Bilal and Mistress Octavia Pt. 01

I felt this needed a response, "Yes, Mistress Octavia. You put the blushing young girls of my village to shame." The best compliments were true, and her foxy curves were all I wanted to touch. I gingerly brought the washcloth closer and closer to her jade gate. When I looked her eyes burned with lust and her pendulous tits almost touched my head.

"Yes, you watch yourself around that moule. Get her clean, but don't you dare wake her." I couldn't tell if she was wet from my touch or wet from the bath. My breath came in shudders all the same. I could just see her rose petals inside her bush and I longed to kiss them.

Moving to her thighs was a relief and also sad. But they were soft and plump just the same. I imagined my tongue running up her inner thigh, coming to taste her insides. The water and soap dripped down them.

I said a vulgar little prayer for the part she might have me do next, and sure enough she placed her hands on the sides of the tub and lifted her arse in all its glory. It was round and large, and I imagined it would jiggle like pudding if I slapped it. I wanted to bury my face in it. Her tits dangled under her like the udders of a cow and swayed sensuously as she positioned herself.

"Look at it, boy," she said. She brought a single hand back and spread a single cheek of her arse. It revealed her winking arsehole and her jade gate looked straight out at me from the crease that the two shared. "Do you think you can put your dirty cock in here? Only the most fortunate of men get to defile this arsehole with their sinful lust. For now you will clean it. And worship it." I was dying to do both, and I ran the washcloth through her most intimate area. "Yes, boy. Perhaps you do know how to treat a woman."

It was all I could do to keep my hand steady when I wanted to rub my tongue through her crease until she showered me with her rain. She wiggled her arse and several sharp popping sounds emerged from it. "Smell it, savage. Smell it and think about how close to my arsehole you are." Her arse ripped again, and the smell did indeed remind me of the filthy sins I wanted to commit with her arsehole.

She finally stood up straight, and her clean, shining body throbbed with the wet fire of her sexuality. I looked at her, trembling. I was completely at her mercy. "Dry me off boy." I grabbed the towel and rubbed it over her body, happy to feel her curves in my hands. After I finished, I stared at her, trembling and exhausted. A predatory smile appeared on her face. "You're not done, boy. Come."

What choice did I have? I couldn't let her naked body out of my sight. We went out in the hallway, she was apparently unafraid and unashamed to show off her bare skin. She opened a wood door on the other side and we went in together. It was a narrow room, with a single window allowing the feeble sunlight in. There was a single table covered with cushions and a small bedside table beside it. She turned to me, her arms akimbo, her body on full display. "Now, boy, you will rub me down and ease my tired muscles. There is a bottle of oil in the drawer. You are to rub my whole body."

She lay down on the table and I dripped the small bottle of oil on her back and rubbed it in. She was much less talkative than the bath, only letting out small moans and sighs. She would occasionally give me a "harder, boy," or "yes, boy," or "lower, boy." It was my pleasure to touch her this way. I slid my hands over her slick back and arse. Her flesh shook and flowed majestically. I pushed with my elbows and palms, savored every moan she made. This was such an easy way to please a woman, yet I knew so many foolish men who only wanted to get their ram wet. Pleasing was something a woman did, not a man, they would say. Maybe that was why they condemned passionate men like me who women actually wanted to be with. Jealousy was a hideous thing.

Then she turned over and lay on her back. Her tits fell to the side and rested in the crooks of her arms. Again, I rubbed everything. I almost had my rain when I rubbed the oil on her tits. They squished in my hands like fresh mud. "Perverted savage. You think you can have this?" When I rubbed her thighs and finished with her feet, she sat up, a euphoric smile on her face. "I admit, you have done well boy, but this massage must come to a satisfying conclusion for me. There is one last task before you rest. Put your hands to work again, Bilal." She wiggled her hips and softly pushed the mound of her jade gate upwards. She didn't have to tell me what to do.

My hands softly brushed her inner thighs, and I heard her gasp. I slid up and down them, getting closer to her jade gate each time. After some time, I touched her beautiful bush, and lowered my hand into her lush forest. Her rose petals were already slick with her passion, and my fingers stroked the outside of them. Mistress Octavia squirmed and let out another soft moan, this time much more sensual. She spread her legs slightly, and I accepted her invitation. By now I was close enough to smell the wetness of her jade gate, and I was aching to get my own fingers wet.

I gently penetrated her, and she squirmed again. She had an actual innocent smile on her face. I felt around inside her, and found the bony entrance to her palace. I felt the soft ceiling inside her and she tilted her hips up. Her hand had come down and was pinching her slick, shining nipple. I smoothed her soft spot with my extended finger, as if I were preparing sheets on a bed. Her breath came in gasps, "Yes! Good boy. My moule needs it. Bring my rain, boy!"

I withdrew my hand, and went looking for the gem inside her mine. My fingers wandered up and I found it hard and slippery. She gasped when I touched it, "Boy where did you learn- uuuhhhh!" Her groan elevated into a cry as I polished her intimate pearl. As I rubbed, all she could do was arch her back and cry out wordlessly. Her body bucked and I inserted my other finger into the arch of her gate and touched the soft ceiling.

"Heavens, boy, you're going to bring my petite mort. Don't you dare stop." I couldn't have stopped if God himself had told me to. I quickened my rubbing, and brought her pearl between my two fingers and rolled it. She quivered and shouted in Vaulish, "Boy, my petite mort is heeeeeerrrrrreeeee! Oh God!" There was a splash of warmth inside her, and her special juice dripped on the table. But I knew she could keep going.

Her body convulsed as I pinched her pearl, "Uuuuhhhh! Boy, your hands are magnificent!" I pushed my finger in as far as it would go, and slid it across her softness. Then I pressed down on her pearl, and felt it flop to either side of my finger. "Boy, it's coming again," her body bent like an archer's bow, and once again her jade gate dripped with her stew as she groaned long and loud.

"That's enough boy," her words were punctuated by gasps. I looked up to see her face red and sweating. Her hair was disheveled. Her lips were red and engorged. For just this brief moment, she looked like a naive girl.

I lifted my finger to my nose. I love the smell of a woman's pleasure, and I always do it. Then she smiled her smirk again, "My, my, you dirty savage. You've smelled them, now you have to lick them clean."

"Yes, Mistress Octavia," I eagerly did what she asked, thrusting each aromatic finger in my mouth. I never broke eye contact.

"You've done well, boy. You are mine now, you will not answer to any of my dim sons, but only to me. Is that clear?"

"Yes, madam," I beamed.

"If that dullard Erasmus lays a hand on you, you must tell me. He will regret ever having seen you." She sat up fully now with some of my help. "Yes, all mine. You will sleep up here and follow my every command. I will ask many different tasks of you. Some will bring you carnal pleasure. Some will frighten you. Some you will not understand. But you are to obey me in all things. Is that clear?" Her face was suddenly stern. How far did she want to take this? My body quivered in anticipation.

"Yes, Mistress Octavia," I answered, "It is a pleasure to serve you." Despite my best efforts, these slave drivers had found a good use for me. I was a jarya, just like the slave women the padishah kept for his depraved pleasure. Perhaps being an indentured servant wouldn't be so bad. I had no idea the dark path I was walking down.

--

Mistress Octavia provided me with a small room on the third floor. It had a proper bed and was safe from the raging elements outside. I could even watch the other slaves working. The pond was in view and I occasionally saw Colette sunning herself. I shivered. A servant girl brought me two meals each day. It was heavy Vaulish cuisine, covered in cream and sauces. I even had bacon for the first time. I had never eaten so well in my life.

I would attend her at her bath every other day and follow it by rubbing her with oil and giving her her climax. She was pleased with me, and that made my heart melt. I also assisted her in other ways, and most days would simply follow her around the estate and do whatever she needed from me. I still cringed when we walked by Colette's pond. She was very taken with the frightful beast, and would pet and talk to her, as if she were a puppy. If I came close, Colette would jealously lunge and hiss at me, mouth open and ready to tear me apart.

It soon became apparent that she was in charge in this place. She gave her sons and the other workers orders and they obeyed without question or complaint. As far as I knew, women weren't allowed to own estates such as this under Vaulish law. Her oldest son, Julian would have inherited it when her husband died.

One night when I had had my dinner and was preparing for her to call me for her bath, she came to my door dressed in a rugged dress. I could see trousers underneath. The dress was covered in pouches and was made of some tough, treated cloth. Not at all like an aristocrat's dress. She had a similar outfit for me, minus the dress of course. She wore a man's leather hat with a wide brim. Instead of her stylish, high-heeled shoes, she wore heavy, lace-up boots. She had a lantern and a pack for me to carry.

"Come, Bilal. We have important work tonight."

"Mistress Octavia? What is all this?" Where could we possibly be going at this time of night?

"You must be silent Bilal, and only speak to me if spoken to. You are to assist me in delicate work. I have chosen you because I believe in your discretion and loyalty. I will explain more as we near our destination."

I nodded my head and got dressed. I'm sure she could see that I was terrified. The estate was bad enough during the day, who knew what dangers lurked here at night? "Do not be afraid," she assured me, "No harm will come to you as long as you obey me completely."

We headed out into the empty estate. The night was as dry as it got here, but I still felt the soupy, perpetually wet air. The sounds of frogs and insects and God only knew what else surrounded us. All the slaves were asleep by now. I had only been outside at night a couple of times, and I felt fear's icy claws gripping my heart. The lantern almost made it worse, as the shadows danced and bobbed at the edge of its light. The estate was situated on a narrow island, with the big house on one end, the fields and Colette's pond in the middle, and a forested marsh at the other.

We passed through the rows of corn and soon came to the end of the path. There was grass up to my knees in this undeveloped part of the estate. Mistress Octavia moved silently, without a word, and never looked back at me. I obediently kept up, as much out of fear as desire to please my mistress. In the dark, new moon light I could see the looming wood in front of us. She couldn't possibly want to go in there on this dark night. But of course she did. When we reached the edge, she turned to face me.

"What we are about to do is of vital importance, Bilal. You must do exactly what I say, when I say it." I noticed there was an old, dead tree by her, but when I looked up, I found that it wasn't a tree at all. Atop a pole sat a carved bust of Mistress Octavia, looking fearsome and stern. The wood of the bust was cracked and weathered. The weather certainly gave it a harsh time here, I had no idea this swampy air could do this to wood in such a short time.

Mistress Octavia continued, "The place is forbidden to my slaves. What we will find inside is a matter of life and death. Your pack carries scrolls, oils, and various ingredients that I will need when we reach our destination. No matter what you see, you must not be afraid, and you must not tell anyone about this, not even my sons. Do you love your mistress, Bilal?"

More than she could ever know. "Yes, Mistress Octavia."

"Your failure will mean dire consequences for me. Your mistress needs you." My heart soared that she trusted me with such an important task. I was ready to do anything for this enchanting woman that set my passions aflame.

"Excellent. Then follow me and stay close." We trudged forward and were swallowed by the wood.

Inside it was like another world. There were all kinds of chirps, growls, and screeches from the shadows. The wood was thick and the muddy ground was dotted by bogs. The air in here seemed even more oppressive. As we walked, there were occasional splashes in the water and I saw dark moving shapes in the depths. We seemed to walk forever, even though I knew the swamp was only a small part of the estate.

As we squelched through the swampy mud deeper into the marsh, A strange feeling crept into the wood. There was a strong, deathly odor, and the trees around us seemed warped and gnarled. "We are here," said Mistress Octavia in a voice quieter than I was used to. But where were we? "Bring the lantern over here, Bilal." As I moved, the light revealed a large stone, nearly as tall as I am. On it was a strange carving. It was a series of vertically-oriented curved lines that came together at the top and bottom. There was something vaguely lewd about it. I stared at the thing, and felt the hair stand on the back of my neck. If I were with anyone but Mistress Octavia, I would have turned and run.

I continued staring at the standing stone. Who had put this here? There wasn't a single other stone like this on the estate. "Bilal, I am ready." I turned to serve Mistress Octavia. I was startled to see her naked body flickering in the light of the lantern. The shadows played across her skin. The hair of her jade gate shined in the lantern light. Even in this light her heavy breasts were majestic. Her eyes stared at the stone. "There are several scrolls in your pack, Bilal. Take them out." The scrolls were indeed rolled up in my bag. They felt strange as I pulled them out, thicker than parchment. She set them on the ground on top of the pile of her eschewed clothing. She opened one and gave it to me.

It was hard to see in the lamplight, but it was a drawing of a woman's body. It showed her front and back, and a series of intricate lines traced across her skin. "This is what you must do to me, Bilal. Use the swamp's mud and cover me in the design you see on the page. You must be precise and get it just so." There was no way courage could keep me here, but I had love to trap me. This place felt deeply unholy, and I silently said a prayer for God to protect me and forgive me for what I was about to do.

I traced the graceful curves of Mistress Octavia's body with muddy fingers. I shouldn't have to explain what fear does to a man's ram. It pulled in like the head of a turtle. But Mistress Octavia coaxed the frightened turtle out just with her pleasingly soft body. The designs were extensive and it took some time, not to mention many handfuls of mud. She stood silent as a corpse. I was happy to touch her body again, and paid particular attention to her pendulous tits. I went back to her arse and it stood as a round, white substitute to the hiding moon. When I finished, her body was covered with swirling lines, twisting and flowing. Even her face was not spared from the mud. As I finished, my ram was standing at full attention. "Check thoroughly, Bilal. Small deviations and I will fail." I was quite happy to look her body over closely again. The mud seemed right on my further inspection. "Very good. Hand me the pack. You must stand back for now and then come forth quickly when I call for you." I backed up and nodded my head.

She opened a box from the pack and pinched a powder that glittered in the lamp light. She took pinch after pinch of the powder and made a circle around herself on the dry ground in front of the stone. Then she took a bottle and poured a viscous liquid in the middle of the circle. I shivered. The liquid flowed like blood, and I frankly did not want to know what it really was. She opened one of the scrolls and started to read it.

I did not know what to expect for her to read from the scroll. I wasn't so thick as to not see that this was a ritual of some kind, and that it was not one of God's rituals. Friends, you must understand that even though I am a God fearing man, I am not intolerant of other faiths. In my experience God wears many faces, and man struggles to understand Him in the best of circumstances. What was happening in front of me, however, was not of God.

She began reading the scroll, and the language sounded familiar to me. After she had read for a few seconds I remembered. This was the Holy Tongue, the original language of the Good Book. But no, this wasn't quite it. It was different. The pronunciation was wrong, and the words had a harsh tone. I was not well versed in the Holy Tongue, and especially not this version. But I did catch some words. Holy, sacrifice, lord, protection, offering, Iblis. Iblis? Yes, this mad woman was communing with Iblis, the first of Shaitan's demons. I couldn't run, though just being here was a blasphemy. My legs had turned to jelly, like when I saw Colette.

When she finished the scroll it burst into flames! Right in her hands! Then the circle she made started to glow like the embers of a dying fire. Seeing her naked body there I wanted all of her, but her face was an absolute terror. The red drops of liquid from the ground rose up and stuck to the lines on her body. She frantically pulled the other scroll from her pack and called to me. "I need you now, Bilal. If I do not climax we will fail! Come and serve your mistress." I had only been this frightened being chased by heavy cavalry swords in the army. But while I ran like a coward then, I sprang to action here. Mistress Octavia began reading the scroll, and the dark words burned my ears. Her jade gate was dripping wet when my fingers met it.

It felt bizarre, being this afraid and this lustful at once. I stuck my finger up deep inside my mistress and stroked the ceiling of her palace. I heard the gasping in her breath, but she continued reading the blasphemies on her cursed scroll. My other hand reached up at the top of her gate and began polishing her gem. She tilted her hips and pushed them into my hands as her earthy aroma hit me. Her voice quavered, and I felt her gem stiffen as I rubbed it. I don't know how I kept my head in this madness. Her body writhed as I stroked her soft insides, yet in her incredible focus she stayed on her feet and did not miss a word of her ritual.

I could have cracked the standing stone with my ram, it was so engorged. I continued stroking, applying gentle pressure to her pearl, and feeling it flop from side to side under my outstretched finger. My two hands pumped at her like mad. I thought she would burst into flames. Then she let out a blood curdling cry and smoke whirled around her head. Her eyes glowed with power, and the smoke swirled into wisps that she sucked into her mouth with savage breaths.