Dunyazad: Tale the First

By this time, I was getting distinctly light-headed. I pulled off my jacket and lay down for a moment. Without meaning to, I was soon asleep, but what with the day's excitement (to say nothing of the brandy) I was troubled by strange and vivid dreams. At first, it seemed that I had woken to find all the candles relit. Then I saw Lucy, sitting naked at the mirror. Lately, I had been dreaming of her a lot. Her back to me, she was brushing out her long hair. Except that Lucy's hair wasn't nearly so long. But then who...? A stranger was inside my locked chambers, and she would hardly be alone! In my dream, I reached under my pillow for my knife.

At that she turned and stood, and I saw that she was not naked after all. Not exactly. She was wearing the treasure from the box - gold chains about her waist, gold bangles about her wrists, and a glorious jewelled necklace, which lay in a cascade of glittering fire between her proud breasts. Younger than Lucy, her hair was dark and lustrous, and her skin a rich olive tone. And her face! As she glided nearer, the candlelight revealed her striking features. She had an eastern look to match her attire – high cheekbones, a wide sensuous mouth, and penetrating almond eyes. The combination was striking.

She was at the foot of the cot when she said, in Latin, "Thou hast no need ofthat prickler whilst I am here, my prince. Your enemies are my enemies."

As so often in a dream, I couldn't move; but somehow I found my tongue. Stupidly, I repeated, in my awkward schoolboy Latin, "Your prince?"

"None but a prince has the power and strength to win me, and possess me. And Lo! You wear the leopard ring, so you have slain Benedetto, for no man would willingly part with me. Are you French?"

As she spoke, she came closer, still with her appraising stare. She seemed older, at this range, more by manner than by appearance. As in most dreams, the words made no sense. Who had I killed? Benedetto?

My last drowsing thoughts had been of the odd box I had opened. Benedetto, I knew from my studies, was the long departed Pope Boniface's birth name. So now in my lust I dreamt of a Rubenesque, Latin-speaking girl who wore the jewels from the hoard – they moulded to her form as though they were made for her alone. But these were all fleeting, muddled notions, and I remained immobile.

Or nearly so - my cock was responding to the lust in her eyes and was straining to escape the bounds of my breeches. She looked precisely as one of the houris of paradise should, in the old tales. Indeed I wondered fleetingly if I had died, and was to be escorted from my rough surroundings by this beauty. I asked, again in my shaky Latin, "What is your name?"

"I am Dunyazad, my brave lord." So saying, she set her hands upon the foot of my bed and stalked on hand and knee, catlike, up over me. Her fine body glowed in the candlelight, and in my dream I felt the heat of her, her face now close to mine. Solemn still, she looked long into my eyes. Hers were beautiful: dark and hypnotic. Abruptly she smiled, a radiant smile, and sat up. Astride me now, she stretched languorously, thrusting her fine breasts forward and causing her jewellery to dance and jingle. Then she bent down and began to open the buttons of my shirt. Exposing my chest, she leaned closer. She blew lightly, and her moist breath was exquisite. And then she put her tongue out and touched its tip to my flesh. It was surprisingly hot, and just a little rough, like a kitten's. She began to put it in motion, lightly laying a line of fire from my waist up my chest. She paused there to give attention to my nipples, and they stiffened as hard as were hers. Back down she went, laying a new track, her fingers releasing my trouser buttons in advance of her tongue's arrival.

Her head now in my groin, she whispered, to my cock rather than to me, "With my lord's permission..." Her questing tongue brushed the base of my freed member and drew up toward its tip. It was the lightest of touches, but the heat from that line of flame spread throughout my body. When she reached the head, she scooped up the first gleaming pearl of my juices. My prick was like iron. It had never felt so hard; the veins were standing out, forming a ropy net around its shaft. She took hold of it – her small hand was cool and dry - and slowly traced a path with her nimble tongue all around the ridge below its straining purple knob. It felt as though that tongue was wrapped right the way around, before she broke off with a final polishing swirl. Then, slowly, slowly, she set her lips to it and began to draw it into her mouth. Deeper and deeper it sank, and again her tongue worked its magic.

I must confess that Lucy had never serviced me in this way; and yet now I was imagining vivid glimpses of a busy mouth through a curtain of tousled locks. She continued until she had enveloped my entire prick, and then she began to bob up and down on it, sucking with fierce intensity. It felt as though my member was being pulled out of me – no pain, but a sensation of stretching, as thought it were somehow gaining length and breadth in the process. I felt ready to explode. I could feel myself gliding deep into her throat. When at last I brought forth my seed in a furious blast, she held her ground, drinking down the hot liquor.

In the past I'd had nightmares where I struggled to wake, and occasionally others when I'd startled awake to find my hand on my member and warm fluids seeping through my bedding. Now, I desperately hoped I would remain asleep just a little longer. Dunyazad lifted her face with a lick of her full lips, gave me a lusty smile and again crawled smoothly up my body. She folded my lance flat under her and slid her moist scalding notch the length of it, until it suddenly popped back up to attention behind her, as hard as ever. By now it felt as though it must resemble the yard of a pony. Her hips were over my belly and her lovely globes over my face. At that point, I at last stirred, and reached out for one of those tempting boobies. Her smile widened and she offered it to my mouth. As I suckled and nibbled that delightful flesh, she sighed deeply. Then, giggling like an innocent girl, she asked me to give similar pleasure to its sister. I gladly transferred my attention to her other teat, whilst continuing to knead the first. Soon, though, she gently pulled free of my grasp. She rocked through the upright until she was leaning back slightly, bum on my belly and her feet resting on my shoulders. My stiff cock pushed against the small of her back so strongly as to support her.

"Is my lord pleased?" she asked, though clearly she knew the answer, and she now spread her knees to give me a clear view of her cunnie. This most lovely orchid of flesh was the same deep crimson as her other, more public lips. They glistened with the dews of her lust, but also, I now saw, they glistened of gold. A fine chain of the stuff led from around her waist down past her lightly curled mound and disappeared inside her. Giggling again, she lifted her bottom slightly and pulled on the chain. Slowly there emerged what proved to be an egg sized ball of gold. And then another, and yet another. As each popped free, she gave a little tremor of satisfaction. I had seen the chain in the jewel chest and had taken it for a sort of alderman's chain – there must have been five or six orbs strung on the thing.

When at last this belt had been drawn free, she let it hang glistening from her side. She flashed me a salacious grin, and rose up over me so as to align her slightly gaping cunny over my straining oversized prick. This she took in one dainty fist to aim, and used her other hand to spread her moist, shining wings open to me. Again I could sense heat radiating from her, as she lowered herself to the point of impaling herself. Not withstanding what I had just seen (or rather, imagined) her do with the golden balls, she now was so tight as to require some effort to just encompass my fellow's knob. She pushed down until all at once the head and an inch or two of shoulder, so to speak, was inside of her. There she stopped, her face suffused with lust, and I could absolutely feel her cunny twitch on me. Then she lifted slightly so that the flesh of her cunnie lips, now stretched thin, clung to the flange of my cockhead, refusing to release their intended meal. Another pause and again she delivered a heave downward. A little more disappeared this time, and again she rose until nearly clear of me. She continued in this fashion, exacting the maximum of pleasure as she settled down onto me, an inch at a time. It was all more vivid than I had ever experienced and, as I took hold of her velvet thighs and enjoyed every thrust, I again prayed I wouldn't waken.

Once she had taken the whole of my shaft, she began to milk it with her nether lips. The sensation was amazing. I could feel the muscular ripples of her cunnie walls run the length of my cock. And another sensation - almost I could swear that she had a tongue in that rude mouth of hers, working to bring me to the boil. And yet I had no trouble holding back my passion, for all that the pressure continued to build. I lay quietly, gazing up at her lovely face, her full lips parted as she panted lightly. And then she turned her huge dark eyes full upon mine. They were deep, and ageless, and full of mystery. I felt nauseous for a moment, light-headed. The room began to spin and then abruptly I was looking at my own reflection, only it washer eyes that were set in my face. Simultaneously I was aware of an enormous hot mass, plunged deep in my body. I recoiled, not in pain but in shock, and felt the mass recede. As it did so, it felt as though it was drawing me inside out. And still I looked, uncomprehendingly, at my own face grinning back under me. Under?Damn, I thought. The dream had shifted for the worse.What the hell had been in that brandy?

I could hear a high keening wail, and suddenly I knew I was making it. I shifted my stunned gaze lower, and had to lean far forward to see over gold-laden breasts, until I had a clear view of a thick segment of cock-shaft between us. I flinched away and felt as well as saw the thing withdraw from my belly, the flesh of mycunnie pulling along, clinging tightly to its contents! All the while an orgasm had been building, and now it tore through me, a rushing fire of ecstasy. Without thinking, I pushed back down onto my mirror image's iron cock. Wave after wave of rapture swept through me, and I could feel my new cunny clutching desperately at its intruder. I began to bounce madly, struggling to force the thing deeper into my hungry slit. It was more intense than I can begin to describe, and yet it all seemed perfectly natural. Up and down I rode, and in each direction I could feel every ripple and bump on that rigid fleshy pole, from flange to root, as it made its carnal journey. I felt my body grip it, knead it, suckle it within me. And still I was desperate to engulf more of that cock, somehow her cock now. My knees spread wide astride it and my fingers clawed her flanks. I humped up and down in a frenzy, thrilling to the feel of that hard length stretching me wide. I ground my buttocks hard against her thighs. And she answered in kind, gripping and moulding my breasts, and meeting my plunges with upward thrusts, until at last the body beneath me went rigid and I could feel her own orgasm begin. Her cock seemed to grow even more in its mad spasms, and then it shot its liquid fire deep within me. My own convulsion was so intense that I fainted dead away, amidst a swirl of sparks in my mind.

When the dream resumed, I was myself again, looking up at Dunyazad's beautiful body astride my still hard member. She stretched her lithe arms high, and said, "Is my virile lord ready for another joust?" With this she pulled free of my glistening lance to hop nimbly up. She squirmed into a kneeling position on the foot of the bed, head down and backside high, and peeked over her shoulder at me, a cheeky young girl again. I advanced and was moved by a desire to pleasure her with my mouth as she had done for me. I set to, and to my surprise – for this too was a novelty to me, then – I enjoyed it immensely. I rolled on my back and slid under her to better access her, and she responded by driving herself onto my face, and reaching down to pull back the hood of her thumb-sized pleasure nubbin. For my part, I licked and tasted and nibbled, to her obvious satisfaction.

At length I could feel her spend, and she began to plead, in Arabic now, a coarse equivalent of 'fuck me!' I hastened to oblige, struggling to my knees behind her. Gripping her fine ass tightly, I marked her plump cunnie and thrust my grossly swollen prick inside her. She seemed even tighter than before, but I entered her at a stroke, and began to drive, while she grappled with her clitoris. I caught myself wondering what that could feel like - and then, without the slightest transition, my face was pressed into the pillow and I was stifling gasps of pleasure while I frigged my clit to match the long strokes of the huge member that relentlessly pounded deep inside me. Almost immediately the orgasms began, and I shook with their intensity while a deep voice chuckled behind me.

After what seemed an eternity she abruptly withdrew her pole. I gasped and pushed my buttocks up at empty space. Then I felt strong hands take hold of my hips and lift me bodily up. I was suspended upside down at arms length, but felt no concern. I simply hung limp, my legs wide, and thought,so that's what my stones look like from below. After a long moment she drew me to her so that my thighs rested on her shoulders, and began to kiss and toy with my cunnie. Her touch was far lighter than mine had been, and immensely pleasurable.

Meanwhile, I was balanced so as to find my face nested in curls. On one side hung that chain of gold balls from my waist and on the other stood her cock, its base resting against my cheek. A new notion came to me and without any conscious thought I acted on it. By arching my back and bracing my hands against her thighs I could bring the tip of her engine to my lips. I heard snarl her pleasure -in my old voice - as I slowly enveloped the entirety of the thing. I found I could time my breathing to my strokes, as I worked back and forth. Slowly we spiralled higher into ecstasy, until she thrust hard and I felt the surging pulses of her spending run the length of her tool. I was forced to work hard to swallow before I drowned.

This last stimulus brought me to the brink. I began to shudder, and suddenly I felt her tongue glide impossibly deeply inside me. It was as though a snake had slithered into my depths. I had to pull my lips off of her cock, and I began to scream again, as her tongue squirmed and writhed, exploring my very being. I wrestled with it inside, squeezing it and sucking it. My body shook, wracked with convulsions of pleasure, until again I saw sparks, followed by oblivion.

And then I found myself, yet again, on my back and in the dream. My cock was mine again, and Dunyazad road it with obvious pleasure. Her movements were rhythmic, almost hypnotic, now, and she watched me with a look of solemn contemplation. I was as hard as ever, but the desperate intensity was replaced by a mellow pleasure. I had a sense almost of floating, even as her bum squirmed solidly against my lap.

I couldn't tell you how long we coupled like this but, all of a sudden, she froze. I could hear a faint rustling sound at the far end of the room. And then she was spinning in the direction, pivoting on my still rampant cock. There in the shadows I saw a man.

He was no more than a shadow, but the dagger was clear enough, even in the candlelight. Suddenly, the pressure on my cock was gone, and I was pelted by a cascade of jewellery, dropping through a fading mist above me. The assassin froze, shocked - although hardly more than I. The fog reappeared just as suddenly, between the killer and myself, and congealed into the form of a crouching leopard. At this the man justifiably shrieked and fled around the corner. I could hear latches rattle, and then the door crashed open as he leapt into the hallway beyond. With a swish of the tail, the cat stalked after and I heard another yell, muffled but far more hideous. At that I jumped to my feet. I thought I felt a surge of heat from the ring, and looked down to see that I was holding my own knife in my hand.

There was only silence, now. I stood there for a long time, trembling and soaked with sweat while the faint glow of coming day trickled past the shudders. I was most definitely alone, and fully awake at last. Whether from tainted wine or the foul air from the tunnel, I had obviously been hallucinating all night, drifting like a common opium eater on my cot, my dreams following the mingled paths of treasure, that odd letter, and my romps with Lucy. A sudden thought, and I gazed down. Yes,that was perfectly normal in size.

I let my mind slip tentatively back, sampling the mad memories, until at last the dawn cold roused me. Thank God, the nightmare was over now. I must get out for air. Dressing myself as rapidly as I could, I stepped out of the alcove – and saw the door ajar. As I knew it would be. I forced myself to look out into the hall. There was my would-be killer, his throat gone, lying in a pool of congealing gore. He was wearing a chain mail vest – small good it had done him - and he still held a wicked-looking old dagger. On his belt was an equally ancient sword and tangled under his body was a black cloak.

Nearly overcome with nausea, I slammed my door shut and forced myself to think. The man had come to murder me. He was undoubtedly a Black Mantle – a guardian of the Templar gold. If the rest of the treasure was as remarkable as my one little boxful, it must be truly astonishing. The box.The ring! I thought of the cat-creature and of the claim that the old pope kept a demon in a ring. So - I had fucked the night away with a demon. Right. And now there was a huge brute dead on my doorstep. He'd soon be missed. His friends would then come looking - any time now. My God - they were probably already watching the outer door to this place.

The only other way out was the passage to the crypt, not an appealing prospect. Into my satchel I swept the jewellery on the bed – her jewels! Then I thrust my blade and my pistol into my belt. I fancied I could already hear heavy boots on the cobbles outside when I re-bolted my door, which I blocked with furniture before I fled down the back stairway. Picking up the lamp as I went, I dove into the tunnel as though the hounds of hell were on my tail.

Continued in Tale 2 ...