains play and the scent of jasmine and rose surrounds you. Ah, my dear young ladies. There is so much I am eager to show you.'
There was such promise in his deep velvety voice that Marietta felt a delicious little shiver creep down her back. Claudine slanted her a scandalised glance and laughed throatily. Both of them were eager to reach Algiers, sensing somehow that their lives were about to change forever.
Kasim stood up, tossing back the heavy cowl of his cloak, and crossed the cabin to the door. 'Forgive my thoughtlessness. You must both be exhausted by your ordeal. I shall leave you to sleep.'
Marietta did not feel tired. On the contrary, she felt exhilarated. She had never met anyone with such charm, such presence, and felt Kasim was something more than human. He seemed to radiate a magnetic energy. She was disappointed that their conversation must end, even for a short while. Kasim was so visually attractive. His thick dark hair fell in waves onto his shoulders. The voluminous dark clothes he wore concealed his form, but from the way he moved, it was evident that his body, though lean, was heavily muscled.
She felt a stirring in her blood. During the years at the convent her eyes had been starved for the sight of a man. Now fate or destiny had sent Kasim to her. And such a man. Claudine was watching him as she was, the front of her silk tunic rising and falling over the motion of her full bosom.
'I will give orders that you are not to be disturbed,' Kasim said. I wish you good-night. In the morning, if you will permit it, we shall breakfast together. Nothing would give me greater pleasure.'
His face was open now, friendly. Marietta was seered by his charm, but she did not entirely trust him. She wished she knew more about men. Kasim was subtle and sophisticated. Dangerous too, and effortlessly attractive. Too complex a creature for a convent girl to fathom. But Claudine seemed to be won over totally.
'But . . . but where will you sleep?' Marietta asked him.
He flashed her a grin over his shoulder. 'Do not concern yourself on my part mademoiselle Marietta. I shall share my servant's cabin next door. But it is kind of you to think of my welfare. I thank you for your concern.'
Marietta felt an odd little flutter between her thighs, as his long dark eyes looked deeply into hers for an instant. There was something unreadable in their depths.
Then Kasim turned, and was gone.
Claudine talked of nothing else but' Kasim.
'He is so striking, so cultured. I have never met anyone like him. And his manners are perfect. Such a gentleman. What is his nationality, do you think? Spanish? No. His name - Kasim - it sounds Arabic. Turkish perhaps. Do you think he liked me? He said I had pretty colouring. Many men do not care for red-blonde hair and freckles. He liked you too, more than me I think, but then you have always had admirers . . .'
And on and on it went, while Marietta nodded and commented as Claudine paused for breath. She smiled inwardly. Her friend had not been so animated in months. And if she was honest, she too was flattered by Kasim's obvious regard. Flattered and intrigued.
Claudine yawned. The bunk is fairly wide, I think there will be room for us both.'
'It will be more comfortable than the narrow beds in the dormitory/ Marietta said. 'I hated the nights there most. That cold cheerless room. The thin scratchy blankets. And I hated having to lie rigidly on my back, my arms outside the sheets, even in the coldest weather.'
'Just in case we were tempted to explore our own sinful bodies!' Claudine snorted. 'What disgusting hypocrisy.'
Marietta paused, a suspicion flaring in her mind. 'What do you mean?'
'Oh, come now. Now that we are going home there is no need to keep up the pretence. We all know what Sister Anna was.'
Marietta's cheeks flamed. She could not reply.
'Did you think it was a secret? That you were the only one she liked to torment? Do not look so dismayed. It is nothing to be ashamed of. She did those things to all the prettiest young women. After a time I... I grew to like the things she did to me.'
Marietta's head snapped up. 'Claudine!'
Then her eyes widened as Claudine dropped the single garment she wore and turned around, giving Marietta a view of her naked back. She saw now what Claudine had been hiding earlier. There were vivid red stripes across her shapely round buttocks. The weals were raised, and she realised with a shock, beautiful against the pale golden skin of Claudine's lush flesh.
She gasped. 'You too? But when? Those marks look fresh.'
Two days ago. When you thought I was walking on deck Sister Anna summoned me to her cabin. She said I needed to be reminded that chastisement purifies the soul. She said that I was a wanton creature, but she'd beat the sin out of me, as she'd done many times at the convent. I was afraid of her. She was so stern, so rigidly controlled. She made me lay across her lap and bury my face in the musty folds of her robe, so that my groans were muffled. Every stroke burned the tender skin of my bottom, so that I squirmed and cried out. But then . . . before each new stroke my skin began to itch and throb. It was as if I waited for each new smart of the switch. As if I welcomed the pain.'
Claudine paused. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink. 'I think Sister Anna knew how I felt because she didn't just beat me. After
she finished and I was sobbing with the pain of it, she . . . she rubbed the handle of the dog whip between my thighs. And then she thrust her hard cold fingers into my body. I couldn't help myself. As she moved her fingers in and out, I writhed against her hand, my cheeks flaming, while my buttocks burned and throbbed still. She called me disgusting, in that soft harsh voice of hers. She said I felt soft and juicy like a rotten fruit and that I smelt like a whore. But I seemed to revel in her insults. The more she reviled me, the more I enjoyed it. My breath came fast. I felt such an explosion of pleasure that I almost fainted. When I'd finished, she made me suck her fingers clean. Then she pushed me off her lap without a word and went out, leaving me lying sobbing on the floor. Oh, Marietta. And now she is dead. I ... I don't know what I feel . . .'
Tears glistened in Claudine's light-brown eyes. Despite her earlier bravado her full lips trembled. Marietta took her in her arms and stroked her soft hair. A single tear rolled down Claudine's cheek.
'Hush now. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. I wish we had spoken of this sooner. How many of the others did she mistreat? I thought it was only me. I dared not speak out, lest she find some new way to torment me.'
'Did she beat you?'
'N . . . No. She chose other ways to humiliate me. Come. You must be cold without your clothes. Let's get into bed. I'll tell you about it when we're tucked up warm.'
Claudine climbed into the bunk. Marietta threw off the last of her clothes and crept in beside her. They lay with their arms entwined. Claudine's full breasts were warm and soft against Marietta's own. She was shorter than Marietta. The top of her head fitted comfortably under Marietta's chin. Marietta breathed in Claudine's sweet odour of clean hair and skin.
'This is nice/ Claudine said, making a little sound of contentment and snuggling into her friend's neck. 'It reminds me of when we were children and I would creep into your bed when I had a bad dream.'
Marietta smiled, feeling safe and secure also. Claudine's young firm flesh against her own was pleasant -more than pleasant, if she was honest. She tried not to dwell on the feel of it. But it served to emphasise her own memories of Sister Anna's thin spare body; her long humourless face; the faint dusty lavender smell of her skin; the rasping sound of her cold chapped hands as she rubbed them together.