Escape From the Harem

byEmma1994UK©

The theater fascinated Cecil. The woman in their finery had been as much a delight as the show itself, but tonight all his thoughts were fixed on Jenny. Her dress was simple white one with a blue sash and she had a simple chain with a pendant set with sapphires and earrings to match; both brought out the blue of her eyes. Throughout the performance Jenny had slyly slipped her hand up his thighs, smiling to herself at the obvious effect she had on him.

She had manipulated the cabs that night so that she and Cecil were alone. She gave the cabbie extensive instructions on how to get back to her parents house.

"Why such a long route, dear?" asked Cecil as he stepped in.

"Oh, you worry too much Cecil and you always worry about the wrong things" she said with a giggle. "A nice long route gives us more time together and there's something in London that I've just been dying to see." She closed the shades to the windows and got down on her knees before Cecil. She deftly unfastened Cecil's pants; she had done many times now. She kissed the head and ran her tongue deftly along the tip. That always made Cecil squirm. She looked up at him and said, "Would you be my Don Giovanni?" Her lips were back upon his shaft before Cecil could think of objecting, "I should say I would," Cecil moaned.

Jenny smiled like a child at Christmas dinner and climbed upon the seat. She lifted up her skirt and petticoats and lowered herself down upon his organ. She bit her lip as his penis first entered the folds of her cunt. It was heavenly, like being trapped in a cocoon. Jenny seemed to have some difficulty, but kept sliding up and down. Her hands were on Cecil's shoulders and her feet were on the red velvet cushion. She had come well prepared for the evening wearing undergarments without a crotch. She worked slowly at first gently lowering herself and moving her bottom a bit from side to side giving Cecil the most wonderful feeling. The lazy rhythm of the horses added to the sensation. Cecil leaned forward to kiss Jenny or bit her breasts through her dress sending shivers throughout her body. She began to move faster, up and down. She began a series of passionate cries. Cecil put his hand to her mouth to stifle her cries; for he feared discovery, but he could do little else for it simply felt too wonderful. His cock was engulfed repeatedly. Jenny worked herself faster and brought him to a wonderful plateau. Suddenly she slammed her hips down and cried out much louder than before. Cecil was certain the coachman heard, but he could not care. He barely had time to pull Jenny off of him as his own climax erupted shooting huge wads of sticky cum on the inside of the carriage. They lay still together as his penis slowly deflated. She smiled as it grew limp against her leg.

A woman in a long dress and heavy silver jewelry was down upon the beach looking for shells. She saw a man lying upon the shore. He was unconscious, naked and with a wound on his chest. Moving closer she was struck by his handsome face, but more so by the enormous cock which stood rigid even after the ordeal he had obviously suffered. She ran back to her house to get her daughter.

Chapter 9.

Everything was for sale at the Grand Bazaar. The covered marketplace was a chaotic scene of hawkers offering everything imaginable. Pottery, metalwork, spices and food were set out as far as the eye could see. Amal had visited the markets many times since her release from the harem, but today she was going far deeper than good women were supposed to go. She was disguised as a young man, and wore her luxurious hair up beneath one of her husband's fezzes.

They had reached the deepest part of the slave market, where women destined to be concubine were for sale. There were many young girls that were dressed up like dolls. Some sang or danced in order to display their talents. Others looked sullen, smiling only when the slave masters raised their whips. Amal sympathized; she had been raised to be a concubine herself. She hadn't had to go through this humiliating scene. Her parents were very poor and gave her as a gift to the local governor. He had been so impressed by her beauty that he had sent her as a present to the Sultan.

There were grown women too. Some were chained, others sat on rugs and smiled, but Amal could see the fear in their eyes. There were worse fates than to be a concubine, but one never knew what sort of master she would get. Some were nude, displaying their brown flesh and smoothly shaved cunts. Ahmed had told her those women were on display like that to attract young men.

All the women at the front were dark eyed Arabs. As they went further in she spotted a glimpse of golden hair. "There's a blonde," she nudged her husband.

"Yes, but she's a worn out one," her husband replied without bothering to look. "The Sultan is merciful but he would never forgive me for sending him a woman like that."

The woman was older and her breasts sagged. She had a hard look to her, hardly a prize worthy of the Sultan. "But there are not any other blondes here," said Amal.

"They are a rarity indeed. Only the high end dealers would have one that we seek."

"Ahmed," a voice called. A shifty eyed man came up to the pair. "It has been a long time, my friend."

"Akbar, how good it is to see you. The years have been good to you, my friend."

"And who is this young lord?" he eyed Amal, for, she felt, too long.

"This is my worthy cousin Mahund," explained Ahmed.

"Are you looking for a woman for him?"

"Perhaps I shall later, but now I am faced with a more pressing matter. A most discrete client of mine is looking for something very special."

"Would he like a black woman? I have a Nubian girl."

"No, though Nubians are often a fine prize, what he seeks is a blonde."

"A blonde, you say," Akbar looked about cautiously. "Would your client have very deep pockets?"

"He may, but only if you have a blonde worth a great expense."

"Most certainly, come along."

Akbar's shop was a little walk from the center of a marketplace. There his treasures were removed from prying eyes. He bolted the door and spoke to his servants as he entered outside the earshot of the other two. Two women were brought in, both completely nude. One was a tall blonde with a lithe frame and a cold, imperious expression. The other one was still fair, but had darker hair and was far more buxom she had obviously been crying.

"She looks like a statue," said Amal when viewing the blonde. "Even her lower hair is yellow."

"What color did you think it would be?" asked Ahmed with a chuckle. "But such a fine woman must have parents, or people to care for her. Why is she here?"

"She won't talk. I can get no information from her at all. She understands French and Greek; I think she's English, but I can get her to say nothing nor do anything unless we threaten her friend with violence."

"She's not a fils-de-joie at all, but a lady and the other one seems to be her servant," observed Ahmed.

"How can you tell?" Amal asked.

"Look at her hands, they are much rougher," said Ahmed. He turned to the procurer, "What do you propose we do? I know of no man who would want to beat the brunette constantly so the blonde will perform."

"I've given that some thought. Perhaps you could hold the brunette hostage somewhere else to insure the blonde's cooperation. The young lord may like such a plaything."

"I'm sure that's not what he was thinking of."

"She does have a pleasing figure," Amal said, as she let her eyes trail along the brunette's body. "I admire her large breasts and wide hips, but that face."

"It's only because she has been crying. The pirates I bought her from beat her," he motioned to his servants and they turned the woman around revealing a number of stripes on her back.

"Oh," said Amal, her heart overflowing with pity. Before she could say more her husband gave her a stern look.

"As a set they're not worth much as the one. I can give you no more than 50 pound s of silver for the both.

"But such a specimen as the blonde is worth at least 200 on her own..."

The two men haggled for a few minutes before agreeing on a price. "Bathe and dress them as befits their new station," said Ahmed. I'll send my carriage in an hour. Oh, and give the blonde a vial of red ink, just in case."

"Of course," said Akbar and he bowed deeply.

After being shown to two strange gentlemen Mary was dragged away to an enormous room. It was covered with white tile and had a high ceiling. The room was sweltering. A guard made a motion towards a basin and she understood that she was to wash herself. She did so following Miss Jenny's lead. Then they were taken to a smaller room which was even hotter. Mary began to sweat profusely.

"Are they going to roast us, Miss?"

"This is how the Turks bathe," answered Jenny a bit curtly, but she hadn't said much since they were captured. They were taken back to the large room and were made sit down upon the large marble dais in the middle. Two black women came out and began to move the women's joints and press upon them forcing them into a number of strange positions. It didn't hurt much but it was well beyond Mary's comprehension. She had resolved to be tough and silent like Miss Jenny, but she began to sob slowly and softly.

They were made to bathe again and were each given a Turkish style dress complete with headscarf. Then the two women were taken to separate carriages. Mary's was splendid, but Jenny's looked like something out of a fairy tale. It had gilt covered wood and four white horses. It was when they were separated that Mary truly began to cry. Guards dressed in white with a red sash and a fez guided them to their carriages.

"Miss Jenny don't you leave me," she tried to run, but was restrained by the guards.

"I will be okay, Mary," Jenny tried to smile. "We'll get through this, you'll see." She was thrown into her carriage before she could say more, as was Mary.

The carriage ride wasn't a long one, but it was slow. Mary didn't look outside the whole time instead she wept into her hands. Finally the carriage stopped and she found herself taken into a house in the city.

The building looked imposing. She wanted to run, but had nowhere to go. Instead she walked dumbly following the servants. They led her where she expected, to a bed room. There was a canopied four post bed, a lovely chandelier with curved birds on it and a number of heavy chests of drawers. Mary had never been to a bordello, but she never imagined they would look like this; it was actually somewhat pleasant. She sat on the bed and waited for her first customer.

The door opened about a half hour later. The tall Turk whom she had seen before entered.

"Good afternoon, my young lady," he said.

"You speak English? Mary was surprised.

"Oh yes, not well, but I can speak passable English."

"And you are the master here?"

"Yes, this is my most humble house."

"And you're the one who will beat me if I don't perform the most degrading tasks?" Mary said bitterly.

Ahmed was taken aback by the question, "Well I wasn't planning too."

"And how much am I to be paid for sucking men's filthy cocks, master?" At this point Mary began weeping.

"Alas, I'm not sure I understand" Ahmed muttered and left her.

Amal was in the kitchen overseeing the cooks when her husband entered.

"What is her name?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. I had gone to talk to her and she said something about degrading acts then started weeping."

"That's bad."

"Yes it is, could you talk to her, my dear?"

"Of course," Amal smiled gaily and went up the stairs. She opened the door to the second bedroom and saw the woman from the market this time in formal Turkish dress. She sat on the edge of the bed sobbing in her hands.

"There's no need to cry," Amal said.

"Are you another whore?" asked Mary, hoping to find someone to talk to.

"A whore? Oh no," she paused for a second. "Do you think this is a house of prostitution?"

"Well, yes miss, ain't it?"

"No, it's just a house. I'm Ahmed's wife."

"His wife?" Mary looked around at the fine furniture and another thought dawned on her. "Oh miss, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to steal your husband, not for a second." Mary was frightened, but Amal laughed again and that reassured her a bit.

"You couldn't steal my husband even if you were a princess. I was a gift from the Sultan, and it would take a very foolish man to send me back to him."

"You were a gift?"

"I am. I was raised in the harem. My husband worked as a procurer for the Sultan's harem. When the Sultan married for the third time his new wife insisted that my husband go for there would be no new concubines. As a reward for my husband's long service the sultan gave him a woman from his own harem; one that he had not yet deflowered, you understand. There were so many lovely girls that I'm surprised he chose me."

"If you're the wife, what am I?" asked Mary.

"You'll be a concubine."

"You mean like one of them French ladies whose man has a wife?"

"Yes, just like that," said Amal with a smile.

"Oh that's horrible, miss. I couldn't bear the shame" she said and fresh tears began to flow.

"Oh, it's not so bad, in fact it's quite nice" Amal put her arm around Mary. "I have to run the household, you get to have all the fun."

"Fun?" exclaimed Mary.

"Fun," Amal repeated and leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Mary was bewildered but it felt nice. Not realizing what she was doing she found herself kissing back. The strange young woman's lips felt so soft and gentle and she smelled wonderful, like oranges.

"You don't need to wear this in the house," said Amal and she slid the headscarf off.

"Oh thank goodness, it was making my head itch."

"Was it?" and Amal began running her fingers through Mary's hair. "You have lovely hair."

"Oh, thank you," and she leaned forward to kiss Amal, a bit surprised at her own boldness.

Amal was delighted at the victory and began her moving her hands down across the fabric of Mary's dress. Strange sensations flooded Mary's senses. This woman was so different than what she imagined her first lover would be, not a bit like Mr. Cecil; but she couldn't deny that she was excited. She trembled, anticipating what was to come next.

Amal had her stand up had she unbuttoned the heavy dress that Mary wore. It fell to the found revealing a coarse shift and a long pair of plain pantalets.

"We shall have to get you some new undergarments," said Amal. "My husband likes a woman in fine lingerie.

This piqued Mary's curiosity and she shyly motioned for Amal to turn around. Amal did so and Mary unbuttoned her dress. As Amal stepped out of it Mary caught her breath. It was more gorgeous than even anything Miss Jenny had. Amal spun around to reveal a white lice shift covered by a gold corset with a delicate rose bud pattern on it. She had pantalets with a series of lace ruffles.

"Don't you think that is nice?"

"Oh, ma'am."

"Call me Amal."

"Oh Amal would your husband really get things like that for me?"

Amal kissed Mary and said, "I'm sure I could persuade him." She gently pushed Mary down upon the bed and began kissing her again. As she was doing so she wormed her hands beneath the shift and slid it over Mary's head. Mary's breasts were indeed large; her nipples seemed so pink and fair. Amal flicked her tongue across one and then the other.

Mary had never felt anything so wonderful before. Amal's delicate kisses and licks made her squirm. But her breathing became ragged and her desire rose beyond what she could fathom when Amal began to suck on one and gently play with her other.

"Cor, Miss, I feel so, oh," she babbled incoherently. Amal chuckled to herself as the girl became like putty in her hands. She slowly, down towards Mary's nether lips planning kisses on her belly and abdomen before reaching her thighs. Slowly, tantalizing she breathed kisses around Mary's womanhood breathing in the heady scent of the young girl's desire. Mary let out a whine, excited beyond all but the most animal of thoughts; and she gasped out when she felt Amal's tongue on her most sensitive of places.

Out of her mind with desire Mary had spread her thighs wind and placed her feet on Amal's back. Amal's tongue worked quicker and quicker alternating between racing along the sensitive buds of Mary's clitoris and plunging deep into her hole. Both elicited squeals of joy from Mary and she began writhing in earnest across the bed. Her moans grew more passionate, longer and were sustained until one final one announced that she had reached the peak of her pleasure. She lay still filled with bliss.

Amal climbed up next to her and idly ran her hand across Mary's breasts as the younger girl sat still.

"Oh Amal I've never felt anything so lovely."

"My husband said that I was getting a little sister," said Amal. "But it seems I am the little one," she said and looked down on her own breasts as she gave Mary's larger one's a playful squeeze.

"Oh no, miss," yours are lovely too."

"Do you really think so?" asked Amal as she reached up and traced her finger across her nipple.

"Oh yes, Amal, they look so firm, not hanging down the way mine do."

"Would you like to feel them?"

Mary began understanding Amal's meaning. "Oh, I shouldn't know what to do."

"Just do what I did," said Amal.

Mary sat up , Amal began to kiss her to reassure the younger girl. Mary began to feel more confident. She began to play with Amal's breasts revealing in their soft but springy tough. Her palms glided across Amal's nipples and she reveled in the hard firm nature of that. Amal wriggled her hips slightly at that feeling a spark of pleasure shoot through. Mary broke off the kiss and her mouth clamped down upon Amal's dark nipple; while she worked the other one with her fingers. It was too much for Amal to take.

"Please, down there," she moaned and lay back.

Mary lay down at the darker woman's thighs and admired her womanhood. There was no hair at all upon it. Mary wondered if maybe eastern women didn't grow hair down there.

"Please," her love-mate whimpered. Mary tentatively ran her tongue up the shallow grove of Amal's womanhood. The taste was strong and earthy, but she reveled in the softness. "Oh," Amal moaned at this slight touch. Mary was delighted to have this effort so rewarded and began licking stronger and faster.

The effects were incredible on Amal; her husband enjoyed this act too, but he had a beard; while Mary's cheeks were so soft and smooth. Amal delighted in the difference and began to moan in earnest until she was nearly screaming in ecstasy. Her head was jerked from side to side as the sensations of pleasure rose like a beautiful crescendo finally in a long scream announced she had reached her plateau. A release ran up and down her spine and her body jerked spasmodically for a second and then she grew still in a blissful peace.

"Are you okay, Miss?" asked Mary as she crawled up next to her.

"Much better than that dear," she smiled lazily and opened her eyes. "You are a wonderful lover."

"You think so, Miss? I've never done this before."

"Then we shall have to do It again," and gave Mary a long passionate kiss.

"Oh, miss," breathed Mary.

Mal sat up and clapped twice. A maid entered. Mary turned beet red to be caught naked in bed with the lady of the house; but Amal didn't seem to care.

"Dismiss the servants after they have made dinner and tell my husband I have a delightful surprise for him tonight."

"Cor," said Mary after the servant left. "Now the whole house will know. Servants gossip all the time."

"They already knew; they must have heard us," said Amal. Mary blushed at this. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. My husband likes it when I make noise."

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