All the Sweet Tomorrows

by Bertrice Small

  “I think, my jewel, that you need a lesson in deportment.” Reaching out, he trailed his fingers in leisurely fashion down her cheek, but his eyes were cold with anger. “You have displeased me, Muna.”

  Skye shuddered at his touch, and beside her she heard Zada suck in her breath. “Please, my lord!” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

  “Dagan! Get the rods.” His voice was toneless.

  Skye’s heart began to hammer wildly, and she slid to her knees, reaching out to wrap herself about his legs. “Please, my lord, not the bastinado! I am my lord Kedar’s slave. I exist solely for his pleasure! Please, my lord!” Her voice was frantic with pleading, but in her heart Skye hated Kedar with every fiber of her being. She wanted to take a knife and plunge it into his heart! That he could torture her so cruelly both mentally and physically was appalling to her. Niall! She silently cried out to him. Niall!

  Kedar shook himself loose of her clinging arms. She was pulled roughly to her feet, and her caftan ripped off, exposing her nudity beneath. Then she was once more slammed down on her back upon the floor of the tent. Two slaves were called to hold her shoulders and arms down, and a round ottoman piled with pillows was shoved against her to force her long legs upward. Two additional slaves were called to hold her legs steady, and Zada was ordered to sit across her mistress’s hips to hold her down. Skye was already sobbing with terror, and being so successfully immobilized frightened her even more. “Pl-please, m-my lord!” she begged him once more.

  “Dagan, begin the punishment,” came Kedar’s cold voice.

  “Twenty strokes, my lord?” Dagan asked.

  Kedar debated for a moment with himself, and then he said, “Fifteen. I am of a mind to be merciful, and it is her first offense.”

  “Please, no, my lord!” Skye was growing frantic now.

  Kedar nodded to Dagan and the rod descended. A piteous shriek sounded throughout the camp, followed by several others in fairly quick succession. When she fainted to elude the pain she was almost brutally revived, the bastinadoing stopped until she was fully conscious once more. Then it began again, and Skye felt the pain sweep from the burning soles of her tortured feet up her legs almost to her hips. Pinioned down, she still fought them, begging and pleading with Kedar for the mercy she knew he was not going to give her. Yet she continued to cry out to him in the vain hope that she could touch some chord within him. She struggled to stay conscious lest she offend him further and prolong her punishment.

  Sitting astride her hips, Zada whispered to her the number of strokes. “Eleven. Twelve. Courage, mistress! Fourteen. Fifteen!”

  It was over. The hold on her arms, shoulders, and legs was released, and Zada arose. With a sob Skye curled herself into a tight ball upon the rug, and wept desperately. Suddenly with frightening awareness she realized that all about her was quiet. Slowly she raised her head. Dagan, Zada, and the other slaves were gone. Only Kedar remained, and the light in his eyes was unmistakable. Dear God, she thought horrified, he couldn’t!

  “Do you know how much I want you, Muna,” he whispered hoarsely. “Dear Allah, how I want you now!” He knelt by her side, fumbling eagerly for her lush breasts, and she knew that she dare not refuse him. Kedar pushed Skye onto her back again and, pulling his robes up, thrust quickly into her. He pounded against her all the while telling her how she excited him, how watching her being beaten had made his passion rise to the point where he could not deny himself her body. Then without warning he poured himself into her, and fell upon her breasts panting. They lay that way together for several long minutes, and then Kedar recovered himself. Standing up, he looked down at her and said, “You will dance for my guests tonight, Muna. See that you are ready when I call you to me.”

  She nodded at him, her beautiful blue eyes still wet with her pain and her shame as he strode from the tent. Skye pulled herself up, crying out softly at the pain she felt in her feet, and then Zada was there to help her.

  “I have something that will take the pain away, mistress. Dagan brought it to me. He begs your forgiveness.”

  “He enjoyed it, the brute!” Skye accused.

  “No, no, mistress! Dagan would be your friend,” Zada assured her as she helped Skye into the privacy of the sleeping alcove.

  Skye glowered at the girl. Naturally Dagan would be her friend if he thought that Skye had Kedar’s ear. Well, at least his eagerness to be friendly proved to Skye that her position with Kedar was a strong one.

  “How lord Kedar loves you!” Zada enthused.

  “In my country we do not beat the women we love,” Skye muttered irritably.

  “Here, we do!” Zada grinned broadly at her. “And then to mate with you afterward! What a man he is! How I wish a man like that had carried me off before my family sold me, but then I am not beautiful like you, mistress. Lie back now and let me put the salve Dagan gave me on your poor feet.”

  “Will it ease the pain? The lead Kedar commands that I dance this evening.”

  “You will dance. Never fear, mistress. The master has given orders that you rest, and be fed the choicest part of the kid and other delicacies.”

  “The veils, Zada. You will have to seek among my things for them.”

  “The colors, mistress?”

  “Black. All black, the better to show off my skin; the black ones with the bits of gold thread shot through them, Zada.”

  Zada nodded and then knelt to gently smooth the ointment that Dagan had told her to use over Skye’s poor red feet. When she had finished, she covered Skye with a light wool coverlet and hurried off to find the veils. Suddenly exhausted, Skye quickly slipped into sleep.

  She rested for just over an hour, and then Zada was gently shaking her awake. The slave girl had brought her a plate filled with succulent pieces of roasted kid, small grilled onions and pieces of green pepper, freshly baked flat bread, and a goblet of icy mountain water flavored with orange syrup. Sitting up, Skye found she felt better. She was hungry, and the burning pain in her feet was greatly eased. She finished everything on the plate, and then Zada brought her a small dish of sweetmeats.

  “Dagan prepared these especially for you, mistress,” she said.

  Skye looked at the plump, moist apricots filled with a mixture of chopped and honied nuts, and the colorful jellies that smelled of vanilla, cinnamon, and almond. They were beautiful, and looked absolutely delicious. Skye reached out and took a red jelly, which she popped into her mouth. “This is marvelous,” she said, quite pleased. “Tell Dagan I thank him for such delicacies.” She ate a second jelly, and then one of the apricots.

  “I will go and prepare your bath,” Zada said.

  Skye lay back munching contentedly upon another apricot and several more jellies. How kind of Dagan to go to such trouble for her, for how, out here along this ancient camel track, he had managed to prepare such delights she couldn’t imagine. Perhaps he was not the villain she had branded him. She was beginning to feel quite relaxed and filled with goodwill by the time that Zada returned.

  “I have prepared your bath, mistress,” Zada said, “and afterward the master has ordered that Dagan massage your body.”

  “If I get any more relaxed,” Skye remarked, “I shall fall asleep.”

  “It is the jellies, mistress.”

  “What is in them?” Suddenly Skye wondered if this was some other nasty plot of Kedar’s.

  “They are made with hashish, mistress. It comes from a plant, at least the tops of a plant. It won’t hurt you. Our people have used it for many years, and it’s only to make you feel good.”

  “Eat one!” Skye commanded.

  “Oh, may I?” Zada’s brown eyes were round with delight, and she quickly popped a green jelly into her mouth before Skye might change her mind. “Thank you, mistress!”

  Skye rose to her feet feeling somewhat dizzy, but her mind, though fuzzy, said, If Zada eats them they aren’t poison.

  “No more now, my lady,” Zada chided her. “Save them until just before you must
dance. They will inspire you.”

  Zada helped Skye into the small wooden tub, and Skye noted that tonight the water smelled of roses and musk. She sat quietly as the slave girl pinned up her long hair and gently washed her. Zada worked quickly, and then as quickly dried her mistress. Leading her back to the velvet mattress, she instructed Skye, “Lie upon your belly so Dagan may begin the massage.”

  I don’t want Dagan to massage me, Skye thought in the fuzzy recesses of her benumbed brain, but she couldn’t seem to say it aloud. Then she felt the black’s supple fingers upon her body, and she didn’t care any longer.

  Dagan dug his long fingers into her soft flesh with a practiced skill. His clever hands smoothed over her skin with a firm but gentle touch. Up and down her back, her legs and buttocks, her shoulders and arms, her feet. Together he and Zada rolled Skye onto her back, and then Dagan massaged her belly and her breasts, the fronts of her legs and her feet, and shoulders, and arms. Through her foggy consciousness Skye protested, but the black seemed to consider touching her a job, perhaps even a boring job, and nothing more.

  When he had finished they let her rest a few minutes, and she floated deliciously through them. She had never felt more relaxed, more sensual. Her head finally cleared just as Zada said, “It is time to dress you, mistress,” and helped Skye to her feet. The slave woman clasped a delicate gold chain made of tiny, flat, filigreed links just below Skye’s hips. To it she attached three sheer silk veils on each side of Skye, a larger veil in back over her buttocks, and one the same size that hung to her ankles in front. Then, while Skye stood silently, Zada outlined her eyes in blue kohl and painted her nipples in carmine. Her whole body was tingling, and reeked of roses and musk. As Zada brushed her hair with a brush dipped in musk, she said, “Would you like another of the jellies, mistress? Best to have them now, for you will soon dance.”

  Skye popped several more of the sweetmeats into her mouth, licking her fingers to remove the sticky residue. The euphoria began to return, and Skye suddenly realized that whatever it was that they had put into the confections—hashish, Zada had called it—was most definitely responsible. Every movement she made now seemed exaggerated and sweeping. Zada fastened a small chain about Skye’s neck, and to it she attached a veil that fell over her breasts and down past her waist. Another veil covered her shoulders and back, and an even longer one was placed across her face. Zada’s lithe hands moved suggestively over Skye’s body, fluffing and positioning the veils so they would float correctly.

  “You are so beautiful, mistress,” she murmured. “You are like a goddess belonging to the old ones. Every man who sees you dance will want you. That is what the master desires, to be the envy of his friends. You must dance your best so that they all lust for you.” Zada caressed Skye’s breasts and belly and buttocks, her hands moving swiftly, and her words and her movements began to communicate themselves to Skye’s blurred and confused mind.

  She felt a tingling between her legs, and her beautiful breasts began to almost ache with their tightness. Outside in the main portion of the tent she began to hear music, and with a sly smile Zada fitted her fingers with the four shiny brass tals. “Go,” she whispered in Skye’s ear. “Go, and drive them wild with your beauty and sensuality. Our lord Kedar will be pleased.” Skye stepped out from behind the curtained alcove and walked across the tent to prostrate herself before Kedar.

  “Rise, Muna,” he commanded her, his hazel eyes quickly taking in the black veils with their tiny golden stars. It was a perfect costume for her, her white limbs glowing mysteriously through the dark silk. “This, my friends, is the magnificent gift that my uncle, the famous Osman, presented to me on my arrival in Algiers. She has easily become my favorite, even though there is a tiny streak of willfulness in her that needs curbing.”

  “A little spice never hurt a tasty dish, Kedar,” remarked a black-bearded man, and the other guests chuckled.

  “In that case, Hamid, it is fortunate I am fond of spicy food,” Kedar replied, and the chuckles became guffaws of laughter.

  Skye let her misty eyes wander about the group that sat eating about a low table. There were seven or eight men, but she could not seem to concentrate upon them or upon much of anything else for that matter. She could still feel Zada’s hands lightly brushing her, and rather than repel her the way a woman’s touch always had, Skye felt sexually aroused and her passion seemed to be growing instead of fading.

  “Dance, Muna!” She heard the command in the murky recesses of her cloudy mind. “Dance for us, my jewel!”

  The three musicians began to play, and almost instantly the throb of the drum and the whine of the reed pipes began to communicate themselves to her. Skye began to dance slowly, her body weaving sensuously in time to the music. For some minutes she wove and bobbed across the floor in front of them, and then as the music began to increase in tempo she started to remove her veils.

  Kedar and his guests had been watching with mild interest, but now they eagerly leaned forward, fascinated. The six side veils were quickly disposed of, as was the long head veil, and her long hair swung out and floated free with her erotic motions. The music grew more intense as the back and breast veils were tossed aside. Only three veils remained, the two covering her lower limbs and her face veil. Arms outstretched, Skye danced, first thrusting her lush breasts forward, and then pushing out her hips in an obvious and suggestive movement. Around and around she twirled as the tempo of the music grew faster and faster. Kedar chuckled softly to himself as Skye removed the last three veils, for he noted that several of his guests had slipped their hands beneath their robes to discreetly ease their longings.

  Now Skye, totally nude, moved closer to Kedar and his guests. Teasingly she clanged the brass tals beneath their noses as she dipped and swooped, almost brushing several of them with her full, red-nippled breasts. She was lost in a hazy world of her own, and only the insistent beat of the drum, the nasal shriek of the reeds, and the erotic movement of her own hungry body held any meaning for her. The men who sat watching were filled with fierce lust for her, the ripe rose musk scent of her voluptuous body, the dance itself; but obedient to the tempo, Skye was aware of nothing but herself. As the music reached a wild crescendo Skye twirled in the final amorous and sexually impassioned movements of the dance before falling to the floor before Kedar, her beautiful body posed in a gesture of total submission to the master.

  Kedar’s guests roared their approval, clapping and shouting, tossing gold coins and small jewels at her. With eyes wide Skye looked up at Kedar, who was beaming with approval at her. “Take the tributes, my jewel. You have earned them this night.”

  “They are not half worthy of her, Kedar,” said the man named Hamid. “I do not expect you want to sell her, but should you ever grow tired of her I will pay you whatever you desire. She is indeed exquisite.”

  Skye did not stay to hear any more, but quickly gathered up the tribute showered upon her by Kedar’s friends, for to leave it would have been terribly insulting. Then she fled back across the tent floor to the alcove. Suddenly she felt depressed, as if she might cry. Dagan and Zada were awaiting her, the former grinning broadly, the latter chattering delightedly. She gave them each a gold coin, but as she did so Zada noted her sad face and looked quickly to Dagan.

  “The master will come soon to pleasure himself, and he will not be pleased to find her weeping,” she hissed at the black eunuch.

  “Come, mistress,” Dagan murmured soothingly, and drew her down upon the velvet mattress again. “Let me rub away the tension you have built up during your dance.” He knelt and began to massage her feet, which had begun to ache once more. “Give her the sweetmeats, little fool!” he snapped at Zada. “We have not much time, and she must be eager and ready for the lord Kedar.”

  “Here, dearest lady Muna,” Zada said sweetly, “eat, and all will be well again, I promise you. Oh, how marvelous you were when you danced! We could both see how pleased the master is with you.” Zada gently forced s
everal small jellies into Skye’s mouth, and then began to caress her breasts. As quickly as the depression had come upon her it began to slide away beneath the tender ministrations of the two slaves. Zada’s hand brushed across Skye’s belly, and Skye felt her own desires beginning to stir again. Beyond the curtained alcove Zada and Dagan could hear Kedar bidding his guests a jovial goodnight, and they hurried to prepare Skye for him.

  Zada leaned over and began to whisper softly and suggestively into Skye’s ear. She knew that the hashish in the sugary confections Dagan had prepared had already loosened Skye’s inhibitions once this evening. Now just a little bit of suggestion, and she would eagerly welcome the master. “Only a moment more, my lady Muna,” she murmured, “and the lord Kedar will come to you.” Zada fondled Skye’s breasts gently. “Soon the master will fill you full with his fine big manhood. The pleasure will be magnificent, won’t it? Allah, how I wish I might lie beneath him while he pumped himself into me! How fortunate you are, my lady Muna.”

  “Yes,” Skye breathed, “oh, yes! Quickly, Zada, remove the stain from my nipples. My lord Kedar loves to nurse upon my breasts, and I would not poison him.” Skye was beginning to feel hot with her longing to be possessed by Kedar. God, how she wanted his bigness inside her, and she wanted it now! He was like a mighty stallion, his stamina being so great. With a smug smile of satisfaction Zada wiped Skye’s nipples free of red stain. Skye was already writhing with anticipation. None of them heard Kedar enter the alcove.

  For a long moment he stood watching as his favorite black massaged and soothed Skye’s feet; as Zada erased the last traces of red from Skye’s lush breasts; as Skye herself moved upon the velvet mattress in love’s rhythm. He could see that they had drugged her, and he smiled, amused. He liked it that his slaves were so eager to please him, but now he wanted them gone. He was already hard and aching beneath his robes. “Disrobe me!” he snapped, and both Zada and Dagan leapt to their feet to remove his few garments. “Find your own beds,” he commanded them, and without even waiting to see them gone, he lay down next to Skye.