Dunyazad: Tale the Second

A Victorian Adventure, involving a Treasure and a Jinniyah, plus Sex, Violence and Brandy.

(Author's note - Part 1 ended with a cliffhanger – you may want to start at the beginning.)

*

The tunnel was longer than I had guessed, and narrowed as I went, forcing me to push my small kit ahead and then squeeze myself through. The stones seemed to press from above, and then, abruptly, I came up against a wall, and I thought,Christ, I'm trapped!

When I managed to light the lantern, I found myself face to face with yet another bony grin. After a fresh rush of claustrophobic terror, I realized that I had in fact arrived at the Church's crypt – except that I was inside a tomb.

I was inspired by the sight of my new companion to use extra caution. Belatedly it occurred to me that my would-be assassin must have come for me through this very shaft. Now he was overdue, and the lid of the tomb was closed. There was bound to be someone waiting on the other side.

From the house behind me I could hear the distant sound of wood splintering. Shit. I shuttered my lamp, tightened my grip on the revolver, and eased the slab above me open a crack. As I did so, I again felt a surge of heat from the ring I'd found. The room beyond was all in darkness - perhaps they were waiting to see if I would reveal the entry to the catacombs. For they were out there, well enough.

At least three, to judge by the clatter of steel, the scrabble of boots, and the gurgling yells. It was finished in moments. From my stone shelter I lifted my lamp, and there was Dunyazad, my dream lover. She was standing magnificently naked before me, wearing a cat's-got-the-canary smile. It was strange – in spite of the several huddled corpses in the shadows, I felt such a surge of lust that I nearly jumped her then and there. Perhaps I might have, too, but by the time I had clambered out of that beastly box and started across the slippery stones toward her, there came a flicker of torchlight from behind me.

I turned to see two more black-cloaked men, already half way down the open stair. They had stopped to stare at the bloody shambles around me – and of course at the naked girl in the centre of it all. Both men were carrying muskets. Christ! They had only to level their pieces ... and then I remembered the Colt I still gripped in my right fist. I lifted the weapon - too late. The leader came to his senses and fired, at the same moment as did I. Flame and smoke leapt from our muzzles - in that small space the noise was beyond deafening, stunning me as though from a blow. It took me a moment to understand that I was unhurt. He'd missed, but so had I. He was cursing now as he came on, reversing his musket as a club. Beyond him, the other was about to fire in his turn, but found himself slipping on the gore on the stairs, and again the roar of explosions as first he loosed his shot – wide, thank God - and I responded, emptying my revolver into them both.

There followed a muffled silence, while my ears continued to ring. The place was hazy with acrid powder smoke, but I could see that they were both down. I was trembling now – this was the first time I had ever been forced to fight for my life. I turned to check on Dunyazad and was rewarded with an arched eyebrow. Evidently she was impressed.

Stunned as I was, I knew there was no time to waste. The whole neighbourhood must have heard the shocking din, and I'd left my spare cartridges behind in the brothel. We couldn't go up – it had to be into the catacomb behind the secret door.

Luckily I'd committed the lock releases to memory. Sited on opposite sides of a smug looking effigy, they were to be triggered simultaneously. Now I saw, to my alarm, that they were too far apart to reach. I showed Dee the bit of carved marble that served as one of the catches. Success! A two-foot square of vertical marble paneling slid aside, and a puff of knight-dust drifted out of the gap.

Dee shrugged and hopped in, shimmying her bare bum at me as she did so. It really was irresistible - I reached up to feel the cunnie she presented to me. At my touch, she pressed back to swallow my fingers and give them a friendly squeeze, before popping free and jumping forward out of sight. After a last glance back at the carnage in the crypt, I was up and through the gap myself, making sure the hidden door was closed most securely behind me.

Safe enough for the moment, I hugged her to me. She glanced up with an odd smile, and then snuggled up comfortably. We were now in a rough-hewn stone passage, which hopefully led to treasure. After the briefest of explanations, we were off. The tunnels twisted and turned without reason, and constantly dropped deeper into the earth. The walls were riddled with niches, which were filled with jumbled bones and sightless skulls.

I led the way, lamp held high. Although the Templars had set traps, I had the benefit of the map in my pocket. Even at that, at one point Dee caught my belt just before I pitched headlong into a spike-floored pit. We edged past it on a ledge perhaps four inches wide, with our backs to the wall and her fine poonts proudly standing forth. I noticed she was smiling in a way that suggested that she was at no great risk.

At last, we stood before an iron door. I handed Dee the lamp and threw myself against it, expecting stiff hinges, and catapulted myself ten feet beyond. This was just as well, given that a stone the size of an anvil dropped where I would have stood. As I lay winded on the flagstone floor, Dee stepped without comment over the stone and then over me, and held the lantern aloft. In the dim light I could make out a large cavern. And gold! All about us, the buttery gleam of gold. Piles of the stuff - glittering goblets and plate, and coins of every sort. It was unbelievable, like an ancient barrow, complete with stone tombs all stacked about with blackened armour and weapons. Or, if you will, like the cave of Aladdin.

I sat up and stared in wonder, watching as my beauty skipped about, lifting and admiring various pieces. Occasionally she would lift it up for me to see, saying, "Ah – this belonged to Lord Surena," or some such. Several times, the jewel in question was clearly already ancient when it had come into the hands of the Templars so long ago. And then, she held out a ring not unlike the one I now wore, saying, "and look - the Seal of Sulayman."

I blinked. No, it was impossible. She would be waving about the Holy Grail next. I'd been aware that either I was quite mad, or I had gained a most extraordinary companion. Up until now, lacking independent evidence, I had preferred to believe the latter - but this was too much.

Meanwhile Dee held up a set of gold inlaid grieves. "I saw Alexander buried in these," she said, conversationally. "Some villain has robbed his tomb." She glanced up mischievously. "Of course, it would have been a shame to waste them."

"Alexander the Great?" I asked, now quite convinced I was Bedlam bound.

"Alexander the Macedonian, yes. He was not your equal as a lover, my lord. Always his mind was on his next campaign – and on his Companions." This information was accompanied with the hint of a smirk.

Good God, but, suppose I was not mad? Then she must be most extraordinary indeed. Just who, or what, was she? I glanced down at the golden band on my finger, and back to the beautiful creature dancing about the cave, and thought yet again about the old pope's demonic ring. Dee didn't look particularly devilish. In fact, she didn't at all resemble my notions of hell spawn, nor did she remotely behave like a slave. True, she took my side in my present troubles, but she seemed to show true enthusiasm in both loving and fighting.

So, again supposing I wasn't crazy, I had a powerful lover - although I had no idea what her powers might be. Could weapons harm her? Could she use some sort of magic to get us out of here? Also, she referred to me as a prince, the conqueror of the previous possessor of the ring. I liked to think of myself as an adventurer, another Burton, but the reality was that I was a mere thief. No, wait – I had just shot two men. A thief and a murderer. As for the ring, I had literally found it on the ground. Somehow, this didn't seem the time to point that out.

As if summoned, she literally danced over to where I was now perched, on the corner of an ironbound chest. She had put on a mail shirt, each silvery link so tiny that the whole shimmered like cloth. Her flawless skin was still visible beneath, and the thing cupped her breasts. Perhaps, I thought, like the jewels, it was made for her. It hung to her knees, and she twirled like a child to show it off. It spun up to give me another glimpse of her fine cunnie, then settled back with a cascade of musical clinks.

You can see that I was trying ... no, Iwanted to believe. I murmured my heart-felt admiration, but decided to broach the subject of my dilemma. Or, rather one of them. If I wasn't a raving lunatic, then I was trapped underground with a king's ransom and a voluptuous demon. Affecting an unconvincing nonchalance, I waved my arm about and asked, "How shall I move this lot to a safer place?"

Again the arched eyebrow - "Why, using only the most loyal of your troops, my lord!" A long pause followed while I pretended to consider this advice, and then she laughed, a light merry sound in that shadowy place. "My lovely young fool, I might add! I know some of what is what is in your thoughts, for were we not One? You think that without a kingdom you are no king! I can tell you that I have seen many a man gain a crown with less in their purses or in their heads than you. Look around you! Here is the makings of a realm, if you but hold on to it. And – you have me!" Her lovely eyes narrowed after this speech, and she leaned in close to my face, saying, "You think also that you do not know what I am, or what I – we - can do. But were we not One? Think harder, then!"

I did, searching my foggy memory for clues. I remembered the exultation I had experienced when I saw through her eyes – and not only of the carnal sort. My peggo stiffened, regardless, and she smiled, her small hand slipping through my clothing to fondle it. Still she held my gaze, and I tried to focus my thoughts. An image of an Eden-like oasis entered my mind. I could smell the dates, the wine, the perfumed flowers. Somewhere a fountain tinkled, and there was unseen laughter, and I could feel a breeze animate silken garments against my skin. And then the tightening grip on my prick drew me back.

"Jinniyah", I said, using the Arabic word for the female sort of Genie – the Genies of the tales, although I could remember few of the stories beyond Aladdin and the Lamp. Suddenly I knew these tales were just a dim reflection of an older reality.

"What then is your wish?" she grinned.

"I don't think you actually grant wishes," I replied, slowly, "but 'don't stop' comes to mind ..."

"I grant wishes when it pleases me." This as she released my poor stifled member from its bonds to stand firm in my lap. I stared at her again. There was so much I didn't yet understand, but I had found a memory, as she had said. I knew this amazing girl to be one of an ancient and legendary race. And here she was, clambering onto my thighs so as to get her plump slit above the prick she had bullied into growing to full mast. I watched, both excited and entertained by her performance, as she held her mail shirt up around her waist and bobbed down with her cunnie until she had snatched my cock-head into that hungry mouth. I felt it grip my knob tightly and she flashed me a victorious smile. Then came a long, snug glide, accompanied by the silver-ice sensation of her metallic hems dropping across my thighs and belly. Once moored in my lap, she began nibbling at my neck. Her cunnie was doing a share of nibbling, too, and the combination was quite delightful.

So began another most memorable fuck. We locked lips and kissed for what seemed an age, while her buttocks pressed steadily down on my thighs until our pubic curls were woven tightly together between us. At first, all the movement was inside of her ... both my tongue and my peggo being sucked and massaged most wonderfully.

By and by, she threw her head back and began to bounce on my shaft, growing more and more rowdy as time went on - yet I was still in the game. Somehow I had apparently gained her women's ability to prolong passion. Even as I thrilled to her touch, a part of my mind tried to piece together our situation ... that is to say, our tactical situation, as opposed to our carnal one, which still commanded the bulk of my attention.

"If we go back ... the way we came ..." - I now had little doubt we could - "our battle will attract ...ahhh ... the rozzers ... I mean, the city guards.Mmmm ... of London." That last seemed to need adding. God knows where she had woken up over the years.

She drew a deep breath and focused on my face. "Londinium. I have been asleep for so long ..." Another cunnie clench followed, as if to make up for lost time. And then to business: "So. Will not the black-robed men try to follow us here?"

"Nnnnn ...Perhaps not. They're just ...ahhh ... soldiers. They aren't meant to know of this place. I think. Even their leaders ...Oh, God! ...may not know everything after so long."

"You knew," she said, pointedly.

"Ahhh, YES! ... umm, yes. Well. Anyway, there was probably another way out, once ... over there ..." I nodded toward a bricked up doorway in the corner, which I had noticed before we had come to grips. "But they must have blocked it when ...Ahhhh!!... they brought all this."

"Well then, I shall find it," she said, and she disappeared. It happened slower than before, a fog that began at her feet until her face alone hung smiling before me. And then I was alone in the guttering torchlight, a puddle of finest chain mail in my lap, supported by my disappointed prick.

I saw a wisp of fog disappear between the cracks at the top and then she was gone.

In order not to spend my time pondering my sanity (or my un-satiated lust), I filled my pack with easily negotiable wealth – gold coins, mostly, and with a few simple emerald and diamond broaches. Next, I began to pull loose the topmost stones over the 'back' door. A few stones led to more, behind, until I had tunnelled about ten feet. The work wasn't too difficult, only awkward, it being necessary to crawl back repeatedly with the cobble-sized pieces to dispose of them behind me.

Dee was back soon enough. As I tunnelled in the near dark, I felt a silken touch on my face, and then moments later, from the cave, came the clink of metal. I crawled back to in time to admire her beautiful breasts, as she pulled her mail shirt back over her head. While she began to choose more ornaments from the piles, she told me she had indeed found a way out.

I had only a few more feet to burrow before the way was clear. Meanwhile Dee added to her attire a woven gold belt and a thick gold chain necklace, both complete with jewelled pendants, and then crowned herself with a thin elektra diadem. Once she was ready, she led off into a fresh maze, and this time it was me following close behind, with the flickering lamp in my hand.

By and by we came to a barred iron door. Dee shrugged, and again evaporated into smoke. This time I caught the mail shirt and some of the jewellery as it fell. The vapour that was Dee swirled around my arms and passed under the bottom of the door. A rasp of the lock and then the door groaned open, and there stood Dee in all her naked glory, giving me a mock bow. I handed her the gear I had caught, along with the belt and baubles I had recovered from the dust. I was becoming sufficiently accustomed to this performance, though, to take the opportunity to catch and squeeze a bum cheek as she dropped the shirt over her head. We were now in a deep recess alongside of yet another tunnel. This passageway was clearly well used - it was lit by oil lamps, and was altogether tidier, too – the niches had been emptied of their bony occupants. I extinguished my own lamp and left it behind the door, which I relocked – taking care to keep the key. Dee led onward to another door, this one quite ornate, which opened easily.

We were now in a well-provisioned wine cellar. I heard a movement from behind one of the racks and gripped the butt of my empty pistol, but it was a redheaded young woman that stepped out into the light. She had a dusty bottle cradled in her arms, and was wearing orange satin pantaloons, plus a crimson sash over one shoulder that left one pert freckled breast exposed. There was a fleur-de-lis broach on her sash, so apparently she was meant to represent Mademoiselle Liberty. I had no idea why - it was a damned odd uniform for a pantry maid.

In a strong Irish accent, she bid us good afternoon, as though she was accustomed to meeting armed strangers in her cellar. I glanced back at Dee and was shocked to see that she had had visibly matured some fifteen years – and grown about eight inches taller. The mail shirt now barely hid her lovely cunnie, and she acknowledged my look of amazement with a faint smile and a wink she could now deliver at my own eye level. She was still Dee, but now a voluptuous woman of the world.

I was momentarily speechless, so Dee returned the maid's greeting. The girl seemed not to notice our own outlandish dress – we looked like a pair of wealthy Moorish pirates – but simply asked whether perhaps we would like a tour. A tour of what, I hadn't the slightest idea, but Dee agreed that that would indeed be suitable, and so we followed our bare-foot Virgil up a flight of stone stairs. At the next level, we stepped into brick-walled room, which was lit only by the glow of a brazier in a distant corner. It resembled nothing so much as a dungeon, except that in the gloom I could see a number of people engaging in a surprising variety of sexual acts.

Close by the landing I could make out a woman who was kneeling with her head bobbing in the lap of a young man. He was wearing a centurion's cuirass, and nothing else. For her part, she wore only long black hair and, seemingly, a long black tail. On closer inspection I saw that the tail grew from a sizable black phallus lodged in her bottom. Behind them on the wall hung chains and fetters - although for use or for decoration I could not tell. A little farther on, there was a selection of canes and rods on a rack, and I could see a society matron applying one to the bare bottom of a whiskered old cove who was holding on tightly to an iron ring fitted to the low ceiling.

Well, flogging's not to my taste, but belatedly I now understood what sort of place we had discovered. It was an upper class version of the establishment at which I had spent the past several weeks - a private sex club for the wealthy. We had stumbled on its very discrete entrance. The passageway was no doubt well guarded if entered in the usual way, perhaps through the back of some respectable shop in the next street.

Our small guide led us onward, up the next set of stairs. We emerged in a large, ornately decorated parlour. There were couches and divans scattered about, with brocade curtains screening off some of the corners. There was also a well-provisioned sideboard. I went directly over and began to gnaw on a fowl leg, no doubt enhancing my buccaneer look. Dee joined me and started in on an even bigger joint of meat, worrying it in the same fashion. Clearly after five hundred and seventy-odd years she had worked up an appetite.

As I satisfied my hunger, I began to take in more around me. There were more people here than below, although by no means was the place crowded. They were mostly drinking and chatting amiably. I couldn't tell which, if any, were employees of the house.