The Captive Flesh

by Cleo Cordell

  'Do try it Marietta. It is quite delightful. The tobacco is perfumed and very cool.'

  Marietta declined to smoke.

  'Would you like to bathe then?' Leyla said. 'Your friend is comfortable here. Let us leave her to entertain the women. We do not have many visitors. Any diversion is welcome.'

  Claudine waved the pipe tube, looking completely at ease. 'You go, Marietta,' she said, 'I'll join you later.'

  She was plainly flattered by all the attention. A group of women had gathered around her. They were admiring her pale skin, stroking her red-gold hair. The golden freckles on the skin above her neckline caused many comments. One of the women unwound a sparkling blue sash from her waist and held it up against Clau-dine's skin.

  'Women of your fair colouring are a rarity in these regions,' Leyla said to Marietta. 'You will be made much of here. But others will be jealous. Stay close to me. I will protect you.'

  Protect her from what? Marietta wondered, and was about to ask. But Leyla was leading the way across the room, her slim sandalled feet making no sound on the thick colourful rugs. Claudine's infectious bell-like laugh rang out. It seemed that this place, with its luxury and promise of sensual delights, was already working its spell on her friend.

  'Come Marietta,' Leyla said, in her soft husky voice. 'I will take you to the hammam where all worries and fears are put aside for a time, and there is only the enjoyment of the perfumed water. If you are tired you will be invigorated. If you are tense, you will become relaxed.'

  It was just what Marietta needed to hear. She went with Leyla, gladly.

  This is the hammam - the baths,' Leyla explained. 'It is more than a place of cleansing. Here we meet to relax and exchange gossip. Only women are allowed. The men have separate baths in different parts of the house.'

  The ballroom at Marietta's house in Martinique was not as fine. Tall narrow columns soared up to a coloured skylight. The walls and floors were inlaid with tiles. A dense perfumed vapour hung over the room. A plunge pool occupied the centre of it. The surface of the water was level with the floor.

  A number of women, naked or partially clothed, were being attended by slaves holding dishes of sweetmeats. Some of them swam in the pool, others sat on the sides drying their hair with fluffy towels. More of them sat around talking, or reclining on cushioned platforms.

  They were all beautiful.

  A woman walked up to Leyla, wearing only a pair of bath shoes and a loose gauze robe. A jewelled sash was tied loosely on her hips. She had a large-framed voluptuous body, all of it clearly visible through the thin gauze. Propping one hand on her hip, she exchanged a few friendly words with Leyla. When she laughed her breasts jiggled.

  Marietta averted her eyes, trying not to stare. She had never seen so many naked women. When bathing, at the convent, she had been made to wear a voluminous calico robe. All bodily contact between the young women was frowned upon, so she was doubly shocked when the woman gave Leyla a lingering kiss on the mouth before tottering away on her stilted shoes.

  Leyla smiled. 'I have kept you waiting. Forgive me. Come then, we must disrobe. First we wash and make our bodies beautiful. Then after, we can talk and drink sherbet.'

  Two female slaves stood ready to wait on them. They were both young and comely, and naked except for their jewellery. Chains and strings of metal discs adorned the slaves' necks and chests. And peeking, through all this finery, were their upright young breasts, each gilded nipple jutting out provocatively. Despite Marietta's censorious thoughts, she found all the nakedness arousing.

  The slaves disrobed Leyla. Her perfect body drew Marietta's eyes, as earlier Gabriel's had done. Leyla's limbs were long and rounded. The skin, pale, glowing softly like a pearl. She had large breasts, full and slightly up-tilted, with prominent wine-red nipples. Her waist was narrow, tapering to lushly flaring hips. The smooth indentation that swooped down to her groin, on either side of her flat belly, was particularly lovely. Marietta swept her eyes down Leyla's body in appreciation, realising that, to her utter amazement, there was no body hair.

  She found herself staring openly at the smoothly naked mound, where the slit of Leyla's sex was plainly visible. It looked strange to her. The little pouting mound was somehow childlike, yet distinctly womanly at the same time. The pink inner lips showed slightly through the closed flesh lips, and, as Leyla moved, Marietta saw the tip of what looked like a darker pink bud protruding. It was most enticing.

  Leyla caught her looking. She did not seem to mind. Turning around in a circle, she said, without a trace of modesty, 'I am beautiful. Yes? You like me Marietta? That is good. For I find you beautiful too. We shall find pleasure in each other.'

  Her words were strange. They promised something unknown. Marietta felt excited and fearful in equal measures.

  Leyla watched closely as Marietta was undressed. Marietta squirmed under the directness of those long black eyes, but she did not protest. It seemed foolish to protest when everyone else was naked, or partly so, but as the final garments were taken from her, she could not help hunching over a little and holding her cupped hands over the lightly-shadowed mound at the joining of her thighs.

  Leyla laughed huskily. 'But no,' she said. 'Do not hide yourself. Let me look.'

  She took hold of Marietta's wrists and gently but firmly pulled her arms out to the sides and held them there. Marietta's cheeks felt hot. She longed to cover herself. The two slaves girls watched, smiling slightly. Her embarrassment mounted as Leyla studied her intently.

  'Ah. You have no need of the magic of cosmetics. Your body is beautiful. Such pretty breasts, so high and round, and the nipples, pink and tender, waiting for the touch of hands or mouth. Your waist is small, very small. That device of bones and laces you wear is to make a small waist, yes? Your hips are shapely, they flare out beautifully.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'What is it? You do not like?'

  'Yes ... I like. But . . .'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Leyla smiled into her eyes. 'No? Lovely Marietta,' she said, tugging very gently on the little hood of flesh that covered the bud. 'Your mind says no, but your body wishes it. Let it have its way. Give yourself up to pleasure. Learn to take that pleasure wherever you can, as 1 have done. The hours here can seem so long.

  Boredom is the enemy of the women in the harem. Why not take what is free and enjoyable?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  The fruit ripens for you, fair one. How it swells. What delight Kasim will have in you.'

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

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

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