Chapter Three

When she awoke the next day she heard sounds of activity above her, on deck. Eventually the hatch was lifted and the girls allowed out. They were only five miles or so from shore. Caroline could see a substantial settlement, rows of white houses and on a hill a huge citadel. Gradually the town got closer, until they anchored a few yards offshore. Small boats came out to them and the captain leaned over the side, talking to the men who had rowed out. Eventually, after much delay, the girls were loaded into some of the boats and taken ashore. A tall, stout man in a long white robe appeared on the quay, evidently the slave trader. He barked a series of instructions to his assistants, ordering them to bind all the girls together with a long iron chain that snaked round each girl’s waist. Caroline couldn’t see that this was really necessary. Why would any girl run away? Where would she go? They all looked so conspicuous compared to the native people of the city, the men distinctive in their flowing white robes and embroidered caps, the women each covered from head to foot with a blue or white robe, with only a tiny slit at eye level. Caroline and the other girls, by contrast, will wore their nightgowns and other skimpy articles, now grubby and tattered after their time at sea.

The girls attracted stares from all the men around them as they walked through the town. Caroline saw the lust in their eyes at the sight of so much flesh on display: bare arms, bare legs, some of the clothing low-cut, exposing the upper part of the breasts. Men leered, some of them pressing closer. Caroline felt a hand squeeze her bottom and cried out. The slave trader used his whip on the man, who fell back.

At last they reached the trader’s place of business and were quickly ushered inside. It was a long, low building. At one side were piled mattresses and cushions, while on the other side were benches and tables. At the far end were three large tubs, full of steaming water. Caroline smiled at the sight; a bath would be heaven after being dirty for a week.

The trader left the girls to his assistants, several women clad in low-slung harem pants, bodices and sandals. One of them spoke English after a fashion and ordered the girls to strip off. Their clothes were collected and taken away, doubtless to be burned, Caroline thought; that was all they were good for. Each of the girls was then led down to the bathtubs, which were large enough to take four girls at a time. Caroline stepped in and sank gratefully down. The water was hot but not scalding. Soap was produced and the girls blissfully washed themselves, taking turns to soap each other’s back. Caroline washed her hair too; it was such a wonderful feeling to be clean again.

The girls got out and dried themselves, then one of the women ordered them to the tables at the side, which had now been covered with white cloths. The first four girls were ordered to lie on their backs on the tables. Razors were produced, and Caroline watched fascinated as each girl’s pubic hair was carefully shaved away. Underarm hair was also removed, and the girls’ legs shaved too. It seemed that the men of this country liked their women denuded. After Caroline too had been shaved, she found it a funny feeling to look down and miss the thick bush of golden curls she was used to. Against the wall was a mirror. Shyly she approached it and stared. Was that how she was? She wasn’t sure if that it was a pleasing look, to have every fold of her cunt now on display.

The women were given clothes, much like those the assistants wore. And then they were fed, sitting on benches at the tables, each served with a bowl of steaming stew. Caroline realised she was famished. The food was excellent, tasty lamb with onions and other vegetables, accompanied by flat bread, surprisingly good. After came fresh fruit, something the girls had not seen in many days.

Each girl was then subject to an intimate physical examination. Measurements were taken, of height, weight, and the circumferences of chests, waist and hips. All these details were written down, in a script Caroline assumed was Arabic; it just looked like squiggles to her. Teeth were inspected, note taken of the colour of the eyes and hair. And then each girl had to endure an assistant putting a hand up inside them. Caroline assumed that they were being inspected to see which of them were virgins. The trader certainly seemed to keep a meticulous record of everything.

Eventually it was nightfall. The girls were instructed to take the mattresses piled against the wall and lay them on the ground, Blankets were provided, then it was time to sleep. Caroline lay awake for a while, wondering what was in store. Considering their state of utter powerlessness, they had not been badly treated since arriving on dry land. But no doubt there was a motive for this. If they were to fetch a good price, they needed to look their best. Once the property of an owner who could use them as he liked, perhaps they would not fare so well.

Nevertheless, Caroline slept well. In the morning the girls were given breakfast (bread, honey and grapes, with very good coffee), then prepared for the auction. Each of them had her face made up, with lots of eye shadow, rouge for the cheeks, and red lipstick. Caroline also had her nipples rouged. Did this mean they would be naked? Apparently not, because each girl was issued with an item of clothing. But when Caroline came to put it on she found that it was a sort of tunic, with narrow shoulder straps, an extremely low neckline, barely covering the reddened nipples, and with a hem that ended halfway up her thighs. This was revealing enough, but the tunic was diaphanous. Caroline could see her nipples clearly through the thin material, and suspected that an acute observer could make out the contours of her shaved cunt. It would be hard, Caroline thought, to imagine a more immodest item of clothing. But we are merchandise for sale, she said to herself; what do you expect? Obviously they were to be shown off to potential bidders, and their near-naked appearance would drive the price up.

Caroline’s long blonde hair was brushed vigorously and gathered at the back. Now she was ready. The girls sat around, occasionally exchanging a few words. Caroline tried to sound cheerful in order to keep everyone’s spirits up; some of the girls looked nervous, even scared. At last they were all led out together. In front of the building was a raised platform, with a set of steps which the girls were made to climb. They saw a crowd of about fifty men, all dressed in the white robes of the region, almost all bearded and with turbans on their heads. The girls were herded to the front of the platform by a large man carrying a big stick, whose role was clearly to keep order. There was an excited murmur among the crowd. The slave dealer announced that each potential buyer might climb the steps in order to inspect the girls, but only briefly, and there was to be no touching. Eagerly the crowd pressed nearer. The girls were arranged in a line and the prospective buyers filed past. Caroline saw how they leered, how their eyes coveted the pretty young bodies displayed before them.

When all in the crowd had made their examination, there was a movement and the crowd parted to allow one man to come to the front. He was tall, with a hooked nose and a fierce look, clearly a man of authority judging from the deference showed by the assembled throng. He ascended the steps and was greeted warmly by the slave dealer, who conducted him to the line of girls. Caroline understood nothing of what was said, but it was clear that the slave dealer was extolling the virtues of each girl in turn. When they got to Sally, the tall man stretched out a hand and squeezed her left breast; clearly he, as a privileged bidder, might lay hands on the girls if he wished. Several of them were made to turn around so that he might inspect their bottoms, and with some he put a hand on a buttock and squeezed it, like someone buying a melon in a market.

Caroline was subjected to a more detailed inspection. Evidently the man admired her hair; he stroked it, looking carefully, perhaps to see if the colour was natural. He put a hand under each breast and lifted it slightly, then rubbed her nipples with his thumbs. Caroline blushed. She knew everyone was looking at her, even though she kept staring at the ground. Then the man put a hand between her legs, squeezing the lips of her cunt. He muttered something to the slave dealer and they both laughed. Then Caroline was turned round. She felt her bottom kneaded with two hands before she was turned back again.

Now that the inspections were complete, bidding began. It was brisk and each of the girls found a price. Caroline watched closely; the tall man made his bids with a mere flutter of an eyelid, but the dealer watched him closely. He was the favoured customer. It wasn’t easy to follow the progress of the bidding, but Caroline was fairly certain that she was knocked down to the tall man, as were two other girls, Sally and Nell. When it came time to separate at the end, there were tears. Sally and Nell were distraught at being taken away from Bess, who had been their constant companion during the voyage.

Caroline and the other two girls were loaded onto an ox-cart, which slowly trundled away. Their purchaser, the tall man with the piercing eyes, rode beside them on a big black horse. It was a hot day and the girls were unprotected from the sun as they made their way slowly out of the city, through a covered gate. As they passed along the streets, men stopped to stare at three such lovely girls, almost naked. But Caroline was beyond shame now when it came to being exhibited to strangers. She simply stared ahead.

A couple of miles distant she could see the citadel, a large white building surround by a wall. It was big enough to be a palace. Soon it became clear that was their destination. They passed inside the walls into a courtyard, where the driver of the cart indicated that they were to alight. The tall man rode his horse away through an inner gate.

Two women emerged from a door. One of them spoke to the girls in English.

“Welcome to the palace of the Emir. You are now his property. If you are obedient, you will come to no harm. But resistance will be sorely punished. You have been warned. Follow me.”

Caroline and the other two girls followed the woman inside. They found themselves in a room with various chests around the walls, and another door at the end.

“Take your clothes off,” the woman said. Caroline and the others stripped naked.

“My name is Sophie,” the woman said. “Like you, I am a slave, but while I have been here I have prospered through learning to serve the Emir well. There is no reason why you should not do the same. You are to obey me as if I were your master. Should you have problems you may approach me, but be warned. You are slaves here. You have no rights. Whatever benefits you receive, such as domestic comforts, are the results of the Emir’s benevolence. Be grateful for every small mercy and do not make trivial complaints. Now follow me to the bathroom.”

The three girls were ushered into a large bath of hot water. What a treat, Caroline thought; another bath. Back home she rarely had a bath more than once a week. It simply was not the custom. Here she was bathing for the second time in two days. The water was scented with roses and the girls lay back luxuriantly. There was soap, and they took it in turn to lather and rinse each other’s backs. Sophie watched them carefully. After fifteen minutes she ordered them out. Each was given a towel to wrap themselves in. At one end of the bathroom was a small table with a white sheet draped over it.

“Lie on the table, on your back,” Sophie said to Caroline.

Caroline got on the table, wondering what came next; not more shaving, surely? Sophie went to a cupboard and came back with a collar of bright, polished silver, hinged in the middle. She placed it round Caroline’s neck.

“You will wear this collar as a token of your servitude,” she said. “I shall now lock it. There is only one key, which will remain in my possession.”

Sophie closed the ring and turned the tiny key which locked it. At both the front and the back were small rings through which might be threaded a leash. There was also a little metal disc attached, bearing Arabic script. Sophie produced a small book, in which she wrote something, presumably what was on the disc.

“A couple of questions,” she said. “First, how many men have fucked you?”

Until a fortnight week ago, Caroline would have answered to two. She had gone a virgin to Sir George on her wedding night, innocent and intact, and then there was Henry. But now there was the captain, and the sailors she had serviced. Did it count as being fucked if a man came in your mouth?

“Eight,” she said.

Sophie made a note. “Have you had sex with any women?”

“No,” said Caroline firmly.

Sophie told her to get off the bed and stand against the wall, where there was a scale for measuring height. The procedure echoed that of the slave trader. Sophie made another note, then produced a tape and measured Caroline’s bust, waist and hips. Finally she placed her on some scales and recorded her weight.

“If your weight goes up significantly, steps will be taken. So watch what you eat.”

She pushed Caroline back on the table so that she lay full-length. “Now an examination,” she said. From a jar of ointment she took a little cream and spread it on her forefinger; there was to be another intrusive examination. Ordering Caroline to part her legs, she pushed her finger right up inside Caroline’s cunt, then moved it around a little. The gesture was invasive, yet the sensation was not displeasing. Sophie told Caroline to bend her knees and draw them up to her tummy. She took her finger out of Caroline’s cunt and instead slid it into her ass. Caroline was taken aback by the gesture. Sophie’s finger moved around inside her, as if exploring, then Sophie removed her finger and wiped it carefully before writing something else in the book. What had she learned from her investigation? Caroline had no idea.

“Finally,” Sophie said, “a small operation. There will be some very slight pain, but it will soon be over, so long as you remain quite still and don’t move.”

She told Caroline to open her legs wide. Caroline saw that she held a small needle. Suddenly she was frightened. What on earth was she going to do? Lying back on the table, she could not see exactly. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in the region of her clitoris. She had once heard that in some parts of the world female circumcision was practised. Surely not that? She tried to raise her head but Sophie curtly ordered her to lie back. She busied herself for a moment between Caroline’s legs, then gave her a little pat on the tummy.

“All done,” she said. “There may be a little blood, but I hope you’ll think it’s pretty.”

She handed Caroline a small mirror; she put it between her legs and stared. Inserted into the loose skin just above her clitoris was a small silver ring. It seemed to Caroline at once obscene and oddly charming. She fingered it gingerly. There was a tiny drop of blood, and a dull ache, but the pain had not been unbearable.

“Next,” said Sophie. Sally got up onto the table, understandably nervous after what she had just witnessed. Caroline gave her a smile intended to be reassuring.

When all three girls had been inspected, measured, collared and pierced, they were led back into the outer room. There Sophie handed out some garments. Each had a pair of harem pants, loose trousers of a semi-transparent material, low-slung, leaving the navel exposed, gathered in at the ankle. Caroline sneaked a look at Sally; she could see a hint of the little silver ring between her legs. To wear above this garment each girl was given a small bodice, prettily embroidered, with short sleeves. The bodice did not meet in the middle. Instead, it was closed with a little silver chain, leaving the cleft between the breasts fully exposed but just about hiding the nipples. Lastly, Sophie gave them all a pair of elegant leather sandals.

“Now follow me,” Sophie said. She took them out by a door into a corridor, at the end of which was another door. The girls emerged into a much larger room. It was hung with rugs and tapestries, the floor strewn with brightly coloured cushions.. There were no chairs but a collection of small, low tables. The windows of the room were set about twelve feet high; plenty of light came in, but no one outside could look in. Around the walls were several alcoves, each with a divan and more cushions, and a curtain that could be pulled across for privacy.

Lounging about the room were about thirty girls, all dressed similarly to Caroline and the other newcomers, and who regarded them with interest, though no one approached them.

“Take a seat,” said Sophie, motioning to one of the alcoves. She drew the curtain after them.

“A few things you need to know,” she said. “This is mostly where you will pass your time. Sometimes that time may hang a little heavy, but we manage to make things agreeable. You can chat with the other girls, exercise, bathe, play cards, knit and sew. Some of the girls like to sing and play musical instruments.”

It didn’t sound like the most exciting prospect.

“You will be well cared for. The food here is plentiful, nourishing and tasty. You are well guarded; of course this is partly to keep you in, but it means you are protected against all harm. As I have said, if you manage to fit in and do well, you may improve your position.”

“Yes,” said Caroline, “but what about the duties? You know what I mean.”

Sophie looked serious. “The Emir is a virile man, with above average sexual needs. He has, shall I say, unusual tastes in certain respects. You must endeavour always to please him. That is your role. If he favours you then you may be called upon frequently, but in the nature of things, because there are many of us, you will not be required every night.”

“And what about ransom?” Caroline asked. “Can we ever get away?”

Sophie frowned. “I wouldn’t think about that, if I were you.”

The girls were left to their own devices for an hour or so. Then it was time for a meal. Sophie had been right; the food was good. There was a choice of a kind of lamb stew, hot and fragrant, or some fresh fish. There were vegetables and fruits Caroline had never seen before, but they all tasted good. Afterwards some of the girls put on a little musical show, playing flutes. drums and tambourines, and some singing, in a strange style Caroline had never heard before.

Physically the girls were a varied bunch. All of them were attractive; evidently the Emir had good taste in women. A couple of the girls were African, their hair done in tight braids with beads intertwined. By contrast there were two or three girls very fair, tall and slim, with blue eyes like herself; Caroline judged them to be from the Nordic countries. She saw girls from China or perhaps Japan, with almond eyes, pretty, doll-like faces and small breasts. By contrast three girls sitting together had dark brown skin and black hair, with well-developed figures; perhaps they were from India? One of them was topless; Caroline admired her full but firm breasts with prominent brown nipples. Caroline wondered if there were any more English girls besides herself and her two companions, and Sophie of course.

The girls wiled away the hours until bedtime. Off the main room was a dormitory, with rows of low divans. Some of the girls preferred to sleep in the alcoves. From behind closed curtains Caroline heard giggles and other sounds indicative that sleep was not yet on the mind of those secreted within.

Later she was to find out that it was common enough for girls to have sexual relations with each other. They were all young and attractive and active. On the law of averages they might not get to have sex with the Emir above once a month, and there was no prospect of finding other male companions. So falling back on each other for companionship, affection and sexual relief was an accepted alternative. No one thought it in any way unusual or something to be ashamed of. Caroline had no experience of such things and something held her back from inviting advances. But she soon found that Sally and Nell were in demand as newcomers, and far from unwilling to be entertained.

The next day passed without incident. Caroline found another English girl named Rose, who had similarly been taken from her coastal village by pirates. She had been in the Emir’s harem for six months. Caroline was keen to hear details of her encounters with the Emir, though her delicate sense of tact made her approach the subject carefully. Rose, however, did not mind talking. She was a pretty girl with flaxen hair and a creamy skin, with small pert breasts and a graceful carriage. She told Caroline that she had been a virgin when kidnapped. Realising this, the pirates did not take advantage of her on the voyage, knowing that they could get a good price for her at the slave market.

The Emir had taken her virginity firmly but not cruelly. Two nights later he had her again. This time, she said, it was for an extended bout of love-making, in which he proved himself a forceful and demanding lover. He had, so she said, taken her “other virginity too” by which Caroline inferred that she had been buggered.

“If you like sex, and I think I do,” Rose said, “I don’t think you will find it a bad experience. But the problem is that the Emir has things too easy. Since he can have any woman he wants, whenever and however he wants, he has little motivation to please them. He takes what he wants. You must not look to gain your own satisfaction from him. Find another way to get your relief afterwards.”

Caroline digested this information. At least she would know what to expect when the time came; which it did the very next day. In the later afternoon Sophie informed her that she was to be one of the girls paraded for the Emir’s inspection. Apparently he never came to the women’s quarters himself. Instead, he preferred the Grand Vizier (as Caroline discovered, the man who had bought them at the auction) to make a selection of a dozen girls, from which the Emir would choose his companion for the night.

Caroline was told to strip naked. She and the other naked girls were taken out into the courtyard, where small rush mats were laid on the ground, in two rows of six. The girls were told to kneel, in a position suited to their status, as Sophie put it. The Vizier came round, adjusting their positions, nudging a pair of knees further apart, telling another girl to arch her back more so as to lift her behind. Caroline felt terribly exposed, her bottom bared, her legs far enough apart that nothing was hidden. Sophie told her to keep her head pressed to the ground; on no account must she look up when the Emir was there.

Fifteen minutes passed. The sun was still strong, warming Caroline’s back. A trickle of perspiration appeared between her breasts. At last she heard footsteps approaching. Words were exchanged between the Vizier and another man with a deep voice, presumably the Emir. The two men walked slowly along the rows of kneeling girls. Every now and again the footsteps paused, a few words were exchanged, and the men walked on. At last they stopped behind Caroline. She felt something pressed between her legs, up against her cunt; a foot, perhaps. The Emir said something. The Vizier reached down and took hold of Caroline by the hair. Twisting it hard in his hand, he pulled Caroline up to a standing position. She kept her eyes cast down, but she was aware of the Emir staring into her face. He took one of her nipples between finger and thumb, squeezing hard then twisting. Caroline gasped. The Emir laughed softly and let go. He ran his hand down over her belly and between her legs. Caroline felt like a piece of meat on a butcher’s slab, being squeezed for texture and tenderness. The Emir curled his fingers round the lips of Caroline’s cunt and squeezed, gently at first, then harder. Caroline gasped again. The Emir pushed a finger up inside her and said something: the Vizier laughed in response. The Vizier was still holding Caroline by the hair, forcing her head back. The Emir took his hand from her cunt and reached up, forcing his fingers into her mouth. She tasted herself, not for the first time.

The Emir turned on his heel and walked away. The Vizier, still holding Caroline by the hair, led her back into the women’s quarters. Inside, he spoke rapidly to Sophie, evidently giving her instructions, then left. Sophie took Caroline into the bathhouse.

“Have you ever had an enema?” Sophie demanded.

“I don’t think so,” Caroline said. She wasn’t sure what it was.

“Kneel down on the floor.”

The floor was made of tiles, easily washed. Caroline was kneeling over the drain where the water flowed away. Sophie fetched a device, a long flexible tube, with a rubber bag at one end. Carefully she filled the bag with warm soapy water and made Caroline get up on all fours. Caroline felt something slippery in her bottom, as if Sophie were lubricating her there, and then something was being pushed into her, the long tube.

“When the water comes, hold it until I tell you to let it go,” Sophie said. “Do not let go at once or I shall be displeased.”

Sophie felt her bowels suddenly invaded by the water. It was a strange feeling, not unpleasant but at the same time not really comfortable. Almost immediately she wanted to open and let the water out. Desperately she tried to hold it in; she knew it would not be good to displease Sophie.

“Now you can let it out,” Sophie said. Gratefully Caroline let go and the water rushed out and down the drain. Sophie told Caroline to stand up, then washed her down with bowls of warm water and put her in the bath. She made Caroline kneel up and carefully soaped between her legs, around the lips of her cunt and between the cheeks of her bottom. The gestures were intrusive, but she was getting used to having her body poked and handled at will by others, and Sophie’s touch was not unpleasant, just disconcerting in its intimacy.

Sophie took her out of the bath, dried her then put her on the table. She began to work some sweet-smelling oil into her skin, jasmine Caroline thought, running up and down her back and down her calves, then up to her buttocks. Sophie turned her over and spread oil on her breasts, her nimble fingers teasing Caroline’s nipples, which rose in response. She worked oil into Caroline’s belly and into her thighs, her fingers getting closer and closer to Caroline’s cunt.

“I’m going to give you a special little massage now,” she said. “It’s to make you receptive to the Emir, to arouse you but not to satisfy you.”

Her fingers began to pinch and tug on Caroline’s labia, pulling this way and that. She slipped a finger inside Caroline’s cunt, exploring gently. Then the finger slid up to find Caroline’s clit. She could feel how swollen it was now, and eager for the touch. Sophie manipulated her gently, her finger flicking against the ring which pierced her, caressing Caroline’s clit, rubbing around the edges, then very slowly across the centre. This was almost too much for Caroline, who wriggled and made a little sound of protest.

“Be quiet,” Sophie said sternly.

She continued her massage of Caroline’s clit; with her other hand she rubbed the lips of her cunt and then penetrated them, forcing her fingers right up inside, moving them in and out. Caroline was overwhelmed by so many sensations. She tried to concentrate on her clit, and was at last rewarded when she felt her orgasm growing deep inside her. It would not be long until it burst forth, making her body shake in ecstasy.

“That’s enough,” said Sophie, taking her hands away. Caroline groaned in disappointment, her whole body tingling with unsatisfied desire. Sophie appeared indifferent to this. She dressed Caroline in a gossamer robe, which reached from her neck to her ankles, but which, so thin was it, almost transparent, that virtually none of her bodily charms was hidden. She made up Caroline’s face, with thick eye-shadow and mascara and ruby-red lips, then dabbed perfume, attar of roses, on the back of her neck, on the hollow in front, under each breast, in the cleft of her buttocks, and just above her pubic mound.

“Sit there until the Vizier comes for you,” Sophie told her, then left.

She did not have long to wait until he appeared. The Vizier signalled to Caroline to stand. Without a word he fastened a leather leash to her collar, turned and gave it a tug, pulling Caroline after him. They walked across the square to the Emir’s quarters. The Vizier opened a door. Inside, which was lit by scented candles, Caroline saw the Emir seated on a pile of cushions. Beside him sat an old woman, and around the edges of the room were half a dozen girls, some naked, some only partly so. The Vizier unfastened the leash and pushed her down onto her knees.

“You will go crawl to the Emir, not looking at him.”

Caroline crawled forward. When she got to within a few inches of the Emir’s feet, the old woman spoke to her in English.

“Stand up,” she said.

Caroline got to her feet. The Emir was eyeing her in a lazy kind of way, happy, it seemed, to leave the initiative to the old woman, who told Caroline to turn round in a circle, so that the Emir might see her both back and front. Caroline was only too aware that her nipples were visible, sticking out stiffly within the flimsy robe, which hid scarcely any of her charms, now so unnervingly exposed by the removal of her pubic hair.

The Emir beckoned her closer, then reached out and slid a hand between her legs. She could feel his fingers gripping her tight through the thin material. Behind her Caroline heard the watching girls giggle. She was blushing bright scarlet. The Emir gave a slow smile, then released her. Caroline watched as the old woman put her hand on the Emir’s groin, burrowing inside the voluminous garments that he wore, then made a little sound of satisfaction as her hand reappeared, holding the Emir’s cock. Though it was not yet fully erect, Caroline was pleased to see that it was a not unimpressive organ. Over the past week or so she had conceived rather a fascination for cocks. Having hitherto seen only two, and one of those, her husband’s, negligible in its dimensions, she had been pleasantly surprised by her enthusiasm for the cocks she had experienced on the ship. Having up till then regarded such an organ as largely a means to an end, something which would give her pleasure by fucking her, she had come to see them objects of delight in their own right. She admired the proportions of a nice cock, loved to see how they gently curved upwards when fully erect, noting with appreciation the slight variations in colour and texture. There was a special delight in seeing a new one, that moment of wondering, before the revelation, what size it would be, what shape. And now, for the first time, something which she ought to have been ready for but which had somehow slipped from her mind, here was a cock that had been circumcised. She stared at it, noting just exactly what was the difference from the cocks she had seen before. She wondered; was a cock that had had the foreskin removed more sensitive on that account, or did the absence of the prepuce mean that over time the head became in some way hardened to the touch, less responsive? Would she have to work harder to give it pleasure?

As if on cue the old woman made a gesture for her to bend low. “Suck,” she said.

Caroline went to work as best she could. More than once she had been congratulated on her ability to provide oral service. It was in fact one of the first compliments that Henry had paid her, remarking when she first took him in her mouth that she had a natural talent. At first she sucked gently, holding the head of the Emir’s cock in her mouth and circling it with her tongue. Gradually she felt the cock coming to life. She put her hand around the shaft and squeezed hard. The Emir grunted, she hoped with pleasure. She sucked a little harder on the head, pushing her tongue into the tiny aperture, then sliding her tongue around the rim. She must be doing something right, because the Emir made some slight sounds in his throat which seemed indicative of pleasure. Caroline bent her head lower, taking more of the shaft into her mouth. Now fully erect, the Emir’s cock was large, both thick and long; perhaps just a tiny bit bigger than any cock she had dealt with up to now. It was hard to take it all in, but she held her breath and pushed down harder, and almost all the shaft went in. She held it there as long as she could, then came up for air.

“More,” said the old woman.

Who was she? Some aged relative? A former concubine? Caroline could see that an interpreter might be a good idea, but she hadn’t been prepared for one with such an intimate involvement. Nor had she expected an audience. Presumably the girls were from the harem, though in the dim light it was hard to recognise any of them. Caroline tried to shut them out and concentrate on the task in hand. She took hold of the Emir’s cock once more and very slowly ran her tongue up the back of the shaft, tracing the little ridge which ran down from the frenulum. She was gratified to hear the Emir gasp as she did this. She ran her tongue back up again, then slid it slowly around the rim of the glans before taking the glans between her lips, sucking gently at first, and then harder. Holding the glans in her mouth, she began to rub the shaft with her hand. Not quickly, enough to provide a stimulus but not enough to provoke ejaculation.

At the same time she started to move her head more quickly, imitating with her mouth the motion of a cunt in the process of being fucked. She wondered if she ought to continue doing this until the Emir came, but she had a feeling that more than this would be required of her. At that moment, the old woman crawled around behind Caroline. She began to stroke her bottom under her robe, then after a while pulled Caroline’s thighs further apart. Trying hard to concentrate on the Emir’s cock, Caroline was surprised to feel something warm and wet caress her anus. Unmistakeably the old women was kissing and licking her ass.

This continued for some minutes, while Caroline carried on sucking the Emir’s cock. Then she felt the woman’s mouth taken away, and replaced with a cold sensation. Some kind of lubricant was being inserted into her anus, the woman using her finger to push it up inside. There could be little doubt what the purpose of this was. After a while the old woman was seemingly satisfied with the state of Caroline’s asshole. She crawled back alongside and whispered in the Emir’s ear. He smiled. The old woman took hold of Caroline by the hair and pulled her off the Emir’s cock, turning her round so that she was kneeling with her bottom towards him. Caroline forced herself not to tense. This would probably be the biggest cock that had yet sought entrance to that particular orifice. Would it hurt? True, she had experience of buggery, and enjoyed it. She knew enough to force herself to relax her muscles and allow a cock entrance. Even so, it would be very tight.

Perhaps sensing this (or perhaps it was her usual practice), the old woman took Caroline’s buttocks in her hands and gently prised them apart. Then she took hold of the Emir’s cock and placed it against the delicate little opening. The Emir pressed forwards. Caroline felt his cock pushing in, encountering resistance but still pressing ahead, then suddenly the head of the cock popped inside her. The Emir waited a moment, then pressed harder. Gradually, his cock penetrated her, Caroline constantly pushing down, forcing herself open. She had never felt more full, never felt herself so totally taken by a man. For a moment she had feared that he might split her, so large did his cock feel, but now it was fully inside her she relaxed, knowing that she had taken him to his greatest extent without pain. Perhaps she could allow herself to enjoy it.

The Emir began to fuck her ass with a strong, steady rhythm. Caroline arched her back, raising her bottom for a better angle of penetration. Henry had fucked her in the ass, so had the captain. But, and she was not sure why this was so, she was enjoying it more with the Emir. It wasn’t anything to do with the size of his cock, or even with his attitude towards her. She had a sense that he was single-mindedly devoted to the act which he was carrying out. She felt in some way that he was absorbed in it, that at that moment buggering her was exactly what he wanted to be doing. Of course she knew that he could just as well be doing it with another girl, probably had been the night before and might be with another girl again tomorrow. But she like the calm way his cock went steadily in and out, penetrating right up to the hilt, as if he wanted to get the very most out of each thrust, then withdrawing almost to the tip so that he could maximise the pleasure of inserting it again.

Caroline had ceased to be aware of the old woman, or of the girls watching. She herself had become, like the Emir, focussed on this one thing, on the warm, hard cock seeking her innermost place, seeking to occupy it and possess it. In a way she thought that being fucked in the ass was the most extreme form of fucking, that a girl who had never been fucked there was missing the essence of sex. Not that she didn’t like to be fucked in her cunt. She liked that very much, and she also greatly enjoyed being fucked in the mouth. But perhaps it was because there was something taboo about the ass that she liked it so much. She liked the thought that she was a true pervert. It was strange that such a thought should come to her at the very moment that she was being fucked in the ass by a man she did not know, who had total possession of her person but cared for her not one jot, but she had a vision of herself as a woman who was in some important ways not like other women, a woman who would plough her own furrow, find what was deepest in her and realise that. Quite how that was going to be possible while she remained a slave she did not know. But she would watch and wait and learn.

Gradually the Emir increased the vigour and speed of his thrusts into her ass. Her initial tenseness had been eased away, her ass was relaxed and open. The Emir’s cock seemed to give off a lot of pre-cum, which helped with lubrication. She was ready for him now, ready for his ejaculation. Suddenly the Emir began to thrust much harder and faster, grunting with the effort or perhaps simply from pleasure. Then she felt his cock kick and buck inside her, she imagined the stream of scalding semen pumping into her, filling her anus. Instinctively she thrust back, tensing her muscles, squeezing, wanting to milk him of every last drop. Then the Emir’s movements subsided and his cock slipped out of her. Still kneeling, she could feel the semen seeping from her, sliding slowly down the inside of her thigh.

“Go now,” the old woman whispered in her ear. Like any woman after intercourse, Caroline would have liked to remain, to cuddle and caress and hear soft words murmured in her ear. But she knew that was never going to happen with the Emir. She would have to take what pleasure she could while he was using her, and find what else she needed later. The Emir would forget her, would sip some wine, eat some sweet cakes, look at the girls kneeling round the room, perhaps call one of them to him, or simply fall asleep.

Following the old woman’s instructions, Caroline crawled backwards towards the door. As she reached it, the door opened and the Vizier appeared. Without a word he clipped the leash onto her collar, hauled her to her feet and led her back to the woman’s quarters. By that time most of the girls were asleep, but in one alcove she could see, through half-open curtains, Sophie lying next to a lighted candle, reading something. Caroline went across.

“A good evening?” Sophie asked, smiling.

Caroline shrugged. “Could be worse, I’m sure.”

“What did he do?”

Caroline hesitated. She was still a little shy of discussing sexual acts with other girls.

“He used me like a boy,” she said.

“He’s fond of that,” Sophie replied. “But I suppose you didn’t get off yourself.”

Caroline shook her head.

“Come,” said Sophie, getting up, “you needed cleaning up.”

She took Caroline into the bathing room. There was a bath of warm water ready. Caroline sank back into it gratefully. Sophie washed her with scented soap, then dried her.

“Come,” she said.

She put Caroline down on a table, on her front. Sophie gave her a dry massage, her fingers kneading Caroline’s buttocks, her thighs, her back and shoulders. Sophie spread the cheeks of her bottom.

“I can see you’ve been well used,” she said. Caroline blushed. Sophie licked her finger and slid it into Caroline’s bottom.

“Does that hurt?”

“No,” said Caroline.

Sophie rolled her over. She wiped her finger carefully, then set to working on Caroline’s breasts and belly, caressing slowly, gently but insistently. Caroline could feel there was a purpose in this. She was too tired to think whether it was what she really wanted. She simply surrendered.

Sophie pulled Caroline’s thighs apart and slid her fingers up the inside, enjoying the softness and smoothness of the skin. She brushed the back of her hand across Caroline’s cunt. Caroline twitched; that had touched a nerve. Sophie put the heel of her palm against Caroline’s clit and slowly rolled her hand around, from side to side, pressing down gently. Caroline sighed. Sophie squeezed the lips of Caroline’s cunt together, then tugged. Caroline could think of only one thing now. She wanted Sophie’s fingers on her clit. She knew that Sophie could do it for her, could do it perfectly if she chose. Please, please, let her do it, Caroline prayed, but she was too shy to ask. Sophie dipped a finger inside Caroline’s cunt. It was wet, juices oozing out. With her finger she spread the juices upward, onto Caroline’s clit. It was swollen by now, eager for the touch. Caroline gasped as she felt Sophie’s finger rub oh so slowly across the hard little button. Sophie put her finger back in Caroline’s cunt and spread more juices upwards, then her finger circled the clit, teasing, coaxing. Caroline moaned. Sophie seemed to know exactly what she wanted, where she wanted Sophie’s finger, with what pressure, what speed. Perhaps ideally she would have liked the movement to be a little faster, just a little, because she was desperate to come now. The sexual tension of the whole evening was focussed on that one little spot, which now was the centre of Caroline’s existence. She raised her hips, wanting to get closer to the fingers that gave her such delight.

“Wait,” said Sophie softly. “Don’t be greedy.”

Caroline blushed. She tried to relax, sinking back down onto the table. But she sensed that Sophie was going slower, not faster. She was playing with her, showing her that she was the one in control, she would decide when the release would come, if at all. Caroline felt frustrated; she wanted it now. And yet there was something exciting about being manipulated in this way, having pleasure doled out to her in whatever measure that Sophie chose. But oh how desperate she would be if Sophie refused her pleasure at the end! She felt herself almost weeping at that prospect.

As if in response, Sophie now began to go a little faster, her finger circling Caroline’s clit with more determination. Caroline’s breath came quicker, her body began to make involuntary movements, twitching, wriggling.

“You will come when I say,” said Sophie. “Not before.”

Caroline tried to control herself. Now it was Sophie who was rushing her towards the precipice, and Caroline who was trying to delay in accordance with instructions. She feared that she was losing control, and she would come whatever. Would Sophie be disappointed with her? Cross, even?

“Come now,” said Sophie firmly, pressing a little harder against Caroline’s throbbing clit. And as if released from her bonds, Caroline’s body shuddered and shook and her thighs gripped Sophie’s hand as the orgasm overtook her. Spasm after spasm wracked her body until at last she was still.

“You needed that,” Sophie said. It wasn’t a question.

Caroline smiled. A wave or tiredness came over her.

“Go and sleep,” Sophie said gently, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.