Lovely Concubine

by Misha Anderson

  As the water washes my body, my “limb” throbbed still alert, still waiting to be lost between Bianca's thighs, inside her body.

  And her scent of ripe fruit and vanilla is entangled in my skin, my hands go down to my stiff and heavy cock, throbbing and longing, for relief.

  The revival of my body, my desire, is something new to me, I thought I was dead, as a man and as a male.

  The incessant pulsing of my stiff flesh, the sight of Bianca's wizarding body, the exciting sound of her groans, the rich, intoxicating taste of her mouth, carry my control like a leaf loose in the wind.

  My fingers wander around my “limb”, back and forth, my sex getting harder, more sensitive.

  The reddish, damp glans, I close my eyes trying to get the feel of her warm, soft body next to mine, the uncontrollable urge to bury myself so deep and so hard in her pussy, that she would still feel me inside for days .

  Lost in my desire, in the eagerness to take it, I enjoy ...

  The semen is whitish and filling, flooding my abdomen, pouring down my thighs.

  And everything around me is so out of place, Bianca turned my world inside out as she entered my life, like a whirlwind, an intense summer rain.

  It was not meant to be, the pain was always my companion, it was she who guided me, day after day, kept me alive.

  And now? What can I do with this woman who is slowly dropping my walls?

  I can’t take this burden from my back, not while the blood of Ishna and Amira is still fresh on the hands of my enemies.

  This hunger I feel for Bianca, the sensations she brings me, this sperm between my fingers, all these seem wrong to me.

  Being happy is a selfish act on my part, not with the scattered pieces of the bodies of my daughter, my wife, still vivid in my memory.

  I sit on the stall’s floor, rich, cold and lonely, in my bedroom and I cry, I still feel the remnants of my enjoyment, my body lit and alive, begging for Bianca.

  CHAPTER 4

  BIANCA

  Nahan has just left my room, I look in the mirror, still lost in the sensations that I experienced for the first time. I've touched my body a few times, too few to be honest, but it's never been this way, as intense as now. I seek answers and I can’t understand myself: Nahan kidnapped me, plucked me from the bosom of my family, because of his personal revenge, the feelings I should feel for him should be of hatred, anger, repulsion; not this desire, this visceral urge to have him, to be his.

  I have always been a pruned girl, sexually and emotionally, my family's rigid religious beliefs have always made me believe that the pursuit of pleasure was ugly, vulgar, dirty.

  But when I am in Nahan’s arms I feel so beautiful, desired, complete. I blame myself and I'm ashamed, of what I feel for him, with him, it's wrong, it can only be wrong ...

  I finish getting dressed and when I'm about to leave the room, I hear knocks on the door. I open the door slowly, worried about being him, if he wants to have sex with me, what am I going to do? I put my head out, and through the gap a lady in her early 60s faces me.

  - Good morning, I work here, my name is Thurayya, can I talk to you?

  I am curious about what brought her here and I open the door, she comes in greeting me, when I reach out to shake her hand, to reciprocate the greeting, accompanying her to a sofa.

  -I did not even say my name, it's a pleasure, I'm ... She interrupts me with a funny air.

  - Bianca. I know who you are, King Nahan has spoken about you.

  He talked about me? What did he say about me? Did he say he's going to set me free? Suddenly my chest fills with hope and a strange feeling comes along with hope, it is an agony, a sore squeeze, thinking that I will never see him again.

  I can only really be going crazy.

  -He said he's going to set me free?

  Thurayya shakes her head and watches me in silence, after a while without saying anything, concludes:

  -No. You're going to stay with us Bianca, I'll get you more clothes, shoes, your favourite personal items, anyway, everything you need, just talk to me. I must know your measurements.

  -He said he will not free me?

  Thurayya stays quiet and I straighten my back, bothered by receiving this jet of cold water. He will not let me go, I will have to absorb this, to be able to accept this news, I don’t know.

  -Don’t you want to go out and get some sun?

  Even with my eyes full of water, thinking about my family, I answer instantly:

  -I'd like that.

  After giving my measurements to Thurayya, she invites me to visit her in the kitchen and I decide to accept her suggestion. I need to move my body, take some fresh air, otherwise I'll grow roots in this room. I dress a white t-shirt, jeans, slippers, and I leave the room. I encounter Nahan in the hallway and he comes towards me, avoiding looking me in the eyes.

  -I'm glad you decided to leave the room.

  -I'm going to visit Thurayya in the kitchen, can you tell me where it is?

  He is dressed so casually, in faded jeans and a black T-shirt, as if they saw him on the street, he would never be mistaken for a king. Nahan approaches a little more than he should, invading my personal space, leading me down the hallway, his hand resting on my waist. Even over my clothes, I feel my skin shiver with his touch.

  -I'll take you to Thura. If you want to move around the palace and surroundings, just talk to her, tomorrow I'll take you to see the beauty of our lands.

  We reach the kitchen, Thura makes me sit at the table, and Nahan grabs an apple in the fruit bowl, then leaves. From the kitchen door, I watch him as he takes the first bite, full of appetite and staring at me.

  Ah! That fleshy mouth ...

  The chit-chat that would last five minutes, ends in over half an hour. Thurayya lets the conversation flow freely, she tells me that she is Nahan's aunt and his milkmom. She also tells me swiftly how much the family's death, rocked Nahan, and the chronic insomnia that he acquired shortly after the assassinations.

  The hours go by quickly, I have dinner in my room and the night falls, at dawn I can hear footsteps down the hall, I open the door and I see Nahan coming out of his room in pyjama pants, his hair messed up and carrying a pillow. I wait for him to go ahead and follow him to see where he is going, Nahan sits down on the couch in the main hall and I go back to my room, I don’t know if I can sleep.

  Three days have run like the wind and since the morning we kissed, he avoids meeting me, only comes home late after endless commitments that seem to drain even more of his strength. One of those days, I found him coming out of a room, that after Thura told me that it's the office, with a pillow under his arm and with a scary defeat look, he's not well.

  Today is Saturday and he invited me to join him for breakfast, his beard needs to be shaved, is even bigger and the deep circles under his eyes denounce that he has not slept for days. Wrinkles of expression surround his eyes and lips, he tears a piece of dry Syrian bread, takes a cup of coffee and then another, I think to stay awake, I give up pretending that I'm not seeing his deplorable state and I ask:

  -Have you slept Nahan?

  He denies without looking at me and continues to drink the coffee, the saucer lightly shakes, in the palm of his hand.

  I decide to continue, I need to find out what's happening to him.

  - Some problems?

  Nahan smirks and concludes:

  - All.

  -Can I help with anything?

  He squeezes his lips in a stiff line and shakes his head.

  - Excuse me, Bianca.

  He leaves me at the table and goes out screaming Thura's name, grumpy like a bruised feline. I see his image moving away through the corridor, trying to keep its kingly, macho grandeur, but his fallen shoulders denounce his personal misery. A song by Gonzaguinha suddenly comes to mind, as he disappears down the corridor of his palace, his fragile fortress.

  A MAN ALSO CRIES (WARRIOR BOY)

  A man also cries

  Brunette girl<
br />
  I also want colour

  Soft words

  Needs affection

  Needs tenderness

  needs a hug

  His own candour

  Warriors are people

  So strong, so fragile

  Warriors are boys

  Deep inside

  They need a break.

  They need a backwater.

  They need sleep.

  That would make them redone

  It's sad to see my man.

  Boy warrior

  With the bar of its time

  Over his shoulders

  I see he screams.

  I see he bleeds

  The pain that comes in the chest

  For love and love ...

  Today I walked around the palace, visited the vegetable garden with Thura and at night, I didn’t see Nahan, again. In the middle of the night, I wake up, frightened, with a presence in my room, when I turn on the lamp, I see Nahan sitting on the couch, staring at me more miserable than ever. He is barefoot, his hair dishevelled, and with an air of desolate weariness.

  -Forgive me, I did not want to wake you.

  Nahan drummed his fingers on his thighs and I feel sorry for that huge man, who night after night seeks shelter anywhere, any refuge to try to rest his body, to turn off his pain and he can’t do it. I think if he gets another day without sleep he will collapse, I ask, already, knowing the answer:

  -Can’t you sleep?

  He nods and his eyes are full of water, I don’t dare asking what images are going on in his head right now, because of his scorched expression, it must be something very painful, I'm not prepared for his answer, suddenly I am taken by an impetus and I ask to him:

  - Can I trust you?

  -I'm an honourable man, Bianca.

  I decide to risk, my heart breaks when I see him like an animal in pain, languishing all these days for wanting to close my eyes and just forget ...

  -Lie down here, I'll try something.

  Nahan stares at me in surprise, not understanding.

  - What?

  I hit the mattress and insist:

  -Lie down here with me, you said you are an honourable man, I will trust your word, I know you will not force me into anything. Come on, Nahan.

  Nahan stands up, not quite trusting my invitation, sits on the bed, as if it's full of scorpions and I pull his arm, to lie down, he gives in and stares at me, alert and surprised by my attitude.

  I take two pillows and lay between the two of us, he is lying on the bed looking more like a frail and broken boy, I hold my gaze steady, if he realizes that I pity his pain, his masculine pride will be hurt.

  -Come closer, I'll do something that always worked when my sister Brenda could not sleep.

  Nahan gets closer, just the pillows separating our bodies, and I reach out to stroke his hair, my fingers wander unhurriedly over his head, both of us in silence, just the touch of my hands uniting us. He closed his eyes to absorb the sensations of my fingers’ tips running through his hair, his face, the back of his neck.

  Nahan let out a moan and time passed without us both feeling it, he and I fell asleep, his head resting between my breasts, my hand in his hair and our bodies glued together.

  On the floor, our fears were left inert, together with the two pillows that separated us from each other.

  CHAPTER 5

  BIANCA

  WHAT IS LOVE (JOHNY ALF)

  Just looks, then smile, then like

  You looked at me, then you smiled, you made me like it

  I wanted to control my heart

  But the emotion was so great

  From your mouth I heard, I want you.

  I wanted to respond, I wanted to hug you

  Everything failed

  But you held me and kissed me.

  Now I can argue

  If you ask what love is

  Just look, then smile, then like

  Sometimes the dream is much more interesting than our reality. I know I have to wake up, but I still keep my eyes closed, holding myself in the sensations of a delicious dream. In that dream, I stare at Nahan, frightened and frail, facing me, completely naked.

  And when I look at his hands, they are fastened by thick fetters, which hurt his skin. I wipe away his tears and caress his hands. I take a key from the dress’ neckline, and with it I open his shackles, his handcuffs.

  He is free and I also feel free.

  Nestled in his arms, I feel him grabbing me with his strong hands by my waist, bringing me to his powerful erection.

  And the feel of his hot, hard cock between my thighs is a delight, irresistible. He pulls my hair aside and nibbles at the earlobe, moaning words in his native tongue, but I believe they speak of love, desire, and pleasure.

  His hands roam free and curious on the curves of my body, stopping between my thighs.

  I open my legs wider, I grind my thighs to receive his firm and amazing touch, my moans become louder and louder, I moan more and beg for him inside me.

  -Nahan, please, more, I want more.

  And in my moist, erotic dream Nahan moans against my neck and bites the back of my neck as he probes me through my panties, soaked with honey and expectation, when he orders:

  - Bianca, my beautiful one, wake up.

  I open my eyes and I don’t dream anymore, Nahan is clinging to my back, playing with my vagina through the lingerie, up and down.

  I am absurdly and embarrassingly wet, my vagina soaked and his fingers slip easily between my flesh throbbing, wanting, pulsing with him, for him, inside me.

  I let out a distressed, desperate moan as he masturbates me faster and harder, taking my ear to his mouth and whispering perversely:

  -Forgive me, please forgive me, I could not resist.

  Nahan asks me to forgive him, but his hands do not leave my sex, I arch and I do not have the strength to respond.

  I turn my belly up and he takes advantage of my movement and like a predator, he lies on top of me, his hips wedging between my thighs and assaults my neck, my collarbone, with his nasty mouth down the curve of my breasts.

  It frees my breasts from the bulge of my bra and gently takes my nipples, his tongue is like a soft breeze, shivering my wet skin with saliva. Sucking my nipples and rubbing his beard on my skin.

  Sucking and licking my breasts, making me squirm because of the large amount of hot fluids that flood my vagina, dripping more and more as his mouth travels a long, torturous path to my vagina.

  He wraps the fragile bottom of my panties between his fingers and rips them off.

  Without giving me any chance to protest or to think whether it is right, whether he is my kidnapper, my tormentor or the liberator of the desirous woman inside me, of the female desperate to be taken.

  He brings his tongue between my vaginal lips and opens them like an expert, slowly licking my clit, whipping its sensitive nerves with his tongue, at the exact point of my pleasure.

  Walking through the recesses of my sex, I arch my body, tortured by his hot and addictive mouth. I feel a finger penetrating me slowly and my body tightens, there is no pain, just a hot agony from the way that his finger invades my sex firmly and smoothly, in the same time, Nahan looks in my direction and with glazed eyes of desire, he asks me, with a hoarse voice:

  -Tell me how you like it, is it good like this, my girl?

  I squeeze my lips to stifle the moans and I assert.

  -Oh, yes, so good, ah! Nahan.

  -Don’t hold yourself, give me your pleasure, I want all your sweet taste in my mouth, cum for me, Bianca.

  And it intensifies the caresses, licking me, sucking me, invading me.

  With his hands, mouth and raw and genuine pleasure.

  The heat in my belly becomes unbearable, and a damp torrent of pure ecstasy loosens from my gut, and I cum, screaming his name from my throat, like a knife piercing my cunt, my soul.

  We heard a loud knock on the door, he got scared and so did I.

&nb
sp; It scares me, the tortuous path my heart is following, the fact that I long for my freedom, for returning to my life, but I am terrified at the possibility of never seeing Nahan again.

  And, most of all, I'm scared of the incredible feeling of waking in his arms, his warmth heating my skin. My face burns with shame, not only from my nakedness or from the pleasure he gave me, especially because each day he has me more vulnerable, more captive.

  I will not let him play with me like that, kidnap me, get me involved, probably fuck me to exhaustion, until I become old news and then throw me into some cold prison.

  He stares at me with his eyes full of malice, and the anger takes me unexpectedly.

  - Why are you doing this to me? Who do you think you are to play with my head like this? I have nothing to do with your revenge, you took me away from my family, told me you would kill me and now what? Did the plan change? Do you want me to get involved and prove to your enemies that you're capable of making an idiot prisoner, fall in love with you?

  Nahan looks at me, surprised with my reaction, but it's always been that way that I've been seen: balanced, sweet, predictable, upright, passive. Well everyone can go to shit with their certainties about me, I'm much more than a good girl, just doing everything as everyone wants.

  -Well, I ask you, what are you doing to me? My only plan was to take revenge on the Hassan, that was the idea, you were not in my plans. You messed up everything and I do not know what I should do with you.

  I pick up another pair of panties on the dresser and I look awkwardly, trying to cover myself up as fast as I can. Nahan does not look away, leaving me pissed off and very dull. I turn to him and ask, already knowing the answer:

  -Are you not going to let me go back to my family, to my house?

  He doesn’t face me, he shakes his head vehemently, his eyes are lost only God knows where.

  -Here, now is your house, this is your palace, your kingdom Bianca.

  What crazy talk is this of this palace to be mine? Nothing here is mine.

  In fact, I do not even remember if I actually had something truly mine, beyond my thoughts, my foolish dreams of being happy.

  -Your palace, your people, your kingdom, Nahan. My house is in Brazil, that's where I belong.

  -Your place is where I am, Bianca. No matter how hard you try to deny it, you want me as much as I want you, let's see how far you can pretend it's not true.